#i wanted to add little Chopper on Hera's shoulder there too but

[aaeeart]

Idc if this was done before or not but it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so imma just throw it into the Tumblr void and see what happens heh

Don't repost this edit without permission thanks 💞

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Dume"

*pulling out more tissues* Anyone still need these? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? I am way too young to be making that joke.

Live reaction version.

As if to rub things in, this episode starts moments after the previous one ended. The fireball is under control, finally, though still burning, and an officer comes up to Pryce to confirm the news:

Kanan is dead.

Pryce knows she's made a mess of things but latches onto this fact as a way to still look good in front of Imperial High Command, deciding to throw a sick kind of celebration for it. In a twisted way, the Jedi also represents "hope" to someone as despicable as Pryce.

Oh man, he doesn't know. He's so happy to see them.

Zeb's first hint that things didn't go as planned is Sabine hurling off her pilot helmet, swiping her eyes angrily as she passes him in complete silence.

And then the near-comatose Hera, dead on her feet, staring up blankly towards the horizon and Ezra shaking his head because he can't help her.

Chopper rushing immediately to Hera's side because he knows her, knows something is horribly wrong.

Zeb grabbing Ezra by the shoulders and he barely reacts to it.

"Kanan's gone." is all he can say, and his anguish when he has to repeat it when Zeb asks for clarification, the anger and sorrow, the way his voice shakes...

And Zeb's expression drops in horror and he wordlessly pulls Ezra into an embrace.

I WANTED THEM TO HUG BUT NOT LIKE THIS.

And Chopper silently holding Hera's hand. :((((

They bring back the white titlecard too, just to remind you we're still in mourning.

It gets a bit lost with everything that happened, but the attack on Lothal's factories? That was two days ago. The disastrous failure and loss of 24! fighters is going to be very fresh on the Alliance's minds, and add Kanan's death to the mix and they absolutely will not risk any more hardware and personnel on Lothal. The Spectres will have to fix things from within, on their own, by themselves.

Which they gradually discover that they have started to. The Alliance's primary goal on Lothal was preventing the Defenders from being manufactured, and Kanan accomplished that. Anything in addition to that is cake topping for the Alliance, Lothal goes back to being one of the thousands of worlds in the Imperial-occupied crowd they have to face down.

They don't know about the Temple. And that's why Lothal also needed Ezra.

Who, after an outfit and scene change, is about to be as functionally useless and paralyzed as Hera.

:(((((((

I was unclear on why the wolves were so angry the first time through. It's clearer now that they're trying to snap Ezra out of his funk, because time is running out and they can't afford for him to sit there and be depressed about things, they need him to move, they need him in action. They're not kind about it, but the reality is not kind, If Ezra does not get himself together, Palpatine will gain the WBW, Lothal will be doomed, everyone will die.

Bit a lot more headcanon-y but also I think the Loth-wolves may have preferred Kanan be the one to enter the WBW and save it? Owing to [gestures to unanswered mystery box about Kanan's past they hinted at]. Maybe? So maybe they were also just a little pissy that their first choice went and got himself killed even after they warned him.

Like I said, speculation and spitballing on my part on that one.

Anyway.

Ezra runs away from the Loth-wolves' attempts to confront him and I already praised it in my first watch but the camerawork is excellent here. Very nicely staged, good insets, good tracking shots, good dollying.

The Loth-wolves actually pause here, waiting, watching Ezra to see what what he'll do. Ezra had the full opportunity to reach out and connect, and talk to them, but he chooses not to, running away again.

So they wind up knocking him out when they knock him down.

Meanwhile at Imperial HQ, good lord that is a lot of smoke. It's literally blurring the edges of the Dome.

Pryce seems very pleased with herself for killing the Jedi. Too bad Thrawn literally doesn't care about that, because he's pissed she let Hera Syndulla escape and also the whole fuel depot thing. Thrawn says he's not in it for glory but I think he does take some personal satisfaction from defeating someone he considers a Worthy Opponent. Hera was his victory and Pryce undid it as soon as he was gone. That has to sting, lol.

And Rukh is grinning like, "Sucks to be you, bitch."

I don't know if we're meant to take Hera's, "Why did I wait so long to tell him?" as being about saying I love you or about being pregnant but I'm going to go with the latter because, again, the suggestion that that was the first time she'd actually told him is dumb and I won't entertain it.

