A/N: Apologies for being away so long. Life and work and reasons kept me from writing. Back now, though! Thanks to all that have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story. Special thanks to Hoplite39 for the use of plot items and the mention of the OC Zarine from "Loyal Soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper." And to Malicean for the mention of Pink Glitter Paint in chapter 7 of "Vader's Own." You'll have to read it if you want the background on why only Leia and Tess would understand the reference. ;) Both are amazing stories and you should totally go read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, etc...

I didn't need a medical pod this time. The wound was superficial; a ricocheted blow that felt as if it had gone right through my shoulder but in actuality hadn't penetrated too far into the flesh. The majority of its energy spent when it bounced off the steel twice before striking me.

The medical tech and one of the navy troopers were kind enough to pull down the footage from the sensors Luke and his strike team hadn't completely destroyed. I saw my bolt bouncing into the ceiling, then into the door frame, and slamming into my shoulder. I also saw the most shocking thing of all.

It had been a navy trooper on duty in the control area that had shot me.

One already wounded from that wookie's initial spray of fire. He'd climbed to his feet, taken aim, and tried to kill me. But that wasn't the truly shocking part. It was when the stormtrooper directly next to him turned and fired his/her E-11 right into the trooper's head. Seamlessly, flawlessly, and without remorse. He/she put a bolt right through the other man's temple and without missing a beat, and swung back towards the fighting.

And proceeded to make the worst show of never hitting a target than I had ever seen.

I had a better chance of hitting Luke and his team than this trained warrior ever could, and I couldn't hit the broad side of the Death Star if I stood on top of it and hurled a magnet right at my feet!

Again, it made no sense. No amount of pain blockers currently flooding my bloodstream would make it any less confusing. Why in the Empire were they trying to miss their targets? One person purposely missing could be plausible, one person in the unit having sympathy for the massacre that had been the Emperor's "lesson" via Alderaan. An entire unit of stormtroopers with that level of compassion?

No. It wasn't possible. Aside from the ironclad training they received, there were the conditioning drugs. I'd sampled those drugs and knew firsthand just how powerful they could be, and how hard it was to go against the training given while under their influence. Even now, there were moments where all I wanted to do was sit in my quarters and wait for Martio to come home. Sit there and dream of our wedding and our future children and how wonderfully I'd behave at the Royal Court, all for his honor.

All for the honor of our wonderful Emperor, may he rule forevermore…

Stars, I wanted to vomit just thinking about it.

So, no. There was no way in the known galaxy that an entire squad would be in on Leia's escape. Something else had to be going on, some plan way over my head that necessitated this jail break.

Con wasn't having any of my questions on the topic. I could tell by the way his arm was tense around my shoulders that he wanted to pick me up and shake me until my head snapped off. He couldn't do that now that I was married. Indeed, he couldn't so much as lay a finger on me without my permission. I belonged to Martio now, and no matter how much I angered Con with my stubborn determination to get into the worst kinds of trouble, he had no power to stop me.

It was odd, that realization. I literally had more power than he in this moment.

I came to a stop in the hall, forcing him to do the same or drag me along with him. "Why did they miss?"

"Not all troopers are as well seasoned as the ones selected to guard you, Lady Batch. While it would be a dream come true for all stormtroopers to fire accurately one hundred percent of the time—"

"Con," I snapped, and then sighed heavily when he blanched at my use of his first name. For the love of the Force, really? He was going to insist on proper protocols now? Granted, we were in the middle of an empty hallway and not behind closed doors, but… I ground my teeth in frustration.

"Forgive me, Admiral Motti," I gritted out behind a polite smile. "I forgot myself. Pray tell, what was the real reason they missed? I watched the same footage you did. I saw that stormtrooper fire with accuracy at that navy trooper and kill him dead on. The speed and skill was evidently there. And then gone in the next minute?"

Con folded his hands behind his back, shoulders square. "Lady Batch, I am afraid I am unable to answer that question. Please, you are injured. Allow me to escort you to your quarters. If you husband is so inclined, perhaps he may answer that question for you."

