Thank God there is Will, so by that Eleven was able to hear those "magic words" from Mike 🙄 For God's sake, Mike only said those words because he got encouragement from Will. Otherwise, even a thousand years later, Mike wouldn't be able to say any shit to Eleven all we know this.
Mike Mike Mike, what are we going to do with you, dear child? 🤦🏻♀️
Zeb had seen the interior to his fair share of brigs and prison cells; it was an occupational hazard after all. The one he'd found himself in this time was fairly unremarkable: the usual gunmetal black walls, the uncomfortably textured grating on the floor, the camera in the corner with its blinking red light reminding him that they were always watching.
It was business as usual in the world of imperial incarceration, at least until they got to the interrogation aspect of this venture and ended his isolation.
He eyed the blinking light dubiously, tempted to destroy the thing just for some privacy. A human probably couldn't reach it, but Zeb was no human. He lifted himself from the floor, stretching his back and arms as he calculated a way to use the walls to reach the infernal device.
The lasat crouched, on the verge of pouncing, when the little red light blinked off and never came back on.
For a couple of minutes, he didn't move, staring and waiting for it to come back on. It wasn't until he heard clear sounds of some sort of scuffle outside that he snapped to attention, rising from his crouched position in time to see the cell door slide from sight.
Beyond it stood a man dressed in death trooper armor, a shock rod in one hand still crackling with energy, two regular storm troopers lie crumpled at his feet.
"We need to move."
Zeb shouldn't have been surprised to hear Kallus' voice, mildly distorted from the helmet, and yet the fact the man was standing heroically atop the fallen guards to spring the lasat from the Empire staggered Zeb. Somewhere in the distance, something exploded, which meant Sabine was likely there as well. This thought spurred him forward, and soon he and the death trooper with Kallus' voice were sprinting through hallways, a couple of which adorned with unconscious storm troopers.
"Spectre four retrieved, enroute to rendezvous point one."
It was here that Sabine turned up, and unlike Kallus, she was not undercover, her armor a bright splash of color in a dark black and white imperial space. As she skidded around the corner to join them, she tossed Zeb his bo-rifle, then unholstered her weapon.
"Loth-cat's out of the bag, gentlemen," she said, adjusting her grip on a bag she had slung diagonally over her. "Let's rendezvous with Hera and get the hell off this boat."
"Hera's here?" Zeb had found his voice, at last, nearly missing a turn in his surprise. "But she's-."
"Very pregnant, yes," Sabine answered, as the three of them slid to a halt by a lift, Kallus jabbing the call button. "Should have thought of that before you decided to go off on your own and attempt a solo break-in of an imperial facility."
In recent months Sabine was starting to sound more and more like Hera. He could imagine the looks she was giving him behind that helmet of hers as they squeezed into the lift.
"I don't suppose you want to tell us why exactly you did this?" Kallus asked, taking the brief respite of the moving lift to remove the black death trooper helmet. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the running, and his hair was a mess from the helmet.
Zeb thought he'd never looked more handsome. He didn't say this; instead, he mumbled out "not particularly" as the lift doors opened.
There wouldn't be more time to discuss it until they managed their escape. It wasn't a particularly spectacular one, considering the many times the Ghost crew had evaded the clutches of the Empire, but it was still a feat.
Sabine rounded on him the moment the cargo bay ramp began to swing closed, the motion of the ghost taking flight, causing them to sway. She dropped the bag off of her shoulder, and it fell to Zeb's feet. Kallus' back was to them, bent over the hatch controls. "The weapon makes sense, but what's with the rock?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
Zeb opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, spared answering when Kallus joined them, the sound of the Ghost entering hyperspace thrumming through the ship. Kallus eyed the lasat, examining Zeb as if to ensure he was whole. "Are you okay?"
"He's fine," Sabine said, unfolding and popping off her vibrant Mandalorian style helm. "I checked the system, and we got there before they got around to interrogation."
"Thank stars," Kallus breathed. He took a step closer, and then there was that hesitation. He curled his fingers and corrected his stance. Zeb had watched his dearest friend shy away from him in this manner many times before. "Mind telling us what was so important in that facility?"
Zeb could hardly hear the query over the roar of his own racing heart in his ears as their eyes met. At his feet, in the bag were the two things Zeb had told himself he needed to show Kallus how he felt. The man had just busted him out like a hero, and yet the lasat was frozen, afraid to confess. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and wet his lips unnecessarily.
Then, in a fit of poorly executed inspiration, Zeb kicked the bag vaguely in Kallus' direction. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
Kallus ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his, and moved his gaze from Zeb to Sabine, who shrugged, made an excuse about checking on Hera, and evacuated up the ladder and out of sight into the main ship. Kallus bent low, tugging open the closure of the bag. Zeb knew the moment of recognition, as the human's eyebrows arched high as his fingers wrapped around a familiar weapon grip.
"Garazeb." Kallus' voice was breathy, as the bag fell from around his modified bo-rifle, a weapon he hadn't held since before he'd escaped the Empire at the battle for Atollon. "I was sure Thrawn had taken it whale watching."
Zeb laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, daring to allow himself a step closer. "I thought so too," Zeb said. "It was actually a bonus surprise when I got here."
"Oh good, so you didn't risk your neck just to retrieve this," Kallus sighed, still looking down at the weapon, changing its configuration then snapping it back into place.
Capitalizing on this distraction, Zeb crouched down, fishing into the crumpled bag until his fingers wrapped around the warm planes of the meteorite. It didn't glow quite as bright as it had on Bahryn, and with a fraction of the warmth, but it was whole, and back where it belonged.
Zeb was snapped back into the moment by the clatter of Kallus' newly returned bo-rifle clattering to the deck. His golden eyes were wide and fixed solely on the rock resting in Zeb's hands. He held it out, resting in his upward-facing palms, and without hesitation, Kallus stepped forward and covered it with his hands.
"You kept it."
It was the fact that had kept Zeb hoping, ever since he'd found out. Kallus had kept the meteor.
"It reminded me of you," Kallus said, eyes rising from their hands joined around the meteor to meet Zeb's.
"It reminds me of us," Zeb returns, bending slightly, bowing his head, closing his eyes, an invitation. An invitation the lasat knows full well the human may not understand or accept.
Less than a moment and there was the firm press of Kallus' forehead against his, the ghost of breath mingling just out of reach. "Us."
They stood like this for what felt like a long while, forehead to forehead, warmth of the meteorite held between them. Zeb knew there were words they needed to be saying, feelings that needed expression beyond this gesture. That would come soon, they'd carve out some time for privacy to talk, but for now, they had this.
