So it goes.
By PerilousPie
Synopsis: Caleb Dume ran from his life and into the persona of Kanan Jarrus. Now ISB Agent Jarrus, he faces his past, his present, and the uncertain future ahead of him.
A/N: I'm actually not a huge fan of author's notes. They skew word count, waste space and usually I find a piece of writing will speak for itself. They are appreciated though as giving readers a more round idea of what they're getting into with a story. Hence why I am subjugating you to reading this.
First, this is going to be a more, adult like work, I'd say gritty but I'm not confident enough in my amateur writing skills to claim any style is being well used.
Second, while no explicit sexual content will be had, innuendo and sexual situations will arise, though not to the benefit of those looking for a romantic setting, it will be to help character development.
Third, I claim the right to artistic amendments of canon. Plus, people, this is fanfiction, the very essence of which involves creativity and the ability to do as you will with characters.
Fourth, there will be mild swearing.
Fifth, I must say, Sabine's character has always been a bit elusive for me. I've always hated the stereotype of teenage rebel who uses art to express themselves, it's a worn out cliche and usually bores me to death. However, watching the series, I've slowly warmed to her, and reading her history, she's actually a dynamic individual with a lot of interest. The show may not cash in on it, but I have every intention to.
Chapter 1: Green is the Color of Lust and Envy
After years of waiting, the time had come. ISB Agent Kanan Jarrus stared in the mirror with a pleased smile. Dress and Appearance Standards, DAS, had been updated. The battle for facial hair had been won a while ago and Kanan had finally been able to stop fighting his constant growth of bristles, his five o'clock shadow had been a recurring issue with his superior officers. Now, finally, they'd lifted the ban on hair length. It seemed ridiculous that it should take this long, especially considering the fact that there were some alien species which were covered in hair. However, Imperial recruiting was 93.04 percent human based so they cared about how a human looked; a prejudice which wasted a vast many resources. Imagine what a squadron of Trandoshans could do.
Kanan didn't make the rules though, just complained a whole lot to who he could and pushed for little things like being able to wear his hair how he liked. He was glad the moment had come now, he'd been down to the wire with inspections and hoping that the standard would be modified before he was given a bad mark for having hair nearly long enough for a ponytail. Luck had been on his side.
Kanan brushed gel through his hair, wishing it would get those few extra centimeters so he could finally, finally pull his hair back. Smirking he admired himself. Not bad, he thought, not bad at all. Letting out a sigh, he finished preparing for the day, he had recently been moved from Bnach to Lothal. He didn't miss Bnach, a disgusting penal camp where he'd spent his week days working over prisoners and his weekends wasting away in the heat and misery. Lothal was much better and a much deserved promotion. He'd done good work on Bnach, very good work.
Stepping out of his personal quarters, Kanan eyed the hallway of the barracks. He had chosen to live there, someone of his rank could choose to live in the community, but he was single and not particularly interested in the expenses or the maintenance involved in a home or flat.
Cadets scattered out of his way and many of the soldiers and officers lower ranking than him moved respectfully out of his way. Kanan was used to it by now, as an ISB agent in the Interrogation branch he was very aware of the effect he had. Maybe not as scary as a Loyalty agent, but something about being Interrogation set him apart. Other Imperials avoided him and he enjoyed the isolation.
"Jarrus!"
Kanan blinked, pulled from his thoughts. Hooge was waving at him. Agent Hooge was a ruddy faced man, tall and sometimes considered uncoordinated, unless of course you'd been a victim of his in combat practice.
"I heard you were being transferred to Lothal and I didn't believe! But here you are!" Hooge slapped Kanan on the back, a grin in place.
Kanan shrugged the hand from his shoulder and gave a little nod.
"Nice to see you too, Hooge," he replied, continuing his walk.
Hooge fell in step, long legs sloping along easily to Kanan's fast pace.
"You still in Interrogation? I moved as soon as I could, you wouldn't believe how much easier Investigation is."
Hooge seemed insistent on talking, the man was smart, but he liked heckling and he knew spouting off pissed Kanan off. They'd trained in the academy together, two fifteen year old orphans picked up for talent, and they had both been selected for the prestigious Verity District ISB academy. Kanan had never really liked Hooge, the man had a streak of sadism which had always pricked Kanan the wrong way. Ironic since Kanan was the Interrogation officer.
"Yeah, same old here, except I'm not on Bnach," Kanan knew humoring Hooge was the best way to get rid of him.
