Last night, I had a dream that Fitzsimmons were kaijuologists, and Simmons was all, "And now we'll bring a live baby kaiju into the lab for science", and Fitz was all "...... okay....." and my OC Dark O'Reilly (whose faceclaim is, ironically, Brett Dalton) was all "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?????"
You have no idea how entertaining I (a person who has seen three of the new Chris Pine Star Trek movies about a bazillion years about and never seen one of the shows, but has approximate knowledge of many things via Tumblr) found this ask. Anyways, I did my best lol:
“I’m not sure how I feel about being transferred to another captain,” Kanan muttered as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the turbolift to arrive.
Next to him, his friend Dark let out a snort. “You’re telling me. For some reason, I keep getting sent with you whenever they get sick of your shenanigans.”
“Pretty sure that’s your own fault,” Kanan pointed out. “The fact you keep lying on your application forms is probably part of it. I know you want to avoid your dad—”
“And let’s keep it at that,” Dark said, an edge in his voice. Kanan let it go. He knew his friend’s tenuous relationship with his father was that way for a good reason, and he couldn’t blame him.
Turning back to his original subject as the turbolift arrived and they boarded, he mused, “I wonder if we’ll get someone more like Ahsoka’s captain—”
“Captain Skywalker is a lunatic, so let’s hope not,” Dark said vehemently. “Hasn’t he been court martialled again?”
“I’m gonna assume yes,” Kanan said. “Maybe we’ll get someone like Captain Kenobi. Seems like a boring stickler for the rules, but is actually completely insane.”
“Just once,” Dark said as the turbolift came to a stop, letting on another passenger, “I would like a captain who was not insane. As a treat.”
Snorting, Kanan said, “You might be in the wrong business for that, buddy.”
The new passenger laughed, and Kanan’s gaze snapped to her at the melodic sound. She wore command gold, and was stunningly beautiful, with bright green eyes and hair dyed a deeper shade of emerald twisted back into two braids. Lifting an eyebrow at him, she said, “You don’t think that you’ll find a captain who isn’t insane?”
Her voice was even more beautiful than her laugh, and Kanan found himself lost for words. Frowning at him, she said, “You doing okay there?”
“Words fail me.”
“So they do.” The smile she sent him took any sting out of the words, not that he would have minded anyways. “Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by your new captain, Mr. Jarrus.”
The turbolift came to a stop, and she strode off, Kanan staring after her. “I think I’m in love,” he muttered. “Wait— how did she know who I was?”
He had his answer ten minutes later when he made it onto the bridge of the new ship he’d been assigned to, and the woman from the turbolift was waiting for them.
“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice clear and cool as a stream on a spring morning. “I’m Captain Hera Syndulla. Glad you have you serving here.”
(Sorry for the bullet points, I have no idea why this is happening)
For an OC ask game:
18. Describe your character through a Brooklyn 99 gif or line.
19. What does your character consider to be their lowest point?
(No worries, Tumblr be like that!!)
(We'll do it for my boy, Dark O'Reilly)
#18: I feel this is appropriate, given his former occupation (assassin)
#19: Oh, good one. There's this moment after a mission that goes VERY wrong, when he yells at his coworker, and legit scares her, and he sees her reaction, and goes, oh. I've become the very person I've gone to ridiculous extremes to avoid becoming. Great
I hope this doesn't sound TOO weird lol but I spent a decent half hour going through the Dark O'Reilly tag on your blog and I'm definitely invested in him now. Can I ask you for some fun facts about him? :D
Oh my gosh, that is literally SO sweet. Not weird at all, I'm honored!!! You absolutely can!!!
Okay, forgive me if you already know any of these, I forget what I have and haven't posted lol
Dark's not that skilled a cook, but what he can do is make a KILLER grilled cheese!! He's very proud
As you may know, he's a former assassin. His weapon of choice was a pair of vibroswords, until he learned he was Force sensitive, then he switched to a pair of lightsabers: one blue, and one yellow
He's a bit of an insomniac. When he can't sleep, he tends to roam the surrounding area, and a good 75% of the time, he'll end up falling asleep somewhere odd mid-prowl
Dark has two siblings, an older brother, Jamie, and a younger sister, Amaani. His relationship with them is somewhat troubled for a lot of his life, mostly during his stint working with the Empire, but they eventually grow closer
He's a kriffing nerd. Like. Such a nerd. He, Jamie, and Amaani had a phase as kids where they were obsessed with all things Lothal (inspired by me, who had a similar phase, but focused on Hawaii). Jamie even made each of them a little wooden figurine of their favorite Loth creature. Dark's was a Loth-wolf, and he carrys it with him always, even when he's in the Empire, even when he's determined to hate his family
His lightsabers have those Wiimote straps on them. His kids made them for him
As is clear, he has kids later in his life!! He meets a beautiful snarky librarian named Kaiya by crashing his ship into her backyard, and through some trial and error, they end up married! He adopts her adopted son, Ookami, and then later in life, they have a daughter, Claire
He's a pretty skilled artist
He kinda has Nick from New Girl vibes, but his face claim is Grant Ward from Agents of SHIELD
His backstory is also VERY Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, not gonna lie. Dark came first, though
I have not actually written anything about him, cause I'm not technically a writer, but I've often thought it could be fun to draw a webcomic of sorts about him
Hope you like them, and thanks again for being interested, I really appreciate it!!
I don’t know a lot about your oc’s, but I’d love to hear about them! 13, 19, 39, and 46 for whoever you’d like?
Awww, thank you!!! (Full disclosure: I am not a writer, I just like to make up head blorbos to put in situations, usually from the Star Wars universe. It's really fun)
We'll answer these for my boy, Dark O'Reilly (former assassin turned gang member and dad)
#13: Do they enjoy poetry?
In his earlier life, definitely not. He'd be all, what's the point? But then, his librarian girlfriend/wife, Kaiya, would totally sell him on it
#19: How easy is it to become their friend?
Ahhh, not. Not easy at all. It's either through various trials, tribulations, and near-death experiences, or you're like, yeah we're friends now, and drag him kicking and screaming into friendship
#39: Would they ever crash a wedding?
*adds Dark crashing a wedding to my mental list of things to daydream about at work* DEFINITELY YES. Under pretty much ANY circumstances. If he knew the couple but they didn't like him, if he didn't ship the couple getting married (he'd be all, I OBJECT, and get dragged out of the church), if he was bored, if he was hungry... yeah. Definitely yes
#46: Would they lie to get out of trouble?
Oh, for sure!! He definitely has before, both to his family, and to people he doesn't know. Only one of these is successful, cause his cousins and siblings know his lying face. They RECOGNIZE it. Also he sucks at lying to them, most of the time
“I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy!” The Inquisitor hissed.
Hera let out a laugh that infuriated him and… some other emotion he could place.
“I love you too!”
however you do it is fine I just really like the idea of inquisitor Kanan meeting this rebel pilot and going “pretty girl make brain go brrrrrrr” Kanan.exe has stopped working.
That is literally how I picture this au going, so you are in luck!
Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Rating: T (angst and some violence)
Word Count: 4,680
Read on AO3!
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?”
“It’s an Outer Rim planet,” Hera told him. “Not much to look at, but I hear the moon is stunning. It’s called Gorse.”
