Bane’s P.O.V.

The apartment was dark and silent as the grave. Bane still couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated the quiet.

He’d used to enjoy it, back when his thoughts weren’t quite so grating. But nowadays…

Stang it.

He drew deeply on his cigarette, reclining further in his chair. He felt it teeter slightly. He didn’t care.

He turned his mind toward his last job, replaying it in his mind, looking for any flaws in his method. He came up with four weak points, two more than last time. He clenched the cigarette tightly between his teeth.

Stang it.

Maybe he was losing his touch. His gaze slid lazily toward where his holster lay. The idea of devolving into some incompetent idiot was beyond disgusting to him. Maybe it was worth acting out those fleeting thoughts he’d had so many times before, of putting a blaster to his own head and—

A knock sounded at the door, causing Bane to sit bolt upright. His chair rocked slightly from the sudden jerking motion. Who the hell would that be? He was several levels down in Coruscant’s underbelly, and so few of his colleagues knew about this little hideaway.

He slowly, reluctantly got to his feet and strode over to the door, triggering it open. He tipped his hat forward to shield his eyes from the surprisingly bright artificial daylight, unintentionally blocking the figure from view. He waited for his sight to adjust, then looked them over. He felt a twinge of surprise when he recognized Rain. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was levelled at his boots, her demeanor uncomfortably familiar.

“Bane,” she said, her voice strained, “Something…something happened. I just want to—”

She fell silent. Of course. She didn’t care to say what she wanted, especially since Bane already knew. He gripped the doorframe tightly, feeling the blood drain from the skin across his knuckles.

Yes, he knew exactly what this was about. Rain had shown up looking like this after Trish had left her, seeking to use him as a distraction, just as she had when her sister had attacked and stranded her on Geonosis all those years ago. He had obliged, only to end up listening to her strangled sobs in the dead of night while she thought he was asleep. And her dead-eyed look the rest of the time had been surprisingly unnerving.

So what was it this time? Had her General ditched her? No…anything involving Grievous would’ve invoked a different reaction. It had to with—

Mira.

No. To hell with it. He’d dealt with enough of her family drama, or her drama in general.

I told her. I warned her to stay away from…from that shukking woman! And when I turned out right, she came crawling to me like I should fix it. I did. I fixed it. I did what I should’ve the moment I laid eyes on Trish. But I was five kriffing years too late.

He resisted the urge to try to kick out the doorframe, taking another long draw on his cigarette. Rain seemed uncharacteristically unbothered. Bane suppressed a scoff. She was so easily blinded by her emotions, always had been. It was one of the things that both fascinated and infuriated him.

Finally, he spoke, “Get out.”

Rain’s gaze lifted slightly. At least she had the decency to be surprised. Bane leaned forward.

“Get out of my face,” he hissed, “And deal with your own problems for once.”

Then he pulled back, promptly shutting the door in her face.

Rain’s P.O.V.

Rain turned and walked away, wandering aimlessly up the street.

Bane was right. She burdened him enough over the years. She paused.

Phoebe. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.

She owed the Twi’lek a visit. After all, she was on Coruscant anyway. She started making her way back to the ship where Grievous was waiting. For some reason, he’d insisted on coming along, and she hadn’t the drive to argue, so along he came.

The ship was a fair mess but it had been the best they could attain given the circumstances. They’d swapped out the Imperial shuttle with a less-than-pleased-about-it businessperson, after which they’d performed one or two extra swaps for good measure. They’d have to arrange for something better at a later date, but Rain could hardly be bothered to think about that now.

Grievous said nothing as she boarded the vessel and started them off toward Coruscant’s upper levels. She wished she could have given her Twi’lek friend a heads up, but her personal communicator had been destroyed along with her ship, and as before, Rain couldn’t be bothered with replacing it.

She landed the ship at the nearest landing pad and began the long trek to Phoebe’s residence. There was a market along the path; normally Rain found its liveliness refreshing, but today its hustle and bustle only wearied her. She dragged her feet as she walked. The journey seemed to last a lifetime.

