Hearts Are Meant To-Chapter 22
By KnightMara
Propelling her feet as quickly as they would carry her, Genna rushed toward the sanctuary of the Renegades. She hadn't expected to run into Luke so soon, though she should have. After all, he was in command of the Rogues, he was close to Narra, and, stars, he was the man who had kissed her unexpectedly in her cell not too long ago! Did she think he'd just disappear for a while? Now that she was being watched, being forced to carry out her duty to the Empire? As she continued to speed through the corridors, she tried to be rational, to regain some emotional control. After all, it wasn't as though she was being asked to kill him or hand him over to Vader personally. She was only supposed to gather information. How hard could that be? And what if something happened to Laire? Then she wouldn't have to worry about whether she did her job or not.
She stopped, a sudden wave of dizziness informing her that she was hyperventilating. Leaning against the wall in an attempt to control her breathing, her mind drifted toward those who were counting on her to do her job. Those whose lives depended on its completion. She couldn't let them down, couldn't let them die. But what if Laire was lying? What if they were already dead? What if it was a trick to get her to do her job? Her mind clouded with questions as she fought to breathe normally. She wasn't succeeding. Her hands were going numb and her light-headedness was intensifying. She was going to faint if she didn't get this under control. She slid down the wall, figuring it would be easier to concentrate on breathing if she didn't have to worry about standing. Unfortunately, that didn't work either.
Amidst tunnel vision, she saw a pair of brown boots in front of her and felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, pushing her forward so that her head rested between her knees. "Take deep slow breaths," a distant voice instructed her.
"Can't," she gasped, staring at the floor and feeling like she was suffocating.
"Yes, you can," the voice insisted, "or you're going to faint."
Frantically, she tried to draw slow, deep breaths, but found that she was still breathing far too rapidly. She didn't want to faint. She wasn't the fainting type. She tried again.
"Here," the voice instructed, grasping her wrists and drawing her palms to her face. "Cup your hands over your mouth and nose tightly. Or wait," the voice paused, the hands releasing hers for a moment, then returning with a glove. "Place the opening over your mouth and nose and concentrate on inflating and deflating the glove."
She did as instructed and winced, smelling stale sweat and leather with each breath. But it seemed to be working. Her breathing slowed and she began to feel less dizzy. When she felt fairly certain she wasn't about to faint, she attempted to draw the glove away from her face. A hand stopped her.
"It smells," she managed in complaint, her voice muffled by the glove.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" the voice, which was now very familiar, countered. "Don't stop until you're certain you can breathe normally on your own."
She took a few more breaths before the glove's odor reached her tolerance limit. Yanking it away from her face and breathing in fresh air normally, she thrust it back at the owner. "Here," she said, still looking at the floor. She stiffened as she felt her back being rubbed gently as the glove was taken from her hand. Why did he have to rub her back? Why did he have to be so compassionate?
"Sorry about the glove," Luke joked softly. "Feeling better now?"
Genna nodded. Now that her mind wasn't fuzzy from excess oxygen, she regretted accepting assistance from what she then thought was a random stranger. Though, in truth, she had been in no shape to resist anyway. She would have passed out and then been dragged to the medcenter, a potentially more embarrassing situation than the one she was in now.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Luke's question made her stiffen, and she hugged her knees to her head, still refusing to look at him.
"Genna, please," he pleaded softly. "Was it . . .I mean . . . .I'm sorry if . . . .oh, Force. Genna, I didn't mean to upset you."
Listening to his stammering and his heartfelt apology made Genna chuckle darkly. "It wasn't you," she whispered.
There was a pause for a moment, and Genna heard approaching footsteps. She groaned inwardly. A moment of weakness, and now she had an audience. Perfect! Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized that she now understood how Luke had felt after his reaction to the pain meds. It was truly mortifying.
"Is she all right?" she heard someone ask.
"I think so," Luke responded.
"You guys need any help?" another voice asked.
"I think we'll be okay," answered Luke, continuing to rub her back. To her, he asked, "You think you can stand?"
Not wanting to see who it was who had come by or to show her face to them right now, she whispered, "In a minute."
To the curious onlookers, Luke said, "I think we'll be okay. Thanks, though."
She was relieved to hear them walk away after a moment, and she sighed. Small embarrassing moment averted.
"They're gone," Luke assured her. "Ready to get out of the hallway, now?"
Genna nodded and allowed Luke to assist her to stand. "Thanks," she muttered before lifting her gaze from the floor for the first time. As she caught her first glance at Luke's concerned look, she choked. With a tightness in her chest that threatened to send her into another hyperventilating fit, she suddenly realized that she was developing feelings for him. Feelings that were too intense for what she had to do. And poor Luke was clearly baffled.
