Surprise, I haven't abandoned this story yet!

Also just a warning that there's some pretty dark content in this chapter, including psychological torture, major character death and (more) execution. Stay safe, folks!

Of all the things Hera might have expected, being thrown into a cell with Agent Kallus hadn't even crossed her mind, and yet it happened. In the hours since she'd arrived, they hadn't spoken beyond a brief overview of the battle and an exchange of pitiful looks. They merely sat side-by-side on the metal bench, shoulders heavy with dark thoughts and a curtain of despair at their situation.

The Death Troopers had put a heavy metal collar around Hera's neck, linked to a chain that was attached to the wall above her head, and which stopped her moving more than a metre from the cell's bench. She was positive that Thrawn had designed it specifically to remind her of the similar chains she had seen on her enslaved people in every corner of the galaxy.

It seemed like a detail only he would come up with, after all.

Kallus wasn't nearly as heavily restrained- like her, his hands were clasped in binders at the front, but that was all- not that unbound hands would have been much more of an advantage with an entire Star Destroyer between them and freedom.

So Hera had no choice but to sit in silence and try to keep a lid on the bubbling anger and sadness swirling in her brain. Occasionally, she would flick a dirty glance to the security camera in the corner of the room- just the thought of some Imperial dog watching her every move was enough motivation to contain it all- the grief, the rage and tears. She'd promised herself a long time ago that they would never see her break.

Hera certainly wasn't fool enough to think there was a way out of this. It was difficult to tell on something as big as the Chimera, but by now they had to be in hyperspace and on their way to Coruscant. Even if Ezra and his reinforcements had escaped, there was no possible way they'd be able to pull off a rescue against such impossible odds and with so little rebel forces left to help. Even the greater Rebellion wouldn't be able to help them now. How had so much gone so wrong so quickly?

"I'm… sorry," said Kallus, breaking the long, horrible (but not uncompanionable) silence.

Hera took her time to reply, swallowing in the hope to keep both the dryness and pain from her voice. It wasn't easy, especially as the screams from the last survivors of Chopper Base (including those of Zeb and AP-5) still seemed to echo in her ears.

"It's not your fault," she rasped softly back. "You tried to warn us. You betrayed everything you ever believed in to help us, and risked your life to try to warn us. There should be more people like you in this galaxy."

Kallus blinked at her, mouth slack from surprise. He looked far from the prim and proper agent that had first tried to hunt them down all those years ago- now there were cuts on his face, a dark burgeoning bruise on one of his cheeks, his clothes were torn and bloody, but there was also a light behind his eyes Hera hadn't seen before.

Kallus chuckled. "You know, not too long ago I thought of you as a ruthless insurgent out for nothing but blood and destruction. And now here you are, comforting me at the end of all things. How... extraordinary."

Kanan had once told her that she was a natural at bringing peace to those in need of it. It was one of the reasons she'd been able to calm and nurture Sabine and Ezra's more wilder temperaments, and a part of the reason why she was so suited for the role of command.

Kanan had said it was one of the things he loved most about her.

(The last thing Hera would ever see of Kanan was a glimpse of his limp, bleeding body as the Death Troopers marched her onto Thrawn's shuttle.)

"I'm the one who failed everyone," she breathed, with a tight smile. The collar jingled and pulled heavily on her throat, putting just enough pressure to make it uncomfortable to breathe too heavily, but not enough that she was choking. "I was in charge of the operation. I should have been prepared. I should have ordered an evacuation earlier."

"You couldn't have possibly known."

Hera swallowed again. "Maybe."

Kallus didn't seem to be able to find the right words to reply. Instead, he shifted closer to Hera until their shoulders touched. The gesture, steeped in basic kindness that a lot of the galaxy had forgotten, almost brought tears to her eyes. Almost.

The door to the cell suddenly whooshed open, and cold artificial light fell in on top of them. Hera sprung to her feet and Kallus did the same beside her.

