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fandomweekly2019-01-05 05:43 pm
jehanette) wrote in fandomweekly2019-01-05 05:43 pm
Entry tags:
[#001] Ghost of a Chance (Star Wars: Rebels)
Theme Prompt: #001 - Second Chances
Title: Ghost of a Chance
Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels
Rating/Warnings: T - violence mentioned/spoilers about Sabine's past
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1608
Summary: Sabine's first meeting with Hera.
Red.
It wasn’t just the color of blood, or of fire. It was so much more than that. It was a color of passion, of fury, of anger. She knew all of those, all too well. She’d felt every single one, all for the wrong reasons, and when it came time for the universe to ask for its payback, she only hoped that wouldn’t be in red as well.
Orange.
Now that was the color of fire. It was a brighter flame than red, and hotter too. The hottest fires of all were white, but as the paint arced out of her aerosol gun (the only one she would ever carry now) she decided she would be more than happy to stick to orange. There was something about it that was so cheerful, so lively. The color alone could make her smile.
Yellow.
And then there was the sun. Or a sun. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d known there were more suns than she could ever count. She rarely used yellow in her paintings. The wrong shade made the whole thing look garish. It was best used as an accent, unless she really wanted something that would pop.
Green.
That color always reminded her of Krownest. Of home. She used it often, but always with a pang, and she wondered sometimes whether any of her family would ever see her artwork.
Blue.
That color could be a thousand things: the sky, the sea, the eyes of the cadet she’d never worked up the courage to ask on a date. Maybe it was for the best she hadn’t. Either he would have drawn her deeper into the Empire or she would have drawn him further away from it. He would never have lasted on the run, and she couldn’t bring herself to think he would be better dead than at the Academy. She added an eye to the lower left corner of her painting: blue, like his, but the pupil was dark blue instead of black. It was the color of space.
Purple.
Like Ketsu’s eyes. There was another she wished she could have stayed with, but she’d had no choice in leaving. At least she didn’t have to worry about Ketsu’s survival. The bounty hunter could take care of herself.
Sabine hoped she could do the same.
***
Every color had a meaning. She’d known that since she was a child, first learning about art. Back in those days, the meanings had been simple, just like her paintings. She’d practiced strict realism back in those days, but when she’d first tried painting something more symbolic, her teacher had praised her.
Rough, but promising.
Those exact words had made her head spin with giddy pride. It hadn’t just been a nod or a comment that the trees looked particularly lifelike. Her work now had promise. The comment that it was rough didn’t deter her one bit. It just meant she had to try even harder to make it work.
And she had tried harder. She’d lost hours to painting and would have lost days if her brother hadn’t come to fetch her for meals or remind her that she needed to sleep. Paint had been permanently stuck under her nails, and when she looked at the world, she hadn’t seen what it was but what it might be. Trees weren’t just trees: they were bars, or ladders, or in one especially ambitious project, shafts of sunlight. That particular project hadn’t worked out, but she still remembered it better than she did that first.
Maybe that was why she hadn’t seen the obvious: that her work at the Academy would be used for war. To the untrained (unartistic) eye, it was obvious that she had been designing weapons. Her eyes had seen only the potential.
And with Ketsu? She’d seen no potential at all. Just escape. Maybe if she had and had tried to change things, they would still be friends.
Or maybe Sabine would have come away with worse than bruises.
***
Bruises faded from purple and blue to green and yellow. Fire died down from blue and yellow to orange and red. Even guilt could fade, though that would come more slowly. Hers might well last well beyond her dying day.
She had made weapons that would kill tens of thousands at a kind estimate. More might well die, and while she wouldn’t have killed them directly, their blood would nevertheless be on her hands. It was her fault, entirely her fault, and nothing would change that. She might have had a chance with Ketsu, if she’d tried to take it. She had taken it, though not to be better. She had only tried to be different.
And she had been different. The Sabine Wren her family knew would never have taken up with a bounty hunter. She would never have stolen or fired on ships. She certainly would never have killed.
She’d personally gotten blood on her hands. It hadn’t bothered her as much as she had thought it would.
This was where it had gotten her: covered in fading bruises, in a burning space station. She hadn’t even lit the thing on fire, more was the pity. She had helped, but the first part had happened after her arrival. She’d been in hiding, waiting for a ship to stow away on, when she’d heard the alarms go off. Someone was causing trouble, and as this was an Imperial station, that meant someone was causing trouble for the Empire.
Sabine wanted in.
It wasn’t until she’d crept out of her hiding place and begun disabling whatever systems she could get her hands on that she realized whatever was happening might be a complete accident. By then she had already shot two stormtroopers and likely been seen on the surveillance systems. It wasn’t too likely anyone would come after her, not with all the chaos abounding, but she kept her blaster ready, just in case. It didn’t pay to be careless. Ketsu taught her that.
It hadn’t even been a harsh lesson. Ketsu had just been trying to keep her alive. It had been almost nice of her.
