Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Karabast.

No, karabast wasn't strong enough, Alexsandr thought. She really could have done without this. Sure, she had missed a few periods and sure she'd been a lot more tired than usual, but they were at war and she was under a lot of stress. Food wasn't plentiful, besides she was a Captain now, and she was dealing with a lot. Sure, Alexsandr had felt sick nearly every morning for the past couple of weeks, but she was nervous, it was understandable. Zeb had been away for two weeks, and she'd only heard from him once. It was normal to feel that way, or so she had told herself.

That was until Hera had noticed she'd been acting off and the next day had handed Alexsandr a pregnancy test. "Just in case", the Twi'lek had said with a knowing look and one year old Jacen in her arms.

Sure, she and Zeb had been having more sex lately. Stressed out, pent-up emotions sex and frantic reunion thank-kark-you're-not-dead sex, in particular. Alexsandr didn't think anything would come of it, realistically. She'd not long had her Imperial-issued reproductive implant removed (but she'd not had time to get a new one, moving rebel bases about three times in the last six months). Who knew if lasats could impregnate female humans anyway? (Thanks to Alexsandr, they wouldn't know). It wasn't like the rebellion had extensive supplies of condoms, kark, they barely had enough blasters.

So, when Alexsandr saw the two blue lines saying she was pregnant, karabast didn't seem like strong enough a word. Alexsandr always said if something was to happen, she'd get it dealt with quickly. But she'd seen how much Zeb was taken with Jacen, krayt spit, she was rather enamoured with the green-haired little boy. But giving birth to a half-lasat child? It felt wrong. On a lot of levels. But if she got rid of it... No, Alexsandr had sworn she'd never harm another lasat, as long as she lived. And this one would be her child. Zeb's child. She thought back to the night it probably happened. They'd both been gone for a while, off-base on respective missions. Zeb had been off with Hera, and Alexsandr had been off with the Ahsoka on a Fulcrum mission. Somehow, Alexsandr's mission had gone pretty successfully, whilst Zeb and Hera's had gone sideways. Like, Sabine was shot in the leg, sideways. Ahsoka had also been shot in the leg, but she wasn't a twenty year old girl. A Fulcrum mission where someone only got shot in the leg was a raging success.

Zeb hadn't even known Alexsandr was back until she'd shown up at the medbay after hearing the news from Senator Organa. Sabine had tried to put on a brave face in front of Zeb. Though, when Alexsandr came limping in with a fresh black eye and a split lip (thankfully nothing permanent) and Ahsoka with a blaster bolt burn to the leg, Sabine's lip had trembled and she'd lost it. Zeb was a good paternal figure for Sabine, the very annoying older brother she'd needed at that moment. He'd comforted her, and distracted her - but Alexsandr could see the worry he harboured for the girl. The panic in his eyes - he didn't want to lose her.

(And then back in their quarters Zeb had kissed Alexsandr's own wounds "better", trailing down her body until his mouth ended up between her legs. They'd fucked, frantic and desperate, clinging to one another.)

He'd be a great father. He wanted to be a father. He'd said as much in their room, as he bent Alexsandr over, onto her hands and knees, kissing the scars on her back, murmuring how he was going to put a baby in her. How gorgeous she'd look, how pretty she'd be with a swollen belly. Alexsandr didn't think he realised how right he was - the dirty talk hadn't meant to be anything more, but...They had fallen asleep tangled up, with Alexsandr's head resting on Zeb's chest. She'd felt sated, safe, and cherished. Since Cassian's death, Alexandr and Ahsoka had been worn thin, and Alexsandr missed her friend greatly. She was terrified she'd lose Zeb too. Lying trapped in his arms, naked and fucked-out was as close to home as Alexsandr could possibly feel. As close to a comfort that she would ever have.

Now this baby complicated things. Alexsandr's heart broke for Hera, having to raise Jacen without Kanan. Alexsandr wasn't sure she could do this without Zeb. And he'd been missing for days. Four days ago he should have returned, but he'd been MIA with no contact. She loved him, she realised, she loved him so much. Alexsandr prayed to a goddess that she didn't even believe in, Zeb's goddess, for his safe delivery home. They had gone through so karking much together that it wouldn't be fair to have it all crumble now. Alexsandr kept sending Zeb comm messages - she wasn't even sure if he'd receive them, even if he was alive somewhere. She tried to tell herself that there had simply been a ship malfunction, annoying but eventually, one that the team could rectify. Two weeks was nothing. But not hearing from Zeb, having him close to being declared KIA, was torture. So, Alexsandr made up her mind:

*Hello, love. I don't know if you're even able to read this.*

*If you're dead...*

*No, I can't think like that.*

*I don't know why else you'd be gone. You've been MIA for four days, love. Hera's not allowed to say much, but... she says you're going to be declared KIA soon.*

*She needs you Zeb. She can’t lose you too, not after Kanan.*

*I wanted to tell you in person...*

*But I guess if you're floating somewhere in space. Or you've been captured. Or they've killed you, I won't get to do that.*

*Karabast, I don't even know if I can actually say it.*

*I'm pregnant.*

*I think about two months along. I'm not sure. Not like I can get a scan. And we've been at it. A lot.*

*It's yours. Obviously.*

*I don't know what I'm going to do.*

*In terms of keeping it.*

*your baby... our baby*

*Do you even want me to...*

*It's OK if you don't. I know I'm not really worthy of it.*

*being your baby's mother*

*We can talk about it more when you're home. If you come home. Come home to me Zeb, whenever home is. We're moving bases soon. Maybe I'll see you there?*

*if you don't come home I won't keep it*

*I love you, Garazeb. I think I always needed to love someone the way I love you. And I've always needed you to love me the way that you do.*

*and if this is goodbye, love, then*

*I will love you in every life. Come home to me*

*(P.S, Sabine said she actually misses your snoring. So maybe she loves you more than I do, because I definitely don't miss your snoring)*

After hours of forcing herself to stay awake and finish a report, the exhaustion finally crept up. Alexsandr went to bed, distraught and alone. Her bed felt cold and empty without Zeb, she was unsure how she had ever been able to sleep without him. Somehow, she fell into a deep sleep.

Alexsandr awoke to alarms blaring, ships roaring, and the ground shaking. The base was being ambushed.