Chopper is so very present for Hera through all this, even when Hera regrets even starting the Rebellion in the first place.

I think a few people have speculated that each of the Spectres represents a stage of grief. Ezra's stuck in a certain kind of Denial, and gets tempted with the Bargaining stage an episode later. Sabine and Zeb are both Anger. Hera is obviously Depression.

Eventually all of them reach Acceptance. Chopper may have already been there.

Zeb is actually the one who notices first that the factories are completely shut down, which is a nice touch.

I can't quite tell if Ezra wakes up in the same location he was knocked out in or if the wolves moved him. He bolts up in a different position so there's room to argue they moved him, possibly on Dume's orders.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: Ezra stumbling like he's falling asleep on his feet.

He looks so tired. And he's stuck. Emotionally and physically.

Maybe that's why he turns to the children's nursery rhyme like he did in Season One's "Path of the Jedi" to try and decide a way forward. But he keeps rejecting the options he lands on. So he does it again. And again.

Until a manifestation of Kanan appears, like it did before, to get him back on track.

Sabine holding back on her Mandalorian revenge instincts, implicitly because of Kanan's Jedi influence. T_T

Watch the sky in this part, you can see the hue shift to purple.

The Dume wolf sniffs him and he immediately stirs with a confused, "Kanan?" ow my heart.

Some Endgame-like trumpets and drums in this part.

Zeb has height and strength going for him here, but Ruhk is so much faster and quicker. Not to mention has the stealth cloaking. Sabine's helmet gives her a leg up on that momentarily until it's knocked off.

Back with Ezra in the wolf-vision and Kanan-as-Dume interacts with Ezra in a very pointed, Force-y way, dragging out the truth from Ezra about why he ran, why he's stuck, what's holding him back.

"You... ran." It sounds almost accusatory. Ezra gives a weak excuse about the wolves chasing him, but upon being pressed again starts letting things out:

I feel lost, I'm afraid, I don't believe in myself without him, I can't do this on my own.

Ezra's grief is tied up and tangled in his self-esteem issues, a bit self-pitying and "woe is me", because without Kanan he doesn't feel brave or strong, he's not special he's not like Kanan.

Who is he but a child, a "boy who was lost", without his wise brave master? He's nobody.

"I am afraid, all right?! I'm afraid. Everything seems so hopeless now."

Frick I need to hug him. :(

Zeb gets a little bit too into his anger when Sabine's exploding paint finally lets them see Rukh enough to smack him good.

Sabine being the voice of mercy when there aren't Jedi around to do it. :(((((

Back with Ezra and the wolves have given him the keystone and finally explain what the deal is: The Jedi Temple is in grave danger. Secrets and knowledge lie within, that the Empire cannot get hold of. Those words are not a coincidence. We're meant to think back to Malachor, to where it first all went wrong, as Ezra's sentiment goes.

Still not quite sure why the Dume wolf had to bite Ezra out of his vision but Imma chalk it up to another mysterious wolf thing.

Ezra immediately yelling out for Kanan tho. :(

Sabine and Zeb like troublesome siblings pulling a prank as they send Rukh off painted and humiliated lol.

Meanwhile Hera has added a new bead to the Kalikori, representative of Kanan and using a piece that looks like a Jedi holocron shard.

Sabine looks so genuinely happy here.

Ezra's functional enough for now, so he's back too, and we end on the cliffhanger of the Lothal Temple in danger, the secrets within about to be seized by the Empire.

The last half of Season Four is very tightly written, this episode a prime example. It's breathing space for us to grieve, and it still is seamlessly tied to the plot in the episodes prior and after.

The Dume wolf operates, as Ahsoka would suggest later, as an extension of Kanan's will, working Ezra through the blocks in his head one last time, like he did in "Gathering Forces". Ezra wouldn't fully recover until after "The World Between Worlds" but he's on the way to properly grieving, shelving his feelings for the moment in order to do what he has to, what only he can.

And boy am I looking forward to that. :)

[jessicas-pi]

OOOH WIP ASK GAME tell me about Rebelvengers assemble, Graveyards and Ghost Towns, and they were CELLMATES, and even more adoption! If that's too many you can just choose your favorites from those, or tell me about something Time Heals related

OOOH

Okay so. For Rebelvengers ummm yeah I think I'm gonna ramble/infodump a little!