Ah, that was right. The extent of my power was only as good as my husband's name. And at times could be blocked by the simple fabric of a uniform. Well, perhaps the verbal power could be stopped that way, but not the physical. Namely, me.

I flashed him a dazzling smile, and with a generous swish of my skirts, turned on my heel.

And headed in the other direction.

"Te—Lady Batch!" Con protested, hurrying over to my side. "Your quarters are not in this direction."

"Truly?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my tone. "Why, how silly of me to have forgotten. I am only a woman, you see, and so simple of mind. Since this station is spherical in shape, I do believe I can reach my quarters eventually if I keep walking this way, yes? We'll call it the scenic route. Care to join me?"

His eyes narrowed, clearly not amused. "I insist that you stop this instant, my lady. There are dangerous fugitives on the loose. I cannot ensure your safety—"

"Dangerous fugitives that someone on this station allowed to escape," I cut in, dropping the vapid act. "I want to know why. Why would good officers allow this to happen?"

This time he crossed in front of me, grabbed me by the arm and pulled up on my tiptoes. So much for that vaunted protocol now. "Tessa, I do not have time for your games right now. This is serious. You will either go to your quarters willingly, or so help me, I will carry you there."

"You will do nothing of the sort," I hissed. "Unhand me right now, or so help me, I'll see to it that you never have a hand again. Like you, I am tired of the games. I am tired of the lies and the schemes. People I care about are dead, and many soon will be unless I can find out what is going on!"

He didn't let go. If anything, his grip was stronger. "It is not your place."

"No, it's not. It's yours. These are men and women under your command, their lives in your hand, Con. They are lives that could be lost! Since you've elected to ignore that fact, it looks like I'll have to do it instead."

And then I saw the one thing I had hoped to never see, the one thing I would have thought impossible. He smiled at me, that condescending, humiliating smile that he'd used when facing Bria Theran. The smile he'd worn when he'd so casually ordered her torture and execution. He turned that disgusting thing on me.

"If you think I care a wit about those beneath our station—"

My palm flashed out before I knew it, the crack of it against his cheek echoing in the empty hall. His head jerked to the left, but he didn't let go of me. Slowly, he turned back to me, and smiled again.

"Enjoying yourself, sister mine?" he whisper-hissed, fingers digging harder into my arm. "Perhaps feeling superior enough to exact revenge for all those years of family discipline? Do continue, if that's your desire. Mark my other cheek if it pleases you. Get it all out of your system now. Soon the Rebellion will be crushed and my name will rise as high as your darling husband's. And then who will protect you?"

I stared at him as if I didn't know him. This… this wasn't my brother. This thing that wore his face was… was a monster, a carbon copy of my Uncle. A creature blinded by ambition and a lust for power, his focus only on his meteoric climb to political heights no matter how many he killed or hurt in the process. So much so that I doubt he saw me as his sister in that moment. I was nothing more than a stepping stone, a bit of frill to add to his uniform. The moment I married Martio Batch, I died in his eyes. I was no longer Tessa.

I was Lady Batch. And she was nothing in his eyes but political capital, a string tied to Martio Batch and his rising fame in the Empire.

Stars, oh stars! Was I really seeing my brother's true self for the first time?

"You're mad!" I whispered, horrified.

He chuckled, that reserved sound that Uncle always used. "No, Lady Batch, I think I am seeing things quite clearly for the first time. You are the one that is mad," He shoved me until my back slammed into the durasteel wall. "Your husband may find your little crusades amusing, but I assure you I do not. As you so eloquently put it, I tire of this game. The time for childishness is over. You will listen to your betters, and smile when you are told, and be silent otherwise. Or so help me, I will teach you to do such for your own good."

I slapped him again.

And again.

And again.

He smiled.

And stood there.

And took it.

Until my palm stung and his face was red with my handprints, and tears fell down my face. Until I saw my future played out behind my eyes, reliving this very moment over and over again. The face of the man changed, of course, but it was always the same. Always I tried to help, to set to right the wrongs in the Empire. Always I would be thwarted, made to learn 'my place' when my husband wasn't around. Until I just stopped trying, until I was nothing more than those horrible women that sat at the end of the table and said vile things couched in pretty words, searching for the next young man to fill her bed for the night and make her forget the horror of her life for just a little while.

