(no subject)

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

The moon out back isn't more than the thinnest of slivers in the sky. That's good. It's as far from the change as it's possible to get. He's going to need any extra time possible on the other side of that door very, very shortly. You can't tell it by looking at him- he's wearing his camouflage-painted stormtrooper armour, save for the helmet under his arm- but Sergeant Wells' palms are sweating like mad. He's been practising for weeks. He's been rehearsing this in his head. He's been- all kinds of things, really, he can't even remember. But now... this is the moment of truth, really.

With Zuko's help, tonight, at last, Sergeant Wells is going home.