Her persistent knocking at Phoebe’s door awarded her no answer, so she started back. The concept of time felt unreal to her, so she had little idea of how long she’d been walking when she heard Phoebe’s voice.

“Rain?”

She paused, lifting her gaze from the ground. Sure enough, there stood the lime-skinned Twi’lek, her golden eyes watching Rain with concern. She reached out a slender hand, grasping Rain’s arm.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I lost my comm.”

“Rain—”

Then Rain saw her, scampering toward them, a holopad in her hands, and the world seemed to stop.

Phoebe followed her line of sight, turning back quickly to whisper in Rain’s ear, “She doesn’t know…”

Rain could only stare. Thalia was eleven years old now, a bit small for her age, but she seemed to have Bane’s wiriness. Her skin was as dark as his, her eyes a shade lighter and much more human-like in appearance. Her hair, black as night, was tied up in a ponytail, and she had a round face and button nose. Those strawberry-red eyes glanced from Phoebe to Rain. But all Rain felt when she looked into them was sadness.

Thalia was just another reminder of what a failure she was.

“I should leave,” she said suddenly, starting to turn away.

“Wait,” a mechanical voice bade.

Rain turned back to see Thalia typing something on the holopad. She glanced to Phoebe in surprise.

“She doesn’t have a vocoder?”

“She doesn’t like to use it,” Phoebe shrugged, her voice turning somewhat stern as she addressed the young hybrid, “Thalia, you should go back. Milan and Rayna don’t like you running ahead of them.”

But Thalia wasn’t paying attention.

“Who are you?” her holopad vocalized.

She watched Rain intently, waiting for an answer.

“I really should be leaving,” Rain insisted again, then turned and hurried off before Thalia could write another word.

Grievous’ P.O.V.

It’d been unbearably quiet for the past day or so. After he and Rain had finally returned to the base, she’d spent all her time either sitting silently in her room or wandering around and staring at nothing. She hadn’t spoken a single word before suddenly informing him that she was going to see Bane. Grievous wanted to argue but couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it, instead only requesting that he come with her. Surprisingly, she had agreed.

Now, as she boarded the ship a second time, he wondered if he should say something, ask her what she was intending. She hadn’t even told him where she was headed after returning from Bane’s so shortly. He watched her punch in some coordinates, noting with confusion that it was an Outer Rim planet he hadn’t heard of before.

“Where are we travelling?” he dared to question.

“Nowhere,” was all the answer he received.

He settled back for the long ride, knowing better than to press her.

When at last they arrived, he found himself overlooking a planet mostly covered by water, and as they drew closer to the surface, he was met with the sight of dilapidated buildings crowded together, and so little traffic that it made the planet seem almost dead. He wondered silently what on earth they’d be doing at such a place.

Once they’d landed, he tried again, “What is this place?”

A pause.

Then, “Just a planet.”

Grievous yielded once more, waiting silently as Rain disembarked from their wreck of a ship onto the seeming wreck of a planet. But as the minutes passed, he began to feel restless. Submitting to his instinct, he left the ship and set after Rain, determining to pry her thoughts from her regardless of what it took.

Rain’s P.O.V.

Rain stared at the now empty house she’d once lived in. Of all the homes she and Mira had passed through as children, this was the one they had stayed in the longest.

It was also the one they’d run away from.

Rain could still remember the name of their would-be mother, a Zabrak called Eleri. Her name had meant “bitter” which, looking back, seemed fitting. Eleri was a very bitter woman. Her personality was similar to Bane’s in a few ways: she’d been straightforward to the point of cruelty. Though most often she’d been too dejected to express her anger. Even in childhood, Rain had felt strangely understanding of her.

She moved on, making her way toward the not-so-distant shoreline.

The place where mother drowned herself…

A part of her almost found it funny how she’d formerly cowered from the very idea of perishing in the same manner, how she’d feared any association with the woman who birthed her.

Now there’s hardly a difference between us.

Her pace unconsciously quickened even as the rocky ground began sloping upward.

