Rain’s P.O.V.

“Glad to see you back in one piece,” Ahsoka greeted the Ghost crew, “I take it your mission was successful?”

“Yes, Commander,” Hera responded readily.

“Though there might have been one or two minor problems,” Kanan added with a side glance at his student.

Ezra visibly shrank but Ahsoka merely smiled in response, “You can tell me about it in your report.” Then her attention shifted to Rain and her elite and her smile promptly vanished, replaced by cold disdain. “Well, Rain, it appears like our partnership has served its purpose.”

“So it would seem,” Rain responded levelly, “I would offer my own report, but somehow I sense you wouldn’t take it very kindly. So why prolong this ill-conceived alliance? My elite and I will take our leave. I trust you took good care of my ship?”

“No one touched your ship,” Ahsoka said shortly, folding her arms across her chest and ever so slightly arching one brow.

“Good.”

“Hope you folks don’t mind but I’ve never been one for pleasantries,” Bane interjected, “So I think I’ll go ahead and see myself out. I won’t bother asking about my ship; I’ll know if someone’s touched it.”

He tipped his hat and strode out, leaving silence in his wake.

Ahsoka was the one to break it, “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but we both know I’d be lying.”

The corner of Rain’s mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smile.

“Of course,” she answered, “The only thing you ever loved more than lying was disrespecting your seniors as I recall. Very well then. I bid you a hearty farewell. Hopefully, your little band of rebels doesn’t crumble into disarray as I suspect it will.” She turned on her heel, beckoning to Grievous and Mira with a brief summons, “Come.”

Grievous fell in line right away and Mira hesitated only momentarily before following with uneven footsteps. Rain strode quickly away from the bridge, down the corridor, and toward where she had last docked her ship. A quiet voice calling her name registered in the back of her mind as she walked but she hardly considered slackening her pace when she was so eager to get off the rebel command ship onto her own Conqueror-class vessel. But the voice persisted, growing more and more demanding by the second. Evidently, by the sound of the General’s staggered footsteps, he could no longer ignore the cry for attention. Rain set her jaw stubbornly.

Almost there. Mira can wait until we’re onboard and headed back to base to state her gripes with me. I imagine she’ll have nothing new to say anyway. Besides, “patience” is the Jedi way after all.

She reached her ship, opened the door, and stepped inside, feeling an invisible weight lift off her shoulders as she did. But her relief was short-lived.

“Rain!”

Mira would be ignored no longer. Rain sighed, turning back to face her.

“Whatever issue it is you wish to take up with me, little sister, I’m sure you can walk and talk—”

“No,” Mira insisted, “This is not a “walk and talk” conversation, Rain. You were terrible. You were terrible throughout this whole alliance!”

I’ve had enough of this.

Rain shifted her gaze to Grievous.

“General, would you be so kind as to pilot us back to base?”

The cyborg dipped his head in response, moving past both sisters toward the cockpit. Mira stood silent for a moment, regarding her sister with unbridled fury. Rain met her gaze unflinchingly, and when it seemed evident that her twin had nothing further to say, she turned to follow Grievous.

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“I’m not going with you.”

Mira’s P.O.V.

Rain stopped dead. Mira’s heart hammered against her chest, and for a second, she wasn’t sure if she’d really said what she’d just said. She strode forward, clasping her shaking hands tightly together.

“I’m not going,” she said again, shocked by just how steady her voice sounded, “I’m staying here. I’m joining the other rebels.”

Rain half turned to face her, her expression as impassive as ever.

“So it’s come to this,” she said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You always chose the Jedi over me.”

“Rain,” Mira chided, her voice wavering slightly, “You brought this on yourself. I tried to make it work—”

“You didn’t try,” Rain hissed, her body snapping toward Mira in a startlingly sudden motion, “You never tried! So don’t you dare try to pass yourself off as the victim here! You were rigid and selfish and ungrateful!”

“Ungrateful?!” Mira gasped, “Ungrateful for what? For you constantly ignoring me, looking down on me for having principles different than yours, resenting me for trying to help you?”

“How did you help me, Mira?! Is that honestly what you call what you did? Helping me?!” Rain laughed mockingly. “You’re as deluded as the Jedi. Admit it, I was only ever a disappointment to you, and you made no effort to hide it! You claim I looked down on you? That’s positively laughable!”

“Yes, you’re right,” Mira admitted, glaring down at her clasped hands, “I was disappointed in you, but I never looked down on you. I truly only wanted to help…”

“I know what my faults are, Mira,” Rain snapped, “I never needed you to tell me!”

“I just—”

“You just wanted me to be the Jedi I was. But I was never going to be the saint you were!”

“I’m not—”

“The moment you can’t rationalize someone’s behavior according to your own standards, you cease to see them as a person. They’re just a problem to you! Nothing I ever did was good enough for you. I gave everything for you and you couldn’t see past your own idealistic perception of what I ought to be!”

Mira stepped back, her confusion plainly displayed on her face.

“Rain, what are you talking about?”

“You were so quick to forget the promise we made as children. Through all those years, you never once told me you loved me. Trish was the one who told me she loved me! She was just a stranger! A stranger loved me more than my own sister!”

“Rain…” Mira shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not fair. Trish left you years ago!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Mira watched her sister’s mask-like face. She knew exactly what she’d done, and she knew there was no way to take it back. So all she could do was wait with baited breath to see what Rain’s reaction would be.

A few quick strides brought Rain to where Mira stood, and as Mira’s brain frantically tried to predict what her sister might say, a sudden pain stabbed into her face, effectively scattering her thoughts and sending them retreating into deathly quiet.

Rain had slapped her, viciously, immoderately.

Mira cowered back, stunned, her hand shielding her throbbing cheek. And when she looked into her sister’s eyes, she saw nothing but intense hatred.

“Get off my ship,” Rain hissed, “And never come back.”