#inquisitor!au

It had been the most terrifying and exhilarating year and a half of his life. The fear of being caught was almost constant, but Kanan was good at working through fear. 

And it was oddly reassuring that he wasn’t the only one. He had Fox, who’d been spying since the very beginning, and had pushed to have him recruited. And he had Hera. Hera, who repeatedly risked her own life by sneaking into the Imperial Palace disguised as a servant. Not just to collect intel, but to check on him. To make sure he was okay, and every time, to offer to get him out.

He would never say yes. But he appreciated it, just the same.

Most of the secretive meetings he and Hera would have were in the dead of night, in the furthest reaches of the palace. They planned carefully, checking guard rotations and the locations of the other Inquisitors repeatedly before confirming anything. They were spying right under the Emperor’s nose— and Kanan, for one, had no intention of getting Hera caught.

Everything was planned down to the second. Which was why Kanan was very confused when Fox woke him the night before he was supposed to meet Hera.

The clone commander had commed ahead with the warning that had woken Kanan up. His mind spinning with curiosity and exhaustion, he’d gotten dressed and was waiting outside the door, helmet on, when Fox arrived.

“We have a problem,” the clone said without preamble as he approached. Kanan didn’t take offense— that was just Fox’s way, and he’d gotten used to it by now.

“The kind we can solve fast so I can go back to bed?” he asked.

Wordlessly, Fox handed him a disposable cup of caf and kept walking. Sighing, Kanan muttered, “Guess not.”

He followed Fox down the hall, maneuvering off his helmet and sipping at the hot caf tentatively. The caffeine helped clear his head as they stepped into one of the meeting rooms that the Inquisitors often used for briefings. Kanan and Fox had cleared a few of them, making sure there were no bugs and that they could handle the security cams if necessary. Which it often was.

Fox closed the door behind him, and Kanan hastily knocked back the rest of his caf, wincing as it scalded the roof of his mouth. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked. 

“The Empire nabbed a runner for the Path,” Fox said, his voice grim, and Kanan cursed.

“That is not good.”

He’d only been made aware of the Path a few months ago, when he’d needed to smuggle a Force sensitive kid off of Coruscant before the Empire caught onto their existence. Hera had told him about them then— how they protected Force sensitives, hiding former Jedi and children from the Inquisitorus and anyone who would hand them in for a ransom. For the Empire to have captured one of theirs…

“Exactly,” Fox said. “The good news is that they don’t know who they have. He was taken in by the Coruscant Guard for pulling a blaster in a public place, and is currently detained. His ship has been impounded, but they haven’t found the cargo.”

“That’s good,” Kanan said, resisting the urge to run his hand through his hair. “Then we have time to act. We can make it look like he got out on his own, but we’re not gonna be able to get his ship out, are we?”

“I contacted Nephele,” Fox said, using the code name Hera had chosen when they’d first started. “She’s going to meet you in the usual place, and you can discuss the pilot and the cargo getting a ride out.” He paused, and Kanan frowned. There was something… off. Like he wasn’t saying something.

“What is it?” he asked.

To Fox’s credit, he didn’t try to deny anything. Handing Kanan a datapad he’d had tucked under one arm, he said, “You’re going to want to see the pilot’s file.”

Frowning, Kanan glanced down at the datapad, already opening his mouth to ask what Fox was talking about. And then he froze, his gaze locking on the name at the top of the page.

Janus Kasmir.

Kanan couldn’t breathe, his body humming with shock. A thousand questions swirled through his mind, but the only one he managed to get out was, “How did you know?”

“When I was first given this post, I made it my business to know,” Fox said. His voice wasn’t sympathetic, but it held a calm, in control note that was almost soothing, strangely enough. “I wanted to know what I was dealing with, so I read what I could find of your files.”

“Didn’t know there was one of those available to the average trooper,” Kanan muttered, staring blindly at the datapad. He’s here. How is he here? What is he doing with the Path, of all things? Kasmir had never been out for anyone but himself.

But here he was. “Are you sure he’s part of the Path?” Kanan asked, glancing at Fox, who nodded.

“It was confirmed by a source who couldn’t be wrong about this.”

Taking a deep breath, Kanan swallowed down the questions he felt bubbling inside of him and nodded. “Okay. I’ll make contact with Nephele in the usual spot. Get Kasmir and meet us at the back entrance of the palace.”

“On it,” Fox said briskly. He keyed open the door, disappearing down the hall, and Kanan took a moment to steady himself. Although how he planned to do that, he wasn’t quite sure. He just couldn’t think past the fact that it was Kasmir. Kasmir was imprisoned, and he was working for the Path. Why? Kanan wondered. What made him decide to do this?

It was a mystery that he couldn’t solve, not here and now. One thing at a time. First things first— go find Hera. Putting on his helmet, he headed out of the room.

Their usual meeting spot was down on the very first level of the Imperial Palace, in a back hallway near the kitchens. It was incredibly rare that anyone was seen down there, other than the servants and the odd guard. Which made it the perfect place for a discreet meeting.

Hera was waiting for him in their usual spot. Seeming to hear him coming, she turned to face him, and Kanan felt his heart skip a beat as he met her eyes. Force, she’s beautiful.

Upon deciding to commit to the Rebellion, Kanan had known there would be risks. The biggest one was being caught, and giving away his companions. There wasn’t much he could do, especially for Fox. But Hera was his link to the outside world, to the bigger Rebellion. There was no way he could let the Empire have that.

So, with a little experimentation, he’d figured out how to mess with his own memories using the Force. And every time one of their meetings had finished, he wiped the specific memory of her face away, leaving only the vaguest impressions.

Kanan recognized that this was dangerous, and possibly stupid. But he couldn’t risk her, and this was the only way he could protect her. So every meeting, when he saw Hera, it was for the first time. And every time, without fail, his heart skipped a beat.

He had a feeling it would be like that whether he remembered her face or not.

“Hi,” she said, and Kanan felt a shiver go down his spine at the sound of her voice. That was one thing that he could never forget, not that he would ever try. “What’s wrong?”

“Turns out, the Coruscant Guard nabbed a pretty important prisoner,” Kanan told her. Keeping his voice low, he quickly recounted everything Fox had told him, how a member of the Path had been caught, but his cargo hadn’t been found yet.

Hera listened intently, her eyes narrowed in thought as she tapped a finger against her chin. “One of us needs to get to the impounded ship, get the cargo off without anyone catching us. And with a guard at the impound lot, it isn’t going to be easy.”

“Fox is locating the pilot,” Kanan said. Kasmir,  his brain whispered. Janus Kasmir. The man who protected you for as long as he could. It just wasn’t long enough.

Shut up, he told his brain, refocusing on Hera. Who was frowning at him with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem a little off.”

“Just… tired,” Kanan said vaguely. “We should focus on the job.”

It wasn’t really that surprising when Hera didn’t accept his excuse. “That’s half the problem,” she pointed out gently. “You can’t focus, Kanan. Do you want to talk about it?”

Kanan opened his mouth, ready to tell her it wasn’t a big deal— but he couldn’t. Instead, he blurted out, “I know the pilot.”

One of Hera’s eyebrows lifted briefly in surprise. “You do? How?”

“From… before,” Kanan admitted. “Before the Empire caught me.”

Now that surprised Hera— he could see it in her eyes. “I’ve never heard you talk about your past before,” she said.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kanan said. “Nothing that isn’t regret or pain, anyways. But this situation… my judgment is compromised. You should know what’s going on.”

Hera nodded, but didn’t speak, leaving the silence for him to fill. Kanan tugged off his helmet— he wanted to really see her for this conversation, although he’d probably regret that later.

“His name is Janus Kasmir,” he said. “He hid me after… after Order 66.”

Just the words left a sour taste in his mouth, the sound of blasters and a familiar scream ringing in his head. Taking a deep breath, Kanan plowed forward. “He was a smuggler back then— gave me a place to hide, although it wasn’t exactly willingly at first. I worked with him for about a year. We managed to evade the Empire for the whole time. Until one day, I came back to the ship and… there they were.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the sight of Gray’s blaster pressed against Kasmir’s head. “They had him at blaster point. I had a choice between running, and turning myself in. I was so close to running— but then I heard my master’s voice in my head. I knew what she would have done, if she’d been there.”

“You turned yourself in,” Hera said softly.

“I did. And the rest of my life—” Kanan hefted the helmet in his hand— “has been this. The Empire breaking me down and rebuilding me into their little slave.”

Opening his eyes, he stared at the ground, unable to meet Hera’s gaze. “Anyways. I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know if he’ll remember me, or why he’s working for the Path now, but— I thought you should know.”

Something brushed his hand, and he twitched in surprise before realizing it was Hera. Taking his hand, she said, “You’re not their slave any more. And… I’m so sorry, Kanan.”

There was something about her hand around his, about the soft sympathy laced with determination in Hera’s voice, that lifted the dark cloud around Kanan. He offered her a small smile. “Could be worse. At least I met you.”

It was a dangerous thing to say, just as dangerous to think. But her return smile made it all worth it. Kanan opened his mouth to speak— then froze as a warning flashed at him through the Force. “Someone’s coming,” he breathed.

Hera’s eyes widened. Her hand tightened around his, and she darted towards a nearby door, yanking him after her. She slapped the button to open the door, and they both dove into the room, the door sliding shut behind them.

The room turned out to be a supply closet, the shelves fully stocked, with barely enough space for the two of them to fit in. Kanan leaned backwards, leaving Hera as much space as he could in the back of the closet.

“Where are they?” she whispered.

Closing his eyes, Kanan reached out with the Force tentatively. “Almost at the door,” he responded, his voice equally low. “They’re not Force sensitive— but I think the officer heard something.”

They were both silent for a moment, straining their ears. Kanan caught the sound of footsteps outside the door, and low voices. And then they stopped.

“They know we’re here,” he breathed, meeting Hera’s eyes in the dark.

Hera seemed to hesitate, then stepped closer to him. “Play along,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck. 

Kanan’s heart somehow managed to skip a beat and pound harder as she tugged his hair free from its usual tie. “What are you—” he started, and then she kissed him.

For a moment, Kanan froze, his helmet slipping from his hands. What— why— And then it registered, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. 

It was a cover. He knew that. But that didn’t stop him from kissing her like he wanted to for months now, like he knew he never really could. He cupped the side of her face gently, and he could have sworn she leaned into his touch as her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him closer still. And in that moment, he could think of nothing but Hera.

And then the door to the closet hissed open. “What is going on here?” a crisp Imperial voice snapped. “You’re not supposed to be… here…”

The officer’s voice trailed off, and Kanan knew he’d seen the helmet at his feet, the armor and the symbol that told anyone who saw it that he was an Inquisitor. Not to be messed with, and not to be questioned. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hera. It took some effort to conjure up his iciest voice. “Is there something you want?”

“I— no, sir,” the officer managed. “I—”

“Good. Then get out.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice chastened.

The door slid shut, but Kanan couldn’t bring himself to fully relax until he heard the footsteps receding, a lot faster than they’d arrived. Then he let out a sigh. “That was too close. Uh, good call with the cover.”

