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Hera never brings him food herself. She does usually help prepare it – she has a better sense of the Terran diet than most, and when it comes down to it, she doesn't fully trust the others not to poison a meal they know is going to their half-Terran 'guest.' But she always finds someone she does trust to take it into him. And then, at first, she'd waited, leaving him to eat alone before she entered his room.

She kept to the first. But the second, she gradually eased. Hera remembered how total her isolation had been, and what had eased in her when she'd grown used to sharing meals. That was something she could do, even if she wouldn't serve him.

So the time she waits becomes shorter and shorter. Until today, when it's only a few minutes after seeing Muroc exit the makeshift cabin that she approaches. She nods to the guard, and then though she doesn't have to, she knocks on the door. She doesn't wait for an answer before entering the room.

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"There's no point with Terrans. They . . . those words mean the same thing. Even allies . . . that's just a word for 'not my enemy right now'."

His shoulders sag a little as he says that, and he turns his head away.

Hera knows enough of how Terrans operate that none of this surprises her.

But it may help her understand how Kanan operates.

"And you'd rather have the chance to build up trust," she guesses. "To act honestly."

"I'm not sure I think it's possible," he says slowly, looking back up at her. "But I want it, anyway."

It's an unforgivable weakness. He knows it. He just . . . doesn't care anymore.

She keeps her eyes on his.

"How much do you trust yourself?"

"Not enough."

It's all he can think to say.

Hera nods. "Working with a Betazoid could help you learn to use your senses."

She blinks away, her right hand reaching out to brush the pieces again. "Not just to get better at it, but to learn - how they use them. What they think is right and wrong. And what you'd want to do with them. So you can trust yourself a little more, first."

Kanan presses his lips together, tracing the edge of the game board with one forefinger. He seems content to watch his own aimless pattern-drawing forever, but --

"Okay."

He swallows.

"Do you have one in mind?"

"There's someone we've worked with before. She's..."

Hera has no idea how to describe Holdo's personality. 'Open' seems so obvious. 'Strange' - not very helpful. 'Different' seemed to the most accurate, but would also probably be meaningless for Kanan.

"You might need some time to - get used to her. But she'll want to help you."

Kanan's mouth twists. He can't quite help it.

"A pity project?"

Hera tilts her head.

"Is that how Terrans view anything not cruel or self-serving?"

His smile is faint, and still twisted at one corner.

"Probably, if they ever did anything like that. I wouldn't know."

"Never?" she asks.

"My mother was kind."

Kanan's voice is soft.

"But she wasn't Terran."

"I wondered..."

But now Hera looks away, and she doesn't continue this thought.

He looks up at her again, the motion quick and half-startled.

"What?"

"I don't know."

She doesn't look up. After a few seconds, she shakes her head.

"Maybe, I thought - they have their children, too."

Kanan's quiet for a second.

"Maybe for full-Terran children it's different."

Something passes across his face that isn't quite a flinch.

"Maybe if they're not an officer's children."

She draws her hand back.

"Then we won't know."

Hera takes a breath, and seems to draw herself back up again. "But if you work with someone who can help you trust yourself, it might help you start to trust others."

He's quiet again, and for a lot longer this time.

Then --

"Is it worth it?"

"Yes."

For this, there's no moment of hesitation, or consideration. "It's better not to be alone. Not all the time."

Another silence.

"I'm afraid."

It's only the truth.

"Were you?"

"No."

There's still no point in lying.

"But I had very little to lose."

"I should be able to say that, shouldn't I?"

A pause.

"I don't even want my father to care, anymore. But -- "

"I was different," she answers.

"You don't have to be like me."

"I'm not exactly flush with examples," he says, managing to inject some wryness into his tone.

It doesn't last.

"But I'll try."