for_everyone | Post-Protector of the Concord Dawn

Post-Protector of the Concord Dawn

They were all, unsurprisingly, much more patient with her than Hera was with herself. There was at least some excuse for that patience right now, as Kanan's – well, it couldn't exactly be called diplomacy anymore, but he had secured safe passage for them through Concord Dawn nonetheless. But the result felt like a mixed bag, they hadn't recruited these Mandalorians but extorted them, and extortion bred resentment, not trust or camaraderie. Maybe keeping Fenn Rau would give them the chance to talk to him, but Hera also knew if she were the captive, she wouldn't have any interest in what her captors had to say.

But then, Fenn Rau hadn't even given her that chance.

There is a bacta tank aboard the Liberator, but their bacta supplies are limited, so her sessions need to be rationed. LN-14 is one of the kinder medical droids Hera has come across, and he supplements her bacta treatments with frequently changed bandaging, giving special attention to those at the base of her lekku, something often overlooked by droid and organic medics alike. She's very quickly able to sit up in her cot, but other progress is slower. LN keeps her on a diet of liquid supplements until convinced her internal organs have sufficiently healed (and she can stiffly move her arms again).

Kanan undresses her, and carries her in his arms to the bacta tank, then back to her cot again. She appreciates and resents it at the same time, being tucked against his chest made her feel safe, but also vulnerable. Childish. She knows that's a foolish way to think – but the idea of needing him so much frightens her anyway. Fortunately, the injury to her spine and legs is comparatively minimal, and after the second bacta treatment she can walk alongside Kanan, if leaning heavily on him. There's only one hoverchair aboard, and the engineer using it offers it to her, but she refuses this, if only because engineering is the higher priority, while meetings with Sato can happen by her cot for now. But it's a note she makes for herself, something else they need to be better prepared for.

The bandages on her arms are the second to last to be removed. Those along her head and lekku remain, and even now her chest and back ache with too much movement. Still, her arms and hands can move with only a little remaining stiffness, and as she tests them as she downs her morning meal of protein and water, she knows it's time to do what's been hanging over her since she'd resurfaced after the attack. She taps the comm and asks Kanan to bring her a datachip from her quarters, precisely describing its location in a sleeve under her workstation. Then Hera carefully leans back, closes her eyes, and waits for him to come in.

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Kanan can definitely believe it. After Master Bilaba died, he wasn't looking for a war again, either. But the galaxy being what it is . . .

"Was there something else, even for a little while?"

He hopes the answer is 'yes'. He feels like that isn't the case.

Hera's face breaks into a rather rueful smile.

"Well, it wasn't hard to find some peaceful activist groups in that day. Especially in the Core, there were some who still felt protected, and the Empire was a little more selective in its crackdowns back then. And what they really needed was someone who knew a little more about the Galaxy. Especially a pilot."

"It's easy to feel invincible when we're young," Kanan offers.

He certainly had, before the clones turned on them. But not after.

"Young and privileged," she answers.

Hera's eyes fall down to her datapad. "I fell in with a group out of Coruscant. Three of them were humans, and the other was an Ithorian. They were all from the city's upper levels. Chopper and I could get work piloting transports, and then run them to dissenters around the Core. They were focused on collecting evidence of what the Empire was doing."

Kanan winces, because he already knows where this is going.

"How severe was the Empire's reaction?"

Hera closes her eyes for a moment. "About what you'd expect. It wasn't even the worst that -"

She takes another a breath, and nearly shakes her head before she remembers she can't do that, either.

"We got some footage out of an Imperial factory on Manaan, Stomrtroopers beating workers and dumping waste that was killing plants and animals. They dropped it on the holonet. It was all the kind of thing you'd just expect now, but it got some talk in the Senate then.

"And then less than a week later, they arrested on of the humans. Osto. He was well-connected enough that it made the news, they reported he had a kilo of spice on him, that he was barely conscious when they took him in. And then maybe two days later, the same thing happened to another, Karia. They got a public arrest, and then disappeared."

Kanan can feel the heaviness in his stomach, because he knows how the rest of this story goes.

The only question is --

"Did the group scatter then, or did you stick around until . . . "

He's not sure how to put that last bit. Until the end? Until everyone else had been taken?