"Come on," he said tightly, obviously not understanding the look she was now giving him. "Let's get out of here so we can talk a minute."
Afraid of what he might say, but powerless to refuse to go where he lead, she nodded and began walking with him down the corridor to wherever it was he wanted to go.
"Please tell me what's wrong," Luke said softly after he and Genna had made seats out of boxes in the storage closet they now occupied. Luke hadn't been able to find any other place where they could talk privately, so the two of them had finally ducked into a closet that seemed to contain mostly cleaning supplies. Luke had never given a second though to the maintenance work that was being done to keep the base clean on a daily basis until this moment, sitting there surrounded by boxes and boxes of solvents, disinfectants, abrasives and other items. At first he'd been struck by the oddness of it. Now, his attention was directed solely at the silent woman sitting opposite him.
Genna sat, her hands folded in her lap and eyes downcast. To Luke, she hardly resembled the brash young woman who had approached him in the mess hall on Ithull so many days ago. She seemed, well, almost broken.
"Genna, talk to me," he pleaded when she continued to stare at her folded hands. Hoping to evoke some sort of response, he reached over and clasped one of her hands in his, running his thumb gently over her soft brown skin. "You can't tell me it's nothing, and you can't tell me you don't want to talk about it, because I won't let you. You need to tell me what's troubling you."
Briefly, Genna raised her eyes to his, then looked downward again. Still there was no reply.
Luke decided to choose a different tactic. "Okay, then we'll both miss the meeting while I sit here, waiting for you to talk."
"Luke, you can't," Genna began in protest, the first words she'd spoken since they'd left the hallway.
"Then talk to me," Luke pressed, relieved to be getting some response now.
Genna met his gaze, biting her lip as though uncertain how to divulge whatever it was she needed to say. For Luke, the wait was interminable. Patience was not his strong suit, but he held his tongue, forcing himself to give her time to speak. At last she whispered, "Luke, it's Laire." She seemed to falter then, dropping her forehead to her hands. "Oh, stars, Luke! I can't be telling you this!"
"What, Genna?" he asked, now worried more than ever.
Trembling, her voice broken, she spoke hurriedly and quietly, "Laire killed Grey. Grey was like me, a former Imperial who refused to obey the last command given to him by the Empire. And Laire is the watchdog, making sure that the orders are fulfilled. Which means that I have to do what I was ordered to do, or others will be killed. My friends, the ones who worked with me to betray the Empire, they're still in Vader's grasp, waiting for me to do my job or they'll be killed. Stars, I can't let them die!" She was fighting back tears of fear and frustration, but she pressed on before Luke had a chance to interrupt. "If it was just me, I'd say to hell with the whole thing. Let the Empire take their best shot at me while I'm in an X-wing blasting them to bits! But there's too many people involved! If I don't follow orders, my friends die. If I do, I betray you and the Rebellion! Either way, someone gets hurt, and it's my fault!"
Luke felt cold as the information that had just been delivered to him rapid-fire washed over him. He stared at Genna in disbelief, trying to get a grasp on the situation. He grasped her shoulders instead. "You're sure about Laire?"
Genna snorted bitterly. Lifting her chin to show him where Laire had pierced her skin with his blade earlier, she remarked icily, "Where do you think this came from? And there's a nice lump on the back of my head to go with it."
Whatever dislike Luke had felt toward Laire before now exploded into palpable hate and pure loathing. He couldn't believe the man could be so base as to physically assault her even as he destroyed her dreams and forced her to take the lives of her comrades in her hands. Words failed him as he looked on her, a woman who had never before seemed this fragile.
"All I wanted to do was fight against them, Luke," she whispered in a quavering voice. "That's all I wanted to do. They destroyed my home, my dreams, my life. Why can't I take the revenge I deserve? Others have! Why can't I?"
"You will," Luke found himself saying to her. "I promise you, you will get your chance."
"If I betray the Empire, people will die!" she countered.
"We'll find a way," he assured her, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "I don't know how, but we will."
"What about Laire?"
Luke bit his lip as he thought a moment, searching for answers in a hopeless situation. If Laire was being truthful, Genna's disclosure of his Imperial status would most definitely result in the deaths of her friends. However, he couldn't be allowed to wander freely through Alliance ranks. Who knew how much information he had already delivered to the Empire? "We'll trap him."
"What?" Genna stared at him incredulously.
"I'll let Narra know about the situation," he said, and noting Genna's attempt to protest, he pressed on. "He's a good man, you can trust him. We'll make sure Laire doesn't get his hands on any valuable Alliance information, if he hasn't already. And then we'll figure out a way to snare him and get him to reveal information to us. There is the possibility that he's lying to you."
