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

Leaving for Corellia

I look over to the control panel by the door and make out that it's a couple of minutes to 0300. I take a deep breath, guilt rising in my stomach, and lift Luke's arm from around my waist and crawl out of the bed as quietly as possible, carefully folding back the covers as to not disturb him. I kneel down and begin to get my tattered old leather satchel together, checking there are food parcels, spare clothes, finger-less gloves, a canteen filled with water and a comlink stashed away. 

I then gently pull off my vest that I sleep in and grab my long-sleeved black undershirt and pull it over my head, pulling the sleeves down and hooking the holes over my thumbs, and adjusting the high collar around my neck, and after that my thigh-length undershorts, stuffing my vest into my bag when I'm done.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and pick up my boots and belt, which holds a new blaster pistol in my holster and the remaining half of the lightsaber I have yet to fix and redesign, and then I stand and head over to the door. 

Just as I'm about to press the button to open the door I stop, and I glance behind me to look at Luke. He looks so peaceful and so calm, his arm resting over the empty half of the bed where I should be laying beside him, and I can't bring myself to imagine what he's going to go through when he wakes up in the morning to find me gone.

But this isn't about Luke and I. It can't be, not with how things are. This about the Rebellion, about winning the war against fascism, terror and oppression. And when the war is finally won then perhaps we can be different, we can spend all our time together, and we can enjoy the freedom we so desperately want. But we can't have that until I do my duty, and, as hard as it is for the both of us, if I'm needed somewhere in a battlefield, or with a stubborn Sergeant and her troops, then that's where I have to be.

I pad back over to the bed and sit on the edge, staring down at him, watching his chest move up and down, his lips slightly parted, and I stroke his soft hair, trying to take him all in just in case I'm killed and this is the last chance I have to see him. I lean down and kiss his forehead gently.

"I'm sorry... goodbye," I whisper, barely audible, and I pull the covers around him as I stand from the bed.

I head back to the door and take one final look at him, and then I turn my attention to the task at hand and open the door, step out into the corridor and close it behind me. I take a deep breath, leaning against the door and running my free hand through my hair as my other clenches the leather of my boots and belt, and then I force myself to leave and head up the corridor. 

Kes and Shara's room isn't far from here, and I round a couple of corners to find him looking in on his sleeping wife and child, an expression of despair on his face. He too is wearing underclothes, has a rucksack slung over his shoulder and his pair of boots and his belt held tightly in his left hand. 

I reach out and touch his shoulder gently to gain his attention. "Are you ready, Sergeant?"

He purses his lips and nods at me, his brown eyes moving from the dark room to me, and he steps aside and closes the door. "Let's go," he says, and we start down the corridor, heading for the east wing armoury as quietly as we can. 

We creep inside the small room, which is now mostly empty apart from a few first aid kits, laser rifles and helmets left on one of the shelves, and we dump our bags, belts and boots down. I pull our stashed clothes out from behind the empty rack that housed boots and hand him his pair of combat trousers and his jacket. 

"Thanks," he says as we tug the clothes on as quick as possible, shoving our feet into our thick, heavy leather boots, pulling the laces tight and tying them around our ankles. 

I stand up and pull my hair back into a tight bun, and then I grab a helmet from the shelf and strap it onto my head, pulling it down at the front and tucking every strand of hair I have into it.