"Bnach!? Damn, that place's a hell hole, you bastard, you must have been itching to get out. I've been busy here for the last year or so, they kept me on Coruscant, you wouldn't believe how easy it is crustbusting here, damn Lothalians are more backwards than a Hutt who pays with clean money," Hooge then let out a barking laugh, loud and grating.
Kanan wanted to say he had principles, at least more than Hooge, but he knew it was a lie. He'd done terrible things as well, still did them, and it wasn't like he was changing anytime soon.
"Don't you have somewhere you're supposed to be?" Kanan asked, no longer masking his annoyance.
Hooge's smile just widened, he knew he ticked Kanan off and he loved it.
"Nice to see you still got that stick up your ass, Jarrus," Hooge said amiably, clapping Kanan on the back again, "lucky for you I got a briefing with some people I'm auditing, take care Jabba."
Kanan said nothing to the jibe, merely appreciating Hooge's departure. It was too early to be dealing with this kind of bullshit.
Kanan made it to the transportation center, planning on heading to Central's space port. So far he'd been tacked onto a surveillance team, it was small, three agents: two lower ranking than Kanan and the one leading it up a Special Operations agent. They had a pretty vague commission, to investigate illegal and possibly seditious port activity, and they had strong prerogatives to do as they pleased. Luckily the leader of the team, an Agent Oamuys, had sent them short briefs which let them approach the commission however they wanted so long as they reported back once a week in writing and once a month in person. Kanan hadn't met Oamuys yet, they'd been unavailable when he'd come planetside, but the job seemed simple enough.
Today he'd just be walking the area, seeing what it was like and maybe getting an idea about what he, as an Interrogation agent, was expected to do. It was a bit unusual, his job ordinarily consisted of asking questions after people like Hooge had gotten a hold of a suspect, not aiding in the process. It might just be some new program snapped out by an officer who needed new material but didn't know his ass from his face.
He requisitioned a speeder and then, after changing into civilian clothes, headed out. He dumped the speeder off at a small Imperial station, knowing that just the build of the vehicle, let alone its obvious insignia, would mark him as an Imperial. The Lothal interplanetary port was then just a short couple kilometer walk.
"You watch your kriffing fingers!"
Hera rolled her eyes, Zeb was not exactly the person she'd pick to help her make this transport. They'd picked up a shipment of medicine, headed from Coruscant to Lothal, halfway through its journey. It had a few other things tacked on, thanks to Fulcrum, such as a force sensitive refugee and her three kids. They hadn't been bothered by the Empire, Red Sigil was a galactic non-profit which was endorsed by the Empire for both being supportive politically and for the fact that it helped boost the Imperial image. It had its own seditious parts and most of the volunteers who ran it genuinely wanted to see all living creatures given aid. So sneaking a family to safety using the Red Sigil immunity had been easy. If they were discovered, the little crew of the Ghost would be the scape goat and Red Sigil would be able to continue functioning without being harmed by the Empire.
"I'm sorry!" A woman's voice sounded out in apology before turning a one-eighty and snapping out, "Now what did I tell you Kirma?!"
Hera suppressed a laugh. Zeb wasn't good with children, a fact he didn't hide and one which made their trip all the more amusing. Riaka Starsweeper, originally hailing from Tatooine, had adventurous children. They'd given Zeb quite a bit of grief.
"We'll be planetside in just a minute," Hera voiced over the intercom.
Zeb clambered into the cockpit looking like he was ready to bust someone's head.
"Please tell me we're dumping them here," Zeb said, lowering himself into a seat, ears set back in obvious discontent.
Hera let out a soft laugh which had Zeb casting her a glare.
"Yes, they'll be met by someone in Capital," she reassured.
"Good, I don't think I could take another blasted question from one of those brats," Zeb said under his breath, glancing behind him to make sure one of the little monsters didn't suddenly appear.
Hera said nothing in return, amused by the whole thing. She focused on landing, calling in her ship's name and the identification code of their transport. The usual surly attitude of the Imperial port receiver was nonexistent and she was allowed landing without even the usual scan. Being a female Twi'lek captain, she was often met with suspicion and derision. Honestly it didn't help having a Lasat or a semi-sentient (of fully sentient if you asked her) robot with an attitude. At this point though, she wasn't sure it would make a difference. Species based prejudice abounded and Hera had come to accept it as part of her life.
The landing was quick, an open dock on the market side. It was a nice, easy place to refuel and purchase supplies, her cargo door opening up right to the street which was teeming with life from the market, stalls and shops lining it. Once the systems were shut down and a diagnostic was started, Hera stepped out of the cockpit and approached her passengers.