"I know, but I've been afraid to take that chance," Genna admitted softly. "But what do we do in the meantime?"
"We act normal," Luke answered with a sigh. "If Laire corners you, tell him you're getting close to me in order to obtain information."
At that, a sly smile crept across Genna's features. "That implies I'll be getting close to you."
Luke blushed and his gaze faltered. Staring at the ground he replied, "Well, at least I got you to smile."
He felt her gingerly take his chin in her hand and lift his face to gaze back at her. "I wouldn't mind," she said softly.
Luke felt his cheeks redden even more as his heart began to pound in his chest. Feeling suddenly bold, he lifted his hand to her cheek, gently wiping away the dampness that had gathered beneath her eyes as she'd spoken. As his thumb caressed the soft skin of her face, he couldn't tear his gaze away from her deep brown eyes and the long black lashes that framed them. Without thought, his thumb began to trace a path down her soft cheek toward her lips. He was vaguely aware that her own hand had shifted from his chin and was now softly cupping his own cheek. He felt his pulse quicken as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. He'd never felt anything remotely like this before.
A heartbeat later, she leaned forward and her lips met his. Briefly, he was thankful that she had been the one to initiate it. This time, it wasn't clumsy, it wasn't awkward. Their lips met, and Luke felt as though he was suddenly melting into her. Time seemed to stop as a flood of emotion rushed through him. He didn't want it to end. He leaned further into the kiss, felt her hand in his hair, and realized he was stroking her hair as well. It was beautiful.
Then the necessity to breathe intervened and they drew apart. Panting and feeling instantly self-conscious and shy, Luke leaned his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes and willing his heart to resume its natural rhythm.
"Uhm," Genna's voice softly whispered to him, "don't we have a meeting to go to?"
"Yeah," Luke breathed, still not moving. "Guess we should probably start heading over there."
"Ready when you are."
Luke took a deep breath and pulled away from her, looking at her for the first time since they'd broken the kiss. She was smiling at him, looking for the most part like the woman she had been when they first met. Fear still shone dimly in her eyes, but it was tempered with something else, something he hadn't seen in her before. Trust.
He rose, albeit shakily, to his feet, and drew her up to stand with him. Opening the door of the closet, he gestured, "After you."
Propelling her feet as quickly as they would carry her, Genna rushed toward the sanctuary of the Renegades. She hadn't expected to run into Luke so soon, though she should have. After all, he was in command of the Rogues, he was close to Narra, and, stars, he was the man who had kissed her unexpectedly in her cell not too long ago! Did she think he'd just disappear for a while? Now that she was being watched, being forced to carry out her duty to the Empire? As she continued to speed through the corridors, she tried to be rational, to regain some emotional control. After all, it wasn't as though she was being asked to kill him or hand him over to Vader personally. She was only supposed to gather information. How hard could that be? And what if something happened to Laire? Then she wouldn't have to worry about whether she did her job or not.
She stopped, a sudden wave of dizziness informing her that she was hyperventilating. Leaning against the wall in an attempt to control her breathing, her mind drifted toward those who were counting on her to do her job. Those whose lives depended on its completion. She couldn't let them down, couldn't let them die. But what if Laire was lying? What if they were already dead? What if it was a trick to get her to do her job? Her mind clouded with questions as she fought to breathe normally. She wasn't succeeding. Her hands were going numb and her light-headedness was intensifying. She was going to faint if she didn't get this under control. She slid down the wall, figuring it would be easier to concentrate on breathing if she didn't have to worry about standing. Unfortunately, that didn't work either.
Amidst tunnel vision, she saw a pair of brown boots in front of her and felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, pushing her forward so that her head rested between her knees. "Take deep slow breaths," a distant voice instructed her.
"Can't," she gasped, staring at the floor and feeling like she was suffocating.
"Yes, you can," the voice insisted, "or you're going to faint."
Frantically, she tried to draw slow, deep breaths, but found that she was still breathing far too rapidly. She didn't want to faint. She wasn't the fainting type. She tried again.
"Here," the voice instructed, grasping her wrists and drawing her palms to her face. "Cup your hands over your mouth and nose tightly. Or wait," the voice paused, the hands releasing hers for a moment, then returning with a glove. "Place the opening over your mouth and nose and concentrate on inflating and deflating the glove."
She did as instructed and winced, smelling stale sweat and leather with each breath. But it seemed to be working. Her breathing slowed and she began to feel less dizzy. When she felt fairly certain she wasn't about to faint, she attempted to draw the glove away from her face. A hand stopped her.