“Luckily, you catch on quickly,” Hera said, her voice slightly unsteady. And somehow, that was what made Kanan realize that he was still holding her, her hands still knotted in his hair. She was so close he could feel her breathing, and he wondered if she could hear his heart pounding against his rib cage. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her again.

You can’t, he reminded himself. It’s not fair, not to either of you. It’s not safe. So he forced himself to let her go. She did the same seconds later, taking a few hasty steps back. “Okay,” she said, her voice firm. “What’s the plan?”

“You go get the cargo,” Kanan said. “They’ll trust you. If you take out the guard, they’ll know something’s up, so I’ll handle him.”

He caught Hera’s nod in the dim light. “We should contact Fox, and tell him to meet us at the Ghost.”

Snagging his helmet, Kanan replaced it, paused to check with the Force for any signs of passersby, then opened the door. The two of them moved quietly down the hallways together, and quickly made it to a back entrance.

The impound lot was a couple blocks from the palace and a level down. Hera took a speeder that Kanan wasn’t quite sure belonged to her, but he wasn’t about to argue. On the way, he messaged Fox and gave him a meeting place, and received a terse acknowledgement. This was pretty typical for Fox, so Kanan didn’t worry about him.

They made it to the lot in roughly ten minutes. Thanks to the fact that it was the dead of night, there were only two guards at the front gate. “I’ll handle them,” Kanan told Hera as they drew to a stop. “You just get in and find our cargo, fast. It’ll be in a Barloz-class freighter, according to Fox.”

“On it,” Hera said briskly, making a beeline for the gate leading into the lot.

Keeping his pace calm but purposeful, Kanan strode up to the shack set off to the side of the gate. He could see the moment when the two occupants spotted him— both froze, panic swelling off of them in waves.

Being an Inquisitor had its uses. But Kanan couldn’t help but hate the fear he inspired in people, the way they shook at the very sight of him. He’d never wanted to be someone who inspired fear. It was the opposite of what the Jedi had been. Which, he supposed, was the point.

Stopping in front of the window, Kanan snapped, “Open the gate to the impound lot.”

The human in the booth, a man who looked scared out of his wits, immediately smacked the button that opened the gate. As it creaked open, the less terrified of the two, a short Devaronian, said, “What— what is your purpose here?”

“None of your concern,” Kanan said briefly. “Keep your mouth shut and you’ll survive this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Hera disappearing into the impound lot, and prayed she’d be able to find the ship quickly. In the meantime… I should probably figure out some way of stalling these two. Directing his question to the Devaronian, he said, “Have you seen anyone coming in and out of here during your shift?”

“A couple people,” the Devaronian said warily. “Why—”

“Tell me,” Kanan said. “Don’t leave out anything.” He let a hint of menace fill his voice, and the Devaronian scrambled to recount the night’s visitors. 

As he rambled on, Kanan listened with one ear, keeping an eye out for Hera. Come on, come on. He started to drum his fingers against the armor on his leg, then stopped. He couldn’t show his impatience. Especially not when he was acting sinister.

May as well check in with Fox, while I’m waiting, he thought. Switching off the external com, he activated the longer range transmitter.

Fox answered after a few heartbeats. “You got the cargo?”

“Nephele is getting it right now,” Kanan replied. “We should be out of here in five minutes, tops. You?”

There was a crash in the background, and Kanan frowned as Fox responded, his voice irritable. “Not well. Your friend is incredibly distrusting and it’s a pain in the neck.”

“Then you two should get along just fine— and he’s not my friend,” Kanan said. “Do you need a hand?”

“Might be easier just to stun him at this point,” Fox muttered. “I can handle it—” he cut himself off with a loud curse, and the volume cut out for a minute. Kanan tensed, not able to let himself breathe easily until Fox’s voice finally came back. “Okay, I think I got him to calm down. But he’s… more of a handful than I expected.”

From Fox, that was basically begging for help. “Ping me your location,” Kanan ordered. “I’ll meet you there in five, ten minutes. I just need to finish up here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clicking off his long range com, Kanan tuned back into the Devaronian’s list just in time for him to say, “Oh, and there was— who’s that?”

Turning sharply, Kanan saw Hera slipping out of the gate, leading a hooded figure. At the figure’s side was a much shorter shape. A kid, Kanan realized with a pang. Now it’s my turn to do my job.

He spun to face the two beings in the shack. “You never saw them— or me,” he said, pushing his intention through the Force as he waved his hand. “As soon as I walk away, you will forget this entire conversation.”

Their faces going blank, the human and the Devaronian echoed the words back to him, and Kanan released a silent sigh of relief. Pivoting, he sprinted back the way he came, ducking into an alleyway out of sight, and keyed Hera’s frequency on his wrist com.

She answered almost immediately. “Hey. Where are you at?”

“Taking a detour— Fox needs a hand,” Kanan told her. “We’ll see you at the meeting point.”

“Okay,” she said. “Stay safe.”

Kanan felt his heart do a backflip in his chest at the gentle concern in her voice. You don’t want her to be worrying about you, he reminded himself. You’re supposed to be just working together, remember?

But that didn’t stop him from responding, “You, too, before switching off the com and heading down the street.

Fox was pretty easy to find. Mainly because of the signal he’d sent Kanan, showing his location. But in the dark streets of Coruscant, it would be all too easy to turn down the wrong alleyway and wind up in a situation he didn’t want to deal with. So as he drew closer to the back alley where Fox was waiting, Kanan slowed down, cautiously reaching out with the Force to make sure he wasn’t in the wrong place.

The minute he did so, the Force surged with a warning— and a tall figure bolted out of the alleyway, charging straight towards Kanan. Spotting a blaster in the figure’s hand, Kanan moved instinctively. Sending the blaster flying with the Force, he slammed his fist into the figure’s jaw. They crumpled to the ground, and Kanan’s hand was already slipping to his lightsaber when he saw their face.

It was Kasmir.

What— oh, kriff. Well, that’s one way of giving Fox a hand. Seeing as Kasmir was here, Fox was probably just around the corner, blasters at the ready as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Keying on their com channel, Kanan said, “I found your runaway.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then, a white-armored figure stepped out of the alleyway, DC-17s at the ready in his hands. Giving Kanan a brief nod, Fox said, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Kanan said, glancing back down at Kasmir, who was already starting to stir, groaning. It was odd how little he’d changed, when everything else in Kanan’s life had. But he still looked the same.

His eyes slid open and locked on Kanan, and a look of shock, then hatred flashed through his eyes. Scrambling to his feet, Kasmir lunged at him with a snarl. Kanan stumbled backwards, surprise paralyzing him. What did I—

Fox grabbed the Kalleran by the back of the shirt, hauling him backwards. “Filthy, tuft-sucking child killer,” Kasmir snarled, struggling fiercely. “I’ll tear you to pieces.”

Oh. Right. Somehow, in the moment of seeing Kasmir again for the first time in years, Kanan had almost forgotten about his armor, about who he was. “Doesn’t seem to be much a fan of Inquisitors,” he commented over his private com line with Fox.

“Well, I wonder why that is,” Fox said, his tone dripping with so much sarcasm that Kanan did a double take. He’s not implying— does he think that Kasmir’s here because of me?

Is he here because of me? 

The idea was impossible. He hadn’t had that much of an impact in Kasmir’s life— not enough to push him into joining the Rebellion. Unless he blames himself. But that doesn’t sound like Kasmir. Does it?

This was a problem that would take a lot more time than Kanan had to unravel. “Did you tell him we’re on his side?” he asked Fox.

“Repeatedly,” Fox said. “Thought I had him convinced earlier, but apparently not.”

“And an Inquisitor showing probably didn’t help,” Kanan said with a sigh. “Well, let’s see what we can do.”

Switching on his external com, he told Kasmir, “We’re not your enemies. We’re here to help.”

“Oh, like I’ll believe that,” Kasmir sneered. “A clone and an Inquisitor “helping” me out in a dark alleyway makes perfect sense.”

Wow, Kanan thought. We really are the two worst possible people for this job. “If we were going to kill you, we would have already,” he said.

“Very convincing,” Kasmir said. “Got any other lies you want to try and sell me?”

So we’re taking the direct route. “Your cargo is safe,” Kanan told him.

He saw Kasmir stiffen, but only for a heartbeat. “I don’t have any cargo,” he said. “I already dropped it off.”

“Then why aren’t there any records of it?” Kanan asked. He could sense Kasmir’s tension growing, and the Kalleran’s gaze flicked to Fox’s now holster blaster. “Don’t try that,” Kanan told him.

“You’re gonna have to give me a real good reason not to.”

“We have an agent getting your cargo off the planet— discreetly,” Kanan added. “You’re going with them. Which means you either come with us, or we stun you and carry you. We’re not the bad guys here.”

“The terrifying armor tends to ruin that point,” Kasmir muttered. He frowned at both of them for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “I don’t trust either of you.”

Kanan nodded. “That’s fine by me. But if you want to get both of them to safety, you’re going to have to live with it.”

A scowl crossed Kasmir’s face, but finally he nodded. “Fine. But I want my blaster back.”

Extending a hand, Kanan called the blaster to his hand with the Force, and passed it to Kasmir. The minute he had it, the Kalleran pointed it directly at Kanan.

He sensed Fox stiffening, one of his hands straying down to his blasters, but Kanan didn’t move. “Let’s get something straight,” Kasmir growled. “I don’t like you. In fact, I’d happily blast both of you away, given the chance. But for some reason, you know about the cargo and you haven’t given them away. So… fine. Let’s go.”

“This way,” Kanan said, heading down the street. He sensed the other two following him, and heard his internal com click on.

“You know, most people don’t keep their back to someone who just pointed a blaster at them,” Fox muttered.

Kanan felt a ghost of a grin crossing his face. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you watching my back.”

The clone muttered something rude under his breath that Kanan chose to ignore.

They walked in silence for a while— Kanan taking the lead, with Kasmir following him closely, his blaster at the ready, and Fox taking up the rear. It was probably smarter to remain silent. But there was a part of Kanan that burned with curiosity, that desperately wanted to know what Kasmir was doing here, why he’d joined the Rebellion.

Was it actually because of me?

It definitely wasn’t the wisest decision to try and get information out of him, not now. But the Empire hadn’t totally been able to kill Kanan’s curious nature, and it was definitely coming to the surface today.

“So, Kasmir,” he said, keeping his tone casual as they continued down the street. “What makes a guy like you join the Path?”

“What. Are you. Doing,” Fox muttered. Kanan ignored him.

“I’ve seen your record,” he continued. “You’ve been a smuggler and a thief your whole life— nothing holding you down, no ties or any family. There wasn’t one thing that would indicate you, of all people, would want to join something that benefits someone other than yourself.”

“You realize questioning him isn’t going to help this situation at all, sir,” Fox said.

At the same time, Kasmir shot him a hostile glance. “I don’t need to justify my decisions to the likes of you, Inquisitor. You’re the one who’s working for the Empire. You do know what your bosses are doing with those children you’re taking, right?”

Kanan almost stopped in his tracks, taken aback. Oh— kark. I should have known he’d bring that up. But that didn’t stop a protest from slipping out. “I haven’t ever—”

“Don’t care,” Kasmir said flatly. “You’re still with them, no matter how much you might try to convince people otherwise. What you’re even doing helping me, I don’t know.”

