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Most of the fleet had survived. There was that.

The Ghost had survived, and that hadn't been easy. Hera had been taking it for granted that she could outfly anyone. And even in the moment, she'd blocked out any doubt. If she'd actually let herself think too long about that escape right through a Star Destroyer's tractor beam, she might have lost her nerve.

Now she has plenty of time to lose her nerve. Plenty of time to repeat the whole ordeal, since they'd returned to and then been forced to escape Lothal again. She shouldn't have jumped them back to the fleet so quickly, should have anticipated that the Empire could slip a time-delayed tracker on them. They should have expected that Minister Tua's message was a trap – but the Minister had been sincere, and whatever secrets she knew about the Empire were gone with her now.

It's cold way to think. Hera knows that. But quickly, it becomes a measure of how many lives were spent for them to gain what now felt like very little. The shield generators. Those could help, one day, if they could make a base.

And that line of thought is too much for her tonight. She rises from the pilot's chair, trying to press any thoughts away, keep her mind clear, like she imagines Kanan does when he's meditating. She even lets her eyes drift nearly closed as she moves – she doesn't need to see, after all, to find the cockpit doors, to know where to step as she climbs down through her ship. By now, the Ghost is living up to its name. It's quiet, a gentle hum broken only by what Hera can barely hear as Chopper's wheels treading along somewhere below. The others were resting. They all needed rest.

She keeps moving down through the ship, toward the galley. Or maybe the cabins.

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Kanan was trying to rest, at any rate. But the memory of that cold, of what came after --

The attack on the fleet, too, of course. How they'd been tracked, used as a stalking goat to set the squadron up for destruction --

But mostly the cold, and the man who controlled it, and what it means that he's a Sith Lord. It's going to be a long while before Kanan gets to sleep again. So he gives up on that, on meditation, on all of it, and goes to pace around the ship, to keep himself moving.

The excuse he's planning on is something about having a late-developing appetite, but everyone else should be asleep, and that --

That's probably for the best.

He'll put it down to the stress of the day that he doesn't notice Hera coming before he's practically bumping into her, eyes flying open wide as he takes a hasty step back.

"Whoa!"

Well.

Even with her eyes closed, Hera supposes she should have seen that coming.

She also jolts back, her hand reaching back behind her as she stumbled into the dejarik board.

"Oh, I -"

And now she can feel her skin flush. Hera takes a breath, keeping her eyes down, her fingers curling along the side of the board.

"Sorry, Kanan."

"No, no, I'm sorry, I should have been . . . feeling where I was going."

That sounds . . .weird.

"Watching, I mean. Uh. You can't sleep, either?"

"I had -"

Things to do. It's already so half-hearted, she doesn't bother finishing. She swallows the words down, and after a few seconds, makes herself look back up to him.

"No, I..."

He feels relief flood through him, because --

"Do you mind some company?"

Please say you don't.

"I can make tea."

Hera nods. But then -

"Maybe..."

She walks past him, across the galley. There's nothing she can do but hope this might work, but it would be worth, right now. For even a little distance.

Hera steps into short hall beyond the galley, passing the cabins until she reaches her own.

The doors open, but not to her room.

Kanan does a double-take, and for a moment he embraces the distraction that his own surprise offers him.

"Did you know you could do that?"

But even as he asks the question he's already following Hera.

(He'd follow her almost anywhere.)

"I was really, really hoping."

It doesn't usually work like that, but. For now, Hera just leads the way into the bar.

With a glance back at him, "Still want that tea?"

Kanan halfway opens his mouth to request something stronger --

And then thinks better of it.

"That'd be good, yeah. If -- do you want me to get it?"

Her steps slow, as she considers this.

"All right," she answers, with a quick nod.

"Then maybe, let's go outside?"

He musters a half smile.

"I could use some of that, yeah. I'll be right back."

When he returns, in addition to a pot of tea and two cups, he's also got some sliced meiloorun fruit on a plate. And a few napkins.

"So, are you thinking the inlet, or --?"

"Somewhere near the rocks."

If it's somewhere a little more shielded, well. That would be okay, too.

For the moment, she takes the plate and napkins from him, so he'll have a little less to balance. This in hand, she starts toward the back door.

Outside, the air is a little cool, a breeze brushing through the trees and rippling across the surface of the lake. But Hera's all the more grateful for it. As much as she loves the Ghost, even its halls can feel stuffy and small at times.

Kanan lets his own head tilt back, breathing in.

And out.

In.

And out.

"I think this is part of what I needed, today. Thanks, Hera."

He only hopes the same is true for her. And, as she suggested, he starts scanning the area for the clearest path toward -- and past -- the inlet. Behind the very nice barrier of large stones.

"I just opened a door."

But her voice is mild, and she lets him be the one to choose a place among the rocks.

"The right door at the right time . . . " Kanan offers, scanning the ground until he finds a nice spot -- soft ground, mostly flat, protected from sight and breezes along two sides.

"Here look good?"

He's already setting down the tray, though, and then taking a seat himself, so --

She follows him, taking a seat in the soft soil next to him and setting down her own tray. She leans back against one of the rocks, again briefly letting her eyes flutter closed.

Hera takes a deep breath of cool air, just barely sweetened with sea salt. She can hear the soft lap of waves along the shore, feel vibrations along the rocks. A few worlds flicker through her mind - Pamarthe, Manaan, Coronet City on Corellia.

Perhaps she could rest, now. Yet she opens her eyes, blinks back to Kanan.

Maybe she means to reach toward the tea. But her hand moves closer to his.

Kanan reaches back, not even bothering about the tea, taking her hand in both of his.

"Hey," he says quietly.

His voice is warm, but tired. It could hardly be otherwise, just now.

She blinks down, at her hand between his, and takes a breath as she tries to decide what she wants to say.

"Are - how are you?"

"Terrified," he says bluntly. But it's honest.

"I haven't -- "

He breaks off.

"Fleet damage aside -- and that's bad enough -- I don't know what to do about the Sith Lord, or . . . any of it, really."

Kanan musters up a faint shadow of a smile.

"You? Are you -- "

She keeps her eyes down for the moment, pressing her fingers into his.

"What Ezra was saying on the comm," she says slowly.

"That - that was him."

Kanan exhales even as he says the word.

"Yeah."

Another breath.

"Yeah, that was him."

"I think -"

She lifts her free hand to his.

"I think that's who my father saw."

The name she'd heard, always hushed. She'd thought she'd understood it before.

Then she'd seen that man rise up from a mountain of rubble. Like an undead. She'd never seen anything like it.

A new coldness strikes Kanan, at that, and his hands clench on Hera's, just for a second.

"Karabast!" he swears, hearing the echo of Zeb's voice as he says it. "I -- and he lived?"

Obviously he did, but -- but even for their full crew, it was too damn close. Kanan can't quite imagine running into him mostly alone. Not --

No.

"Barely," she murmurs.

"Someone else stayed behind."

Kanan flinches.

"Someone you knew?"

And hard on the heels of that

" -- not that it makes a difference, exactly."