I promised to keep Mira safe. Instead, I drove her away. It’s my fault my fault my fault my fault my fault…

Her footsteps matched time with the words in her head, until next thing she knew she was standing at the edge of a cliff face overlooking the water. It was at least a dozen feet down to where the waves lapped at the rock, and it was hard to measure how deep it was with a glance. Rain stood unmoving, gazing down at the frothing sea, her mind’s eye portraying her sister’s death a hundred times over.

I couldn’t mourn her…couldn’t cry. I just felt numb and empty and nothing.

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She rocked back on her heels, teetering on the edge of the cliff.

This was what it came down to in the end. This is what it always came down to. Her mother discarded her. Everyone after discarded her. She’d run away from Eleri, away from the Jedi, left the Sith behind her.

I handed off my daughter to two strangers, and Trish, Mira…they couldn’t even stand to be around me anymore.

She laughed aloud. She couldn’t blame them in the slightest. She rocked a little harder, recalling Trish’s last words to her.

“Why?” she’d begged, clinging to Trish like a lifeline.

“I can’t be a part of this war anymore,” Trish insisted, but the look in her eyes made it clear that was only part of the issue.

Rain tightened her hold, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“You promised you’d never leave. You PROMISED!”

Trish smiled sadly, “I know.”

Then she’d walked away.

It’d have been better if she’d spat in my face, told me I was so horrible that she couldn’t bear to keep her promise. Then at least she would’ve been honest…

Oh well. At least she could be honest with herself now.

For a moment, her thoughts turned to Grievous, and she felt a pang of gratitude mingled with sadness.

I’m sorry, General. But things are better this way. You’ll see that in the end, I think.

She pushed off with her heels once more, letting herself fall into the welcoming water.

Grievous’ P.O.V.

Grievous saw her go down and every corner of his brain started screaming. Then, next thing he knew, he was screaming.

Only it wasn’t Rain’s name he uttered.

“RONDERU!”

He was barrelling forward, the ground flying beneath him in a blur. When he reached the cliff edge, he didn’t even hesitate before throwing his bulky frame into the waters below.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

This time he would save his wife.

Rain’s P.O.V.

The water felt surprisingly warm, its embrace comforting. She made no struggle, letting the weight of her soaked clothing pull her deeper. She closed her eyes, allowing darkness to envelop her, and waited for inevitable release. But as she floated there, gently swayed by the water’s movement, she felt something else embrace her, something distinctly humanoid. Two arms wound their way around her, and suddenly the sensation of water vanished.

Her eyes snapped open, and for a moment, her heart seemed to stop beating.

There was Mira, otherworldly in appearance but solid and real and smiling at her.

“What—” Rain choked.

The place they were in reminded Rain of the expanse of space, dark yet star-studded. Beneath them was a path outlined by stark, white light, and strange, ovular doorways were dotted about. Rain stared at her surroundings in bafflement.

“Am I dead?” she blurted.

Mira shook her head.

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” she said, “Time is…a little strange where I am. But I’ve learned as much as I can in the meantime, and I found this place.”

She gestured around them, but Rain wasn’t paying attention. She grabbed Mira by the shoulders, still struggling to believe she was really present.

“How?” she said, her voice breaking, “How are you here?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Mira admitted, “After the Clone Wars ended and we retreated to Polis Massa, Yoda told me of a hidden technique he had learned from Master Qui-Gon Jinn, one that would allow him to maintain his physical form after death. He thought it important for remaining Jedi to learn the technique. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I was made to promise I wouldn’t. You…you shouldn’t have had to go through what you did.”

“Stop…stop,” Rain pleaded, her mind reeling, “Why are you saying this? You should hate me!”

Mira’s expression morphed into one of pain.

“No, Rain, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

Rain’s memories pulled her back to just before Mira’s death, when she’d mouthed the words “I love you.” She’d convinced herself afterward that it was just a trick, just her mind showing her the thing she wanted to see.

“I did it to you,” she breathed, tears burning behind her eyes, “I’m sorry…”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! I should’ve—”

“Stop,” Mira said sharply, “Just stop.” She sighed. “There’s something I want to show you.” Rain followed wordlessly as Mira led her to one of the odd-looking doorways. “Look inside,” Mira instructed.