Alarm systems: down. Fire suppression: down. Communications: down. All that before the smoke got into the room and made it too hard for her to breathe. She pulled a scarf up over her mouth and nose -- another gift from Ketsu -- and pushed on until it got too hard for her to see. Then, eyes burning, she made her way out of the room, hoping to find some way out. When she found all the escape pods were gone, she did the only thing there was left:
She painted.
It wasn’t her best work, but for a girl who was damn near asphyxiating, she thought it was pretty good. All around the border were eyes, the eyes of everyone she had ever loved, watching. The cadet’s eye, Ketsu’s eye, the eyes of every member of her family and every friend she’d ever had, all surrounding a bright orange symbol that looked like nothing so much as a bird rising up from the flames. It was something she’d seen while traveling with Ketsu, a symbol that meant hope and strength. Even more than that, it meant resistance.
It meant rebellion.
Sabine knew she wouldn’t survive this. No one could. If the station as a whole survived, then someone would find her body and know one of those many scattered few who stood against the Empire had struck back. If it didn’t… well, she could always hope her mural survived.
Someone ran by the door, then stopped and doubled back. Sabine tensed, reaching for her blaster, but the person who pushed the door open wasn’t a stormtrooper. She was a Twi’lek, a bright green Twi’lek. Sabine slumped against the wall, her hand slipping away from her blaster. If she didn’t have to fight, she didn’t have the strength for anything.
“Did you do this?” the Twi’lek asked, gesturing to the mural. Her voice was muffled by a breathing mask.
Sabine nodded and coughed.
“It’s good,” the Twi’lek said. She bent and pulled Sabine to her feet, and Sabine couldn’t tell whether she was stronger than she looked or she had lost too much weight. It was probably both. “Come on. I’m going to get you out of here.”
Sabine shook her head, even as the Twi’lek hauled her out of the room and down the hall.
“I don’t know what you did to get yourself on an Imperial station,” the Twi’lek was saying, “but right now, it doesn’t matter. If you painted that… well, I think everyone deserves a second chance.”
Sabine coughed in reply. “What if I already used mine?” she rasped.
“A third chance, then.” The Twi’lek held up a communicator. “Spectre Two to Spectre Four, I’ve got an injured Mandalorian. She’s coming with us.” An angry sounding voice answered. Sabine couldn’t catch any of the words. “Yes, I know. I’m not leaving her. We can have Chopper watch her until you’re sure.” More angry words. “This is not up for debate.”
Sabine nearly gagged on the smoke. “Chopper?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the Twi’lek said. “You’ll like him. If you don’t, good luck.” She laughed. “I’m Hera, by the way.”
Sabine tried to give her name, but she didn’t have enough breath left to give it. Cursing, the Twi’lek hauled her off the ground and broke into a run. Somehow, even as her consciousness slipped away, she knew things would get better.
Title: Ghost of a Chance
Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels
Rating/Warnings: T - violence mentioned/spoilers about Sabine's past
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1608
Summary: Sabine's first meeting with Hera.
Red.
It wasn’t just the color of blood, or of fire. It was so much more than that. It was a color of passion, of fury, of anger. She knew all of those, all too well. She’d felt every single one, all for the wrong reasons, and when it came time for the universe to ask for its payback, she only hoped that wouldn’t be in red as well.
Orange.
Now that was the color of fire. It was a brighter flame than red, and hotter too. The hottest fires of all were white, but as the paint arced out of her aerosol gun (the only one she would ever carry now) she decided she would be more than happy to stick to orange. There was something about it that was so cheerful, so lively. The color alone could make her smile.
Yellow.
And then there was the sun. Or a sun. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d known there were more suns than she could ever count. She rarely used yellow in her paintings. The wrong shade made the whole thing look garish. It was best used as an accent, unless she really wanted something that would pop.
Green.
That color always reminded her of Krownest. Of home. She used it often, but always with a pang, and she wondered sometimes whether any of her family would ever see her artwork.
Blue.
That color could be a thousand things: the sky, the sea, the eyes of the cadet she’d never worked up the courage to ask on a date. Maybe it was for the best she hadn’t. Either he would have drawn her deeper into the Empire or she would have drawn him further away from it. He would never have lasted on the run, and she couldn’t bring herself to think he would be better dead than at the Academy. She added an eye to the lower left corner of her painting: blue, like his, but the pupil was dark blue instead of black. It was the color of space.
Purple.
Like Ketsu’s eyes. There was another she wished she could have stayed with, but she’d had no choice in leaving. At least she didn’t have to worry about Ketsu’s survival. The bounty hunter could take care of herself.
Sabine hoped she could do the same.
***
Every color had a meaning. She’d known that since she was a child, first learning about art. Back in those days, the meanings had been simple, just like her paintings. She’d practiced strict realism back in those days, but when she’d first tried painting something more symbolic, her teacher had praised her.
Rough, but promising.
Those exact words had made her head spin with giddy pride. It hadn’t just been a nod or a comment that the trees looked particularly lifelike. Her work now had promise. The comment that it was rough didn’t deter her one bit. It just meant she had to try even harder to make it work.