And I knew. In that moment, I knew what I had to do.

I let the fight drain out of me, going limp against the wall. "I'm sorry," I whispered, lowering my eyes.

I didn't have to look up to know that smile was back, that mask of horrific triumph. His eyes gazed down at the broken women before him, submitting to his strength and superiority. One hand lifted, fingers curling under my chin and forcing me to look up.

"I love you, sister mine," he whispered into my ear, the words sounding vulgar somehow. "Things have changed between us, yes. Things have changed for the better. You'll see. I'll crush this Rebellion. I'll make the Empire whole. And you will stand with me and my wife, treasured and envied. But you must do your part, yes? Learn your place. Let me make the right decisions for you. You'll be happier for it. Trust me."

He kissed my cheek, and I fought not to shutter in revulsion.

"What about honor?" I whispered as he stepped back.

He chuckled again. "Honor is a birthright," he straightened his uniform, smoothing the lines along his arms until it was perfect again. "It is our birthright. We lead, and all others live and die by our example. It is the way of things, and shouldn't matter to you. You are too precious to worry about minor details."

Minor details. Lives of millions of sentient beings were just 'minor details' to him.

He extended his hand to me. I took it. And when he turned to lead me down the hall to my gilded cage, he couldn't see my fist. I struck him hard in the throat, felt something snap beneath my fist. He jerked backwards, hands flying to his injured neck, a strangled hiss leaving his lips. His mouth moved, and oh, the things he was probably saying. But whatever I'd broken kept sound from escaping his lips.

"Every stormtrooper in the Empire has honor," I snarled. "I've seen it firsthand. And guess what? I have honor, too. Finally. Taught to me by those very men and women you dismissed so causally. And I'll do everything in my power to protect theirs."

I punched him again and again, stray memories floating to the surface. The two stormtroopers that had been practicing combat moves in the barracks, hands folded just so, movements performed to perfection. I did my best to imitate them, and was rewarded with Con slamming into the far wall, eyes rolling up into the back of his head.

My right hand throbbed painfully, and I was certain I'd broken something in there, too. But I couldn't feel it too deeply, the pain blockers already flooding my system from my shoulder prohibiting my ability to care. Which was a good thing, considering I had seconds to move. Someone could come down that corridor at any moment, and then what would I do?

I would have to play the victim again and blame the rebels. Which would do nothing more than land me with an escort back to my cage. I couldn't let that happen.

It took everything in me to drag Con to the nearest utility closet, torn strips of my skirts the only bindings I had to secure him. There wasn't much in that little closet in the way of restraints. But likewise, there wasn't much for him to use to cut himself free, either. I'd take the small blessings where I found them.

I shoved his commlink into the nearest garbage chute and ran.

I had a plan.

It wasn't a good plan by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't even a complicated plan. In fact, I was fairly certain that if I'd explained it to General Bast or Colonel Veers, it would take the two of them longer to rub their hands over their faces at the outright stupidity of my plan than it would have taken me to explain the whole of it. But it was my plan. Besides, after attacking Con and shoving him in a storage closet, I was kind of committed to it now.

If it didn't work, I was dead. The power of my husband's name wouldn't get me out of trouble this time. Not even that AND the combined weight of General Bast's 'benefactor,' if he'd be so inclined as to protect me after this. More than likely not, I had to admit. Not unless he was willing to give up his entire career—and possibly his life—for me.

I snorted. The kiss we'd shared had been amazing, magical even, but not worth all that. Not by half.

This wasn't a fairytale or a holovid romance. There was no happy ending in sight, no possible way I could come out of this on top and go back to the way my life had been.

That thought was oddly… exhilarating. For the first time in my life, I was doing something that I wanted to do. Something more than running away from my family and hiding on this planet or the other. It was my first true taste of freedom, and I finally understood—at least in part—what motivated Leia to join with the Rebels. If she felt like this all the time, felt so alive, then I could hardly blame her.

