A/N: Here it is. The final installment of Kallus's journey joining the rebels.
In terms of beautiful sunsets, the rebels had chosen their planet well.
After that first incident in the cafeteria, Kallus had been too apprehensive of another one to wander the base without a member of Syndulla's crew. He knew that one dinner, with one announcement, as kind as they both had been, wouldn't cure everything, but he figured if he was going to take advantage of the newfound protection, now was the time. After all, who knew how long Captain Syndulla's words would last?
Pilots and rebel crew members walked around him, but nobody acknowledged him, which he considered an incredible relief. The sun was low in the sky, coating everyone in dusky shades of orange and pink, making the place look like something out of a children's holovid. He smiled at the thought, that the beauty of a sunset could transform even a place of war.
No sunset, however, was powerful enough to mask the vibrant green twi'lek approaching him.
"Kallus," she called, with the obvious intention of flagging him down. Being singled out still sparked a nervous jitter in his stomach, but Kallus was slowly learning that not every interaction required a fight-or-flight response.
"Captain Syndulla," he nodded. Kallus wasn't sure if he wanted her to approach him or not, but she didn't give him time to figure it out.
"How was dinner?" She asked, drawing near. "I didn't get the chance to ask you earlier."
As always, Syndulla cut right to the chase—he was starting to like that about her, but the question still surprised him.
"Um, good," he said. No, that wasn't the right word—too trite. "Very nice, actually." There—microscopically better. He could have cringed.
"I'm glad," she said, her voice and gaze genuine. "I hope it won't be an issue anymore."
The firmness in her voice indicated that the captain would make sure of it. He nodded and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfiture.
"Thank you, for that," Kallus said, his cheeks hot.
"You're welcome."
He nodded again, unsure of what to say, and then shifted his weight. Syndulla's lips held a gentle smile, as if she could tell he had something weighing on him and was waiting for it.
He bit his lip and shot the question forward before he could change his mind. "Can I ask you something?" Kallus pursed his lips; the query had been on his mind since leaving the Empire.
She nodded. "Of course."
"Why…" He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to place the words in his mouth. "Why are you treating me so kindly?"
Syndulla looked genuinely surprised, but now that the question was out, he couldn't stop his stream of consciousness from following it.
"I must have tried to kill you at least a dozen times. And I don't mean that in the sense of the Empire versus the Rebellion, I mean that directly. We first met because of a trap I set to draw you out." He knew he was babbling, but the words just kept coming, none of them flattering. "I captured your Jedi and stood by while he was being tortured. I dedicated months of my life to your defeat. I just… After everything I've done, I don't understand why you're trying so hard to make me comfortable here." His voice raised by the end, his bafflement manifesting itself, and he watched her anxiously for any sign of a reaction.
Syndulla listened carefully, nodding her head. After a moment, without so much as a blink (the woman would have made a killing as a gambler), she finally gave her answer.
"I have more respect for you than you'd think," she said. Enigmatic, but an answer all the same; he felt a sense of relief just for having expressed his thoughts.
Then, the ghost of a smirk appeared. "Besides, you never succeeded, so no hard feelings," she added.
Kallus snorted despite himself. "You're certainly a resilient bunch," he admitted.
"Yes. We are," Syndulla said pointedly, gesturing to him. "You're one of us now."
Kallus looked down to his new uniform and then back at her. "I suppose that's true."
She gave him an approving smile, and he shifted once more.
"I, um… do you have a minute?"
Her eyes flicked down to her datapad.
"It won't be long," Kallus hastened to assure her. "I just— I have something. For you."
Syndulla's eyebrows raised in surprise, but slowly, she nodded.
"Alright."
"Good," Kallus nodded. "Um, this way," he mumbled. The object was in his bunk, but he didn't want to insinuate anything, so he just led her there. They received a few curious stares, but the gawkers were quick to avert their eyes, he assumed after receiving a fearsome glare from the captain behind him.
When he reached the door of his bunk, he turned to her. "Ah, wait here. Please."