Alexsandr had slept in her clothes, so she was right up. Alexsandr tugged her boots on - one by one. She laced the first boot over her foot, and the second over the bottom of her prosthetic. Zeb would have been annoyed that she had slept in it, but now she was thankful that she had. Zeb wasn't here - and it gave her an extra few minutes to evacuate. Grabbing a small pack that she always kept stocked with necessities, Alexsandr headed for the door. She glanced behind her, and with a huff headed back for her electrostaff and Zeb's beloved honour guard medal. He still had it after all this time. Alexsandr couldn't bear to leave it behind, though it felt strange in her hands. She dashed out of the door, sprinting to the exit, throwing the bag over her shoulder, sliding Zeb's medal inside. There was a spare blaster in there, if she needed it. Her staff would suffice for now.

Alexsandr had never fully appreciated the stupidity of the base's layout until now. She was running through a ridiculous number of corridors. Finally, she reached the exit, but the alarms were still blaring. It sounded like an aerial bombardment, but Alexsandr was ready for ground troopers. She was well-practiced at killing them. It had become second nature to take down stormtroopers with this staff. Her old one, won in combat, had been left behind on Thrawn's ship. Had become one of his trophies. Zeb had painstakingly made her a new one, based on his own. As she was running, Alexsandr saw a group of TIE fighters zoom overhead. She emerged into chaos. Parts of the base were burning, some reduced to rubble. Yavin and Hoth were mainly protected, these more minor bases were more expendable. It was horrifying to see and Alexsandr knew that there would be casualties. Fumbling for the comm in her pocket, Alexsandr tried her best to contact Hera. Messages were hardly going to be a priority, so she called her, desperately hoping the pilot would pick up.

"Hera, do you copy? Pick up, or comm me back when you can. Hope you and Jacen are safe."

Alexsandr's message was met with silence. Either Hera was busy (as was probable), or she had been hit. There was little point in trying to find the Ghost, in case Hera had flown off to join the flight immediately, so Alexsandr headed towards Intelligence. It was likely she'd find... someone there. A small voice in the back of Alexsandr's head told her to evacuate, but she knew she could do better trying to help protect and transport vital information. The screech of another formation of TIE fighters alerted Alexsandr to duck behind a pile of fallen rubble. If she got hit with a laser blast, there'd be nothing down for her. She glanced up, seeing two formations flying around in tandem. Karabast.

They were hovering around the path to Intelligence, Alexsandr couldn't risk it. She was willing to give her life for the rebellion, but she wasn't that stupid. Was it random, or lucky? Or were they waiting her out especially? Alexsandr shook her head. No, she wasn't that important. She was defenceless against the ships, so her only choice was to hide. It seemed that they were doing a sweep, presumably to hunt out survivors. Alexsandr had never flown one, but she was privy to Thrawn's TIE defender project.

Crouching behind this pile of rubble was far from ideal, and the position made her prosthetic ache, but there was nothing she could do about it. Thankfully, the TIE fighters moved on to sweep over another part of the base, so Alexsandr resumed her mission. Most of the Intelligence centre was still intact, and Alexsandr headed inside. It was cold, pitch black, and seemingly empty. There weren't many other Rebel Intelligence officers here, but there were copies of information that she could try and secure. Nobody else had thought to do so, so Alexsandr was relieved she'd thought of it. She logged into the mainframe, ignoring the scream of the alarms. They were growing more frequent, that indicated the assault was getting worse. She quickly plugged in a data stick, and did her best to transfer the most necessary files. Whilst she waited, her comm chirped to life.

"Kallus! Alexsandr, where are you? Nobody's seen you in the evac team!"

It was Hera.

"I'm in Intelligence. Trying to get a few files." Alexsandr replied, and she could hear Hera groan.

"I'm up in the Ghost, Rex is with me. Jacen's safe, don't worry. I've heard chatter that they're sending a ground force, you need to go. Now." Hera spoke over the familiar sound of the Ghost's laser-blaster fire.

"I got delayed by a squadron of TIE fighters. They were doing sweeps." Alexsandr informed Hera, as she added a few more files to the data stick. "I'm probably clear for a short while."

"Get out of there, Kallus. Now! Take whatever you have and run. Zeb would kill me if-"

"Zeb's not here, Hera. I'm doing what I can. May the Force be with you, stay safe."

Alexsandr cut the call and snatched the data stick. She also reached for her blaster and fired into the mainframe a few times. It meant information would be lost, but better lost than in the hands of Imperials. The irony wasn't lost on Alexsandr. Her comm lit up again, this time with a call from Rex, Alexsandr cancelled it. She didn't have time to talk. She rigged explosives to the main console, just for good measure (one of the things that Alexsandr deemed essential in her pack was explosives. She'd learnt that one from Sabine.) Might as well take down a few snooping Imps down with the base. Alexsandr clipped the detonator to her belt. If she pressed it or it was hit in an explosion, the Intelligence database would blow.

Alexsandr headed for the door, sliding the blaster onto her hip holster for easy access. The electrostaff felt like a comfort on her back, but she took it into her hands, splitting it in half for better hand to hand combat. Zeb had made the central connecting piece detachable, so Alexsandr could wield two shorter staffs. This was her preferred weapon as of late. If a ground assault was coming, she would be ready. Just as she emerged from the dark room, the sounds of footsteps ambush her. With a curse, Alexsandr pushed herself forward, out of the corridor and into daylight. She could see her enemies better like this, giving her a better chance. It was an ambush though, she realised, as a few troopers headed towards her.

"There's a survivor here! Quick, get the rebel scum!"

Oh, they wouldn't know what would be about to hit them. Alexsandr flipped her twin staffs, as they crackled to life with electricity. She'd been on the other end of Zeb's staff enough as an Imp to know how much these hurt. She counted four troopers and took the first one down with a swing. She smacked the staff into the side of his helmet, and the trooper staggered, disoriented. With a hiss, Alexsandr stabbed the electrified end into the black bodyglove peeking out between his helmet and armour, the man went down with a scream. A feral feeling of satisfaction consumed Alexsandr - thanks to the Empire she was made to fight and kill. She was trained to be a weapon. She gritted her teeth with a snarl and readied herself for battle.

The first trooper continued to twitch as the remnants of Agent Kallus rounded on a second. He had readied his blaster, but Kallus cut through it with a swipe. The trooper glanced up, and though she could not see his expression, Kallus knew he was confused.

