She's a Rebel [Star Wars | Luke Skywalker] *EDITING*

The Raid

Luke and I get ready to settle down for the night. It's been a fairly eventful day, what with shooting down TIE fighters with the Hunter Squadron, finalising the details of Operation Wolffe and spending the remainder of the day servicing the U-Wings.

I take off my borrowed jacket from Joanna and pull off my boots as I sit down on the bunk, looking out through the tent flaps to the pink and orange sky, the sun having just set. In the distance I can see the GR-75 ascending out of the atmosphere, taking Philips, Mitchell, Jackson, Edvard, Voski and Erfad back to Home One so they can speak with Mon Mothma and Madine before the three still on the inside have to return to the Imperial Starfleet.

Luke yawns as he sits down beside me, one of his arms wrapping around my waist, and I set my boots underneath the bottom of my bunk next to my other clothes from the armoury. I'm only in my borrowed vest and my underwear, my scarred left arm clearly on show. My eyes move over the jagged yet smooth skin, the patterns like that of melted rubber.

Memories of the fight, the pain of the wound, my brother's strangled screams and pleas as he tried to get me to reason with him come flooding back. It's not the first time these thoughts have come to mind today, though before it was thanks to the generosity of Colonel 'Karl' Philips.

"Hey, you okay?" Luke says softly from beside me. I hadn't realised my breathing had become so shaky, and I take a deep breath as I turn and look at him. I could probably do with one of Jasper's infinite cigarettes right now.

What Zach said to me this very morning comes back into my mind, and I turn my body to face his as his hand moves to my scarred arm. The moment he traces his fingers over it, albeit as gently as he can, I wince. I feel the burning of that awful day all over again.

"What is it?" he asks, sternly this time, worrying that he's hurt me.

I don't give him an answer. Instead, I slowly take his hand, deciding it's time for him to know what's going on.

"I... I've got something to tell you," I begin quietly, hesitating, and he frowns, nodding for me to continue. I wonder if this is such a good idea. Usually talking about it, or even thinking about it, reduces me to tears. Part of me still doesn't want to believe it, but that's pointless rejection. I have to accept it; it's the only way I can help both him and myself. "It's Evan... he's, he's..."

"He's what?" Luke persists, and it occurs to me that he's never actually met my brother - not properly, anyway - only that he's seen him in those few fleeting seconds aboard the first Death Star, once when I was marching him and Han up the hallway in their Stormtrooper disguises and once when we were making our escape and I told him to stay put.

I even remember what I said to him. 'We need someone on the inside we can trust.' So much for that.

"Natalie," Luke says gently, and I realise I've been staring into space and thinking about my brother instead of telling him. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I look down, taking my hand from his so that I can fumble with my fingers anxiously. "Uh..." I sigh, running a hand through my fringe, and I look back up at him, forcing myself to say the words. "Evan. He's turned," I finally reply in a small voice. A weight is lifted from my chest as I get the words out.

Luke looks back at me in horror. "Oh, Nat," he says, instinctively pulling me into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

This makes me break, and I begin whimpering into his shoulder as I cling to him. Zach was nowhere this earnest, even though he and Evan have been close their entire lives. Maybe he needed to try and bury how he felt to stop himself from breaking down to. After all, what use would it be if the both of us were inconsolable messes?