"Our contact should be meeting us here, once you're with them you should be safe," Hera said.
Riaka smiled, tears in her eyes as her three young children crowded around her.
"I don't," she choked up, "I don't know what we would have done without you."
Hera felt her chest warm, the fulfilling sensation of having helped someone spreading through her. Zeb was by her shoulder, receiving the thanks and excited good byes of the children. His face was flushed, a hint of embarrassed joy on his face. For such a grumpy Lasat, he liked doing good as much as Hera. Even Chopper was twittering benevolently in his curious way. Riaka patted the bot on the head with a smile on her face.
"Thank you," she said, looking between the three.
The cargo door opened and a Rodian stood waiting. When he saw Hera he gave a polite greeting and then spoke with her shortly. The necessary code was passed and Hera knew she could leave Riaka in his hands.
Riaka gathered her children and said her good byes again, this time visibly crying. The small crew watched them disappear in the crowd.
"Good job," Hera said, addressing both Zeb and Chopper, "we did good."
Zeb gave a nod, looking a little emotional himself while Chopper let out a preening beep.
"Yeah, we do need to pick up the supplies," Hera said in response, mind already turning to new business.
Turning to look out at the market street, she placed a hand on her hip in thought.
"I can do a usual run, we can make decisions about the reactor turbine later on," Zeb said, seemingly reading her mind.
Hera gave a nod, their reactor turbine was acting up, a mechanical issue which boded no good for them.
"Alright, yeah," Hera said, nodding her head.
"I'll do some outside maintenance, my poor girl is starting to look closer to a trash heap than the pretty freighter she is."
Chopper beeped in agreement and Zeb shrugged, heading out into the crowd.
Ezra felt his lungs shrieking in protest at his exertions. Running at a sprint for several minutes tended to do that. He just needed to make it though, just around the corner, through the alley and then he could make a quick exit through the small sewer pipe there. Maybe he'd smell like shit for a while, literally, but it sure beat being caught by one of Gugliemo's men. This, he thought, was what he got for running messages and packages for Vihaan Mok. Territory wars and violent symbolic messages were what got little Loth-rats like him eviscerated or strung up.
Hearing the shouts of Gugliemo's men Ezra pushed himself to run a little faster. He kind of liked the idea of keeping his entrails inside of him. He rounded the corner and started down the alley. The shouts got louder. Ezra blinked rapidly, trying to see through the sweat which was stinging his eyes. Don't look back, don't look back, he repeated to himself, even as the sounds grew. Once through the alley he saw the sewer pipe, sticking oh so innocently out of a building. Ezra dived, scrambling into it. He could hear one man, a nasty human with a long curved knife, reaching in after him. He felt something catch his ankle and he kicked out, feeling his heel land with a satisfying crunch on someone's nose.
Ezra kept scrambling forward, following the pipe down and finally dropping down onto the walk of the sewer which it lead out to. Falling on his butt, Ezra scooted up against the wall and dragged in ragged gasps of air. When his breathing finally evened out somewhat, a burning sensation in his ankle and lower calf made itself known. Ezra peered down at his leg and saw a tear in his cheap linen pants. Red was bleeding through the fabric. He quickly undid the cloth ankle wrap and pulled his pant leg up. A jagged cut extended from the middle of his calf all the way down to his ankle. It was shallow though and already bleeding sluggishly.
Ezra let out a curse, damn human. It seems the curved knife had come into play more than the one time Ezra had seen the man brandish it at him in threat. He re-wrapped his pant leg and stood up. Not much pain, he took a few experimental steps and was happy to find that the damage was negligible. Another successful near escape. Three years on the street had taught Ezra that you took the wins as they came.
Walking along the sewer, he kept pace for a kilometer or so, before coming to a particular pipe. Climbing in he began his ascent. This one came out near Capital's ever illegal red light district. A good place to meet with Mok, the man was nearly always around there, either at Alibbi or the Dream Crescent. Clambering out of the pipe he stood up and dusted off his pants. Peering at the sun he noted the time as being around midday and smiled.
He'd meet with Mok, hand off the message, then he'd be on his merry way with enough credits jingling merrily in his pocket for him to afford meals for the rest of the week and the energy sling shot he'd been saving up for. All in all, this was turning out to be a good day.
Hands fisted into his shirt backing and slammed him up against a wall. While his head was spinning, a slender arm was jammed up against his throat. Blinking his vision to focus while struggling to breathe, Ezra looked up into the face of a helmet he'd never seen before.
"I got some questions, kid," the voice was unexpectedly high and young.
Ezra glanced up and down at the figure, surprised to find it girlish and small.