She took advantage of his confusion and his lack of weapon and kicked him in the chest with her prosthetic leg. It probably would have broken her bones if she had used her other leg, but the prosthetic was reinforced steel. Sabine had even talked about getting it plated with beskar in the future. He went stumbling backwards and Kallus placed the two halves of her staff in a cross and yanked, crushing his neck. The sound of the trooper's throat snapping was a satisfying crunch. The orange current sizzled as Kallus spun around, and spang towards the third trooper. He had watched his comrades fall, and backed up, signalling to the fourth trooper. Okay, so they were going to try a combined attack. Kallus gave the pair a vicious snarl and charged. She batted away a blaster bolt, trying to catch the end of the gun. The trooper ducked away, just in time. They both fired, and Kallus had to leap to avoid being hit. She snapped her staff back together as she rolled, and got up with a spin. Two-handed, she swung towards one of the trooper's legs, aiming to swipe his legs out from underneath him. She snapped out the blade, though it only scratched against the plastic of his armour. She cursed and rolled forward to avoid more blaster bolts. One of the trooper's caught her leg (her flesh one) and Kallus staggered. Karabast, that burned. Despite the burning in her thigh, Kallus swung her staff again and grabbed it one-handed, the other hand reaching for her blaster. If she'd have had more time before having to evacuate her room, she would have brought a vibroblade. No matter, her bo-rifle could cut through stormtrooper plastoid armour if she dealt a strong enough blow. She caught one trooper in the knee with a blaster bolt, quickly holstering the weapon again as he fell with a groan of pain. Kallus forced her staff into his injured knee and sliced through his leg. She knocked the blaster in his hand out of his reach, content he would slowly bleed out. That left just one. Kallus fired from her staff, using it as a rifle now rather than an electrostaff. The transformation took less than a few seconds. She aimed a few precise shots at the trooper's head but watched them bounce off. Kallus gritted her teeth, preparing for close-quarters combat. She tore towards him, snarling. The trooper staggered back, but was met with a wall - and nowhere to run. Kallus forced the blade into the helmet, noting with some satisfaction as it pierced the plastoid armour. The trooper screamed as she twisted the staff, and then he stilled and fell, slack. Kallus pulled the blade out, coated red with thick blood, and took a moment to catch her breath. The trooper's blood sprayed over her. It was warm, familiar. Kallus knew bloodshed, she was made for it. Here she was no better than she had been as ISB-021, she relished in the feeling of the blood on her face. Though this time, it was Imperial blood. Her leg was burning, and it hurt to put her full weight on. A grim thought crossed her mind about what she'd do if she ended up with two prosthetic legs. Her peace didn't last long, however, as the TIE fighters circled back, screeching. She tried to duck again, but they must have spotted her. The heap of dead stormtroopers probably didn't help. With a grunt, Kallus ran, doing her best to avoid the lasers shooting up the ground below her feet. Her sore leg didn't help, and she stumbled. At that unfortunate moment, her comm lit up again.

With a groan, Alexsandr answered it.

"Hera!" She screamed into her comm, "I'm being followed! Took down four troopers, but I've got TIEs on me."

"Kallus, it's Rex. Hera's occupied trying to stop us from getting killed. If you can hold out, maybe we can come back-"

"Don't you kriffing dare come back! Just," Alexsandr sighed, "just get to safety. I'll meet you at the rendezvous."

A rock exploded into rubble next to her, and Alexsandr yelped. She threw herself out of the way, and desperately sprinted for cover. The TIEs had her surrounded, but Alexsandr vowed that she would not go down easy.

"Cut the channel Rex, they've got me." Alexsandr shouted, heading for the nearest building. She knew deep down it was futile but, well, she had to try. The main thing was keeping the information safe. If she could get to one of the meeting rooms, she could use the screens to export the Intelligence data - it was encrypted enough to risk it. Or, well, the best option would be to hand it to a General herself. Alive. Alexsandr laughed to herself. She knew being alive was not really an option anymore.

"Kallus just hold on, Hera's trying to find your location-"

"GO!" Her voice broke, "Please. Just, if Garazeb's alive, tell him for what it's worth I loved h-"

...

On the other end, Captain Rex hears Kallus' voice be drowned out by the TIE fighters firing. He hears Kallus swear and fumble with something and listens as something explodes in the distance. He hears more blaster fire, over and over -  the screech of another ship joining in. Then, a much louder explosion, one that hurts his ears. Rex yanks off the headpiece, holding it a short distance away from his face. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he knows what's about to happen.

He hears Alexsandr Kallus getting torn to pieces.

Hears her ragged scream. Her choked sobbing. He's seen it more than enough on the battlefield with his brothers. Her breathing turns shallow, wheezing. He can hear the garbled nonsense of a half-dead soldier. She's gasping "Garazeb, please” over and over. She's probably been ripped through with shrapnel. He knows the sound of a detonator; knows what damage they can do. Rex also knows better than to keep talking. He knows she's not going to respond. He's just glad Hera wasn't the one who picked up. Rex is used to bearing witness to his friend's deaths. He cuts the comm, and sighs. He triangulates the communicator's last known position hoping someone will go to retrieve the fallen bodies. Maybe they can bury Kallus, at least.

He's secretly glad that Zeb isn't on board. Glad that the lasat has just commed Hera to let her know he's safe, that his ship was ambushed on his own separate mission - but everyone is ok, other than a few scrapes and a broken transponder. He's at the new base, waiting for them.

At least the lasat didn't have to hear his beloved die, screaming for him. Rex just hopes he doesn't try Kallus's comm next.

Chapter Text

Alexsandr heard the blast go off, just as she reached the safety of a building. They knew what she was going to try, and dropped a bomb on the building - annihilating it. She felt herself get thrown through the air, rubble crashing down. She felt shards of metal rip through her body. Her brain screamed painpainpainpainpain but she could do nothing to prevent it. Or move. It was only then that Alexsandr realised she was stuck. Something was piercing into her - shrapnel, likely. The crackle of the comm had gone silent. Rex was probably gone.

She started to scream for Zeb.

