Author's Note: I am so so so so sooooo sorry for making you wait. But you try writing when you have to watch a six-year-old brother who must constantly be entertained. And it will be at least two weeks before I update again because I'm going on vacation. Sorry. This is the last "Then" chapter by the by…

Hero

"The last two supply ships never arrived, sir."

"Then we'll simply have to make cuts, lieutenant."

The young officer frowned—deep worry lines already creased his brow. "Rations are already below Imperial standards. The base cannot continue to operate…"

"It will have to," Dr. Rave retorted distractedly, his eyes fixed on the live feed from cell 314A. The girl in the cell was curled on the floor. She wasn't moving.

"But, sir…"

"Under no circumstances are we to reveal our location, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant saluted and left, his face a mask of resignation. Dr. Rave had no time for him. There were no hyperdrive-equipped ships left to escape in; all had been pulled from the base months ago, supposedly for military operations. Calling for aid was forbidden; the research facility was too important to risk Rebel discovery. If the Empire decided the base had exhausted its purpose, they would starve to death in their enormous, expensive coffin, unacknowledged and unmourned. That was the way of the galaxy, and the doctor had more immediate problems anyway: Number 314 was slipping away from him.

"Bring me 314," he said into his communicator. Ever since the short rebellion by the stormtrooper, the squads assigned to guard his most precious prisoner were rotated daily, ensuring that no trooper would get too attached to the girl. No one should distract her from him. Of course, it wouldn't matter now, he thought bitterly. She lived in her own little world, oblivious to everything around her. She didn't answer his questions, didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his beatings with more than a whimper…she'd simply stopped fighting, and he hated her for it. But worry also swirled beneath his breast.

The door to his office whisked open, and two stormtroopers, with 314 between them, entered the room.

"Leave us," Lucius whispered, his ice-blue gaze riveted on the girl standing listlessly before him. The stormtroopers exited without a backward glance—seemingly unaware of their charge's existence. When the door closed behind them, Lucius took a tentative step forward. Number 314 trembled, her depleted muscles struggling to keep her erect, but her eyes stared forward, wide and blank, at a point somewhere beyond him or between them or inside herself. She didn't blink. He reached out a hand to her—she looked like he could snap her between his fingertips, a touch and she would crumble—his fingers were a breath away from her cheek. He could feel the cold of her skin, the cold of one already dead, and he let his hand fall.

Any anger he'd felt toward her slipped away until he felt hollow and alone. Dread seeped into his bones. She can't die. I won't let her die. He reached out to her again, stepping forward so that there was only a small gap between their bodies; he grasped one of her limp, icy hands and pressed it to his cheek. "I need you," he said, pressing his lips against her forehead so that his words were only a soft breath across her pallid skin. He drew her into his arms and slowly rocked her back and forth. "Amara…"

He felt her stiffen against his chest—he hadn't meant to say her name. I didn't…I shouldn't have…damn her…

"Let go of me," 314 rasped.

Without a word he stepped away from her, relief fighting with rage across his face until he managed to school his features into an unemotional mask. 314 staggered after losing the support of his body, and she almost fell, steadying herself just in time. Would I have caught her if she'd fallen? Yes, came the answer from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Sit down," Lucius said through gritted teeth. She was trembling again; her breathing fast and shallow. A wild glint flashed in her emerald eyes. She didn't move. "Sit down, 314," he said again, annoyance creeping into his voice. She's going to hurt herself…

And then 314 did something he didn't think her capable of: she ran.

Number 314 slammed her hand onto the door controls and rushed out into the examination room, taking the two stormtroopers standing beside the door by surprise. There was no thought, only action, and she had to get away from him. He touched me, held me…run…She snatched a blaster from one of the stunned trooper's hands. It was heavy, but she managed to pull off a few shots before she dashed into the hall. Did one of them fall? …run…they killed him…run…Behind her, he was yelling, and the thuds of stormtroopers' booted feet echoed off the walls. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't know where she was going—she turned corners blindly. Alarms blared in the halls. …run…but her lungs would burst if she didn't stop. Still she pushed herself, her mind consumed with the effort of placing one foot before the other until finally she collapsed, and her mind blacked out.