“I’m trying to make things right.”

The words slipped out before Kanan could think better of it, and he cursed internally. It earned him a surprised look from Kasmir, but he seemed to brush it off seconds later. “You and every other person in the galaxy, buddy. Doesn’t mean it’ll work.”

Is that what he’s doing? Kanan wondered as they kept walking in silence. Trying to make amends for what happened? It was so unlike Kasmir— but so much of this was. Maybe he’d had more of an impact that he’d expected. Which seemed unlikely, but nothing about the past few hours was likely, anyways.

The Ghost was being kept on a landing platform down on one of the lower levels of Coruscant, several blocks away from the Imperial Palace and at least ten levels down. The owner of the platform wasn’t necessarily part of the cause, but he would happily turn a blind eye to the strange company and hours Hera kept for the right price. Which was good enough for now.

As they moved onto the platform in front of the Ghost, Kanan glanced around, seeking Hera. For a moment, he didn’t see her, and his heart skipped a beat. Were they caught? Oh, Force, please don’t let them have been caught—

And then he saw her, moving out from the shadow of the ship. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she turned to say something he couldn’t hear to whoever was standing behind her.

As they approached, the figure from earlier slipped out of the darkness. But now, Kanan could see that she was a Mirialan, with pale purple skin marked with dark tattoos. At her side was a little girl, clinging to her hand. Probably her daughter, Kanan guessed— the familial resemblance was striking. 

The Mirialan woman’s gaze flickered from Hera, to Kasmir, and then landed on Kanan. Her eyes went wide with horror. “No,” she gasped, pulling her daughter back. “No— get away! You can’t have her!”

“He’s a friend,” Hera said hastily, catching hold of her arm. “I promise, Darija. He’s the reason we managed to find you in the first place. He’s working against the Empire.”

Darija eyed him suspiciously, unmoving, and Hera shot Kanan a “please give me a hand making you look unmenacing” look. Which means taking off my helmet, Kanan realized.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second— removing his helmet was far from his favorite thing to do in front of anyone, let alone someone who’d known him before he was an Inquisitor— but no longer. Reaching up, he pulled off his helmet, tucking it under one arm. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he told Darija, keeping his voice low and calm.

She didn’t move, glaring at him, and Kanan hesitated, unsure. Then a flicker of movement caught his eye— the little girl, stepping out from behind her mother. She eyed him, curiosity mingling with fear in her eyes. But she’s not as afraid as her mother, Kanan thought. Which was a start.

Moving slowly, he knelt a few yards away from them, catching the little girl’s eye. “Hi,” he said softly. “I’m Kanan. What’s your name?”

She stared at him, eyes wide, for a long moment. Then, just when Kanan was beginning to get nervous, she spoke, her voice quiet. “Ahava.”

“Nice to meet you, Ahava,” Kanan said, keeping his own tone calm and level. “Now, I know my armor’s a little scary— especially the helmet. But I promise you, I’m here to help.” Looking up and meeting Darija’s eyes, he added, “I won’t let either of you be caught, I promise. I would never wish what I— what I’ve seen on anyone.”

A flicker of understanding flashed through Darija’s eyes, and Kanan saw her take a quick breath, looking undecided. Before she could speak, Ahava spoke again.

“Why are your eyes that color?”

“It’s…. Part of my disguise,” Kanan said, opting for the easiest explanation. “So no one knows I’m helping you out. But I promise, I’m one of the good guys.” Remembering a long ago lesson from the creche, he reached out through the Force, sending the little girl an impression of peace and hope.

Her eyes brightened. “I like your eyes better when they’re blue,” she told him.

Kanan paused, taken aback. What does she mean? And then he realized he’d used the Light side of the Force. So does that mean— doesn’t matter right now. Mostly.

“So do I,” Hera agreed, and Kanan glanced up at her, his eyebrows shooting up. Okay maybe it matters a little bit. She gave him a slight smile that sent a flush of warmth through him and dear Force he could not start blushing right now. Definitely not in front of Fox and Kasmir.

Focusing his attention back on Ahava, he offered her a smile. “Then we’re all agreed. Listen, Ahava— I know things are scary right now, but I promise it’s all gonna be fine. You’ve got some good people looking out for you.” He sent another pulse of reassurance through the Force, and to his surprise, she responded, her signature flaring a little. Like she was waving at him through the Force.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Kanan asked, “Now, who taught you to do that?”

Her smile was shy but radiant as she said, “My daddy, before he left. He said his daddy taught him after he left the Jedi, and he wanted me to be able to reach the Force. That way, we’ll always be together.”

Kanan felt a pang run through him at the grave, pure belief in the little girl’s words. She trusted her parents, trusted the Force. He could almost imagine a young Caleb Dume next to her.

“I’m glad,” he told Ahava. “Your dad was right. The Force connects us to everything— he’ll always be with you.”

As he rose to his feet, Hera stepped forward. “Why don’t we get everything on board? We’ll be taking off soon.”

Darija and Ahava picked up their bags, heading towards the ship, Ahava waving to Kanan as she walked. Kanan gave her a return wave as Darija paused in her tracks, turning back towards him.

“Thank you,” she told him. “For what you said. Avner— my husband— he was… taken a few years back. By…”

“By one of the Inquisitorus,” Kanan guessed, and Darija nodded.

“We haven’t heard from him since. We have no idea what happened to him.” 

“If it helps,” Kanan said hesitantly, and Darija’s gaze fixed on him, hope flaring within them. “If it helps— I’ve been in the Inquisitorus for years. And I’ve never met a male Mirialan Inquisitor. I know it’s not good news—”

“But it’s not the worst news,” Darija finished. She took a shaky breath, the sorrow in her eyes heavy. But not, Kanan sensed, heavy enough to break her. “Thank you. I would never want to think that Avner ended up there. He would have hated that.”

“Of course,” Kanan said. “Safe travels.” He paused, unsure if he should say it, but the words slipped out anyways. “May the Force be with you.”

A very small smile crossed Darija’s face, and she gave him a nod. “And with you.” Turning, she headed onto the Ghost after her daughter.

As Kanan watched them go, he felt someone watching him. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of Kasmir, who was studying him with a puzzled half frown. “What?” Kanan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You seem— have we met?” Kasmir asked. “Before now.”

Oh kriff. Does he recognize me? Kanan was well aware that he’d changed over the past seven years, so it was unlikely. But he’d spent months traveling with Kasmir, and the Kalleran smuggler was smart. Too smart.

“I think I’d remember if we had,” he said, opting for evasiveness. “You should get going. There’s no telling how long we have before the Coruscant Guard realizes you’re missing.”

“Right,” Kasmir said slowly. He started walking towards the ship, but halfway to the ramp, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kanan. This could be bad, Kanan thought before Kasmir said the last thing he expected to hear.

“Caleb Dume.”

Kanan froze, shock racing through him. “You asked why I’m doing this, there’s your answer,” Kasmir said. He directed a piercing stare at Kanan. “You know him, don’t you?”

He doesn’t know who I am, Kanan realized with a burst of relief. He didn’t particularly want to lie to Kasmir— but there was a part of him that didn’t want his old friend to know who he was, to face his past. Not yet, anyways.

“I may have,” he said. “Not sure.”

“What happened to him?” Kasmir asked, and Kanan couldn’t help but be taken aback at the concern in the Kalleran’s eyes. He’s worried about me— about Caleb. He’s probably just feeling guilty. But he knew that wasn’t true. Towards the end of their time working together, they had been friends. Kasmir legitimately cared about him, in some way.

But he couldn’t tell him the truth. “He’s dead,” Kanan told him, striving to keep his voice steady.

It must not have worked, because Kasmir’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m telling the truth or not,” Kanan told him. “If he didn’t die, the other option is worse. Either way, your friend is gone. I— I’m sorry, Kasmir. One way or another… Caleb Dume isn’t coming back.”

It was true, and he hated himself for saying it. He hated that there was no going back to a time when he was a true Jedi, not a Dark sider desperately clinging to any scrap of Light in his life, a time when younglings like Ahava would have been safe, and not hunted.

But there was no going back.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Kasmir said slowly, his frown deep. “Isn’t there?”

“If I haven’t told you yet, what makes you think I’m going to tell you now?” Kanan pointed out. “Now get going, you’re putting yourself and your cargo in danger by staying.”

“Fair enough,” Kasmir muttered. He paused, then gave Kanan and Fox a nod. “Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem,” Kanan replied. “You probably would have gotten out of there sooner or later, though, given your chosen profession.”

Kasmir let out a snort of amusement, although Kanan could still see the glint of sorrow in his eyes. “Might have a point there, kid.”

Kanan almost told him not to call him that— but stopped himself just in time, biting his tongue hard. That would have been a dead giveaway, and he couldn’t afford that. Instead, he just said, “Probably. Safe trip, Kasmir.”

Giving them another nod, Kasmir made his way onto the Ghost, where Hera was standing on the ramp waiting. She said something to Kasmir, who nodded, then headed towards Kanan. Kanan felt his heartbeat quicken a little, and instinctively reached for the Force to steady him.

Behind him, Fox said quietly, “I’ll meet you back at the Palace, sir. Don’t take too long.”

Any other day, Kanan would be irritated that the clone could see through him so easily— but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t glad to be getting time alone with Hera. “I’ll see you there,” he said.

As Fox headed back towards the lift, Kanan turned his attention back to Hera, who had just reached him. “Thank you for all your help,” she told him.

“I should be thanking you,” Kanan replied. “You’re the one who’s doing most of the work.”

“It’s what we do,” Hera said. She paused, studying him for a moment. “Who Kasmir was talking about— Caleb Dume. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Irrationally, Kanan felt his heart skip a beat. There was something so incredibly odd about hearing her say his name, the name he’d long since known would never belong to him again. “You heard that, huh? Yeah, that was me.” He ran an absent hand through his hair, realizing he hadn’t tied it back again. “It’s… it’s strange to see him after all the years. To hear him talk about me like— like I was the reason he’s doing all this.”

“It sounds like you are,” Hera said quietly.

“It’s not what I expected to hear,” Kanan said wryly. A half smile twitched across his face. “I guess we’re both trying to make amends for everything.” Pausing, he caught Hera’s eye. “If he figures it out— which he might, knowing him— will you tell him… that I don’t blame him? Please?”

“Of course,” Hera said instantly. She hesitated, and Kanan knew what she was going to say before she spoke. “You could tell him yourself,” she said gently. “You could come with us.”

For one very, very brief moment, Kanan allowed himself to imagine a world where he accepted that offer. He would follow Hera onto the ship, and yes, he’d have to deal with the tangled mess that was his relationship with Kasmir first.

But after that, he would be free. He’d stay with Hera and fight the Empire by her side and maybe, just maybe, their friendship could grow into the something more he longed for. He could turn his back on the Inquisitorus and never look back.

It was the one thing he desperately wanted, above all else. And it was the one thing he could never accept. “You know I can’t,” he said softly. “I have people here I can’t leave behind.”