Rain gave her a confused look but did as she was told. At first, nothing happened. Then the dark emptiness inside the oval began to change, showing a blur of color that slowly solidified. A young woman with dark hair and deep brown eyes came into view. Then Rain heard a voice.

Kiera’s P.O.V.

“He’s not coming back.”

Kiera turned her head to look at the speaker, glaring once she spotted them.

“Mind your own business,” she snapped.

The old woman shrugged, shuffling off. Kiera looked back at the crowd descending from the just-landed transport, uttering a sigh.

The old hag was probably right. That man was never coming back.

What was I expecting? He’s a Jedi. He has more important things in his life to worry about then the random girl he fooled around with on some backwater planet.

But as her mind recalled the blonde, golden-eyed man smiling down at her, her heart clenched.

Maybe a part of her would always love him, but for now, she had more important things to worry about too. She sighed again, running a soothing hand over her bulging belly. Maybe her child wouldn’t know its father, but that was okay. She hadn’t known her parents either, and she’d managed to find her way in the world just fine.

“Let’s get home, little one,” she murmured.

The months seemed to fly by. Maybe it was her impatience to meet her child. Maybe it was just the general business of life, but either way, she was struck almost silly by the surprise of twins. And if life was busy before then, it got a hell of a lot moreso afterward.

First, she’d had to worry about what to name them. The first name had come easy enough. It’d been raining on the day she’d given birth, so she’d named the eldest Rain. The second one she had struggled with for days. Though after noticing the younger hardly ever cried, Kiera had settled on Mira, meaning “peace.”

It’d been hard to establish a routine after those two had arrived, and her funds had run low at some points, but Kiera had managed to scrape by. And honestly, she wouldn’t have traded her exhaustion for the galaxy. The twins were all she needed to keep her going.

Then came the storm.

The planet was prone to bouts of violent weather every so often, but Kiera failed to realize until too late just how ill-prepared she was for this tempest. She managed to find her way to high ground, hoping the rescue ships would get to her and the twins in time, but as the waters continued to rise higher and higher, her doubts multiplied.

They did come, only just as the large waves were almost tall enough to strike at her. The inclement weather made it hard for the beaten-up volunteer’s ship to hold steady, meaning one of the crew had to practically dangle themselves out the side in order to receive the little crying bundle that was Mira. Kiera started to hand Rain up to him when she suddenly slipped. Instinctively, she hugged Rain back to her chest, the unexpected jostling causing her to cry louder. Kiera found her footing again, the crewman yelling at her to hurry. And she saw why.

A massive wave was headed toward them, one that would easily overtake the ship once it reached them. Kiera’s heart was pounding in her chest, the incessant roar of the downpour filling her ears. She tried again to hand Rain to the crewman, but his rain-slicked fingers couldn’t seem to grasp her. And the wave grew closer.

Kiera glanced from her daughter to the breaker and back again. She knew the crewman wouldn’t have time to haul up a grown woman after getting hold of Rain. So she did the only thing she could do, made the only decision a mother could make.

Planting a kiss on Rain’s forehead, she murmured, “Take care of your sister.”

Then she gathered her legs under her and jumped, holding Rain as far overhead as she could reach.

She felt the weight disappear with her hands, heard the crewman shout, “Got her!”

Then her head struck the underside of the ship and she plummeted into the water.

And the last thing she remembered feeling was relief.

Rain’s P.O.V.

Rain dropped to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Mira laid a hand on her shoulder, silently comforting her.

“Mother loved you, Rain. And she was willing to go that far to protect you. Please don’t throw that away.” She paused, kneeling beside her sister’s trembling form. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t understand how much I was hurting you through the things I said, and the way I acted. So let me make things right, if I can.” She reached out and grasped Rain’s hand tightly. “I know you have your demons, Rain; I’ve seen how they eat at you. And I know I can’t tell you how to make it better, but I’m here. I’ll always be here. And in case you didn’t get it the first time, I love you. You don’t have to prove anything, because that will never change. I…I don’t think I have much more time—” Rain’s head snapped up, her expression betraying her horror at being parted from her sister again. Mira smiled comfortingly. “—But I’ll make sure to visit again, okay? Oh, and one last thing,” she added, her form beginning to fade along with their surroundings, “I saw your daughter. And she’s lovely.”