"I-yo-" Ezra struggled to breath and talk, words forced out between each desperate gasp for air.
The arm let up a little, but only enough for him to talk.
"Who are you?" Ezra said, voice strained.
The person laughed, a cold heartless chuckle that was most definitely feminine.
"Not Guglielmo if that's what you're worried about, sweetheart. Now, you tell me about Mok and I'll let you go," her voice was patronizing.
Ezra squirmed, trying to break free. A blaster was forced painfully into his stomach. Ezra let out a yip of pain.
"C'mon kid, I'm being nice here, you squeal, I let you go without anybody getting hurt."
"If you're not with Mok or Guglielmo, who?" Ezra asked, determined to know because the icy hand of fear was gripping at his heart that this was an Imperial.
"Bounty," she said shortly.
Ezra felt despair fill him. This wasn't a good situation. Bounty hunters were cruel and callous, they'd gut someone to get the information they needed. But if he spoke, Mom would do worse.
"Don' know nothing," Ezra said, hands clutching at the arm.
The girl was silent, the blaster barrel relaxed and Ezra waited for her to pull the trigger. She leaned in instead, helmeted face piece coming up to his ear.
"You wanna know what I do to little rats like you?" She said softly, "It's not pretty."
Ezra swallowed around the tightness in his throat, mouth now exceedingly dry. He closed his eyes. He could feel the girl relax as if she'd won.
Opening his eyes he stared at her visor, blue eyes obstinate.
"Anything you can do, Mok will do ten times worse," he said slowly, voice shaking.
She leaned away from him, blaster being holstered but her arm staying firm.
"You're right, I can't do much, but an ISB agent can do a whole hell of a lot worse."
With that she used her painted elbow guard to hit him in the face, hard enough to cast him into unconsciousness.
Kanan liked Lothal, it was easy to since the place beat Bnach by a landslide. It was easy to be impressed by blue skies and normal civilians when all you'd seen for over a year was the toxic atmosphere of Bnach and its many residential prisoners.
He let himself wander at first, business secondary in his mind. He needed to become familiar with the place anyway before he could perform any real work. The warm, lazy bustle took over though and he found himself strolling along with thoughts of his job far from his mind.
Green flashed in his peripheral and his head turned. The soft flesh of green lekku trailed down to be followed by a pretry waist and soft curves. They weren't much complimented by the pilot outfit, but Kanan had never had conventional tastes.
The attractive figure was perched on a ladder scrapping away at carbon scouring with a cleaning torch. Kanan watched for a few moments before the torch flicked off and the Twi'lek began her descent down the ladder. Kanan eyed the pendulous movement of the lekku and the sway of hips as one foot went down followed by the other.
When she was on the ground, Kanan took his chance to speak.
"I always heard a scour brush worked better, a bit old fashioned if you ask me, but if the old ways worked once they probably still work now."
He was pleased as she turned around, revealing a pretty face with sharp intelligent eyes and thin brows that were currently raised.
"Is that so?" She responded, eyeing him in a way that made him know he was being judged in the next few minutes.
He needed to impress.
"Yeah, tried and true as some would say," he paused, turning his eyes to the ship despite his own desire to just keep his eyes on her, "this your freighter?"
Watching the light sparkle in her eyes and the pride which lit up her face, Kanan knew he'd asked the right question.
"Yep, my one and only," the women moved forward, patting the hull of the ship, "we've been through a lot."
"What brings a captain like you to a planet like this?" Kanan asked, curiosity now aroused.
"What has every other captain like me on a planet like this, work," she said, now moving to dismantle the scour torch and put it away.
Kanan was disappointed to see he'd lost at least some of her attention.
"I very much doubt there are many other captains like you."
She turned, eyed him with a touch of mirth and wariness. It seemed she was reconsidering him.
"And what do you do exactly, Mr. Space man?"
"It's Kanan," he almost slipped up and gave her his full name, "and I do odd jobs, little things here and there, whatever gets food on the table."
Her eyes softened a little and she turned back to him, a piece of the torch still in hand.
"Alright, Kanan, I'm Hera."
He was surprised to see her extend her hand. He gripped it though, giving a firm shake, figuring that she was the sort of woman who wanted respect and to deal with people on the same level as her.
"If I need an odd job done, I guess I'll know who to call," she had a small smirk on her face.
Kanan grinned in response, about to say something, when a large creature ambled up the dock door. Kanan stared for a few seconds as he recognized it as being a Lasat. They were impossibly rare, and they usually had no liking for the Empire.