Nodding, Hera let out a rueful sigh. “I know. It’s one of the things that I like about you.” Stepping forward, she threw her arms around him, and Kanan froze, panicked, before he realized what happened a beat later.

She was hugging him.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. For a moment, he just held her, feeling her breathing steadily as she rested her head against his chest. “Be safe,” Hera whispered. “I can’t— I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, Captain Hera,” Kanan told her, releasing her. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he added, “I promise.”

Her responding smile filled him with warmth, and he couldn’t help but think back to the moment when she’d kissed him, how he hadn’t wanted to let her go then, either. But Kanan always would let her go. He would do anything he could to keep her safe.

She started to head back towards the Ghost, then glanced back over her shoulder. “For the record,” she told him, “I don’t think Caleb Dume is gone. Not the way you think he is.”

Without waiting for a response, she made her way back on board, past Kasmir, who Kanan realized had been watching them with a smirk the whole time. As the ramp started to raise, however, he saw the smirk falter, and the Kalleran stepped forward, his eyes widening. Just before it closed, Kanan saw Kasmir say something, and his heart skipped a beat as he realized what it was.

“Kid?”

He knows, Kanan thought, unable to move. Of course he does. He half expected the ramp to open again and for Kasmir to come charging out and— what? Demand explanations? Punch him? Shout at him? He honestly wasn’t sure.

But a few seconds later, the Ghost took off, heading towards the upper levels. Kanan exhaled, strangely relieved and disappointed at the same time.

Picking up his helmet, he replaced it— and saw he had a few new messages. Activating the HUD, he made his way towards the lift, reading them as he went.

13th Brother (Dark): KANAN WHY AM I HEARING RUMORS ABOUT YOU HAVING A GIRLFRIEND?? HOW HAVE YOU NOT TOLD ME ABOUT THIS EARLIER??

Commander Fox: Some Lieutenant Venka is spreading rumors about you. We need to talk. Play along if asked. 

What— oh, KRIFF, Kanan thought, remembering the Imperial officer who’d found him and Hera. This could be… interesting.

He started to answer Fox’s message, but noticed another notification, from an unknown source. This better not be some kind of virus, he thought, selecting it.

VCX-100 Com System: He says he’s sorry. 

Hera, Kanan realized with a jolt. Somehow, she’d hacked into his helmet. Well, that could be useful in the future, he mused as another message popped up.

VCX-100 Com System: He also says to tell you you’re a kriffing tuft sucker for implying that you were dead.

Kanan couldn’t help a snort of amusement. Yep, that sounds like Kasmir, all right.

K: Tell him it takes one to know one.

VCX-100 Com System: He’s currently laughing and calling you a little punk. So I think it’s safe to say he’s not upset.

K: I’m glad. Make sure he gets to safety?

VCX-100 Com System: Of course. You be safe, too.

K: Just for you, Captain.

VCX-100 Com System: Thank you very much, dear.

K: You’re welcome, Hera.

The Inquisitorus were feared across the galaxy, renowned for their viciousness and the trail of death they left in their wake. Their task— to hunt down the remnants of the Jedi Order and eradicate them and the nascent Rebellion at any cost. A cost which was almost always paid in innocent lives. The only Force user more feared was Lord Vader himself— but he was only ever spoken of in terrified whispers.

There were many rumors about the Inquisitorus, however, about the darkness that seemed to hover around their members. About how they moved with eerie silence and speed, about what their training had to have been, about where they came from.

Only a few came near the truth, at least in the Third Brother’s case.

He’d had a name once, before the Empire had taken him and handed him over to their instruments of torture. They’d told him and his fellow prisoners to forget who they’d been before, that they were what the Empire said they were now. But he’d always been stubborn. So he clung to his memories, reciting them over and over, trying to hold onto what he was.

They’d won out in the end. They always did, he knew now. But like he’d said, he was stubborn. And he managed to keep some parts of himself. His name he was born with was gone, but there was no way he’d use the number the Empire gave him when he didn’t have to.

Luckily, new names were something he’d been thinking over a lot up until he’d been captured. So to himself, and the few friends he’d made— however reluctantly— within the Empire, he was Kanan. One of many secrets he kept from the Empire, one that he kept quiet at all costs.

A bang on his door jolted him out of his sleep, and the door slid open. Kanan’s hand was halfway to his lightsaber when the tall, dark-haired figure stepping through the door spoke. “Get up, the Grand Inquisitor wants to see us and we’re almost late.”

Blinking the bleariness of sleep out of his eyes, Kanan squinted at Dark, his fellow Inquisitor and, bizarrely enough, friend. For the first few years here, he’d kept to himself as much as possible. But when Dark had… joined them and nearly been beaten to death by some of the other Inquisitors, Kanan had saved him. Dark had repaid the favor later on, and they’d started to watch each other’s backs.

Which was very necessary when you were working with psychopaths. Not that we’re a whole lot better, Kanan thought wryly.

Hauling himself off of his cot, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head. “How late?” he asked, heading towards the chest where he kept his armor. His lightsaber— which he’d kept a simple double-bladed affair, unlike the other Inquisitor’s saber design— stayed at his side at all times.

“If we’re not there in five minutes, stuff gets ugly,” Dark said, and Kanan cursed under his breath as he yanked open the chest and started pulling out his armor.

“Why didn’t you go without me?”

“What, and leave you to be skinned like a blurrg on your own? I’d never miss out on the fun. Besides, I… wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost.”

Kanan could read the subtext beneath that one easily enough. More often than not, the two of them found themselves victims of the other Inquisitor’s vicious training sessions. “Not lost,” he said, starting to strap on the armor. “I might have snuck out to get a drink last night, though. Fox got me back here.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Dark grimace. “Sounds fun.”

Letting out a mirthless snort, Kanan said, “Wanna bet?”

As he finished putting on his armor, Dark let out a sigh. “Glad he’s your babysitter and not mine.”

“Not my babysitter,” Kanan muttered, which wasn’t quite true. The older man had been assigned to command the stormtroopers that worked under Kanan. They didn’t get along for a multitude of reasons, but even Kanan had to admit they worked together surprisingly well. And Fox had his back, for whatever reason.

“Well, let’s get a move on so he isn’t babysitting a corpse,” Dark said, lobbing Kanan his helmet, which had been left at the foot of his cot. He caught it, tucking it under his arm, and the two of them headed out of the room quickly.

The Inquisitors had been almost always stationed at the Fortress Inquisitorus on Nur until a recent incident had rendered the base unusable. Now, they were staying in the Imperial Palace, a temporary situation that Kanan absolutely hated.

It wasn’t just that even after the renovations the Emperor had done, it still looked like the Temple here and there. That every step seemed to hold a ghost, a memory from the boy Kanan had been, who’d died at the hands of the Empire.

No, it was the fact that there were so many kriffing people. Servants seemed to invade every hallway, even the area where the Inquisitors were staying, which had been marked off limits except to those chosen by the Emperor. Kanan avoided interacting with them— he knew he made people uncomfortable, and he was okay with it. When it was stuck-up Core Worlders or Admirals who looked down their noses at Force users until they were two inches from a humming red saber. The servants didn’t necessarily deserve intimidation.

(and if he was being honest, which he rarely was, he didn’t like them seeing his face. He didn’t like anyone seeing his face, least of all himself, which was why he almost always wore his helmet unless it was only him and Dark, or Fox.)

The two of them rounded another corner, and as it so often did, the familiarity of the place hit Kanan like a solid blow to the jaw. For a moment, he was sure he’d look up and see Sammo or Cal or one of his other younglings, or Master Windu striding down the corridor.

But he didn’t. Instead, he ran straight into a servant coming from the opposite direction.

Staggering backwards, Kanan almost dropped his helmet— why haven’t I put that on yet? he thought, managing to keep himself from grimacing outwardly. He caught his balance, looked up to see who he’d run into— and froze.

She was a non-human, which was unusual for the Imperial Palace. However, she was a Twi’lek, which was less unusual. Her skin was a vibrant shade of green, outmatched only by her eyes, which caught Kanan’s in a way that was totally unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Elegant features, a baggy servant’s smock and a startled expression all combined to create a woman that struck Kanan completely dumb.

Her gaze locked with his, and Kanan’s heart, which had nearly stopped at the sight of her, started again, pounding hard. The expression she wore was startled, but curious and only slightly nervous. Force, Kanan thought. She’s breath-taking.

Dark clearing his throat jolted him out of his thoughts. “Do excuse us,” he said to the Twi’lek, his tone polite, but slightly brusque. “We need to get going.” Grabbing Kanan by the arm, he tugged him forward, and the two of them started down the hallway again.

As they walked, Dark muttered, “Kriff, Kanan, if the Rebellion knew you were this affected by pretty women, they’d be able to take you out in a heartbeat.”

“Shut up,” Kanan growled, feeling himself flush slightly. Remembering his helmet, he shoved it on, relieved at the ability to hide from, if not his problems, then at least his friend’s teasing.

Sort of. As they headed towards the meeting room where the Grand Inquisitor was waiting, Dark mused, “You know, I don’t really see you react to women often, and certainly not like that. You’re just… blown away.”

“Shut up or I’ll make you,” Kanan snapped, his tone sharp. Dark fell silent, although he could sense his friend’s amusement bubbling beneath the surface. This isn’t going away anytime soon, he thought with an internal sigh.

They only just made it to the room where the Grand Inquisitor was waiting for them in time. Stopping outside, Kanan glanced at Dark. “You ready?”

Straightening up, Dark swept a hand over his hair and flipped up the collar of his long black coat, which he wore instead of armor or a cape. “Am I ever? Let’s get this over with.”

Kanan keyed open the door to the office, and the two of them stepped inside. The room was almost entirely dark, the corners thick with shadows despite the window in one corner. Standing in front of the window was a dark silhouette, hands clasped behind his back that seemed to radiate cold.

Holding back a shiver, Kanan stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak. But the Grand Inquisitor spoke first. “Third Brother. Eleventh Brother. You’re late.”

“My apologies, Grand Inquisitor,” Kanan said quickly. He knew better than to try and explain. He had more than a few scars from being taught that lesson.

“You’re lucky that I need you both in good shape right now,” the Grand Inquisitor said icily as he turned around. His yellow eyes locked on them as he continued, “I have missions I need each of you to take. Eleventh Brother, there’s a senator who’s causing us some problems. Take care of them with whatever methods you deem necessary.”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor,” Dark said, his gaze lowered to the ground. Kanan didn’t glance at him, just stood up straight and waited for their commander to speak to him.

“Third Brother. The rumors of the Force-sensitive child on Thabeska have cropped up again. You are to take your troops and investigate this and the rumors of rebellion in the area.” The Grand Inquisitor paused, then added, “You may recall what happened to the last Inquisitor we sent to look into this.”

Kanan felt a shiver go down his spine as he remembered it. The first Inquisitor they’d actually lost in the line of duty. His face a charred mess and his saber gone. Kanan hadn’t known him, nor had he wanted to. He felt no grief at his loss.

But someone was out there killing Inquisitors. And that was something of a concern for Kanan, as a member of the Inquisitorus.