It was stupid. He was probably dead. But, Alexsandr knew she would be dead soon too so it didn't matter. Her arm was trapped beneath a rock, her prosthetic leg was... gone. She tried not to think about the pain in her stomach, the blood she could feel between her legs. The baby... Oh, maker, the baby. Zeb was going to be so angry with her if he was alive. Alexsandr hadn't just put herself in danger but Zeb's flesh and blood. His family. His child. Alexsandr whimpered. Her body was burning. She was in so much pain. She felt herself drift in and out of consciousness. Eventually, Alexsandr felt hands gripping her body. She murmured, pleading with them to put her down, almost begging. If it was Imperials she was better dead. The hands were gentle, so that was a plus. Maybe it was the rebellion?

"There's someone here! Quick! This way!" The voice sounded tinny, far away.

Alexsandr's mouth was dry and her voice didn't really work, but she croaked out as best she could.

"That's Captain Kallus! General Syndulla put out a search request! Is she alive?" It was a different voice this time.

"She's making some noise, doesn't seem lucid though. Get medical and evac over here now! Someone find Orrelios!"

Zeb!

Alexsandr groaned and shifted. Zeb was here? Zeb was alive? Oh, karabast she couldn't face him, not like this. All those messages she'd left him? She tried her best to stay awake for him, but she felt herself losing blood fast. It was thick and wet and warm, a familiar feeling. Alexsandr had spilt so much blood for the Empire, maybe this was payback? The will of the Ashla, the Force? Alexsandr could hear herself wheezing, breath rattling around her chest. All she saw was a looming shadow, before everything faded to black.

She didn't hear Zeb's shout, feel his hands on her, gently. His desperate sob. The way he swore when he found what she was gripping in her free hand - his medal. The datachip lying under the rubble where Alexsandr's arm was trapped. His desperate turn to the medics, his plea to save her.

She was just one person. Just one rebel. The base had been littered with bodies; many had tried to do heroic things before their inevitable demise. But Alexsandr? To Zeb, she was everything.

...

Alexsandr woke up to the strong smell of antiseptic. She was alive then. Everything seemed far too bright, but eerily silent. A sharp throbbing pain was the next thing she registered as she tried to shift. Where the pain was coming from though, she couldn't quite tell. With a hiss, Alexsandr opened her eyes - and then shut them because of the harsh lights above her. She was in a medical wing. Slowly, in fragments, Alexsandr registered distant hushed voices. Nobody was around and she feebly fumbled for some sort of buzzer to alert a medic but her search was pathetically fruitless. A white-hot twisting pain in her abdomen shocked Alexsandr back to the moments before she blacked out. The screech of the missile, the heat, the feel of the dust on her skin. The searing flare of something impaling itself through her abdomen.

Oh karabast.

Her abdomen.

Alexsandr's hand reached for her stomach, desperately. She could feel (and was beginning to see) a great wad of bandages wrapped around her torso. Oh no. Oh Maker, the baby. Mildly registering that her prosthetic leg was missing, Alexsandr tried to sit up again but was halted by the throbbing in her body. A panicked cry worked its way out of her mouth, turning into a croak with the dryness in her throat. A shadow moved in from the doorway, coming closer. Alexsandr looked at the figure with blurry eyes and ragged gasps until the person stepped close enough for her to recognise.

"Hello, love. Sush, it's alright."

Zeb's familiar features came into view. His ears were drooped low. His hand brushing against her forehead was a comfort against her weirdly clammy skin. When did it get so warm in the room?

"You're awake, it's okay, love. I'm here."

Zeb's voice was a low familiar rumble, and Alexsandr couldn't help herself from crying. She wasn't sure why, but she assumed it was combination of being glad that she and Zeb were both alive. She tried to speak again but nothing came out. Alexsandr whimpered, hand reaching for Zeb. Tenderly, he produced a bottle of water, bringing it to her lips. Zeb tipped her head back softly, helping her drink.

"Did you..." Alexsandr choked out, "did you get my comm messages?"

"Oh Sasha, I'm so sorry..."

And then and there, Alexsandr knew for sure she'd lost the baby. At the low wail that escaped her throat, Zeb grabbed her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. He hushed her like one would a stray lothcat.

"Are you okay?" She whispered because she didn't know what else to say.

"I'm okay, Sasha. I've been worryin' sick about ya, but I'm okay. Our comms went down, there was a problem with our transponder. I'm sorry I wasn't here-"

Alexsandr shook her head, her body wracked with sobs. She was relieved Zeb wasn't hurt more than anything. His voice, his touch was a comfort. She just hoped that he hadn't been the one of find her, or see her before she was put in a bacta tank. Alexsandr had seen enough massacres to know that bodies were ugly when they were pulled from rubble. She was - thank the Ashla - lucky to be alive, but her body was battered. She knew that she wouldn't have been a pretty sight.

"Damage report?"

It slipped out before Alexsandr even know what she was saying. Zeb's ears dropped further, and his green eyes met hers. Old habits from her Imperial days seemed the easiest things to remember when she was hurting or tired. They came naturally, like second nature. She was asking about her own injuries like she was talking about a karking droid. Zeb would know exactly what she meant, but he didn't like it when she talked that way. She was surprised she was breathing, never mind speaking. Second nature Imperial habits were a byproduct of her years of brainwashing and control.

Zeb leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. "We'll get through this," he murmured. "We’ll get through this together. You'll be okay, baby."

The reaction was scaring her. He wasn't telling her something, what wasn't he telling her? When a very grim-faced medic appeared, Alexsandr didn't know how to react. She thought Zeb knew about the baby, knew that she knew about the baby, knew that she knew she had lost it. What else had she done?

To Alexsandr's surprise, the medic addressed Zeb and not her. The man placed a hand on Zeb's shoulder and said something low in his ear that Alexsandr couldn't hear. Zeb closed his eyes tight and shook his head. What was he not agreeing to? What was the medic asking him, telling him, that Alexsandr couldn't hear?

"Garazeb? Garazeb, what's going on?"

The medic glanced at Zeb, and back at Alexsandr before leaving. She could have sworn that she heard the man apologise.

"They thought it would be best comin' from me, Sasha." Zeb started, rubbing circles into her hand softly. "Yer injuries were severe—broken ribs, deep lacerations, an' yer prosthetic shattered. They're saying there's lots of internal damage too, nerve damage."

"So? Garazeb, just tell me."

"They're saying yer might not be able to move the same. Fight the same. I told'em yer could deal with that. I don't know if yer remember, but a durasteel rod got forced through your stomach... If y'get pregnant again, it'll be lot of risk. They said it could kill you."