Funny, all it had taken was the threat of death to make one realize just what life truly meant.

I pressed myself against the bottom of the ray shaft, holding my breath as a squad of stormtroopers hurried by. I glimpsed them through the nearby grate, listening as they spoke about the Rebels loose on the station. Apparently the Rebels had split into two groups, scurrying on two different levels in what seemed random directions. Good. I could blame part of my activity on that if I was caught.

It made me sick to admit, but I would blame the stars out of them if I had to.

I waited a few minutes after they'd passed before I dared to scurry forward. I had to get to docking bay 327. The computer had informed me that that was where Zarine was on duty now. I had to find her, and ask what had happened in that detention block. Why had her team done everything in their power to ensure Leia escaped? For the briefest of moments, I entertained the fantasy that Leia was the Imperial Agent everyone thought I was. Surely, it would make sense for Leia to escape alive if that was the case.

I quickly dismissed it. No one in the galaxy was that good an actress. No one could watch their home planet burn and put the welfare of the Empire above it. It just wasn't possible. No, there had to be another reason. One that could involve the death of people I cared about, even if they didn't care about me in return.

I rounded one last corner on hands and knees, and barely managed to skitter to a halt before the smooth surface beneath me vanished into darkness. I'd come to the end of the shaft, and below me yawned a chasm that quite possibly lead to the reactor core at the station's heart. I cursed beneath my breath, backing up as carefully as I could. The way to my destination was across that pit. Trying to backtrack around it was going to take time I didn't have.

There had to be a way across.

As if to prove my point, blaster fire filled my ears, ringing with that hollowness that let me know the fighting happened across the gap.

"There's no lock!"

My heart simultaneously bounced off the roof of my mouth and sank down to my toes. That was… Leia? How in the Emperor's name had she made it here? Why was she heading in this direction of all places?

A sound like scuffling, carried up on a draft of hot air, waft across the chasm to me. Leia let out a tiny sound of surprise, which was followed by an even larger shriek of a blaster bolt firing into hot electronics at point blank range.

"That oughtta hold it for a while."

Oh stars and fates above! It was the imposter stormtrooper, the blonde young man named Luke. He was with her. And he'd… I groaned aloud as I crawled the few feet through the shaft to where it opened into nothing. My eyes sought the one thing—the only thing—I needed to get out of this entanglement of Rebel versus Empire and get my answers: the panel that extended the bridge across the chasm.

All that remained was a smoking ruin. Looked like I was going to have to take the long way around after all.

"Quick, we've got to get across," Leia ordered frantically. "Find the control that extends the bridge."

"Oh…I think I just blasted it." Luke answered, sounding sheepish.

"They're coming through!"

"Here, hold this."

I didn't have time to see what he offered her. Another squad of stormtroopers came barreling down the corridor behind me, forcing me to retreat further into the ray shaft. I won't pretend to say I was calm and resigned through the ensuing blaster fight. I sat in my tube, hands over my ears, quivering with fear and terror. Blaster bolts and the occasional scream of a fallen trooper the mood music to which I pondered just exactly why I thought it was exhilarating to take charge of my own destiny.

It wasn't so much fun when you knew for a fact that any of those bolts could come ricocheting up the ray shaft and end your life in a blink. It's why they were called 'ray shafts.' They were coated with a low level energy barrier, no thicker than an eyelash, that kept all kinds of rays from penetrating. It saved lives when it came to high radiation and the like. It ended lives when someone was stupid enough to pump a bolt through one, considering the bolt would bounce around until all its energy was expended.

I held my breath and waited, praying silently. Blessedly… finally… the sounds of death ended. I swallowed my fear, shoving open the nearest vent into the hallway—

—and about knocked Luke Skywalker right out of his boots.

In my defense, no one really expected a seemingly hidden panel to pop open in one's flight path. I certainly couldn't see him through it. Thankfully Leia was as quick on her feet as she was quick-witted. She pulled him back from the collision before the worst happened. I, unfortunately, wasn't that lucky. When the door nearly hit Luke in the chest, I jerked on reflex… and tumbled onto the floor. For the second time that day, I found myself staring up at what was most likely my death.