He’d be lying if he said that was the only reason it was of interest, if he said that he wondered if there might be another Jedi out there. But all he said was, “Yes, Grand Inquisitor.”

“Good,” the Pau’an said, his eyes like yellow flint. “Attempt to keep yourself from failing in the same way, or your punishment will be… deserving of your transgressions.”

Feeling his gut clench, Kanan nodded. “Understood.”

“Excellent. Now get out.”

The two of them quickly obeyed, heading out the door and down the hall. As they walked, Dark muttered, “Well, it could have been worse. Seven wasn’t there.”

Shuddering at the thought of the Mirialan Inquisitor, Kanan said, “Agreed.”

His helmet’s internal comlink beeped, and he reached up and keyed it on. A message popped on the visor, where a small screen was embedded:

Meeting room A debrief, five minutes.

“Fox wants a debrief,” he told his friend. “I gotta go.”

“Right— good luck with your mission,” Dark told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t die.”

“You, too,” Kanan replied.

They parted ways, and Kanan made his way to the room Fox had specified. The walls blurred around him as his mind moved to his mission on Thabeska.

All the intel they’d received pointed towards there being a Force-sensitive child on that planet. There had been admittedly mixed reports, but if there was fresh intel… it must be something big, Kanan thought, his stomach churning.

He’d been sent on blessedly few recruitment missions, and he hated them. Hated watching a Force user fight, trying to protect themself, only to fall in the end, eyes turning the same foul yellow as his own. Maybe it was because he saw himself in them.

Still, a mission was a mission. It was all supposed to be the same. Except that this was a child. A little girl if Kanan was remembering the reports right. And he was supposed to take her from her family and put her in the hands of Imperial torturers. And despite what he’d become, Kanan didn’t think he was okay with that.

But his other choice was death.

Maybe that would be easier, he thought as he reached the meeting room and keyed open the door. It was empty— Fox was clearly running late— and Kanan sank into a chair near the back, his mind still spinning. Refuse to do it, let the consequences be what they are. Let the Empire end this. But there was no way whatever ending the Empire chose for him would be fast. Pulling off his helmet, he dropped it onto the table next to him and buried his hands in his face.

He sat there, turning the situation over in his head, for a long time before the door finally hissed open behind him, and he heard footsteps. Not waiting for Fox to speak, Kanan said, “We have our mission. Thabeska. There’s— there’s supposed to be a Force-sensitive child there. We’re to bring her back at any cost.”

Shaking his head, he couldn’t hold back a cynical laugh. “Bet this wasn’t what you were hoping for when you started fighting for the Republic, huh?”

There was no response. Kanan stared out the window in front of him, not seeing the view. His next words slipped from his mouth slowly, words he knew he shouldn’t speak but had to get out. “I don’t think I can do this. But my other choice is… less than palatable. I’m… stuck.”

“What if there was a third option?”

The voice that spoke was not Fox’s. It was musical and warm and calm and distinctly female, and also the most beautiful thing Kanan had ever heard. Startled, he moved to his feet, turning towards the sound.

The last thing he saw were a pair of determined green eyes, then a burst of blue from a stun bolt crashed into him, and he passed out.

~ ~ ~

“Shuttle 616, you are cleared for hyperspace travel. Be on your way.”

Reaching forward, Hera keyed the com and said, “Thank you, Control. I’m on my way.”

She switched it off, and glanced at her droid. “Chop, calculate the jump to hyperspace.”

“Yes, Captain,” Chopper beeped. With his help, it was only a matter of seconds before the stars around them blurred into the flickering blues of hyperspace.

Leaning back in her seat, Hera exhaled, long and hard. She hadn’t been able to breathe properly for the entire mission— and not just because of the smog on Coruscant. Invading the capital planet was a foolish enough idea on most days, but sneaking into the Imperial Palace? Hera still didn’t quite believe she’d pulled it off.

It helped to have a man on the ground. Commander Fox, a former member of the Coruscant Guard, had helped sneak her into the Palace in the guise of a servant— no one was going to notice one more Twi’lek, keeping her head down and avoiding attention.

Until they did, Hera thought, her thoughts flickering back over her mission.

She’d been there as a special request from Fulcrum. Or, according to the agent, as a favor for a friend. Apparently, there was an Imperial in the Palace who was willing to defect. All Hera had to do was pick him up.

Upon arriving and contacting Fox, Hera quickly realized that this was an exaggeration, and left out some of the most important parts. Like the fact that this defector was an Inquisitor, who actually had no idea that he was about to join the Rebellion.

Flashing back to her conversation with Fox, Hera remembered the man’s serious expression as he said, “Look, he’s basically a good kid. But he’s gone through a lot, and he’s in a dark place. He doesn’t want to be part of this, though. Whether he knows it or not.”

“And you think I can convince him to leave the Empire?” Hera had asked, her voice skeptical.

Shrugging, Fox said, “No kriffing idea. But Fulcrum said you can, and I tend to trust their judgment. It’s a good habit to get into.”

So they’d set up a trap for the Inquisitor, who Fox told her was the Third Brother. “He has another name,” the clone had added. “One he chose. But I think I’ll let him tell you about that.” It had all gone smoothly— the Third Brother had been there, Hera had stunned him, and she and Fox had smuggled him out of the Palace and onto the Ghost.

There were just two little problems. One, Hera had a kriffing Inquisitor, of all things, on her ship. The other was, somehow, a little more complex.

“So, do we plan on dealing with our guest?” Chopper beeped, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“I suppose so,” she agreed, moving to her feet. “Is he awake?”

“Nah, we’d hear more thrashing and yammering if he was.” As Hera headed for the door, Chopper rolled after her, asking, “What are you going to do with him?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Hera said wryly.

She left the cockpit and headed into the cargo bay, sliding down the ladder quickly. At the bottom, she turned and looked at the black-clad figure who was currently handcuffed to the wall.

“What are we going to do with you?” she murmured to the unconscious Inquisitor. He, being unconscious, made no reply.

Curiosity tugged at Hera, and she stepped closer to him. Kneeling beside him, she studied him closely. He was human, with tan skin and dark hair that was tied back from his face rather messily. It looked like he wasn’t much older than her, maybe a few years. The hard lines of his face were significantly relaxed now that he was unconscious, unlike when she’d found him earlier in the meeting room.

Oh, and he was also the most gorgeous man Hera had ever met.

Part of her really, really disliked the fact that she was this attracted to an agent of the Empire, a man who’d surely killed and tortured far, far too many beings. But even now, she felt her gaze lingering on his strong jawline, the dark hair, the lips that had yet to move into anything resembling a smile—

Hastily pulling her gaze away, Hera moved to her feet and stepped back. Closing her eyes, she took in a quick breath. Okay, Hera. Keep your eyes on the goal here. Complete your mission, recruit him to the cause, and try not to die in the process. Nothing else matters.

It was the faintest sound that alerted her— a rustle of clothing or shifting of limbs, maybe. But it made Hera open her eyes, and meet those of the Third Brother.

His eyes… they were the one flaw, other than the fact that he was probably a murdering psychopath. They were yellow. Not gold like a Pantoran, but a rancid, sickly yellow, rimmed slightly with red. It made him look like he was rotting from the inside out— and in a way, he almost was, Hera reflected.

“Where am I?” he asked, his deep voice slightly gravelly.

“On my ship,” Hera replied evenly.

“I see. And who exactly are you?” So far, he had yet to show any anger or outward emotion— which was either good because he was staying calm, or very, very bad.

Hera hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should answer his question. But she was here to recruit him, and the first step for that would be trust. “I’m Hera,” she said.

Something flickered in the Inquisitor’s eyes. “Hera,” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle as he spoke her name, a certain warmth about him.

That disappeared seconds later as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Care to explain what I’m doing on your ship?”

Well, there’s really no way to sugarcoat this. “I abducted you,” Hera said matter-of-factly. “Or took you captive, really.”

One of his eyebrows shot up, and his expression almost looked impressed. “You abducted an Inquisitor. From the Imperial Palace.” Shaking his head, he said, “You’re either the bravest woman I’ve ever met or completely insane. How did you even know where to find me?”

“Are you flattering me to try and get information out of me?” Hera said warily, not quite sure what to think. So far, he seemed less angry and more impressed than she’d expected.

“Not exactly,” the Inquisitor said, a frown crossing his face again. “Really, how did you know where to find me? The only person who knew where I was going was—” he stopped, his face growing pale. “Fox. Fox is a part of this.”

Hera studied him as his expression transformed into… pain. Hurt. Something like resignation. It only lasted a moment, but she knew what she’d seen. Another piece of proof that this Inquisitor wasn’t just some monster. I can do this, she thought, confidence building up in her chest.

She realized he was still watching her intently, his jaw tight. “You can deny it all you want,” he said, his voice cold and hard, not holding the same humanity as moments earlier. “You won’t fool me. So what is this? He finally got tired of waiting for the right time to put a blaster bolt in my back? Or did he feel guilty, and sent you to do his dirty work?” Leaning forward, he said, “Trust me, it won’t be as easy as you think.”

“This is not about Fox,” Hera said firmly. “And it’s certainly not about killing you.”

“That would be a first,” the Inquisitor drawled, dropping back against the wall. “Okay, I’ll ask. Why did you lock me up in your ship if not to kill me? What exactly is this all about?”

“It’s about…” Hera hesitated, wondering how to explain. “It’s about what you said when I found you in that meeting room, about wishing there was some third option, something that wasn’t the Empire or—”

“Dying,” he finished for her. “Right. Well, it was just empty-headed rambling, that you weren’t even supposed to hear.”

“But I did,” Hera said quietly. “And I think I know what that third option is.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and Hera knew what it was. It was hope, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. “Tell me,” he said, his voice hoarse and almost desperate.

Taking a quick breath, Hera said, “The Rebellion.”

There was only silence for a beat, then the Inquisitor laughed. The noise was sharp and harsh, and Hera suppressed a flinch as he shook his head. “I said something that doesn’t end up with me dead. The Rebellion is going to lose this fight.”

“You’re wrong,” Hera said matter-of-factly. “We can succeed against the Empire. All we need is hope, and enough faith that we can keep going.”

“Hope doesn’t win wars.”

“You might be surprised.”

Shaking his head, the Inquisitor said, “I changed my mind. You’re definitely insane. Let me go, and I’ll let you live.”

“No.”

Hera was sure she was imagining the look in the man’s eyes— something akin to respect— as he rolled them. “Clearly you don’t know enough about Force users,” he muttered, closing his eyes. And then he froze, every muscle in his body going rigid. His eyes flicked open and locked on her, and for the first time Hera actually felt something approaching fear. “What. Did you. Do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything—”

“Why can’t I feel the Force? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” He lunged forward, stopped short by the cuffs on his arm, and Hera flinched, her hand slipping towards her blaster.

The Inquisitor stopped abruptly, his gaze locked on her hand. For a moment, he didn’t move, then slowly and deliberately he stepped back until his back pressed against the wall. When he met her gaze again, Hera was caught totally off guard by the shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never— I’m sorry. I’ve never been this cut off from the Force. I didn’t expect… I won’t hurt you.”