Alexsandr didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Did this mean that she couldn't be a solider anymore? That the rebellion didn't want her now? She had just started to prove her worth, defend her loyalty - had that been all for nothing? She felt like had betrayed Zeb in some way, she knew he craved a family. If Alexsandr couldn't give him one, would he go elsewhere? Did he even need her, want her, anymore either? Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alexsandr knew that this was fear instilled in her by Imperial propaganda. The likelihood of this affecting her worth in the rebellion was probably slim, but not impossible. The grave face of the medic, the absence of any of her commanding officers, Zeb's harrowed expression - what if she wasn't going to be invited back?

"Are they going to bench me?" Alexsandr whispered, "If I'm not useful, will the Rebellion even need me?" Panic was rising in her chest; no amount of breathing exercises was making her feel better.

"Sasha, this isn't a conversation we need to have now. Just focus on getting better, okay?" Zeb's voice was wrong, he was still hiding something from her.

Why was he treating her like she was made from glass?

"What's going on? Don't you dare think about lying to me, I can see it in your eyes. You look guilty." Alexsandr snapped, though her voice came out harsher than she intended it to. Zeb flinched; this was her interrogation voice.

Zeb sighed, and ran his hand over his face. He looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. "They're promoting you, love. To Major."

Promoting her? She couldn't even walk - she couldn't even sit up! Why was that such a bad thing anyway? Alexsandr had rejected the role of Imperial Major in the past in order to keep her current (old) position in the ISB. Rebel Intelligence Major Kallus sounded better. What was Zeb so afraid of? Did he not like the term, did it sound too Imperial? Did he think she didn't deserve the promotion? She'd killed another lasat, after all. Accidental or not, she'd taken a life.

"You don't think I can handle it?" Alexsandr asked.

Zeb gave her a weak smile and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"No, I know yer can. But I saw you, Sasha, y'body, the injuries. The blood. Y'almost died, love. I saw them drag you out of a building's worth of rubble. Now they want more from yer, and they think by labelling it as a promotion it makes it okay."

Oh.

"I scared you, didn't I?" Alexsandr whispered, regret and humiliation flooding through her.

She'd thought he was angry, not upset. Not scared. Zeb nodded, tears in his eyes. Like a dam breaking, he started to sob.

"I can't lose you, Sasha, I can't." He muttered.

Alexsandr was aware of the beeping of machines, of the IV in her arm. She had been in so many scrapes with death in the Empire, and nobody had cared. Kark, the last time she had woken up in the Rebellion after her capture by Imperials, she had been handcuffed to the bed.  All her life Alexsandr Kallus had been a weapon, and now the man she loved was crying over her hospital bed for her. He'd made sure she was taken care of and tried to protect her as best he could. He’d broken the news to her gently. Maker, she didn't deserve him.

"You won't lose me, Garazeb. I promise." Alexsandr stretched her free hand towards him, wincing at the pain the movement brought her. She stroked his cheek with her thumb lightly.

"After Cassian's death, I was thinking I didn't want yer working as Fulcrum anymore. I wanted you by my side, and now... this. It's done irreparable damage to you, to your body." Zeb's voice shook as she spoke. "When I saw yer were pregnant, I thought it could be an out for us."

Alexsandr was silent for a moment. "It's okay if you don't want me anymore if I'm hurting you. You wanted a family, and now because of me, you might not get that.”

Zeb’s eyes flashed with anger. “This isn’t your fault, Sasha. Stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control. I'm worried about yer because I love you."

“I just... I don’t know how to be anything other than a soldier. And now I’m not even sure I can be that. I don't want to lose who I am. I don't want to lose you." Alexsandr's gaze softened as she spoke.

Zeb sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. He pressed their foreheads together in a Lasat kiss before placing a human kiss on Alexsandr's lips. Taking her into his arms, Zeb held Alexsandr as best he could. They sat in the embrace for a while, a comfortable and peaceful silence between them.

The calm atmosphere shattered as the door swung open. Alexsandr looked up, thinking it would be a medic, but Zeb bristled, his protective instincts flaring. Ah. Draven then. Or another commanding officer.

"Commander Orrelios, I thought I'd find you here." Draven's sharp voice echoed, and his commanding presence filled the room.

"Sir, she's still recovering. Please, give it a little bit longer." Zeb almost seemed to be begging.

Alexsandr shifted out of Zeb's embrace to look at Draven. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly when he saw her, but he covered his shock well. Ah, so she looked as bad as she thought then. Alexsandr's face was throbbing now, no doubt she was bruised black and blue. Her whole body probably was.

"Kallus. Good to see you're awake. I've got some news for you." As Draven took a step forward, Alexsandr could have sworn that Zeb almost growled.

Zeb glanced at Alexsandr, gripping her hand tight.

"She's just- we've just - lost a baby. She doesn't need-"

"You've been promoted to Major, Kallus. Effective immediately."

Alexsandr opened her mouth, but Zeb beat her to it. "She can't even walk right now, General. You're putting more responsibility on her? I've told you, as her partner, no."

Draven shot Zeb an unimpressed look. So there was still tension between them then, that wasn't new. It was almost refreshing to see Zeb's usual protectiveness coming out aimed at somebody else.

"Commander Orrelios, you know that doesn't apply unless you're legally married. This physical setback is temporary, we need her. We are fighting a war; we don't have the luxury of time."

"We're not legally married because the Empire outlaws it, you don't get to use that against us, against her."

Alexsandr took a sip of water and did her best to sit up. The movement halted the men's arguing, and both of them turned to look at her. This was news - that Zeb wanted to marry her, but that was a discussion for another time.

"I appreciate the recognition, General. I also appreciate the fact that Garazeb, as my partner, is right." Alexsandr tried to make herself sound authoritative.

"Kallus, you singlehandedly stopped our top-level intelligence from getting into enemy hands. It was stupid, but it was clever." It was as close to a compliment that Draven would ever give Alexsandr.

Zeb interjected, "And she nearly died!"

"But I didn't, Garazeb. I need time, but as long as I can keep my ship, and keep working with the Phoenix Squadron, I can do this."

Draven nodded, something like respect in his eyes. "Captain Andor was a great loss to us all, it would have been difficult losing two Fulcrums so close together. Congratulations Major Kallus, we'll discuss details when you're out."