"Hera, I got the supplies," the Lasat said, setting a box down inside the ship.
The Lasat's yellow green eyes, cat like and harsh, cut to Kanan. It wasn't the most friendly of looks.
"Who's this?" The Lasat asked.
"Zeb, this is Kanan," Hera said before turning to Kanan, "Kanan this is Zeb, he's a part of my crew."
Kanan felt his mind turn. Where one found a Lasat, one found a seditionist. It had been a saying of the ISB for the time following the Lasat genocide and it had been relatively true. Without a home and many refugees, most of those sympathetic to them were haters of the Empire. Kanan wondered if this was going to hold true for the lovely Twi'lek captain.
"Nice to meet you," Kanan said, holding a hand out to Zeb.
Zeb's gaze narrowed and he didn't take the offered hand.
"I'd say the same if I meant it," Zeb spat.
"Zeb," Hera softly chided, stepping in front of him.
Zeb shrugged his shoulders and moved back into the ship, casting Kanan another look.
"Sorry about that," Hera apologized, lekku tinged and her appearance a beautiful mix between calm and flustered.
Kanan realized he was staring. He blushed, felt immediately idiotic and then, with an unconscious tic he had done as a padawan, rubbed the back of his head.
"Not real friendly, is he?" Kanan said.
Hera shook her head, "no, not terribly."
Kanan glanced at the sky and saw that late afternoon was nearly exhausted and evening would be upon them soon. He had his meeting with Agent Oamuys.
"Maybe I'll see you around," he said, taking a few steps back but not looking away from her.
She smiled, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Maybe," she replied.
Kanan turned around, he couldn't help the grin on his face. It had been a very long time since he'd met a girl like Hera.
Sabine had hauled the loth-rat onto her shoulder before heading back towards the small room her and Ketsu were sharing. This kid didn't count as an actual bounty, but she'd been hoping that as a child he'd be more vulnerable to intimidation. Mok's reputation however was a formidable thing to challenge and it seemed even this kid knew not to double cross the man. The whole thing had been disappointing.
Nimbly climbing the stairs, she opened the door and quickly bound the boy. Injecting him with some heavy duty sedatives, she removed her helmet and then her armor. She felt jittery and tense, stressed out. She just wished Ketsu would get here.
While she waited she washed her face and started to do inventory on her little 'pieces of art', she threw a glance at the kid seeing that he was still jumbled in his position in the corner where she'd thrown him. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the inventory.
"Didn't know we got bounty from picking up street rats," Ketsu's voice was a rich sound even though she was only two years older than Sabine.
Sabine startled, not having heard the seventeen year old enter.
"Ketsu, hey," she said in greeting.
Sabine stood, a needy pushing desire that had been burning in her all day coming to the forefront of her thoughts. She stood up and approached the ebony skinned Mandolorian.
"He's the means to a bounty, not worth bantha fodder," she explained, wrapping an arm around Ketsu's neck to pull her down into a harsh kiss.
Ketsu pulled back after a few moments, amusement in her eyes.
"That bad a day?" She said with a laugh.
Sabine responded by crassly slipping a hand into Ketsu's pants, fingers moving with alacrity.
"If I didn't know better I'd think you liked me, Ms. Wren," Ketsu said, tossing her helmet onto the small bed and pulling Sabine to her.
Sabine grinned viciously up at her.
"Means to an end, Ketsu, nothing else," she bit into Ketsu's neck drawing a moan from the other girl.
"I-" Ketsu let out a breathy moan as Sabine continued her aggressive assault, "I think I can live with that."
The two girls fell on the bed.
Sabine awoke before Ketsu. She looked ruefully at the slender, naked body of the other girl before easing out of bed. She let out a sigh, dressing herself. Running a hand through her short multi-colored hair she wondered what she was doing.
She felt, empty. A nagging hole was in her, guilt and fear swarming at the edges and threatening to swallow her. She'd left the Empire, but she still didn't feel like she had escaped the biting darkness which had consumed her when she'd realized what she'd done to her planet, her people, all in the name of the Empire.
Ketsu filled it, sort of. Their relationship was, complicated. It had been going on since right before she'd turned fifteen. They had always been close in the academy and striking out as bounty hunters had isolated them from the world they'd known and pulled them closer together. There was something raw and animalistic about it though, and something so impersonal that it hurt. Sabine was the one who wanted it that way though, she didn't want to depend on Ketsu for that kind of support. Something though, something was missing in her life and she felt as if she was going to soon implode if she didn't find out what.
She let out another sigh, washed her face again and then turned to the boy.