Force, Hera thought. He’s a mess. But he has so much fear, and he needs help. So I guess for now, he’s my mess. “It’s okay,” she told him. “And I can explain. Have you ever heard of ysalamir?” When he shook his head, Hera explained, “They’re lizard-like creatures that are native to Myrkr. They create a Force neutral bubble that negates Force sensitivity.” At this point, she was just glad that the smuggler she'd contacted had been able to get her one. “The effects are based on range, and they're not permanent.”

His relief was palpable as he nodded slowly. “Thank you.” Hera could almost see the walls coming back up as he asked, “So what exactly is your plan here?”

“Well, I have other things to attend to,” Hera said briskly, relieved that they were getting back on track. “So you have a choice. You can wait on the ship and we can argue Rebellion stuff when I get back, or you can come with me and we can argue Rebellion stuff. I have plenty of time.”

“You might, but I don’t,” the Inquisitor replied, his voice grim. “If the Grand Inquisitor doesn’t get a report about Thabeska from me, it’ll make death by joining the Rebellion look very tempting.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his quip, Hera said, “Fox has that covered. As far as the Grand Inquisitor is aware, you’re on the ground on Thabeska, sneaking around and investigating. You can’t make contact at risk of being discovered.”

“Not bad,” the Inquisitor murmured. “If all the Rebels are as smart as you, you might actually have a chance in this thing.”

This time, Hera did roll her eyes. “You’re hilarious. Your choices remain. What’s it gonna be?”

“I’ll go with you,” the Inquisitor said. “Better than sitting on this ship all day— I think I’d get tired of the view eventually.”

“Alright then,” Hera said, hope building inside her. She had a chance at this. She could convince him, if he’d just listen. All it took was a little trust.

Which reminded her. “If we’re going to be in public together, I’m gonna need a name though.”

“I’m the Third Brother,” the Inquisitor said almost mechanically, like he’d been trained to say it. Conditioned. And he probably had, Hera thought.

“That’s not a name,” she told him. “What about the one you were born with, or a nickname?”

His yellow eyes remained on hers for a minute, thoughtful. “I don’t use my birth name anymore,” he said, his voice low. “But… you can call me Kanan.”

“Kanan,” Hera repeated, and she really had to be losing her mind, because she thought she saw the smallest hint of a smile cross the man’s face at the sound of her saying his name. As long as she was losing it, though— she stepped forward, bending over the cuffs that attached him to the wall, and opened them.

They clattered to the ground, and Hera offered him a hand. Almost warily, Kanan took it, and Hera helped him to his feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kanan.” Lifting an eyebrow at him, she added, “Let’s make sure it stays that way.”

The first real smile she’d seen crossed Kanan’s face, and he looked so incredibly human that way that Hera could almost forget about his yellow eyes or his anger a few moments earlier. “Your wish is my command, Captain Hera. Mind telling me where we’re going?”

The streets of Gorse were dark and constantly shadowed, only lit by the light of the moon. Fitting enough for me, Kanan thought as he made his way forward.

For once, he wasn’t wearing the all black garb of an Inquisitor. Hera had produced a change of clothes for him that she’d said Fox had sent with her, along with a pair of opaque glasses to disguise his eyes. Kanan couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of respect for the clone’s level of preparedness— clearly he’d been planning this for a while. And he didn’t tell me. It wasn’t as if Kanan could claim Fox lied to him, particularly about his loyalty to the Empire— neither of them were under any delusions about that, on either end— mainly because Fox simply didn’t share much.

It still stung. Which was stupid. Actually, the really stupid thing was that Kanan had been cautiously beginning to trust his commander. I should have known better, he thought, clenching his jaw. Trusting anyone is foolish, let alone a clone.

Which made his current situation— assisting a member of the Rebellion who’d kidnapped him in her mission— total lunacy.

What am I doing? Kanan wondered, and not for the first time, either. The Rebellion was a doomed idea; there was no way it could succeed against the Empire. No one really could, as he knew all too well.

But here came this woman, who was smarter than half the Empire and better in a crisis than the other half, and was totally sure she could take them all down. And Kanan almost believed her, with the conviction and determination in her gaze. What makes Hera different from the others? He wondered, his gaze flicking to where she was walking beside him. Why do I honestly actually think that she could bring about the Empire’s end, or at least lead the way?

She must have felt him watching her, although Hera didn’t glance at him as she spoke. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time talking on missions,” Kanan said.

“Do you just not like it, or is it discouraged?”

“Mostly the latter,” Kanan said. Feeling a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, he added, “And most of the people I end up working with aren’t much for conversation. Either they hate me, or they’re Fox.”

Hera chuckled, a sound that made the almost constant ache of worry and frustration tangled in his chest loosen slightly. “I didn’t get the impression he was much of a talker.”

“He’s not,” Kanan agreed. “But when he does, the guy actually has something of a sense of humor. Buried deep, deep, deep under layers of cynicism and a ridiculously good sabacc face.”

She laughed again, which had been Kanan’s goal. He’d known from the moment he’d met her that she was incredibly gorgeous— that was easy enough to see. But it wasn’t just her looks. It was her voice, the way it sent a thrill through him at the rich, melodic tones. It was the way her eyes glinted with determination, how she refused to give up. It was the fact that she had never seemed afraid of him.

Well. Almost never, Kanan corrected himself, feeling a pang. He still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for losing it when he’d been trapped and unable to feel the Force. It had been an overreaction. He found it too easy to jump to anger to solve his problems when he was afraid or powerless.

It was something that had been drilled into him as an Inquisitor. It was something he hated, and wanted to change about himself. For many reasons, but mainly because it had cut into Kanan, the way she’d looked at him. Like he was a threat.

Don’t be ridiculous, you just met her, Kanan reminded himself. His brain reminded him that it had been a few days at this point, and eventful ones at that.

They’d arrived on Gorse, which was indeed a squalid mudhole of a planet. The moon, Cynda, was breathtaking, and supposed to be even more beautiful when it was full, which it nearly was now. The past two days had been spent mostly apart. Hera had claimed she had some of her own recon to do, which left Kanan to his own devices. He’d spent the time productively enough— lent a hand hauling some of the explosives down on Cynda, met a truly annoying explosives expert, punched said explosives expert in the teeth, and tangled with who he later learned was the reason Hera was here— Count Denetrius Vidian, a cyborg lunatic who was obsessed with results for the Empire. Needless to say, Kanan was not a fan.

But now, they were heading to a bar to meet a contact of Hera's, and Kanan was… not quite excited. But he looked forward to seeing her in action.

As they made their way forward, Kanan felt a flicker in the Force. Reaching out gently, he sensed two life forms behind them, and a few in the alleyways to their left and right. Kriff.

He’d fallen behind slightly, so he lengthened his stride, catching up with Hera. Striving to remain nonchalant, Kanan slipped an arm around her shoulder and bent his head down as she stiffened, more from surprise than anything else. “You do realize we’re being followed?”

A wry smile flickered across Hera’s face. “I wondered when you’d catch on. Yes, and I know who it is.”

“You do?” Kanan gaped at her, stunned.

“Mm-hm. A few members of the gang I hired last night.”

“You hired a gang?” Where had this woman come from? And how in the blazes had Kanan been lucky enough to meet her.

“I needed a distraction,” Hera said matter-of-factly. “The point is, they know I have credits, so they might be looking to relieve me of some of them. I should be able to talk them out of it, but be ready for a fight.”

“You want me to slip away and get behind them?” Kanan offered. “Odds are they won’t notice, and that’ll give us something of an edge.”

Giving him an approving look, Hera said, “Good idea.”

“See you in a bit, in that case.” Shooting her a grin, Kanan slipped down one of the side alleys that he sensed was empty. He kept shadowing Hera as she moved onwards and stopped beside one of the many buildings that was being renovated after some kind of damage— maybe the frequent earthquakes Gorse suffered. Scaffolding boxed her into a smaller area, and Kanan hissed out a breath. It wasn’t ideal circumstances, but they could make it work. He hoped.

The gang members, who were of assorted species, appeared from the shadowy streets only moments later. A big Chagrian, who was clearly their leader, moved up to confront Hera.

Kanan didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying. Instead, he studied his body language, watching him and his friends and fingering the butt of the blaster Hera had given him in lieu of his saber. She still hadn’t returned that, although Kanan couldn’t blame her.

He kept watching the gang members, waiting for the moment when they would go too far, and he could pounce. And then— the Chagrian stepped forward, closer to Hera, the menace in his body language clear. And Kanan moved.

Drawing his blaster, he stepped out of the alleyway and shot one of the gang members, who was raising his own weapon to point it at Hera, in the back of the head. He’d barely hit the ground when Hera was whipping off the black cloak she’d shrouded herself in and swung it through the air, tangling it over the Chagrian’s face.

As the gang members gaped at her, Hera delivered a sharp kick to his torso, sending him stumbling back, and drew her blaster. And then the other members exploded into action— but not as quickly as Kanan.

The ensuing fight was fierce, but quick. In a matter of minutes, Kanan had taken out the Chagrian leader and the window of a nearby closed-down bar. Between him and Hera, they finished off the gang leaders, and also the scaffolding around a few of the buildings. Overall, not a bad night’s work, Kanan thought with satisfaction as Hera retrieved her cloak.

“You’re pretty good in a fight,” she told him, bumping her fist under his chin as she inspected him, taking in the forming bruises and the sunglasses that had only barely survived the brawl.

Kanan felt his heart skip a beat, and took a quick breath. “I can say the same about you— you handle yourself even better than I expected. And I expected a lot, considering you were totally willing to take out an Inquisitor.”

Chuckling, Hera said, “If that impresses you, wait until you see me fly.”

“I’ve flown with you before,” Kanan pointed out.

She flashed him a glowing smile. “I mean really fly.”

Dear Force, Kanan thought as they continued down the street. Incredible doesn’t sum her up. Forget the Rebellion— this woman was going to be the death of him, and Kanan was definitely not opposed to it.

It was only a few minutes later that they arrived at their destination, a grimy little dive bar called the Asteroid Belt. Hera led the way in, and Kanan took in the interior— crowded with all manner of species, most of whom were totally drunk. None of them spared Kanan and Hera a glance, which Kanan preferred.

They made their way up to the bar, behind which an older man with white hair and a beard who looked vaguely familiar was pouring an Ithorian what was clearly not his first drink. “Good evening,” he said, giving them a friendly smile. “What can I get for the two of you?”

“Nothing for now,” Hera said politely. “Thank you, though.”

As the man nodded and moved away to serve another customer, Kanan leaned over to Hera. “How exactly do you plan on finding this… friend of yours in all of this?” he murmured. “Because I’m hoping they’re not here. None of the other patrons seem like they’re in any state to pass you information.”

Pursing her lips, Hera said, “Well, he knows my name, and what I look like— and vice versa. So that should help. I hope.”

“Hmm.” Kanan frowned for a moment, thinking. Then, ever so gently, he reached out with the Force, letting the emotions of the nearby patrons flood over him.

Overwhelmingly, they were totally drunk, and it made his head spin painfully. Wincing, Kanan did his best to filter through them, searching for the exceptions in the crowd.