It was dark. The alarms were still going off. 314 opened her eyes. Red lights throbbed in the darkness, casting a sinister glow on her surroundings. She was in a large room with a low ceiling almost completely filled by an oval table and chairs, stiff and unused. How did I get here? 314 tried to lift herself up, but every muscle in her body felt shredded, and with a whimper of pain she lay back down. Her head brushed against something hard. Twisting her neck around, she saw the blaster. Did I…? Ignoring the pain ripping across her screaming muscles, Number 314 forced herself into a sitting position. If I did, they deserved it. She clutched the blaster in her right hand. They deserved it. Her hand tightened on the blaster's grip—her skin glowed red in the lights that flicked on…and off. Here I am…there I go. Footsteps rang down the hall outside the conference room, stopping every so often at other doors, but they were getting closer. She dragged herself over to one of the chairs, and used it to pull herself onto her feet. She leaned on the hard metal back, breathing heavily. They deserve it. She aimed the blaster at the door. The footsteps stopped outside it. For a moment there was silence, and then the door hissed open.

She was firing before the door was completely open, before she realized it was her finger pulling the trigger. Three stormtroopers fell. The others raised their blasters.

And then she was running again, at them, through them, down the hall. And the red alarm lights throbbed on and off. Here I am…there I go. Blaster fire skimmed centimeters from her legs, scorching the metal floor. Now you see me…now you don't. Red. Black. Red.

Black. Fire tore through her side, through her leg, through her back. She crumpled to the floor. She felt the cold metal grow warm beneath her. There was blood on the floor—her blood from where her head had cracked against the durasteel. I bleed and feel nothing. A part of her remembered that the stormtroopers in the movies could never hit the heroes. Heroes weren't gunned down. Heroes triumphed. And a strange and terrifying thought flickered into her mind as she sank into darkness: Perhaps I'm not the hero of my own story.

"I told you not to harm her!"

"Sir, you said…"

"I said 'find her.' I said 'use force only if absolutely necessary.'"

"I understand, sir, but…"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Dr. Rave screamed at the squad leader who'd brought the girl back. The image of Number 314, her head lolling limply from side to side as the trooper carried her to the medical wing half-dead, still burned in his mind. He'd almost ordered the execution of the entire squad. It would help slow the dwindling of the station's reserves. "Get out of my sight," he hissed. The squad saluted and disappeared down the corridor.

With an angry sigh, Lucius entered the medical wing. A medical droid was immediately at his side, chatting off lists of 314's vital signs. He waved a hand to silence it. "Where is she?"

"Right this way, sir."

He followed the skeleton-like droid down a wide hallway that lead to a dead end. The droid halted in front of the last door on the left. His hand moved to the door controls.

"Excuse me, sir, but the girl's condition is unstable. She is…"

"I won't disturb her," he said caustically, and opened the door.

The windowless room felt claustrophobic, permeated by the sick smell of death. Several droids hummed around the small bed in the center of the room, preparing 314 for the bacta tank.

"Leave."

"But, sir…" One of the droids began, its mechanical voice registering alarm.

"Leave."

The medical droids hesitated a moment longer and then glided from the room. "We'll be just outside."

Lucius approached the bed. Number 314 lay partially clothed on white sheets, every bone showing prominently beneath her bruised skin. Her face looked troubled in her drugged sleep. A brown lock of hair had fallen across her hollow cheek. Leaning down, her gently brushed it away, his fingers lingering on her papery skin. He placed his lips near her ear. "I won't let you go," he breathed, "You're mine."

Dr. Rave straightened. She'll regret running from me. He turned on his heel and strode from the room, ignoring the anxious chatters and beeps of the droids as he brushed past them. She will regret her weakness. He didn't pay attention to where he was going. She will regret it. But while he fumed about 314, a tiny, secret part of him knew he would die for her.