Small comfort that I wasn't related to this one.

"Tessa?" Leia gasped, disbelief thick in her voice, sounding almost like the girl I'd known. She shoved Luke's blaster arm away before he could take aim. "What are you doing here?"

I heaved myself unsteadily to my feet. "Would you believe me if I said looking for a way off this station?"

Luke spared a disbelieving glance in my direction, trying to keep an eye on both ends of the hallway at once. "Highness, let's go. It's not going to take the rest of the station long to figure out what happened to that patrol."

"Why?" Leia asked me, ignoring him.

I was assuming she meant 'why' as in 'why my sudden need to get off this ball of madness?' It was going to take longer than we had to explain the reasons. I decided on the short version of the most recent stupidity on my part.

"I… attacked Con, okay?" I hissed. "Look, I can't stay here anymore, not after what happened to Alderaan. I can't support this. So either tell your rebel friend here to shoot me, or get out of my way. I have to find a way around the bridge you both blew up."

She blinked at me, that long, slow deliberate blink that all politicians and high ranking military officials must have been taught their first day on the job. Measuring, I called it. The measuring blink, trying to weigh the outcome of a decision when proper time to consider all angles wasn't available.

"Princess," Luke said quietly, urgently.

"Do you have a way off this station?" She asked me point blank.

"Yes and no," I answered honestly, trying not to wince at the way Luke shifted and moved further down the hallway, checking for more Imperials to kill. "What I do have is someone that can give me answers. Leia, there is more going on here on this station that just the Rebellion versus the Empire. There are orders given that don't make any sense."

"What orders?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I sighed in exasperation. "That's what I've been trying to understand for the past month here. Your escape from the prison cells, Andyrl's death, and... and so much more. Something's going on and Alderaan may only be the tip of the asteroid here. You must have sensed it, too."

She flinched, presumably at the memory of the home that was forever lost to her. Forever lost to me, too. Like me, however, she recognized larger issues when slapped in the face with them. One tear later she pulled herself together, took a shaky breath, and nodded.

"The hallway is clear," Luke announced, rushing over to her side. "We won't get this lucky again, I can almost guarantee it. We need to go and now. Han may not hold the ship for us if we take our time. No amount of reward would be worth the loss of his life to him."

Leia stared at him a long moment, and then at me. "She comes with us."

"She what?" Luke asked at the same time I said "I what?"

"That's not possible," I held my hands up, backing away. "Leia, I have to get to docking bay 327. There's someone there that can answer—"

That was all I got to say before Luke's hand latched onto my upper arm and I was pulled down the hallway with them. And for the briefest of moments, I wondered if becoming a Rebel was any different than staying Imperial. If Luke's grasp on my arm was any indication, I hadn't exactly traded up in my destiny.

We encountered more packs of stormtroopers in our flight down the halls than I'd seen in all my time on this station. They were just everywhere, a roving white-armored sea of perfectly timed marching death. And they moved as if someone had personally set their backsides on fire. It was a safe bet that Con had been located, and that my brother—the one I had often thought as my only protector and who truly loved me—was beyond furious. From the bits and pieces of orders we overheard, I was to be found alive at all costs.

Conscious, however, was entirely up to the person that retrieved me. And, as I had learned in my time with Yalasa, bringing in someone alive didn't necessarily mean bring them in unharmed, either.

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes forward, stumbling along beside Skywalker and trying very hard to focus on the goal of getting off this station. Not the fact that reality started to descend all around me, and I was second-guessing my decisions. Believe it or not, but attacking Con wasn't the largest of my worries now. Running away from my marriage? That was a big concern—a massive concern. Doing it with rebels?

I stopped calculating the consequences of that political fallout somewhere between Uncle spacing me out the nearest airlock and the thought that, if by some miracle we managed to make it off this station; I would be hunted by every Imperial ship in all the fleets. One didn't embarrass two Core Families, a Grand Admiral, a Grand Moff, a High Admiral, a High General, a General secretly working for yet another Grand Admiral, and a Colonel, and expect to get away with it.