After the invasion of earth, Ahsoka is taken back to Asgard to be tried. As she's more obviously under some kind of mind control, Obi-Wan is lenient to her, and only sentences her imprisonment until she can be cured.

Kanan intersperses old-timey slang with vine references. Hera pretends it's not funny.

Sabine learned ballet as part of her Widow training. She first befriended Ezra when he asked her to teach him. They do ballet together now. Sometimes they coerce Jyn or Cassian into helping them out when they need more characters. They choreograph their own dances, which usually have a concerningly dark plotline involving betrayal, murder, and the death of all the main characters. Though one time they did do a ballet adaptation of Frozen (2013). Ezra was Elsa.

After the invasion of Earth, Ezra lowkey moves into Syndulla Tower. He lives in the vents for a week before Hera finds him. He admits that it's just nicer here than at SHIELD headquarters. Hera promptly invites him and Sabine and Zeb to move in... and reluctantly adds that, "Well, I suppose the Captain can come too, if he has to."

And Thrawn is a Frost Giant.

---

Graveyards and ghost towns... a snippet, perhaps?

Hera gently interrupted them, stepping into their circle and putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder as she spoke to the other two. “Zeb, go get an extra chair from the living room. Sabine, help him to a plate.” The kids dispersed, and Hera turned to Kanan, stepping close and speaking in a low voice. “Where did you find him?” “I didn’t,” Kanan admitted. “Chopper did. We were taking the shortcut past the graveyard and Chop took off running, barking up a tree… I got there and looked up, and there was the kid.”

---

and they were CELLMATES!!

“Do you ever feel it?” Grey whispered, voice dry. It was so soft, the stormtroopers guarding their cell probably thought it was just her breathing. Ezra replied just as quietly. “Feel what?” “This planet. It’s hurting.” He almost asked if she was going a little crazy, because how could a planet hurt, but he stopped. Thought about it. “Yeah. It is, isn’t it?” She slid closer, pressing against him like she needed the contact to ground her in reality. “This used to be a sacred world, Ezra. Now it’s dying, and I’m helping to kill it.”

---

Even More Adoption! This is a VERY cracky AU where Rey time travels to the past and promptly gets adopted by the ghost crew (minus Sabine, who is on Krownest) and she and ezra and sabine have a groupchat full of chaos. Also Sabine is force-sensitive and doesn't know it (but she finds out.)

partner in crime I can’t believe you actually didn’t know You had to know, right? Sabine How would I know IF NOBODY TOLD ME partner in crime How else could you always sense when I was about to get into trouble??? Sabine Your vibes!! partner in crime vibes that you were sensing with the force Sabine Ok Well then Anything ELSE you want to tell me?????? [partner in crime is typing] … [partner in crime is typing] partner in crime we have a force bond also rey is borrowing your room [several people are typing]

[bedlamsbard]

Part 9 of the other side AU concept! I did split this one when it started getting long, so there are some scenes snippeted earlier that aren’t here because they’re in part 10. (Which should be the final part but who knows, since I’m doing this for fun and will continue until I’m not entertained anymore.)  I also want to add a gentle reminder that despite its length, this is concept writing, not a polished, chaptered, titled fic like Backbone or Gambit.

Previous: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

5.3K below the break.

***

“I have something for you.”

The younger Kanan sounded unspeakably weary, for which Kanan couldn’t blame him.  He said gently, “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.”  He felt the younger man eye him, hesitating on whether or not to say anything else, then he said, “This happens pretty often.”

“I’m –”

“Not as sorry as I am.” The kid scrubbed his hands back through his hair, letting his breath out in a sigh. “It’s fine.  You were – I know what you were trying to do.”  He put a shoulder against the wall, scuffing a foot absently against the floor.

“Kid –”  Kanan hesitated, turning his head briefly in the direction of the common room door.  He was aware of both women in the other room, having some kind of argument with Chopper about either fruit or repairs; he couldn’t figure out which of the two it was without putting more than glancing attention to it.

“I’m starting to feel like you’re just calling me that to get a rise out of me.”  His voice was dry, with a hoarse note to it after the previous night’s screaming.  Kanan had noticed that he always spoke a little hesitantly, as if he was never quite certain he should be doing so at all.

“The alternative is a little confusing, but I’ll stop if you want.”