And with that, Draven left.  Alexsandr turned to Zeb, unsure how to proceed. Zeb loved her, she knew that, but she was concerned she'd hurt his pride. He loved Alexsandr for her wit, for her forthright ability to speak her mind. But he didn't want her to be a Major, that was obvious. She outranked him now, maybe that was what stung? The ISB agent who had hunted him for years, eventually been recruited by him, owed him her life, the lover who had shared his bed - getting promoted over him. Zeb had never been the jealous type, but Alexsandr had learned the hard way that good men are not always good men. She just hoped that it wasn't true of her Garazeb. Zeb's expression was a mix of anger and something that Alexsandr couldn't quite read.

"Garazeb, if this is about pride. About me outranking you-," Alexsandr sighed. "I'm capable, I know my limits."

"Do you?" Zeb's voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "Because it sure doesn't seem like it. You almost died, Sasha. And now you're ready to jump back into the thick of it like nothing happened? Karabast, I need you alive!"

Alexsandr refused to flinch away from the man she loved. In the hospital bed she had nowhere to go, so she glanced at her lap. "I'm doing this because it's the only way I know how to fight. To make up for everything I've done. I understand if it upsets you. I don’t feel that I’m worthy to outrank you, either."

Zeb blinked, something vulnerable and concerned in the movement. "Ashla, Sasha, I'm not jealous! And I'm not mad either, I love you, y'know that, don't you?"

Alexsandr glanced up at him, her eyes wet with tears. "I just want to make you proud, I just want to be worthy." 

"Oh, love."

Zeb leaned down, capturing Alexsandr's lips in a tender, reassuring kiss. He was careful not to touch her injuries, the taste of his lips a familiar comfort. Alexsandr knew she was home, she was safe, at Zeb's side. They would survive this - they would survive it together. The promotion would be hard, she knew, but it would be worth it. Major Kallus would continue to serve the Rebellion just as faithfully as before, to help them win this war.

And maybe – hopefully – after the war, when it was safe, she and Zeb could give having a family a real shot.

Chapter Text

It seems fitting that the child is born on Lira San. With everything that they had been through during the war, finding the sanctuary of Lira San and settling into a life together there was everything that Alexsandr knew Zeb needed.

They’ve had (mainly playful) arguments about where the baby was conceived. Alexsandr suspected it was their first night on Lira San, in the little mud hut that Chava had been allowing them to use until Zeb could sort somewhere more permanent. It would be in-keeping with the mystic’s prophecy anyway. Zeb had argued differently, suggesting that Lasat pregnancies lasted closer to a standard year, rather than the human nine-month duration. If that was the case, then Alexsandr had been pregnant during the end of the war. Her previous pregnancy would have also been conceived a lot earlier than she had initially suspected – but that was a long time ago now. The telltale signs had all happened in a way that Alexsandr understood was normal with human pregnancies, so neither of them could be sure.

Unfortunately for Alexsandr, the baby was huge. She was glad that she was rather tall for a human (though still short compared to most of the Lasats on their new home planet) because otherwise there would have been more complications. Alexsandr just hoped being half-human, her baby would be small for a Lasat – she didn’t fancy putting her back out every time her child wanted to be lifted or held.  Medical facilities, though rustic compared to those she had once been used to in the Empire, were decent enough on Lira San, and Zeb made sure to attend every appointment to translate what the healers were saying. Most of the elders spoke in Lasana only, and though Alexsandr was learning the language, she was glad that Zeb was there. Of course, he was the most enthusiastic father she had ever seen. To be fair, her own father had abandoned her family after her youngest sister was born.

Dmitri Kallus had fathered five children and had not seen any of them grow past the age of ten. His loss. The bastard had probably either drank himself to an early death or had rotted away in an Imperial labour camp years ago. Alexsandr had been personally responsible for releasing and helping to reclassify lots of Imperial prisoners at the end of the war. In all of the camps, she had never seen her father’s name on a list. Serves him right for disappearing one night, and then trying to get his brothers to evict her mother and siblings. As soon as Alexsandr got her first paycheck from the Empire, the money went on securing her mother a safe home. That included paying money to the local lower-level Coruscanti gangs, who later came to realise that the young woman paying for Yelena Kallus’s protection was Agent Kallus, ISB-021 herself. The Kallus family home was given a respectfully wide berth after that.

Still, it was unusual in Lasat culture for fathers to be this involved. Though, Alexsandr knew that Zeb wouldn’t have it any other way. The pregnancy had been rough. After the incident where Alexsandr's abdomen had been severely injured, it was unclear whether she'd be able to get pregnant again. When Alexsandr told Zeb she was, he was elated - but concerned. It was a risky pregnancy, and having Alexsandr safe under the medical care of his people was a smart move. Having a former ISB agent try to get New Republic citizenship (no matter that she had climbed to Lieutenant-Colonel during the war) to get healthcare for a high-risk pregnancy would not have been easy at first. However, an ex-ISB-turned-Rebel-Lieutenant-Colonel (legally) married to a Rebellion General and the mother of a half-Lasat child with Lira San citizenship – well, that would go down much better. 

Alexsandr had undergone almost fortnightly checks by healers and elders, and eventually, the baby had been born. Healthy - though on the small side. 

Kassia Hera Orrelios. A baby daughter. 

Alexsandr had kept her name when she and Zeb married on Lira San (or were mated, as the Lasats called it) and had legally become Alexsandr Kallus-Orrelios. It was Lasat custom for the baby to take the father's name (or the name of the parent with the most senior family, if the parents were of the same sex). Either way, Kassia bearing her father's name would make the child's life a lot easier. As a former Honour Guard, Zeb's name held a lot of respect on Lira San. Kallus's, not so much. 

Looks wise, Kassia oddly took after her mother. Though she was mostly Lasat-passing, rather than being purple like Zeb, Kassia's fur was golden brown. Her eyes were green like Zeb's, but she had much smaller fangs and a more human-like face. A baby lasat with tiny pointy human-shaped ears was quite a hilarious sight. Her fur was finer and shorter than Zeb's but resembled her Lasat heritage. The moment the elder placed the baby in Alexsandr's arms, telling Zeb they had a daughter, Alexsandr was in love. Generally, Lasats usually had two or three children at once, but Alexsandr was relieved she hadn't been carrying twins or triplets. Just the one was enough. 