"It smells," she managed in complaint, her voice muffled by the glove.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" the voice, which was now very familiar, countered. "Don't stop until you're certain you can breathe normally on your own."
She took a few more breaths before the glove's odor reached her tolerance limit. Yanking it away from her face and breathing in fresh air normally, she thrust it back at the owner. "Here," she said, still looking at the floor. She stiffened as she felt her back being rubbed gently as the glove was taken from her hand. Why did he have to rub her back? Why did he have to be so compassionate?
"Sorry about the glove," Luke joked softly. "Feeling better now?"
Genna nodded. Now that her mind wasn't fuzzy from excess oxygen, she regretted accepting assistance from what she then thought was a random stranger. Though, in truth, she had been in no shape to resist anyway. She would have passed out and then been dragged to the medcenter, a potentially more embarrassing situation than the one she was in now.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Luke's question made her stiffen, and she hugged her knees to her head, still refusing to look at him.
"Genna, please," he pleaded softly. "Was it . . .I mean . . . .I'm sorry if . . . .oh, Force. Genna, I didn't mean to upset you."
Listening to his stammering and his heartfelt apology made Genna chuckle darkly. "It wasn't you," she whispered.
There was a pause for a moment, and Genna heard approaching footsteps. She groaned inwardly. A moment of weakness, and now she had an audience. Perfect! Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized that she now understood how Luke had felt after his reaction to the pain meds. It was truly mortifying.
"Is she all right?" she heard someone ask.
"I think so," Luke responded.
"You guys need any help?" another voice asked.
"I think we'll be okay," answered Luke, continuing to rub her back. To her, he asked, "You think you can stand?"
Not wanting to see who it was who had come by or to show her face to them right now, she whispered, "In a minute."
To the curious onlookers, Luke said, "I think we'll be okay. Thanks, though."
She was relieved to hear them walk away after a moment, and she sighed. Small embarrassing moment averted.
"They're gone," Luke assured her. "Ready to get out of the hallway, now?"
Genna nodded and allowed Luke to assist her to stand. "Thanks," she muttered before lifting her gaze from the floor for the first time. As she caught her first glance at Luke's concerned look, she choked. With a tightness in her chest that threatened to send her into another hyperventilating fit, she suddenly realized that she was developing feelings for him. Feelings that were too intense for what she had to do. And poor Luke was clearly baffled.
"Come on," he said tightly, obviously not understanding the look she was now giving him. "Let's get out of here so we can talk a minute."
Afraid of what he might say, but powerless to refuse to go where he lead, she nodded and began walking with him down the corridor to wherever it was he wanted to go.
"Please tell me what's wrong," Luke said softly after he and Genna had made seats out of boxes in the storage closet they now occupied. Luke hadn't been able to find any other place where they could talk privately, so the two of them had finally ducked into a closet that seemed to contain mostly cleaning supplies. Luke had never given a second though to the maintenance work that was being done to keep the base clean on a daily basis until this moment, sitting there surrounded by boxes and boxes of solvents, disinfectants, abrasives and other items. At first he'd been struck by the oddness of it. Now, his attention was directed solely at the silent woman sitting opposite him.
Genna sat, her hands folded in her lap and eyes downcast. To Luke, she hardly resembled the brash young woman who had approached him in the mess hall on Ithull so many days ago. She seemed, well, almost broken.
"Genna, talk to me," he pleaded when she continued to stare at her folded hands. Hoping to evoke some sort of response, he reached over and clasped one of her hands in his, running his thumb gently over her soft brown skin. "You can't tell me it's nothing, and you can't tell me you don't want to talk about it, because I won't let you. You need to tell me what's troubling you."
Briefly, Genna raised her eyes to his, then looked downward again. Still there was no reply.
Luke decided to choose a different tactic. "Okay, then we'll both miss the meeting while I sit here, waiting for you to talk."
"Luke, you can't," Genna began in protest, the first words she'd spoken since they'd left the hallway.
"Then talk to me," Luke pressed, relieved to be getting some response now.
Genna met his gaze, biting her lip as though uncertain how to divulge whatever it was she needed to say. For Luke, the wait was interminable. Patience was not his strong suit, but he held his tongue, forcing himself to give her time to speak. At last she whispered, "Luke, it's Laire." She seemed to falter then, dropping her forehead to her hands. "Oh, stars, Luke! I can't be telling you this!"
"What, Genna?" he asked, now worried more than ever.
