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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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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."

Hera doesn't say anything.

She keeps holding onto his hand, but as she opens her eyes, she turns her head away from him.

She wants to nod, or speak, or answer him in some way. But her throat has closed, and no matter what she thinks to do, it feels like a lie.

Kanan tugs her toward him a little, voice softening.

"Hera."

It hovers halfway between a question and . . . something else.

She doesn't resist as he tugs at her, but she also doesn't look back.

"I told them we couldn't do it."

Her voice is quiet, yet steady. Once the truth comes, it's simple enough.

"We couldn't find anything, and by then - I ordered them to stop."

Edited 2018-06-29 17:01 (UTC)

His fingers tighten on hers, a quick spasm that he can't help.

"You're the captain. That's always been your call."

I'm sorry.

"And I wanted you all to get away. That was the point."

"They disobeyed me, anyway."

She turns slightly back toward him now, though her eyes stay down.

Still, her voice is a little lighter as she adds, "Even Chopper. They wouldn't give up."

Kanan huffs out a breath, trying to clear the ache behind his breastbone.

"He was probably worried about you."

Chopper, that is.

That gets Hera to look back to him.

"He was worried about you."