"Thrawn," Kallus growled, low and dangerous.

Thrawn, in his usual pristine white uniform and sans the silly combat helmet he'd worn on Atollon, stood in the doorway and Hera immediately felt a crashing wave of molten anger explode outwards from the bottom of her stomach, and reach everywhere from her toes to the tips of her lekku. She held her head high in angry defiance as he walked in, resisting the urge to rush forward and strangle the Chiss with her bare hands, not that it would have been any good to try- the collar around her neck was an awful reminder of her powerlessness.

Governor Price skulked in behind him, followed by two black Troopers that stomped in and stood at attention against the side walls of the cell. Hera swallowed back the urge to calculate a way she could get her hands on one of their blasters. It would be close to useless to hope at this point, barring a miracle and a somehow waiting shuttle in the landing bay.

It was too late for miracles now, at any rate.

"Former Agent Kallus, former Captain Syndulla," Thrawn said in a tone of pleasant greeting, like they were old friends meeting for a drink in a cantina. "I trust that you've found your accommodation acceptable?"

The Grand Admiral's sickly voice sent shivers down Hera's back, but she refused to tremor at it.

A lot of different responses bounced around in her head. A lot of them involved words she would never have said around Ezra or Sabine in a thousand years, some of Chopper's favourite binary insults as well as some she had learned from Ezra and Sabine.

She settled on spitting at the monster's feet.

"How succinct, that was my sentiment exactly," Kallus added, dryly.

"Uncivilised Twi'lek," snarled Price.

Thrawn only smiled down at the fleck of spit on the ground. He raised his head, slowly and deliberately, before once again staring right into Hera's eyes. Closer up, the red eyeballs seemed even more soulless and calculating than Hera remembered, or perhaps she was just imagining it.

"That was terribly rude, Captain. I would have expected better from you."

"What do you want now, Thrawn?" snarled Hera. "Are you here to gloat? If so I would have expected better from you."

Thrawn's top lip curled in amusement.

"We're here with something of a gift, actually," drawled Price, every inch the smug bitch Hera had always known her to be.

She and Kallus exchanged a sceptical look.

"What kind of 'gift' could you possibly have for us?" she said, with a spike of dread. It felt far too early for an execution- she'd expected torture droids, questions, pain beyond imagining before she outlived her usefulness. She'd never willingly give up the greater rebellion, but even the strongest person she knew hadn't escaped the Empire's clutches unshaken.

Thrawn tilted his head, surveying her once more- it was getting beyond unnerving. He lifted his gloved hand and clicked his fingers together once, before stepping formally to the side. Price was watching her with a greedy hunger in her eyes.

Two more Death Troopers appeared in the doorway, dragging a limp and injured figure between them on the floor, whose arms were bound behind their back.

"One of the last rebel survivors of the Battle of Atollon," announced Thrawn, as the prisoner was thrown to the ground before Hera and Kallus.

The young man groaned in pain, then lifted his shaven dark head. Blue, hazy eyes found hers and widened in recognition.

"Hera?" gasped Ezra.

No.

In the corner of her eye she saw Kallus look to her, his jaw clenched and pity splashed across his features.

To her credit, Hera only allowed herself a single moment to close her eyes, let the cold terror slide down her back and the flood of emotion overwhelm her, before dutifully shoved it all away again. They would not break her. She would not let them. She'd made a promise.

"I'm here, Ezra," Hera replied, injecting calm into her voice.

She clamped down hard on her jaw as she dared to look the boy over- there was a long, bruised and untreated gash on the left side of Ezra's head with a trail of blood that had seeped right down over his ear and onto his neck. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he was wearing a torn grey spacesuit with an old Republican insignia on the shoulder that she recognised from the inventory of the Gauntlet.

"Where's Kanan?" asked Ezra, straining to keep his head up without the use of his arms. "I felt something- something really bad in the Force and I don't know- I don't- where is he, Hera?"