Syndulla nodded, a quizzical expression on her face. He retrieved the object from one of his drawers and returned to her, palming the door shut behind him. The hallway was empty, except for them, but the lack of an audience didn't make him any less anxious about what he was about to do.
Her eyes widened in disbelief at the object, and a tiny gasp of hope escaped the captain. "The Kalikori?" Syndulla brought her hands up to her mouth in awe, and beneath them, a glowing smile rose.
Kallus held it out to her. "I managed to remove it from the Grand Admiral's study before I departed," he said softly.
Syndulla took the Kalikori from him with careful precision, and held it in her hands with reverence, as if it would disappear any moment. After a moment of study, she pulled it tightly against her chest, and Kallus was struck by an immense longing to possess something that meant so much. She cradled it with the same loving care a mother would her child.
"Kallus, I…" She looked down at the object and then back up to him. "I don't know what to say." If he hadn't known better, he might have thought he saw tears shining in her eyes—but this was Captain Syndulla. The gratitude in her smile was brighter than the setting sun.
"I'm sorry I didn't give it to you earlier. There was… a lot going on," he said awkwardly. Wasn't that the understatement of the year.
"This is perfect," she said, her voice as sincere as the smile she was giving him. "Thank you."
He shifted his weight. "No thanks necessary, Captain. The Kalikori is yours, I was simply returning it to its rightful owner."
"No, Kallus, thank you," she said again, and it pummeled into his stomach. Her gratitude felt like a dense blanket wrapping around him, but instead of enjoying the warmth, he was suffocating. "I can't imagine what you must have gone through to obtain this."
Any rebel would have done the same, he wanted to tell her. I stopped Bridger from retrieving it the first time, he wanted to tell her. It wasn't hard at all, and it's a shallow gesture, and you shouldn't let it change your opinion of me, because it doesn't erase the things I've done, he wanted to tell her.
Instead he just bowed his head.
"Captain Syndulla, please," he said, refusing to meet her eyes. "After all I've done… I don't deserve your gratitude."
Kallus stared at the floor until she spoke.
"Hera," she said. He glanced up at her curiously, and she gave him a warm, honest smile. "Call me Hera."
Hope and elation crashed over him in waves, and he returned the grin.
"Very well then," he said, his voice quiet, as if raising it could break the newfound amity. "You're welcome, Hera."
After he and Capta—Hera parted, Kallus continued his stroll. The next rebel he found, sitting on a grouping of crates, watching the sunset, was none other than Ezra Bridger.
The moment he recognized the teenaged rebel, Kallus changed his course, but Bridger must have sensed him, because he turned around and waved at Kallus.
The ex-agent pointed to his chest in confusion, as if to say me?
Bridger nodded, and scooted over on the crate. With reluctance, Kallus approached the teen and sat down.
Neither spoke for a moment. The sun hovered in the sky, close but not quite touching the horizon.
Bridger cleared his throat. "So, I, uh, just ran into Hera."
"Mm." Kallus nodded, planning to say as little as possible until he knew where this conversation was headed.
"She told me what you did, with the Kalikori," Bridger added, begrudgingly. "I… I thought that was pretty cool." He looked over at Kallus with hesitance in his posture, and in that tentative look, Kallus understood the situation exactly. Bridger, a rebel and a Jedi, but still a prickly teen, had laid his version of an apology at Kallus's feet, leaving Kallus to decide whether to pick it up or kick it into the dirt.
The decision was an easy one.
"You know, Jabba," Kallus started, with his best deadpan delivery, "All I ever wanted was for you to think I was cool."
A grin spread on Bridger's face, and he chuckled, bumping Kallus's arm, which encouraged Kallus to let out a laugh too. It felt strange, swapping wits with this boy that he'd spent years chasing, but never really known; it felt strange, referring to Hera by her first name, when she'd always been that blasted twi'lek rebel pilot; and it felt strange, taking time to sit and watch the sunset, when he'd spent his entire life sleeping in a windowless room, and it felt strange, and it felt new, but it felt good.