Zeb was enamoured. He loved his daughter fiercely; from the moment he knew of her existence. He'd been a sweet partner whilst Alexsandr was pregnant, and he seemed more than reasonably excited to marry his then-pregnant partner. It was Lasat custom to marry prior to having kits, but Zeb figured that nobody could argue if they were mated before the baby came along at least. The claw scars left on Alexsandr's stomach by Vidas Dret haunted her during the pregnancy, but seeing Zeb beam at the sight of her wearing a ceremonial mating day robe made Alexsandr feel a bit less self-conscious. Zeb loved her and had taken her as his mate and wife, despite everything. He didn't care that she was marked by another, he didn't care that the scars morphed as her belly grew. He didn't care that Alexsandr returned to having some of the snippy, bratty attitude she had once had when they got stuck on Bahryn together all those years ago. 

And Zeb adored his daughter. Her golden fur, the ever so slight purple stripes, her big green eyes. In Zeb's eyes, Kassia was the perfect blend of him and Alexsandr. He was still annoyed about Chava’s reading of the ancient Prophecy of Three, placing him as the Child who would find Lira San, and Alexsandr as the bloodthirsty Warrior who would hunt him. As prophesied, Zeb (as the Child) had “saved” the Warrior, and the pair of them had happily settled on Lira San. Chava had never been able to come up with a name for the prophesied Fool, who would lead the Warrior to hunt. Alexsandr, ever the pragmatist, sarcastically remarked to Zeb once that Yularen had been the Fool. Zeb felt a smug sense of satisfaction seeing Alexsandr hold their child – Yularen (and the rest of the ISB) had been the fools all along. They had trained his wife for destruction, and here she was holding a symbol that suggested the opposite.

"The Fool, simple and selfish, he would lead the Warrior, bold and bloodthirsty, to hunt the hope of tomorrow, the Child, to destroy him! We will find our new home only if the Child saves the Warrior and the Fool."

That had been the prophecy. It seemed ridiculous to say that Zeb’s fate, his meeting with Alexsandr and his conversion of her from ISB agent to rebel to wife – had been prophesied, all to discover Lira San. But that was exactly what had been done. The prophecy had foretold their unity – it had said nothing about the birth of a literal child, but Zeb liked to think the Ashla had blessed him with Kassia as a daughter. That by not killing the vengeful, vicious Agent Kallus on Bahryn, he would find his new home - and a family.

Chava was also overjoyed at the birth of Kassia. Painfully, she reminded Zeb of his grandmother, the woman who had raised him, who had fallen in the siege on Lasan. It was true that Zeb had moved forward, but sometimes the sight of his wife – his mate, perhaps a woman even destined for him in the fates of the Ashla – sent a dark vision of the destruction of his village, of the Royal Palace in embers, of the fallen bodies of his fellow Honour Guards. He saw glimpses of the monster, the cold butcher who bared her teeth at him, who gloated and goaded him in battle. He loved Alexsandr dearly, he knew all that she had suffered in the past. He’d forgiven her, even when she had told him numerous times that she couldn’t forgive herself. But when Chava had toddled in, clutching her cane, asking to see the Child and inquiring after the health of the Warrior, Zeb couldn’t help but feel that the Fool had been someone else all along. None of the medics had said anything in front of Alexsandr as she laboured, but there had been remarks that Zeb had caught about the scars on Alexsandr’s body. They had contorted over her belly during the pregnancy, stretched and spread with the growing swell of her stomach. Alexsandr had glanced at them often with dead eyes. Whether Vidas Dret had known Alexsandr would one day become pregnant was never a consideration, they were horrific enough to look at before her pregnancy. Shortly before Kassia was born, Zeb had found Alexsandr huddled in the fresher, tears streaming down her face. The closer the due date, the more fearful that Alexsandr had become – but Zeb knew that this was something different. The scars were ugly, and they were on display each time she had to visit the medics.

The healers had called them a curse, a bad omen – these marks had not been used in generations, but all Lasat women knew exactly what they meant. The healers also knew that the prophesied Child had not done this. To mark one’s mate like this was cruel, and they knew an Honour Guard would never do it. They called him foolish - to take and wed a female with somebody else’s marks. It was unheard of. Zeb was fiercely protective of his mate, and his newborn daughter. Nobody was to harm them or disrespect them, but he knew what they symbolised.

So, Zeb secretly thought, that the Fool had been Vidas Dret – a cowardly mercenary who had not even been present for the destruction of Lasan but had punished the Butcher anyway. The revenge had not been his to take, and he had still inflicted on the Warrior a cruel mark of ownership that had been long outlawed because of its brutality. A Fool who would be overjoyed knowing the effects that the marks had on Alexsandr. Even now, he was still haunting them.

Alexsandr, despite the tough labour and the fear she had during her pregnancy, had smiled softly at Chava. Had greeted the elder with respect, and had shown Chava her daughter. Kassia, meaning ‘pure’, had allowed herself to be passed to the elder. Their daughter would be an absolution of her parents’ past, and …their sins. Chava, overjoyed at the name, took the baby in her arms. Alexsandr’s eyes had found Zeb’s, shining with tears. They had picked ‘Kassia’ not only for its Lasana meaning but also for its similarity to the name of Alexsandr’s fellow Fulcrum, the late Cassian Andor. Cassian’s birth name, Kassa, was the name that Alexsandr often used for him – it seemed a fitting tribute to her friend.

“Oh hello, darling girl.” Chava was one of the few elders who spoke Basic, and cooed over the baby.

Kassia’s blonde fur stood out against Chava’s purple.

“She is strong, Captain. Small, with strange features like her mother, but I can feel that the Ashla is with her. Some were worried that the Bogan would influence the child, but I do not sense it. In the mother, however…”

Chava had never quite fully warmed to Alexsandr, she was polite enough, occasionally even friendly, but she was always reserved. She was more reserved than she was with Zeb anyway.

Alexsandr’s eyes went wide and Zeb growled. He’d grown to respect Chava, but he didn’t like what she implied about Alexsandr.  “What about my wife, Chava?”

Chava wrinkled her nose and passed Alexsandr. Alexsandr reached for her daughter but the mystic ignored her, holding Kassia in her arms.  She turned to Zeb and frowned.