There was Hera, of course, focused and calm despite her surroundings. She was a bright light in the Force, like a candle holding back the darkness. She embodied a light that Kanan hadn’t been in years, and he felt himself drawn to it. Focus, he told himself sternly, and moved on.

There was the bartender, who was mildly curious about the two of them, but not terribly focused on that. And then Kanan felt another mind, one filled with anxiety but determination. One that was located directly behind the bar.

Jackpot. “Hang on just a minute,” Kanan told Hera, sliding out of his chair. Before she could ask what he was doing, he vaulted over the bar, landing in a crouch behind it.

A few feet away from him crouched a Sullustan in a pink poncho. Her gaze locked on him, stunned and a little terrified. Then recognition, of all things, flared in her eyes. “Oh,” she said softly. “You.”

“...hi,” Kanan said. “How do you know me?”

“I saw you when you confronted Vidian, to save those workers.”

That’s where I know that guy from! Kanan realized— the bartender had been one of the workers he’d defended. “Right. Is there any chance you’re here to meet someone named Hera?”

The Sullustan’s eyes widened. “I— how did you—”

Taking that as a yes, Kanan rose to his feet. Looking at Hera, who was giving him a “what the kriff are you doing” look, he nodded at the Sullustan and said, “Found your contact.”

Hera connected the dots in moments, and before long she and her contact, apparently named Zaluna, were heading to a private area out back. Kanan elected to stay in the bar. There was a part of him, the part that was sure he would have to go back to the Empire and that Hera would come to an end that he tried desperately not to think about, that wanted to hear as little about her plans as possible. The less he knew, the less he could report.

There was a light thunk that pulled Kanan out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the bartender setting a glass in front of him. “You look as if you could use a drink,” he said, pouring liquor into the glass and pushing it towards him.

Usually, Kanan didn’t drink on missions. But this once, he was willing to accept. Grabbing it, he said, “You’re not wrong— thanks.”

“Of course, lad.” The old man lifted an eyebrow at him. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you looked preoccupied. May I hazard a guess it has something to do with the lovely young woman accompanying you?”

Kanan opened his mouth, ready to blow the older guy off— but instead, he found himself saying, “Yeah, it’s… complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” the bartender poured himself a drink and settled against the bar. He seemed in no hurry to go anywhere, but Kanan didn’t sense anything suspicious about him. Just curiosity. “Mind if I ask why?”

“I mean, I’d like to get a name first,” Kanan said bluntly— either he’d get the name, or it would offend the old man so much he decided to leave.

It didn’t. “Okadiah Garson,” he said. “And you?”

“Kanan. It’s a pleasure.”

“You as well.” Taking a sip, Okadiah gave him an expectant look. And beyond all logic, Kanan found himself responding.

“She’s… well, she’s amazing, don’t get me wrong. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s totally unafraid of anything, smarter than half the people I work with, and better in a fight than the other half.” Kanan felt a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth at the thought. “And she’s stubborn. Really, really stubborn. And that’s not even mentioning how gorgeous she is, to say nothing of her voice.”

“Then I fail to see what the problem is, given how obviously smitten you are with her,” Okadiah said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Kanan almost protested, but thought better of it. Besides, he did kind of sound smitten. Not that that was even remotely an option for either of them. “She’s not the problem,” he said, releasing a sigh. “It’s me. What I do for a living… she hates it. Not just “oh that’s a terrible job”, I mean she literally hates it. It’s the opposite to everything she stands for, and I’m not exactly a fan of it either.”

“Then why not quit?” Okadiah asked.

Letting out a snort, Kanan muttered, “This is not the kind of job you quit.” Taking a quick drink from his cup, he winced at the burn, but continued, “Even if I could get out of this… the person I’ve become doing this is not someone who deserves her.”

Okadiah shook his head. “Kanan, lad, I’ve been at this long enough that I think I have something of a solution to your problem.” When Kanan raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, he said, “Simply put, that’s not how love works. Relationships don’t operate on a system of who deserves what. If someone chooses to give you their heart, they’ve decided you’re worthy of it. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to do better, of course. It just means that you don’t have to earn their love.”

“That’s… actually weirdly helpful,” Kanan admitted.

“Of course it is, I can’t have lived this long and come up with nothing useful.” Okadiah studied him for a moment. “Something else?”

“I…” Kanan hesitated, unsure if he should actually admit what he was feeling. But Okadiah’s gaze was strangely kind, and a part of him needed to let it out. “I’m terrified. Of quitting my job, I guess. It’s been my life for a long time, and I don’t know how to… rebuild myself without it.”

He looked down, but not before he saw the sympathy in Okadiah’s eyes, and the old man reached forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her about it,” he said quietly. “Just talk to her, son. It’ll help, I promise.”

It took Kanan a moment to speak— being called ‘son’ in such a gentle way had hit him a lot harder than he would have expected. Clearing his throat, he finally managed, “Thanks. That… it helps.”

“Glad to hear it. I’d hate to see anything happen to you and your young woman— you seem like a lovely couple.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Kanan considered telling the older man they weren’t together, but finally opted for a simple “Thank you. For the advice, and the drink.”

“Anytime,” Okadiah said, toasting him.

Kanan returned the gesture, but just as he was about to drink, he spotted a hooded figure moving towards the back door. One that looked suspiciously like a lunatic explosives expert. “Uh-oh. I’ve gotta run— trouble’s on it’s way, and Hera’s gonna need some help.”

He started to fish in his pockets for credits, but Okadiah waved him off, saying, “It’s on the house.”

“You sure?”

“The least I can do after you saved my life,” Okadiah said with a smile.

Kanan returned it and gave him a nod. “Thank you, then.” With that, he darted towards the back door and into what was probably going to be even more chaos. At this point, he was almost starting to enjoy it.

~ ~ ~

Hera had been on quite a few missions, and she knew she’d be on many more before the war against the Empire was over. But she also knew that this one? This one was sticking with her for a long time, no matter how many she ran.

They’d collected information. Done some minor breaking and entering under the Empire’s nose. Kanan had flirted with an Imperial captain to distract her from who both of them were— which had annoyed Hera a lot more than it should have, frankly— and they’d blown up a lot of stuff. And eventually, they found out that Kanan’s crazy conspiracy theorist-explosives expert wasn’t so crazy. The Empire, namely Count Vidian, was trying to blow up the moon, Cynda.

So they’d fought to stop it. They’d done everything in their power, and even managed to save a few lives along the way, including that of the bartender Okadiah Kanan had befriended. And in the end, they’d managed to save Cynda, although not without consequences.

Mainly, the fact that Hera, Zaluna and Kanan had wound up on a Star Destroyer that was being blown to pieces by TIEs before their very eyes.

Hera was crouched near Zaluna, who’d been injured in the fight against Vidian. She saw Kanan, across the room, rise to his feet, blaster in hand, face dark as he started to move to go after Vidian, who had barely escaped them. “Kanan, no!” she shouted, and he looked back at her. “We have to get to a—”

Another torpedo from one of the TIE fighters slammed into the shields, shaking the bridge violently. Hera heard metal creaking above her and looked up to see the already damaged catwalk above her snap loose, start to plummet towards her.

Somehow, despite the fact she could see her own death crashing towards her, all she could think was, There’s no time for this. She had too much to do, too many people to help. She couldn’t die now.

But that was very rarely something that one could make a choice about.

Almost without thinking, she looked towards Kanan— and found him running towards her, faster than a human should be able to. She lifted a hand instinctively as panic thrummed through her, trying to gesture for him to get to safety.

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he slid to a stop at her side and lifted a hand towards the catwalk. And it stopped, hanging in midair.

Oh. For a moment, Hera had almost forgotten that Kanan could use the Force. She exhaled in relief, meeting his gaze— his glasses had gone missing during the fray, and Vidian hadn’t seemed to notice or care about his strange eye color. And something odd flickered in his eyes, just for a moment.

Not so much an emotion, or a feeling. No, it was something else. For just a second, so little time that Hera wasn’t even sure if she’d seen it, his eye color flashed from yellow to a deep blue-green.

And then it was gone, and Kanan said, “We should get moving.”

Right, because the ship was blowing up around them. “Let’s go,” Hera said.

They made it to an escape pod just in time— it was only minutes after their escape that the Star Destroyer blew for real, a hurricane of flames consuming it. When Kanan stated that it was Skelly’s workmanship, Hera didn’t doubt him— for more reasons than one.

The next few days were hectic, to say the least. It wasn’t long before they left Gorse, with a passenger— Zaluna, who they were delivering to somewhere safe. Somewhere she could live and be happy.

While she was on the ship, however, Hera knew she couldn’t discuss… well, quite a few things. Zaluna had no interest in the Rebellion, and she certainly didn’t know about Kanan’s past, nor could she.

So she waited until they reached Zaluna’s new home and got her settled in. And then, she and Kanan headed back to the Ghost together. It was a quiet walk, which was fine by Hera. She was still formulating what she wanted to say to Kanan.

He’d helped a lot over the past few days, even fighting against the Empire actively. To say nothing of the fact that he’d saved her life back on the Forager. Did I get through to him? Hera wondered, hope humming through her veins. Is it possible? Please, let this work.

She decided to wait until they were aboard the Ghost again to bring it up— she had a feeling it would be a conversation better held in private. It wasn’t too long later that they arrived in the landing bay where her ship awaited them. As they approached, the ramp lowered and Chopper rolled up to the top.

“Oh, great, he’s still here,” he beeped, giving Kanan the droid equivalent of a side eye.

“Be nice,” Hera scolded him. “Did you finish the list of chores I gave you?”

Chopper’s silence was all too telling, and Hera sighed. “Go take care of the Phantom’s maintenance, okay? No arguing.”

Grumbling, the droid rolled down the hallway, and Hera headed up to the cockpit with Kanan on her heels. “Do you mind co-piloting?” she asked, keying the door open. “Chopper’s bound to be busy for a bit.”

“Not at all,” Kanan replied, slipping into the co-pilot’s seat, and the two of them got to work.

It wasn’t long before they were lifting off, zipping off into the clear blue sky above them. Hera was working on calculating the jump for hyperspace when Kanan spoke. “Hera?”

Glancing at him, Hera was surprised to see him looking almost… nervous, contemplative. “Why did you trust me?” he asked quietly. “When I tried to hurt you. You let me go afterwards. Why?”

Ah. That. Hera considered it for a moment herself. “Because even if you were panicking then, you didn’t want to hurt me. I could see it— you looked like you’d scared yourself more than you scared me.”

“I had,” Kanan murmured, his eyes dark. He looked at her, and quietly said, “I never wanted to make you afraid.”

“I know that,” Hera said firmly. “You’re not someone who wants that, no matter how much the Empire tries to make you that.” She paused, then added, “And I suppose some of it was just blind faith. But faith is part of the reason I’ve gotten as far as I have. That, and hope.”

“And the fact you’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” Kanan added.

“That, too,” Hera agreed, giving him a smile.

