If there was one job that Pirros hated, it was this. Being the bearer of bad news was never fun and always emotionally draining. After all, procedures required any such officer to keep an emotionless mask on, but that was more than a little hard when you had to tell a mother, a wife, a sibling, a child, that a loved one was never coming home.
It was even worse in cases like this, two lives lost, from what seemed to be two separate families, but functioned as one. But it was actually made slightly easier this time by the two who had died, or at least the circumstances surrounding their death. Resigning himself to his fate, Pirros let his face settle into a cool mask of indifference before knocking on the door that evening.
Moments before, there had been lively chattering coming from within the house. Chattering that ceased abruptly at the sound from the front door.
Slowly, the door opened to reveal a middle aged brunette woman, and lurking behind her, a dark-haired teenager who couldn't have been anymore that sixteen.
"Mrs. Lomblyn?" Pirros asked, slightly hesitant.
At Pirros' inquiry, Imiary paled significantly, signalling him to come in. After retreating to the dining area, Imiary spun around. "Deirean and Falren, what's happened to them?" she managed to croak out, Wes supporting her as he led her over to a chair.
Pirros shifted uncomfortably under the pair's scrutiny. Get a grip of yourself! You're an Imperial officer; you cower to no one. Especially the family members of two rebel sympathisers.
Clearing his throat loudly, he spoke in a cool voice that the Academy had drilled into him. "I regret to inform you that both Deirean Lomblyn and Falren Janson were killed in battle a week ago."
Wes only barely managed to grab the edge of the table beside him in time as his legs gave way. Imiary was frozen into a picture of shock.
Sinking to the floor before his arms gave way too, Wes asked the first question, his eyes flinty as they sized up the officer. "What happened?"
"There was a skirmish with a group of Rebels known to be called the Tierfon Yellow Aces squadron, they were caught in the crossfire," Pirros said smoothly, carefully omitting the fact that they had turned traitor and had shot down TIE pilots harrying the Y-Wings, so were in turn shot by their commander. Let them blame those Rebels/i Pirros thought coldly. iIt will let them see them for the terrorists they are.
Wes had not missed the brief flash of contempt that had appeared in Pirros' eyes. "Okay, you can go now," he said coldly.
Nodding, Pirros turned sharply and left.
The front door had barely snapped shut when Wes threw his empty plate at it with all his strength. He watched it shatter into millions of destructive shards with some satisfaction. Then he sank down next to Imiary.
"He said he'd come back. He promised," he sobbed in to her shoulder.
It was well over an hour before their sobs subsided.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Wes said quietly, "That wasn't the whole truth. He was holding something back. Something important."
Imiary looked at him wearily. "Why do you say that?"
Wes made a shrugging motion with his shoulders. "Just..." he trailed off trying figure out how to phrase his thoughts. "The contempt in his eyes when he said how-" he broke off sharply, unable to finish the sentence.
Silence reigned for another couple of minutes.
"I'm going to join the Rebellion," Wes whispered into the stillness.
"But Wes-" Imiary started desperately.
Wes brushed her off. "No, I'm going to you know how Fal and 'Irea wanted to join, but instead the Empire killed them!" he exclaimed. "They killed them, I'm sure of it!"
Imiary didn't respond immediately, and when she did, tears had returned to her eyes. "I don't want to lose you as well, Wes," she answered quietly.
He looked into Imiary's dark eyes. "But I want to do what's right; stopping the Empire. It's what I've wanted to do for ages, just like Fal and 'Irea always wanted to." Wes swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to erupt once more.
"'Irea and Fal died protecting what they believed in. I just know they did. The Imps lied to us to get us to shut up, to keep us quiet. But I don't want to be kept quiet!" Wes finished.
Imiary closed her eyes in resignation. She just hoped that she wouldn't lose Wes as well.
Two weeks later, the contacts Wes had made in Taanab's Rebel cell told him that they could get him off-planet to the main forces in a day's time. From there, he'd receive his basic training before joining a squadron.
When the time came to leave the following day, Wes and Imiary embraced for what they both knew could be the last time.
Smoothing Wes' unruly hair a bit, Imiary bit her lip in anxiety.
"Take care of yourself, Wes," she told him, eyes watering. "And try not to annoy too many people with your pranks."
Wes grinned, albeit weakly, at that. Wes had only pulled minimal pranks in the time that Deirean and Falren had been gone and none since the news of their deaths had reached them.
"Same to you, Imiary," Wes said hugging her again. "Thank you for everything, I owe so much to you."
Then, without giving time for Imiary to reply, he slipped out of her grasp, heading for the ship. He didn't want to say goodbye. If he said that, he'd as good as said he wouldn't be seeing her again.
But he would. He'd come back, he'd have to make sure of it.
AN: That it, everyone! In reply to one of the reviews saying that Wes didn't sound like a nine year old, well, this fic spans over 7 years, and if that reader has another look at the chapter they questioned, they will see that I described Wes as being fifteen in that chapter.
Reviews would also be nice.