Hera felt another chill of grief pierce her heart. She tried to open her mouth, but the words got stuck in her throat.

"Oh, kriff, oh kriff and Sabine," moaned Ezra, trying to curl into himself. "Sabine, Hera, she… she- she- kriff, I'm sorry, I couldn't- couldn't save sab-"

"Ah yes, we mustn't forget Sabine Wren, the poor Mandalorian girl," simpered Price.

One of the Troopers who had brought Ezra pulled something from the magnetic hold on his back, and held it up, before throwing it heavily to the ground. Ezra flinched away from the loud thunk sound as though it had physically hurt him, moaning.

The helmet landed on its side and rolled towards Hera- it was covered in bright colours in familiar shades of pink, blue and purple, along with unfamiliar splotches of burgundy and black plasma scorches. The visor strips were shattered and the eyeholes stared blankly at her, like gaping black lines of void.

"Unfortunately, the girl and her Mandalorian friends preferred death to surrender," proclaimed Price, stepping forward to kick the helmet so it rolled even closer to Hera. "Which is to be expected, I suppose, from a warrior race such as they were."

"Imperial forces have also hunted down and destroyed every remaining Rebel vessel in the system. Phoenix Squadron and General Doddonna's fleet have been completely decimated," added Thrawn.

"No... Chopper was on the Gauntlet," mumbled Ezra in horror.

No one escaped, thought Hera, staring at Sabine's helmet, with such cold and dull certainty that her legs gave out beneath her and she crashed to the floor. Kallus moved his hands onto her shoulder to steady her, as Ezra let out a choked sob and looked away from the charred helmet, pressing his face into metal grating.

"The boy was found drifting through debris near the Interdictor," Price added casually, with a gesture to Ezra.

Hera took several long and steady breaths, her knees stinging.

"Okay, okay, what's your point here, Thrawn?" she hissed out between the gaps of her teeth, ignoring Price.

Thrawn cocked his head to the side as if he were a curious loth-kitten.

"I've already told you my point, Captain Syndulla. You are defeated. I want you to accept this fact in every way. I want every single atom in your body to know that I have bested you, and I want you to watch everyone you love suffer and die as a consequence of defying the Empire."

Thrawn said all of this in his soft undertone of a voice that had Hera straining to hear and at the same time desperately wishing she hadn't heard it at all. The collar around her neck seemed to suddenly tighten and choke all the air out of her body, and she forced herself to lean backwards.

The Grand Admiral smiled his rancor smile again. He motioned to one of the waiting Death Troopers, who pulled Ezra up, before pushing him forward again so the boy was down on his knees, almost mirroring Hera herself.

"Hera, what's-?" Ezra asked, gazing at her with wide, unfocused blue eyes as he swayed, head drooping, the Trooper's hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him steady.

"Shhh, Ezra, it'll will be alright." Hera's words felt hollow even before they left her mouth.

Thrawn stepped forward to grip at the short strands of Ezra's hair, pulling back his neck and studying the boy's face with the morbid curiosity of a scientist examining a lab rat.

Kallus' hand tightened on her shoulder as Ezra whimpered. The sound sent a sharp pang through her heart.

After a few jaw-clenching seconds, Thrawn let go and took a step back.

However, whatever relief Hera felt was short-lived. Thrawn nodded to a Trooper, who unclipped something long, silver, and cylindrical from their belt that Hera would have recognised anywhere.

She already knew what was coming next. She'd known it the second Ezra had been brought into the cell.

The Trooper handed it over, and Thrawn held out Kanan's lightsaber for the room, and especially Hera, to see. She met his gaze with as much silent fury as she could convey.

"This is unjust, Thrawn!" interjected Kallus angrily, and the Grand Admiral shifted his gaze with a mild surprise, as though he had almost forgotten Kallus was in the room. "You can't do this, senate regulations state that prisoners of war are to be given -"

"You of all people should know that the Empire has little regard for 'senate regulations' when it comes to dangerous Rebels, Kallus," said Price, her hands on her hips. "Besides, this isn't a war scenario- this is pest control."

