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Hera's hovering near the door to her cabin.

She would hover near the door to Kanan's cabin, but she knows if she does that, he'll sense her there. And she's not –

He needs to rest. They all need to rest. They were lucky to all be alive. It had been an unbelievably, impossibly long day, ending with a massive shift for all of them. Meeting with Phoenix Squadron, with Fulc-

All right, it had been a more massive shift for some than others. And Hera's not sure how Kanan will feel about her after whatever the Empire had done to him, after her decisions both to leave him and to risk their crew – their family's lives to come after him. And then Ahsoka. She'd kept so much from him, and so much out of his hands, for so long. And she doesn't doubt herself for it, hasn't wavered in her belief that it was necessary, that it had protected them, all of them, not just her crew but the others slowing coalescing across the galaxy. She also believed that Kanan had been right, that they had needed to do more than cause the occasional nuisance to the Empire, than even saving a few lives. There had to be hope.

But Ahsoka's words still ring in her mind.
Your mission was to be unseen.

That hope was fragile as a single flame. What it needed was to survive. Keeping quiet had kept them alive, for the moment. But now there was Phoenix Squadron. There was Ahsoka. The threads of the web were beginning to connect.

And maybe what Kanan needs is to be alone. To think about it, and how he feels about it. And how he feels about her.

Hera doesn't want to be alone. But that's selfish. And she's not sure how to ask how he feels without revealing her own need.

So she lowers herself to the floor of her cabin, sitting up against the door, lekku pressed against it, and stares up at the ceiling. Trying to calm her mind, and trying to think of a way to knock on Kanan's door without having to knock on his door.

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Bacta patches or no, Kanan still feels like his bones ache. The inside of his head feels raw, fragile. Some of that is from recent realizations about his own history, and the rest is because there really is a Rebellion. An organized one, even if it remains split into disparate parts most of the time.

And there's another . . . no, not Jedi, but -- someone who knows how things once were. He thinks that a few months ago that would have made him feel better. In fact, he'd probably have tried to turn Ezra over to her, in the hopes that she'd be a better teacher. But --

Not now. In fact, right now is when the quiet of his bunk is getting to him. Too many thoughts, no room for certainties -- and right now he doesn't want to process. Or at least, he doesn't want to process by himself. Maybe Hera --

He's standing bare moments after he thinks of her face, and makes his slow and quiet way down the corridor. There's still a second of hesitation before he knocks, because . . .

Like all of them, she's had a long few days.

"Hera? Are you awake?"

Hera jolts up at his voice, rising to her feet within seconds.

This is also the moment that the door opens, making it completely clear she'd been right at the door even before he'd walked up. She blinks down, a little awkward, then just nods at his question.

"I - did you need -"

Neither of those really feel like what she wants to say.

"I -- "

There's a lot he could say here, but most of it feels too heavy for this moment, or just too much in general. But --

"Can I come in? If you'd rather be alone, that's -- "

Hera stops herself from blurting out a 'no' at the second part of that, and moves aside from the door, nodding again.

"Come in."

Kanan cracks a smile, tired smile, then moves past Hera and farther into her cabin.

"Thanks. I -- "

Saying he didn't want to be alone sounds . . . pathetic, sounds like it's reaching for something else, and --

"It's been a long day, huh? You all right?"

The doors slide shut behind him. As they do, Hera crosses the room, moving to sit on the lower bunk, to the side so that Kanan can sit next to her if he wants to.

"I'm -"

Not fine. She's not going to say that. But how can they even be talking about how she's feeling right now?

Still, she sets that impulse aside. She's going to answer this honestly, even if it takes her a little longer to put that answer into words.

Slowly, her voice a little flat as she sounds it out, "I feel like I've been awake for a really long time."

Kanan does want to, quite a lot. He's moving slowly, though, and trying hard not to hiss through his teeth as several muscles get cranky about the strains they were so-recently under.