Her voice trailed away and Rain was quickly plunged back underwater. Though something was different. She was rushing upwards, and in the next second she broke the surface, her lungs rushing to expel any water she’d inhaled. As the coughing subsided, she opened her tight-shut eyes, taking in her new surroundings.

She dangled from Grievous’ hold as he clung to the cliff face, his talons embedded in the rock. He gazed down at her, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on her face.

“Ronderu…” she heard him say.

Then she promptly burst into tears again.

It took a long time for Rain to regain her composure. She felt as though she’d expelled a year’s worth of pent up emotions, maybe more.

And perhaps she had.

Grievous waited silently for her to recover, refraining from asking what exactly had happened. Rain considered telling him, about Mira, about everything. But a part of her doubted he’d really understand; she hardly understood it herself. The whole thing felt like a fever, real yet intangible.

So instead she settled for asking, “Who’s Ronderu?”

Grievous stared off into the distance, keeping his silence.

Then abruptly he answered, “My wife.”

Rain’s mouth unconsciously hung open as the shock of his words struck her.

Wife? What?! I never would’ve guessed that he…I mean, how—

Her thoughts were practically tripping over themselves as she struggled to process the image of Grievous with a family. She didn’t want to press him but the need to know more was overwhelming.

Thankfully, he deigned not to leave her in suspense.

“You have heard of Kalee?”

Rain scoured her memory.

“A little,” she replied.

“My homeworld,” Grievous said, “Where I lived the life of a warrior. My name—”

He paused, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

No. Rain did recognize it.

It was pain.

“My name was Qymaen jai Sheelal. I spent my years fighting our sworn enemy the Huk, who ravaged our world for generations in pursuit of slaves. And once I had gained title among my people, it was then that I discovered her…”

“Ronderu,” Rain prompted gently.

Those reptilian eyes fixed on her. “Yes. Ronderu. She was wild and skilled, a mercenary by trade. We fought together from the moment of our meeting, and became demigods in the eyes of all Kaleesh.”

His countenance changed suddenly, his anger so palpable Rain could almost taste it.

“Then the Jedi came,” he hissed, “They sided with the Huk and drove my people to ruin. Ronderu and I continued the fight, but became separated on the beeches of Kalee during an engagement with the Huk. She died…and her body was lost to the sea. I swore vengeance against the Jedi that day—and became Grievous.”

A lump of raw emotion had lodged itself in Rain’s throat. She felt his resentment and grief as if they were her own.

The General continued, “I was approached by San Hill, Chairman of the Banking Clan, on behalf of Count Dooku. In exchange for my services as a collections agent, they offered to ease the suffering of my people. I accepted, but was later injured to the brink of death. San Hill offered to replace my broken body, and the Count urged me to accept. I agreed, but only on the condition that they would not tamper with my mind. That promise was broken, as you know. Doubtless, Dooku sought to weaponize my rage.” He paused again before pressing forward, “I was appointed as leader of the Confederate armies. But you are already aware of what followed.”

Rain took a deep breath.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“It was not your wrong,” Grievous insisted, “After the loss of Ronderu, I beseeched the gods to allow me to see her again. Yet when they failed to raise her from her aqueous grave, I levied a thousand curses against them. But as fate would have it—” He took a step toward Rain. “—I met another who was wild and skilled…one I could fight alongside.”

Rain’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked away; she couldn’t meet his eyes then. She thought back over the years, of every protective gesture he’d shown her, his surprising thoughtfulness, his proven reliability.

He didn’t need to say it aloud for her to understand.

He loved her.

Gratitude and dismay mingled together. It was Phoebe all over again.

I can’t accept his feelings…

Rain tried to pull herself together.

“Thank you, General,” she said softly.

She started to reach for him, then thought better of it, letting her arm fall back to her side. She didn’t know what else to say, so she embraced silence instead. The General accepted it.

Rain let her gaze stray back toward the water. She’d come there to end her life, and had experienced revelations instead.

Now she was left wondering, What next?