"Maybe so, but I can't imagine the rest of the galaxy will take kindly to the news that an underage boy was executed in cold blood by an Imperial Admiral," Kallus bit back.

Thrawn tilted his head and smiled, taking a moment to study the lightsaber with the same, cold eye he'd used on Ezra.

"According to official reports," began Thrawn, "the rebel forces hiding in the Atollon system, excluding the main leadership and the traitorous mole we were fortunately able to capture, were all killed while violently resisting arrest. If any information contradicting this were to somehow emerge, it would be disregarded by the Empire, and myself. I do hope you're not delusional enough to believe that the word of a traitor such as yourself would hold any weight in either the senate or the Emperor's court?"

Kallus clenched his jaw. A tense few moments passed. "You're wrong. And one day the whole galaxy will know that."

"Spoken, once again, like a true rebel Alexsandr."

As Kallus fell silent, Hera risked a glance to Ezra, and found him looking up intently at the lightsaber in Thrawn's gloved hand. No doubt he had recognised it even through the haze of shock and a probable concussion.

He turned back to her, and said so quietly it broke her heart, "Hera, where's Kanan?"

Hera's throat felt suddenly too tight to talk. All she could do was shake her head, the chain jangling.

I'm sorry, Ezra. I'm so sorry.

"No..." Ezra blinked several times, tears appearing. "No, I was supposed to come save you, I-I'm-"

"Don't worry, Bridger. You'll be with your master again quite soon," crooned Price. She bent down and ran a gloved hand along his cheek. Ezra flinched away, breathing heavily and staring at the floor with his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

Hera knew that despite pain and hopelessness, he was trying to come up with a plan- a clever scheme, an escape route, a proverbial hyperspace jump just in the nick of time. They were Spectres, and for them there was always a way.

Except this time.

"Beg for his life, Captain," said Thrawn.

Hera could only shake her head, her lekku swinging and hitting her shoulders. "Why? What would be the point of that, beyond satisfying you? You're going to kill him anyway, I know it won't save him."

I can't save him. I can't save anyone.

Thrawn hummed as though in agreement. He pressed the button on the saber and it extended, blue and blazing, and he swung it around as though testing out the balance. "Quite right you are."

"Don't do this, Thrawn!" cried Kallus, starting forward. The Stormtroopers and Death Troopers all raised their blasters at him, and he paused, a vein in his neck popping.

Price stepped back, folding her arms curtly behind her back. "How strange to think that we are achieving what four Inquisitors and Darth Vader himself somehow could not," she said, as though stating an odd fact about the weather or some kind of alien food.

"Indeed," replied Thrawn. He drew back the blade.

"Hera..." said Ezra, filling her with an agonising sense of déjà vu.

She watched it happen as though time itself had slowed down. In reality, it was the space of a blink or a human heartbeat, when Thrawn thrust the lightsaber into Ezra's back, and came bursting out the front of his chest.

He spluttered and cried out, his eyes widening in shock and pain, looking straight into hers. For an agonising moment he was skewered in place, until Thrawn pulled the blade back and deactivated it. The Troopers holding Ezra's arms stepped back, and he swayed for a moment before crumbling face first to the metal floor.

Hera rushed forward on instinct, but was yanked back by the collar. She choked out a cry but didn't stop, reaching out as far as she could possibly could. Ezra was right there in front of her, twitching and dying, but the tips of her fingers barely brushed the top of his head.

Despite her tunnelling vision, she could see Price's smirk and Thrawn clipping the lightsaber to his belt as clear as day. The Admiral wiped one gloved hand down his coat, as though dabbing away something distasteful and filthy, and it filled Hera with a rage so great it almost startled her- after everything that had happened today, it was a miracle she was still able to feel anything at all.