“Your mate. You have made Alexsandr Kallus your mate, and whilst you inhabit our home, you will respect tradition. She may be human but you are on Lira San…”

“Give me my daughter, Chava.” Alexsandr rose from her position lying on the bed. Or tried to. She halted with a hiss, and Zeb was at her side in an instant.

The healers had removed Kassia via what Alexsandr had called a caesarean, rather than a natural birth due to the complications that were predicted. Alexsandr had laboured, but the healers thought it better to do the procedure instead when Kassia’s head had appeared too big. Zeb had been concerned initially, but Alexsandr had told him that humans did emergency c-sections frequently, so she wasn’t worried. What was one more scar, she had said playfully. That concern for his wife – mate - had not disappeared yet. Zeb placed a hand on Alexsandr’s shoulder, telling her to keep still.

“She has birthed you a child, yes, but a strange one. You have lain with and become mated to the Warrior – the prophecy never spoke of such an act.”

“You said you’d come t’bless Kassia, not criticise my Sasha.” Zeb rolled his eyes, becoming impatient.

“The girl is a light, a guiding light. The darkness of the Bogan haunts your mate. The Warrior’s path is filled with trials. You must be mindful of the past.”

“Don’t.” Zeb spat, feeling Alexsandr flinch at Chava’s words.

“I won’t hurt my daughter, Chava. Please, give her to me.” Alexsandr’s voice trembled.

Instead, she handed the child to Zeb. Zeb watched the hurt behind Alexsandr’s eyes at the motion, but she schooled her face into a politically neutral expression. Zeb knew it well; it was one that she used when people discussed the Empire around her. Zeb glanced down at his daughter in his arms, her perfect little face, and then at Alexsandr. His gorgeous, beautiful mate. He passed Kassia to Alexsandr, placing a kiss on his daughter’s head. Alexsandr held the baby girl close, a grateful smile on her face.

Chava shook her head, “I trust in the Ashla, and your strength Garazeb. The past cannot be erased, only understood – learned from.”

“And I trust my mate, Chava. I trust that she will be a good mother to our daughter.” Zeb placed a hand on Alexsandr’s shoulder.

He could see her flagging now, exhaustion seeping onto her face. The healers would likely be back soon to check on her. Kassia was sleeping, content in Alexsandr’s arms.

When Chava spoke again, she spoke in Lasana. “I trust you, Garazeb. I trust also that people can change. But there is something dark within your mate. The Warrior could easily become… reaccustomed to her old ways.”

Zeb could not help himself; he replied in a tongue that he hadn’t used fluently in years. “Sasha – Alexsandr – has repented. I can protect her – from danger. From herself, if necessary.”

Zeb looked down at his wife, both Alexsandr and Kassia had fallen asleep now. Zeb picked up the baby and placed her in her cot. She looked so tiny, so perfect.

“You remember the royal family; I know you do. You remember - they had a daughter. The heir. She was not much older than your Kassia is now.” Chava didn’t know when to give up.

Of course, he remembered. As the Captain, that was his most important task – to protect the royals. But there was lots of fighting, his men had fought bravely against the white-plastoid figures but still fell anyway. And then came the bomb. When Zeb came to, the palace had been flattened and then ransacked. The stormtroopers, as Zeb now knew them, had not fought with honour. He had caught glimpses of their commander, some of his soldiers had said she was a young woman, a human. She had wielded twin vibroblades, and worn a strange helmet. Zeb had retreated like a coward when he learnt what the weapons could do, that the piles of ash surrounding him were not rubble, but his fallen comrades. He had never got a glimpse of the strange Imperial, coated in blood and ash. Instead, he had learned her name and her reputation through whispers in fighting rings and underground gladiator dens – the Butcher of Lasan, the Shadow of the ISB. Agent Kallus. He had faced her in battle on the same day he had met Ezra, she had dared to wield a bo-rifle against him.

But she had repented. Had endangered her life over and over again for a greater cause, for him.

And here she was, on Lira San. Asleep - hours after delivering their daughter. Wearing his family crest on a small band around her finger.

On all accounts it was unbelievable.

But here they were.

Alexsandr had not ordered the massacre, but that hardly mattered to some. She had taken part in it. She had not ordered the ‘troopers to bomb the palace to the ground, to make sure that there were no survivors but she had taken down Honour Guards. Zeb had felt bitter about that for years, a deep hatred and anger festering inside of him. That was how Kanan had found him, taking down Imperials for bounty money and scrapping anyone he could in fighting rings. The Bogan had soured him, for a decade. But look how Saw Gerrera’s mercenaries had treated Alexsandr on Onderon. A Lasat had taken her leg, scarred her, and defiled her. She had, through Zeb’s help, turned on the Empire. Took them down, and put herself at risk in order to do so. He had brought her to Lira San to show her that she hadn’t eradicated the Lasats. As his partner and a rebel, she had been welcomed.

Zeb had watched Alexsandr as she had hunted former Colonel Yularen down after the fall of the Empire. She had stalked him, taunted him, and made him fear her. She had used every piece of training that he had given her, and she had used it on him. The man had made her a monster, and to kill him she had embraced it one last time. Colonel Yularen had been found butchered. Zeb had found Alexsandr afterwards, coated in blood. Wullf Yularen had tried to scream, so she had cut out his tongue. He had tried to run, so she had shot him in the spine. He had died like a coward. Alexsandr had taken her vibroblades to him. She had slit his throat. New Republic officials had called it the work of a vigilante, a bounty hunter. No prints, no evidence – nothing had been left behind. Yularen had been killed by a shadow. The next day, they moved to Lira San. If Alexsandr was right, the very night their daughter had been conceived.

If Zeb was right, Alexsandr had not killed Yularen alone, Kassia would have already been with her.

But yes, Zeb could picture the princess. He knew that his mate had done awful things. He wasn’t a fool. He also knew she had worked hard to atone.

Zeb turned to Chava, nodding a head towards Alexsandr. “We both know exactly what one another is capable of, that is enough. Right now, my mate needs her rest, as does my daughter.”

In the dying sunlight, Alexsandr’s golden hair spread around her head like a halo. She looked at peace for the first time, even despite the medical robe she wore. Zeb had never seen his mate’s face so peaceful.

Alexsandr ‘Sasha’ Kallus-Orrelios, former Lieutenant-Colonel of Rebel Intelligence.

A wife. A mother.

A Warrior.

Zeb would fight the Bogan as best he could, he would keep Alexsandr in the light.