Trembling, her voice broken, she spoke hurriedly and quietly, "Laire killed Grey. Grey was like me, a former Imperial who refused to obey the last command given to him by the Empire. And Laire is the watchdog, making sure that the orders are fulfilled. Which means that I have to do what I was ordered to do, or others will be killed. My friends, the ones who worked with me to betray the Empire, they're still in Vader's grasp, waiting for me to do my job or they'll be killed. Stars, I can't let them die!" She was fighting back tears of fear and frustration, but she pressed on before Luke had a chance to interrupt. "If it was just me, I'd say to hell with the whole thing. Let the Empire take their best shot at me while I'm in an X-wing blasting them to bits! But there's too many people involved! If I don't follow orders, my friends die. If I do, I betray you and the Rebellion! Either way, someone gets hurt, and it's my fault!"
Luke felt cold as the information that had just been delivered to him rapid-fire washed over him. He stared at Genna in disbelief, trying to get a grasp on the situation. He grasped her shoulders instead. "You're sure about Laire?"
Genna snorted bitterly. Lifting her chin to show him where Laire had pierced her skin with his blade earlier, she remarked icily, "Where do you think this came from? And there's a nice lump on the back of my head to go with it."
Whatever dislike Luke had felt toward Laire before now exploded into palpable hate and pure loathing. He couldn't believe the man could be so base as to physically assault her even as he destroyed her dreams and forced her to take the lives of her comrades in her hands. Words failed him as he looked on her, a woman who had never before seemed this fragile.
"All I wanted to do was fight against them, Luke," she whispered in a quavering voice. "That's all I wanted to do. They destroyed my home, my dreams, my life. Why can't I take the revenge I deserve? Others have! Why can't I?"
"You will," Luke found himself saying to her. "I promise you, you will get your chance."
"If I betray the Empire, people will die!" she countered.
"We'll find a way," he assured her, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "I don't know how, but we will."
"What about Laire?"
Luke bit his lip as he thought a moment, searching for answers in a hopeless situation. If Laire was being truthful, Genna's disclosure of his Imperial status would most definitely result in the deaths of her friends. However, he couldn't be allowed to wander freely through Alliance ranks. Who knew how much information he had already delivered to the Empire? "We'll trap him."
"What?" Genna stared at him incredulously.
"I'll let Narra know about the situation," he said, and noting Genna's attempt to protest, he pressed on. "He's a good man, you can trust him. We'll make sure Laire doesn't get his hands on any valuable Alliance information, if he hasn't already. And then we'll figure out a way to snare him and get him to reveal information to us. There is the possibility that he's lying to you."
"I know, but I've been afraid to take that chance," Genna admitted softly. "But what do we do in the meantime?"
"We act normal," Luke answered with a sigh. "If Laire corners you, tell him you're getting close to me in order to obtain information."
At that, a sly smile crept across Genna's features. "That implies I'll be getting close to you."
Luke blushed and his gaze faltered. Staring at the ground he replied, "Well, at least I got you to smile."
He felt her gingerly take his chin in her hand and lift his face to gaze back at her. "I wouldn't mind," she said softly.
Luke felt his cheeks redden even more as his heart began to pound in his chest. Feeling suddenly bold, he lifted his hand to her cheek, gently wiping away the dampness that had gathered beneath her eyes as she'd spoken. As his thumb caressed the soft skin of her face, he couldn't tear his gaze away from her deep brown eyes and the long black lashes that framed them. Without thought, his thumb began to trace a path down her soft cheek toward her lips. He was vaguely aware that her own hand had shifted from his chin and was now softly cupping his own cheek. He felt his pulse quicken as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. He'd never felt anything remotely like this before.
A heartbeat later, she leaned forward and her lips met his. Briefly, he was thankful that she had been the one to initiate it. This time, it wasn't clumsy, it wasn't awkward. Their lips met, and Luke felt as though he was suddenly melting into her. Time seemed to stop as a flood of emotion rushed through him. He didn't want it to end. He leaned further into the kiss, felt her hand in his hair, and realized he was stroking her hair as well. It was beautiful.
Then the necessity to breathe intervened and they drew apart. Panting and feeling instantly self-conscious and shy, Luke leaned his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes and willing his heart to resume its natural rhythm.
"Uhm," Genna's voice softly whispered to him, "don't we have a meeting to go to?"
"Yeah," Luke breathed, still not moving. "Guess we should probably start heading over there."
"Ready when you are."
Luke took a deep breath and pulled away from her, looking at her for the first time since they'd broken the kiss. She was smiling at him, looking for the most part like the woman she had been when they first met. Fear still shone dimly in her eyes, but it was tempered with something else, something he hadn't seen in her before. Trust.
He rose, albeit shakily, to his feet, and drew her up to stand with him. Opening the door of the closet, he gestured, "After you."