Remembering her vow- don't let them see you break- Hera forced herself to breathe, despite the thundering of ears and mind, and rolled backwards on her knees to glare, her lekku quivering.

"The Empire is might. All those who oppose it are doomed only for pain and death," Thrawn proclaimed, "Hope cannot save you from that."

Hera, despite it all, felt herself smil.

"So you think."

With one last cold, scrutinizing look, Thrawn gestured to his soldiers and with a short, "Dismissed," they turned and stomped out the cell door in synchronised beat before him.

"Enjoy your last few moments of peace in this life," was Price's smug closing remark, as she followed at Thrawn's back. The door slid closed behind them.

"Ezra," moaned Hera, yanking herself forward to run her fingers across what she could of her boy's scalp. "I'm sorry, Ezra."

Ezra was spluttering and twitching where he lay.

After a moment of listening to the fading footsteps outside, Kallus sprung forward, firmly placing both his hands over the still smoking wound in Ezra's, trying to stem the flow of blood that glugged and pooled onto the cell floor. Hera watched as the man's face fell from panic to a solemn hardness with a knowing sense of numbness.

"There's nothing we can do to save him," Kallus told her. She almost couldn't bear the pity in the man's eyes. "He hasn't got long now."

"Bring him to me, please," Hera croaked. Her neck was burning, the collar tight and chafing the thin skin there. It was nothing to what she imagined Ezra's pain to be- no doubt Thrawn was well versed in how to make death as long and painful as possible.

Kallus nodded respectfully, grabbing at the scruff of Ezra's space suit.

Grey is such a terrible colour to die in. Why couldn't it have been orange- that's his favourite colour, she thought.

"Sorry Bridger, this is going to hurt," Kallus muttered. Ezra moaned and gurgled in response, then cried out as Kallus began pulling. Hera leaned back and held out her arms in waiting, and Ezra was pulled right up into her embrace- as close to a hug as she could manage with her hands in binders.

Kallus stood and stepped across the room, and Hera was glad of both his discretion and company.

She clutched onto Ezra's weakening body as tight as she could. She didn't mind the blood that was seeping both from his front and back, or his quickening breaths, slick against her breast, no, that was nothing at all. He tried desperately to mumble something, but the words were lost against her clothes.

"Gods, I'm so sorry, Ezra," she said again, this time with her face buried into his short hair. "I had a responsibility, and I failed all of you."

Ezra gurgled something else.

"Shhh love. Just close your eyes, I'm here."

Too similarly to Kanan, she knew at once when Ezra died- his final shaky breath was overdrawn and mangled, then every muscle suddenly loosened. He seemed to sink boneless against her legs with one last twitch.

Hera didn't make a sound, beyond the whistling of air in and out of her nose.

This had not broken her.

She looked over the top of Ezra's head to Sabine's helmet on the ground. It sat beside a thick smeared line of red blood, on its side like discarded junk.

That did not break her either.

Zeb's last battle cry, Rex's accepting sigh and the unsaid 'I love you' in Kanan's final word all echoed in her ears, like buzzing insects. She was the last one left, ironically the only one not yet a true spectre. A huge chunk of the rebellion had been decimated, the Empire could very well extract vital information from her in interrogation and the chance of rescue was slim to none. Kallus had slid down the wall to sit, rubbing at the blood on his hands, and Hera's face felt wet, her lekku shaking even harder than when her mother had died.

It was the worst possible scenario.

And yet, Hera Syndulladidnot let herself break.

Shoutout to Killerkitty641 for roughly guessing where this was going.

Sorry about the wait, I got a flamey "review" on chapter 1 that bummed me out, then I started on medication that messed me up for a while, and then I got a bit blocked and was really dragging my feet on this chapter, so. *shrug*

One more part of torturing Hera left! No guarantees on when it will be out, I've recently started a new job and I'm on a bit of a RWBY kick lately!

(also it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm excited)