When put in that light, I suddenly questioned every single decision I'd ever made since birth. I didn't think there was a person in the galaxy that had managed to single-handedly anger that many powerful people in the span of about an hour. Not even the sum total of the Rebellion could claim that right.

Regardless, around the time my mental courage started to fail, we reached our destination.

"Didn't we just leave this party," the dark haired man—Captain Han Sulo, Soola, something?—muttered as we slid up behind him. He cast an equally dark look our way. "What kept yo—Oh no. No. Stop right there. I already got more than I bargained for with rescuing one Princess. I'm not taking on two."

"I'm not a—" I stopped in mid-protest, teeth clicking shut audibly.

Technically I was a princess now. Or royal enough to claim some sort of title. Baroness or Duchess or something. No matter what else I'd done on this station, I had in fact married a Grand Admiral. I was Imperial Royalty. At least until it came out that I was running away from it all. Then I was just… dead. Stars and Fates, did Martio really deserve that?

I saw him in my mind's eye as he had been after our lovemaking. The slight smile, the light in his eyes, his hair tousled from my fingers and lips swollen from my kisses. How he had laughed as I tugged the collar of his uniform in place to hide the red imprint of my teeth on his neck. And the feeling… that giddy, temporary feeling that this could really work between us. That perhaps my Uncle had truly thought of my future happiness and wasn't such an unfeeling, calculating bastard—

I recalled Alderaan flying into chunks of superheated rock next. And Despayre's slow, agonizing destruction. No, Martio may not deserve what I was doing—but Uncle and Con did. At least, they deserved watching Leia and the others go free. It was the first in a long line of paybacks I wanted to be there to see. That I wanted to be there to help make possible. I couldn't do that if I left with Leia.

A small smile touched my mouth, a hysterical giggle following it that I quickly hid behind my hands. Maybe the Emperor was precognizant of some things. Because I had just vowed to myself to be an agent of sorts. Just not like he had portrayed me. I was going to be a Rebel Agent, the Anti-Infiltrator.

Bet that was a show that would never air on the holonets.

I pressed my personal commlink into Leia's palm, my eyes welling with tears. She glanced at it, and then at me. And wonder of all wonders, she understood. Without words being spoken, she just got me… like when we were kids.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, taking both my hands in hers. "Tessa, if you're caught, you know what this will mean. They will kill you slowly, horribly."

My smile was lopsided, the tears escaping. "They already have in some ways, ways I can't get into right now. Take this for now. I'll make a scene, a distraction. You get to your ship and get out of here. I'll tell them you stole my comm to spy on them. They'll believe me. Just get me a secure code to send information as fast as you can before they disconnect the link."

"What should I call you?"

This time I laughed, drawing her into a fierce hug that she returned just as tightly. There was only one code name both she and I would understand that no one else would. "Pink Glitter Paint."

I felt her laughter and her tears, two old friends reunited at long last with a common purpose. I clung to them one second longer before pulling back. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. Luke nodded. Captain Han nodded. The wookie nodded. I took a deep breath…

… hurling myself out of the hallway and running for all my worth in the direction away from the ship. My presence should catch almost every eye in the room, drawing them in my wake. There was a set of blast doors there, leading towards one of the main tractor beam reactors. If I could make it there and get the squads to follow me, then seal the doors, maybe they could reach their ship and—

And they weren't following me.

Because they were already running in that direction, leaving the ship unguarded.

Because something far more devastating than the missing wife of a Grand Admiral was happening at those very blast doors. Lord Vader's lightsword flashed in a crimson arc, slamming into the azure of some older man in brown robes. The troopers spread out in a fan formation, either protecting their Dark Lord or searching for an opening to fire at his opponent. I couldn't tell.

Until that lightsword flashed up, and the blue one simply halted in a form of a salute…

…and the Dark Lord destroyed his enemy.

"NO!" Luke screamed.

And my plan crumbled to dust before my very eyes.