"Yeah. Funny how that works, huh? I'm not sure I'd actually be able to get any sleep if I tried."

Even if he doesn't hiss, Hera can recognize his slow, careful movements. Hera almost lowers her eyes again, but then forces herself not to. She won't let herself look away.

"I know," she says softly, instead. Then her voice rises slightly as she adds, "I don't feel tired, exactly. Just that -"

She takes a deep breath, and then, "It feels like it was so long. Not just - days."

Hours, really.

Kanan's smile is thin, though it isn't un-genuine.

"Yeah, well. Maybe we'll get a little bit of rest now. I bet all of us could use it."

"I don't know."

She's not actually feeling very restful. Tension she seems to run through her like an electric current. She takes another deep breath.

"Have we been apart for that long before?" she asks, her voice soft again. "Since we met?"

Kanan's voice is quiet, too.

"I don't think so," he says, without a moment's thought. (He doesn't have to think about it, it's been in the back of his head the whole time, the absence of Hera, and his gratefulness about that, given the situation. But still -- )

"I have to say, I didn't enjoy the experience at all."

A pause.

"Were you all right? I mean, not -- "

Hera turns her head, looking back to him.

"Not really."

She'd done what she'd needed to. But she can't call that 'all right.'

"I'm sorry," Kanan says, reaching out to touch her knee.

"But I couldn't see any other way to make you could get the crew to safety. I -- "

Hera wants to take his hand right then, but she makes herself reach out slowly, carefully covering his hand with her own.

"No, Kanan, I'm not -"

She breaks off, shaking her head, thinking over what she wants to say. "You did the right thing for us."

He turns his hand under hers, after a moment, tangling his fingers with her own and holding on tight.

And then a little tighter.

"Looks like we did the right thing for us, too. Back when we decided to make it look like I was in charge, I mean. They spent a lot longer on me than they would have if they weren't so convinced I had to know something. So. Good on us for that, too."

Hera's eye fall. Her own hand grips tightly to his.

"Good on us," she repeats, her voice low.

"I mean . . . "

He trails off.

"If we hadn't done that, I think I'd have already been on Mustafar."

Kanan swallows hard, because recent discovery of balance or not -- Mustafar is still a nightmare.

Hera closes her eyes. "No, you're right, I -"

She's not sure what she wants to say. It's not just that it's not easy to hear, or imagine, what was happening to Kanan - but that she doesn't want it to be easy. But if it helps him.

She opens her eyes again, looking up to him. "You were amazing, Kanan."

His face flushes, but -- oddly enough -- some of the ache deep under his skin seems to go away at that.

Kanan looks away for a moment, but then takes a deep breath and looks back.

"I'm a Jedi, you know. It's . . . it's pretty much what we do. Or should. I don't think I've ever been glad about that before, but -- I am."

She's smiles - a brief flicker of a smile, but still - and moves her free hand to take his in both of hers.

"Then I'm glad, too."

"Yeah, well."

His own smile is a tiny thing, but he brings up his free hand to wrap around hers, too.

"I had to really stop running sometime."

"You haven't been running for a while, Kanan," she murmurs.

"You never ran from me."

The press of his hands on hers gets tighter, just for a second.

Then --

"Yeah, there's that. But I saw him fall, Hera. Ezra. The Inquisitor knocked him off the walkway and I couldn't -- "

Hera closes her eyes again, taking another deep breath.

"He wanted to come for you, Kanan. He wouldn't listen to anything otherwise."

"I know."

Kanan huffs out a breath, one that's caught halfway between a sigh and what might almost be a laugh.

"He can be fearless -- a lot more than I was, then. But -- I guess I understood for the first time what it was to -- why Master Bilaba -- "

He cuts himself off, still holding tight to Hera's hand.

"I guess I forgave Caleb. Me. Things feel . . . different, now."

A pause.

"Thanks for coming to get me. Even if we both know that wasn't really the optimal plan."