Kanan returned it tentatively, but his own smile faded a few seconds later. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure— what’s up?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, then finally asked, “Do you really believe that your Rebellion can beat the Empire? I mean really believe it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“If we get enough people on our side,” Hera said, her heartbeat picking up a notch— had she convinced him? “If we fight hard enough— yes, I do. It’s a gamble, of course, and there are risks. And we’ll probably lose people. But it’s our duty to fight for the rest of the galaxy when they can’t. At least— that’s what I believe.”

Kanan nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Okay. Then… I need you to do something for me.”

Frowning slightly, Hera asked, “What is it?”

“Take me to Thabeska.”

“I— what?” Hera managed, taken aback. “But isn’t that where—”

“Where the Empire thinks I am,” Kanan finished. “Yeah.”

Hera stared at him, panic spiraling through her chest. “You’re leaving? But I thought—”

“Yes, I’m leaving. I have to report to the Empire.” Meeting Hera’s gaze steadily, Kanan said, “I have to tell them that unfortunately, the child I was sent to find slipped between my fingers before I could capture her. A mysterious pilot rescued her, one of the best I’ve ever seen.” A tiny, tiny smile flickered across his face as he added, “Do you know where I could find anyone like that?”

“Wait,” Hera said slowly, staring at him. “Are you— what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that your mission was a success, Captain Hera,” Kanan said. “But I’ll be of more use to you from within the Empire.”

“I don’t need you to be of use, I need you to be not dead,” Hera protested. “We’re not all the Empire, you know. You don’t have to do this. You could… you could come with me.”

It was a silly thing to offer, really. But she knew she’d take Kanan on her crew in a heartbeat, and that he was going to refuse seconds before he shook his head.

“I can’t go with you,” he said softly. “I want to, don’t get me wrong. But I can help you more from the inside— and I kind of have some friends in there who need me. So I can’t leave yet.”

And there it was, another hint of the good man Hera had grown more and more sure Kanan was. This only proved her point further, no matter how much she hated it. Pressing her lips together, she let out a short sigh. “Okay. I still don’t like it, though.”

“I know.” Reaching for his belt, Kanan opened one of the pouches and pulled out a comlink. Hera felt her breath catch as he took her hand, pressing the device into it. He didn’t let go as he said, “You can contact me with this. It’s a secure frequency— the only ones who use it anymore are me and Fox.”

“Okay.” Hera paused, glancing down at the comlink. “You had this the whole time, and you never even used it?”

A grin flashed across Kanan’s face, one that held a hint of mischief. “What, and try to get away from you, Captain Hera? Never.”

~ ~ ~

Their trip to Thabeska was quick, and before Kanan knew it, they’d arrived on the tiny Outer Rim planet. He lingered for longer than was probably strictly necessary, making sure he had all of his things and changing back into his Inquisitor gear.

When he finally headed out, Hera was waiting for him on the ramp, holding his lightsaber. Holding it out to him, she said, “You’ll need this.”

Kanan took it and clipped it to his belt, trying to hide his taste. While he’d made the saber, even bled the crystal on his own, it didn’t feel like his. Not the way his old one had. But that one was gone, left behind when the Empire had grabbed him. Kasmir probably sold it on the black market, he thought wryly. Not that I can blame him— it’s not exactly as all-purpose as a blaster.

Which reminded him. Drawing the weapon from it’s holster, he started to pass it back to Hera, but she shook her head. “Keep it. I don’t have any use for it, and… I don’t know, you might.”

“Thanks,” Kanan said, offering her a small smile as he replaced it at his side. It might have been a small thing, but it felt good, like she was sending anything she could with to help him. “I guess this is goodbye,” he said.

Hera gave a quick nod. “It is. I— look, if you change your mind, if you think you’re in danger, call me. I’ll be there to get you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kanan said, but he knew he wouldn’t. Endangering Hera like that was the opposite of what he wanted to do, no matter how capable she was. But he couldn’t resist asking, “Now that you can get into the palace, am I gonna see you there again?”

A small smile cut through the concern on Hera’s face. “We’ll see. I might have to meet a contact of mine there, after all. As long as his information is worth the trip.”

“Oh, I think it will be,” Kanan said, returning the smile. He paused for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye. But once again, Hera saved him.

“May the Force be with you,” she said quietly.

It had been years since he’d heard someone say that. The last time had to have been while the Jedi were still alive, when he wasn’t the dark person he was now. Kanan decided to take that as a good sign. “And with you,” he said.

They didn’t part ways right away— Kanan walked with Hera as far as the location of the Force-sensitive child. From there, Hera would give the family the news and get the little girl off of Thabeska. When she’d escaped, Kanan would call it in and be brought back to the Empire.

He watched it all from a distance, watched Hera approach the family and explain everything. They took it surprisingly well from what Kanan could see, and it wasn’t long after that a few members of the family, including the little girl who shone bright in the Force, had packed up and were leaving. The rest, it seemed, were staying to keep suspicions from rising.

Kanan waited until he saw the Ghost in the distance, rising through the air and zipping away. And then, finally, he removed his official comlink from his belt and called for a transport.

The shuttle arrived in the landing bay next to where the Ghost had been, and Kanan was waiting. He strode towards the shuttle, trying to pretend that the dread in his gut wasn’t building every second. It wasn’t as easy as it had been on the Ghost, with Hera there. Did I make the wrong choice? He wondered. If I do this, will I ever be able to escape?

When the ramp lowered, Kanan instantly recognized the armor-clad figure who strode down it, and somehow, that relieved some of the panic within him. “Commander Fox,” he said, giving him a nod.

“Sir,” Fox replied. He held out the black helmet Kanan had set down in the Imperial Palace days ago. “You dropped this.”

It took all of Kanan’s self control not to snort as he took it from Fox and slid it on. It was a relief, to be able to hide behind it again. For the most part, anyways. He’d give it up happily to have Hera’s eyes on him again.

Now’s not the time to think about Hera, he scolded himself. Aloud, he told Fox, “Our work here is done. We need to return to the Palace.”

“Was our mission a success, sir?” Fox’s voice was incredibly neutral— Kanan still had no idea how he did it. Years of dealing with politicians, probably.

“Not exactly,” he replied, leading the way onto the shuttle. There was a pilot, who Kanan gave a brief nod as the two of them headed to the back. “My quarry escaped,” he continued. “I’ll report to the Grand Inquisitor when we reach hyperspace.”

“Understood,” Fox said.

Silence settled over the two of them as the pilot finished the pre-take off procedures and they lifted off. Fox wasn’t one for idle conversation— he only really said what needed to be said, which Kanan respected. However, he had a few things that needed to be said now.

Moving quietly, he reached up to the side of his helmet and keyed the button that turned on the internal com that interfaced directly with Fox’s helmet. They’d rigged up a few months so they could communicate without anyone else hearing them. “Your mission was a success,” he told the clone.

“Good,” Fox said. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to smack sense into you. What the kriff are you doing back here?”

Yeah, he never wastes words. “I’m here to spy. And I can’t leave until Dark does. He’s an idiot, but—”

“He’s your idiot,” Fox finished with a sigh. “Speaking of idiots… well, fine. Captain Syndulla managed to talk you into it, then?”

“I volunteered to spy, but otherwise, yeah. She… made some good points.” Frowning, Kanan asked, “Was it your idea to send her after me?”

“No, it was her superior’s idea. Someone named Fulcrum.”

“Huh.” Kanan paused. “Whoever they are… they were onto something. I… used the light side of the Force. To save her.”

Fox let out a grunt that held a hint of surprise, but also satisfaction. “Might make it a little harder to hide. But you don’t like doing things the easy way, do you?”

“Sometimes I do,” Kanan muttered.

“Of course, sir.”

Kanan bit back a sigh of irritation. Fox’s habit of calling him “sir” mockingly in a voice that sounded totally respectful had worn thin very fast. “Well, we’ll figure it out,” he said. “I left Hera with a comlink linked to our personal channel. That should keep her from getting caught. I hope.”

Fox didn’t reply, but tilted his helmet at Kanan for a moment, like he was studying him. “What?” Kanan asked.

“Nothing,” Fox said, returning to his former position. “You’re just fairly transparent, that's all.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re about to make the jump, sir,” was Fox’s only reply.

Kanan cursed under his breath, switched off the private channel, and pulled out his comlink.

It didn’t take long for the tiny blue hologram of the Grand Inquisitor to appear on Kanan’s comlink, and he raised an eyebrow at him. “What news, Third Brother?”

Kanan swallowed hard, then spoke. “The Force-sensitive child slipped away. It seems there was someone who caught wind of my arrival, despite my attempts at subtlety. I suspect the involvement of a Rebel cell of some form.”

“Is that so?” A chill went down Kanan’s spine at the way the Inquisitor pronounced the words. “So you failed me, just as I warned you not to.”

Kriff. “Yes, sir,” Kanan said, steeling himself against the coming retribution.

The Grand Inquisitor’s glare was cold as he said, “If it were not for the recents losses on Nur, your fate would be quite unpleasant. But I need you alive for now. Return to Coruscant, where you will receive your punishment and your next assignment.”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor,” Kanan said, not daring to release the sigh of relief building in his chest until the hologram flickered away. He slumped against the wall, feeling himself shaking slightly.

He was about to go into a life where his job was to lie constantly, to everyone around him, and hope that he could get information to Hera before they caught him. Because they would, eventually.

In that case, Kanan thought, let’s see what kind of damage I can do before they do.

Ezra

Ezra’s assignment is to track down and kill rebel cells throughout the empire. He would be more conflicted about his assignment if he hadn’t learned better at the academy. He repeatedly tells himself he isn’t conflicted about his assignment, sometimes he even believes it. It helps that he is still bitter that the ghost crew has never tried to rescue him. (He doesn’t know that they think he has been dead for almost 3 years.)

He ends up developing a reputation of being more brutal then he needs to be when it comes to squashing rebel activity. To the point that some imperials have problems with it sometimes. Not that they would ever voice them. To anger an inquisitor is a death sentence.

He is eventually assigned to Lothal after 8 months in the field. Agent Kallus (a rebel agent at this point, not that Ezra knows this) is still in charge there. Ezra recognizes his old enemy and immediately takes joy in intimidating him. Because Ezra has a mask on, like most Inquisitors do, Kallus has no idea who this terrifying new Inquisitor is. (He misses the Grand Inquisitor, and Governor Tula, much simpler days) Kallus does, however, know that an Inquisitor on Lothal spells trouble for both the people of Lothal and the rebel cell based there. (Not the Ghost crew, they are off with the fleet).

After the new Inquisitor outs a rebel hideout, and single-handedly stops several public protests (with higher civilian casualties than most would deem reasonable), under the excuse of stopping riots, Kallus realizes that Lothal is in trouble. He knows the only match for an Inquisitor is a Jedi, and he knows that the last Jedi is with the Rebel fleet. Kallus requests backup to deal with this new threat.

When the fleet (and the ghost crew) get the message from Kallus, (well “Fulcrum” but they know who it is at this point) they are on the fence about helping. While it is a high-risk mission Hera argues that Ezra would want them to help his home planet, so they should at least try, in name of his memory at least.  Not only that but even blind, Kanan could probably handle one inquisitor. The Ghost crew decides to help. (Kanan still got blinded by Maul and Ahsoka is still missing on Malachor, though events went down slightly differently without Ezra)