And she had tried harder. She’d lost hours to painting and would have lost days if her brother hadn’t come to fetch her for meals or remind her that she needed to sleep. Paint had been permanently stuck under her nails, and when she looked at the world, she hadn’t seen what it was but what it might be. Trees weren’t just trees: they were bars, or ladders, or in one especially ambitious project, shafts of sunlight. That particular project hadn’t worked out, but she still remembered it better than she did that first.
Maybe that was why she hadn’t seen the obvious: that her work at the Academy would be used for war. To the untrained (unartistic) eye, it was obvious that she had been designing weapons. Her eyes had seen only the potential.
And with Ketsu? She’d seen no potential at all. Just escape. Maybe if she had and had tried to change things, they would still be friends.
Or maybe Sabine would have come away with worse than bruises.
***
Bruises faded from purple and blue to green and yellow. Fire died down from blue and yellow to orange and red. Even guilt could fade, though that would come more slowly. Hers might well last well beyond her dying day.
She had made weapons that would kill tens of thousands at a kind estimate. More might well die, and while she wouldn’t have killed them directly, their blood would nevertheless be on her hands. It was her fault, entirely her fault, and nothing would change that. She might have had a chance with Ketsu, if she’d tried to take it. She had taken it, though not to be better. She had only tried to be different.
And she had been different. The Sabine Wren her family knew would never have taken up with a bounty hunter. She would never have stolen or fired on ships. She certainly would never have killed.
She’d personally gotten blood on her hands. It hadn’t bothered her as much as she had thought it would.
This was where it had gotten her: covered in fading bruises, in a burning space station. She hadn’t even lit the thing on fire, more was the pity. She had helped, but the first part had happened after her arrival. She’d been in hiding, waiting for a ship to stow away on, when she’d heard the alarms go off. Someone was causing trouble, and as this was an Imperial station, that meant someone was causing trouble for the Empire.
Sabine wanted in.
It wasn’t until she’d crept out of her hiding place and begun disabling whatever systems she could get her hands on that she realized whatever was happening might be a complete accident. By then she had already shot two stormtroopers and likely been seen on the surveillance systems. It wasn’t too likely anyone would come after her, not with all the chaos abounding, but she kept her blaster ready, just in case. It didn’t pay to be careless. Ketsu taught her that.
It hadn’t even been a harsh lesson. Ketsu had just been trying to keep her alive. It had been almost nice of her.
Alarm systems: down. Fire suppression: down. Communications: down. All that before the smoke got into the room and made it too hard for her to breathe. She pulled a scarf up over her mouth and nose -- another gift from Ketsu -- and pushed on until it got too hard for her to see. Then, eyes burning, she made her way out of the room, hoping to find some way out. When she found all the escape pods were gone, she did the only thing there was left:
She painted.
It wasn’t her best work, but for a girl who was damn near asphyxiating, she thought it was pretty good. All around the border were eyes, the eyes of everyone she had ever loved, watching. The cadet’s eye, Ketsu’s eye, the eyes of every member of her family and every friend she’d ever had, all surrounding a bright orange symbol that looked like nothing so much as a bird rising up from the flames. It was something she’d seen while traveling with Ketsu, a symbol that meant hope and strength. Even more than that, it meant resistance.
It meant rebellion.
Sabine knew she wouldn’t survive this. No one could. If the station as a whole survived, then someone would find her body and know one of those many scattered few who stood against the Empire had struck back. If it didn’t… well, she could always hope her mural survived.
Someone ran by the door, then stopped and doubled back. Sabine tensed, reaching for her blaster, but the person who pushed the door open wasn’t a stormtrooper. She was a Twi’lek, a bright green Twi’lek. Sabine slumped against the wall, her hand slipping away from her blaster. If she didn’t have to fight, she didn’t have the strength for anything.
“Did you do this?” the Twi’lek asked, gesturing to the mural. Her voice was muffled by a breathing mask.
Sabine nodded and coughed.
“It’s good,” the Twi’lek said. She bent and pulled Sabine to her feet, and Sabine couldn’t tell whether she was stronger than she looked or she had lost too much weight. It was probably both. “Come on. I’m going to get you out of here.”
Sabine shook her head, even as the Twi’lek hauled her out of the room and down the hall.
“I don’t know what you did to get yourself on an Imperial station,” the Twi’lek was saying, “but right now, it doesn’t matter. If you painted that… well, I think everyone deserves a second chance.”
Sabine coughed in reply. “What if I already used mine?” she rasped.
“A third chance, then.” The Twi’lek held up a communicator. “Spectre Two to Spectre Four, I’ve got an injured Mandalorian. She’s coming with us.” An angry sounding voice answered. Sabine couldn’t catch any of the words. “Yes, I know. I’m not leaving her. We can have Chopper watch her until you’re sure.” More angry words. “This is not up for debate.”
Sabine nearly gagged on the smoke. “Chopper?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the Twi’lek said. “You’ll like him. If you don’t, good luck.” She laughed. “I’m Hera, by the way.”
Sabine tried to give her name, but she didn’t have enough breath left to give it. Cursing, the Twi’lek hauled her off the ground and broke into a run. Somehow, even as her consciousness slipped away, she knew things would get better.
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