It's hard to imagine her not being the last one out. She'd insist on it every time, if she could. And when she was a solo operative . . . that might have made it easier.

Hera huffs out a breath. "We should have. We should have had a contingency plan, I should have -"

But she takes another breath, to cut herself off from that train of thought.

"I wasn't their leader, I was - younger, I was just helping them. I don't think they'd thought about it, where they'd go if they had to scatter. And we all kept enough distance from each other that when it was happening, we didn't have time to coordinate. It was only a few days later and Theda -"

Another breath. "- she was found fallen from a walkway near Monument Plaza. They said she threw herself, but she must have put a fight."

Kanan swallows. Calling that a rough start is an understatement.

"We all have a first time that something went wrong."

He's not thinking of the clones, of Master Bilaba's voice, of running and running and hearing --

"Horribly wrong. It's . . . difficult. It hurts. We learn, but it never feels worth it. I don't think so, anyway."

"I don't think any of it was 'worth it,'" Hera answers. Her eyes are still on the blank datapad screen.

"But I got the point pretty quick."

"I'm sorry," Kanan says.

He's sorry any of them have to know this hurt. That anybody died because of the Empire. They're responsible for so much.

"It took me a lot longer."

He regrets that, too.

"Well..."

She rolls her head, gently, toward him. "I still didn't get it fast enough for it all to have ended there."

He doesn't flinch, though he does, carefully, reach out to touch her cheek.

Just for a moment.

"What happened then?"

She doesn't move from his touch.

"Snij, the Ithorian, signaled me."

There's a small, mirthless smile with that. "Which sounds like a trap, right? Like something that has to be a trap."

"It does," he agrees. Because she's right.

"Did it turn out not to be?"

He's honestly not sure which answer he prefers, somehow.

"The location wasn't great for a trap, it was near a market in the lower levels, I could mix with a crowd until I found him. And I knew he might be looking for a way off-planet. I had to try to get him that."

Her eyes flicker down, and then back up to Kanan. "It wasn't a trap. But he didn't show, and after waiting I did a circle around the area. They must have caught up with him while he was on his way there."

Yeah, Kanan would have preferred it to have been a trap. Because the chance of Hera's not holding onto guilt for this is . . . . basically none.

"You saw them take him?"

He really hopes not.

"No."

That falls to a whisper, but it doesn't last, as her voice is full as she continues, "You see, unlike the others, they didn't bother covering it up. They just left him."

Kanan spits out several obscure swearwords that were all the rage back in his Jedi Temple days.

"They would."

Sometimes there isn't much else to say.

"I'm sorry."

She listens, still watching him, her lips pressed together before she replies.

"It's when I made my next mistake. I sent an alert to the Coruscant police."

"You wanted your friend to be taken care of," Kanan says, because he can understand the impulse. "It only makes sense, when he wasn't 'disappeared'."

(And he made similar mistakes in those early days. Some, worse. Or at least he remembers them that way.)

"How fast did it all go wrong?"

"I was going to get off-world, anyway," she answers, her eyes flickering away again. "I knew I had to at that point. But I had one more transport job lined up and - I was pretty low on credits."

Another deep breath. "And - I don't know. I don't know why they came after me this way, if it was them. But I was prepping to leave, and Chopper was with me, and he started insisting something was wrong. I came back with him into the engines and I saw it - they'd messed with the wiring to hide it from the ship's sensors, but the fuel capsules were brittle and pitted, like some corrosive had been sprayed on them. They never would've held, most likely the ship would have blown apart on takeoff.

"So we got everyone off, and we ran from there."

Kanan inhales deeply, and exhales slowly, and with great control.

That thought is terrifying, despite the fact that it happened a long time ago.

"But you stopped running, eventually."

Otherwise they would have never met the way they did.

(When Kanan was still running.)

"I ran away from Coruscant," she amends, a little of her smile back.

"And I stopped using that name."

"Well, Coruscant isn't the only trouble spot in the galaxy."

'Trouble' is too light a word for it.

"Neither is Pamarthe. You weren't expecting someone to use that name again with you at all, were you."

It's not really a question.

"If . . . no one else made it out."

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