Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

53 | Complete

Song: "The Mandalorians of Death Watch" from Star Wars: The Clone Wars OST

The village rioted, turning on their Separatist captors. About half the droids turned on Qymaen, shooting with futility as he directed every blaster shot back with the four glowing rods he now carried in split hands.

He cut her bonds. "Blaster!" he shouted over the ruckus.

"Of course!" she retorted, taking the long barrel from the magnets on his hips and joining in the rebellion against the corrupted rebels.

Each droid that went down was another victory for Kalee. The chaos of blaster bolts was as routine to their people as temple prayers. They threw themselves on B1 droids, ripping their blasters away and using them to fire on the larger metallic beasts.

Ronderu signaled to Bent to get Rón and Quemáy out of the line of fire, but he was lost in the crowd. Her eyes scanned the area. She desperately prayed that he had retreated from direct combat.

✺✺✺

Grievous bent down to her eye-level. "We have to get to the ship."

"The ship?"

"We're leaving this place together," he told her. "Come!"

She gazed back at the wreckage, then clung to his torso, shutting her eyes, hoping beyond hope that the chaos would distract both sides from noticing their escape.

He scurried on all six legs into the jungle. "The clearing by Jenuwaa. That's where we'll meet Ay-Four. Hold on tight."

The old clearing, where they'd been separated, would be where they returned—where she'd always imagined them reuniting.

✺✺✺

"Come aboard!" he shouted when they'd reached that spot. "This trip is going to be rough!"

She hurried inside the ship, collapsing on the metal floor as he fired up the controls. "We're going to a neutral planet—one uninvolved in the war." And before she could buckle herself in, he'd already left the atmosphere, zooming into the ever-glow of hyperspace.

It was only once they were in hyperspace that he left the cockpit, bending to his knees to meet her. His eyes were on her own—filled with immense clarity, just as she had remembered them from the morning of Jenuwaa.

She let a breath out through her mouth as he brought his hand to stroke her long black hair, tattered and mangled from the battle. "It's even more beautiful than I remembered."

She shook her head, blinking away tears as she pressed her hands to his own. It had been easy for him to pretend to love her when there was nothing to lose. But after forsaking his status as general, condemning himself to being a fugitive on both sides of an intergalactic war....all for her....

She constricted him in a hug, allowing metal to caress her. "I can't....believe you survived," she whispered as the cage of protection encased her body.

"You can't believe that I survived?" he asked, his body quaking with laughter.

He threw them both on the ground, tickling her, and she screamed with giggles. It's the same person. The same one you love.

As their excitement faded to a soft glow, he spoke solemnly. "Wait here."

He stood and rummaged in a tool box, fishing out a tool she'd seen Arna use when he was tinkering—a fusion-cutter. She tilted her head. "What is this for?"