He felt the younger man’s brief amusement. “It’s fine.  I know what you mean.”  He tapped a finger against his forehead.  “And you don’t do it the way the rest of the Inq – the way it is at the Crucible.”

He stepped back from the wall, letting the door to his room slide open behind him; Kanan followed him inside.  It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize again, but he stopped himself; words only did so much when it came to Jedi.  Instead, he said, “Will you be all right?”

They both knew he didn’t just mean after the events of the previous night.  The other Kanan sighed and said, “I don’t know.”  He turned his attention to his hands, studying his unmarked palms and the faint scars across the backs of his knuckles.  “Would you be?”

“I was lucky.”

“Every other –”  He hesitated for a long moment, then grimaced and finished, “– every other pet the Hunter had died.  So maybe I was lucky too.”

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah.”  He snorted. “I guess.”  He gestured at the meditation cushion and Kanan took a seat, folding his legs tailor-style.  His automatic impulse was to let his mind roll out, but he kept a hold on himself instead, studying the younger Kanan without reaching further into the Force than he had to.

The kid turned away from him, opening the drawer beneath his bunk.  Kanan felt the bright flare of the holocron’s awareness and the other Kanan flinching away from it, unwilling to test himself by bringing it out.  He turned around with his – with Caleb Dume’s – lightsaber in his hand, offering it to Kanan.

“I know you don’t have yours,” he said quietly. “And I don’t – I can’t – it’s a Jedi’s weapon, and I’m – I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

Kanan got to his feet. He felt the boy look up quickly, his eyes widening, and knew somehow that his gaze had gone immediately to a point three inches above his own head – where the Grand Inquisitor’s eye line would have been.  After a moment the younger Kanan swallowed, biting his lip.

After a moment, he said, “You didn’t see the worst of it.”

Kanan bit his lip. His sleep the rest of the night had been restless, a welter of incoherent dream fragments that he knew he had picked up from the other man during their connection, and some of it had been worse than he had imagined the first time he had touched the younger man’s mind.  He had woken up with the light touch of Hera’s hand on his shoulder and nearly flung himself off the bed, as if burned by her touch.  It had taken him three shuddering breaths to remember who she was and where they were, and who he was, for that matter.

He put his hand on the hilt of the lightsaber, just above the boy’s, but didn’t take it from him. The other Kanan started to release it, then stopped.

Kanan could feel the kyber crystal beneath his fingers, familiar but also not at the same time. It was just slightly discordant to his senses, a difference in resonance to his own so slight that he might not have noticed it if he hadn’t known his own kyber crystal so well.  The crystal is the heart of the blade…

He drew his hand back, and felt the younger man look up at him in surprise. “It’s your lightsaber,” Kanan said gently. “Reach out with your senses – can you feel it?”

“I’m not a Jedi,” the boy said again.  He turned his attention down to the weapon in his hand, his mind reaching out to the crystal and then flinching back even as Kanan felt it welcoming him.

“Why do you think that?” he asked quietly. “That you aren’t a Jedi, I mean.”

The boy looked up at him. “I’m an Inquisitor,” he said, his voice flat.  His free hand dropped to the lightsaber on his hip, then jerked away as soon as his fingers brushed the metal of the hilt. “I can’t be.  Not after what – not after.”

Kanan couldn’t tell if he had meant to say “not after what I did” or “not after what happened to me,” but he didn’t ask.  He said, “You didn’t bleed your crystal, though.”

“No.  I – my lightsaber was on the Ghost when I was…when my master took me from Naboo. When we got to Mustafar – to the Inquisition headquarters there, the Crucible – they put me in a room with four trainee Inquisitors, all armed.  I wasn’t. That’s where I got this.”  He touched the lightsaber on his hip again, then closed that hand into a fist.

Kanan put his hand out silently, and after a moment the other man took that lightsaber off his belt and put it into his hand.  He turned his mind to it, cautious, and felt the kyber crystal respond.

He could sense the boy’s sudden interest; he had felt the kyber crystal’s reaction too.  Without turning his attention from the lightsaber, Kanan sat back down on the meditation cushion, folding his legs in front of him.  When he dropped his hands to rest on his knees, the lightsaber stayed where it was, suspended in the air before him.  His mind ticked over the weapon, pulling it into its component parts.

It had been the standard Inquisitor’s double-bladed lightsaber with its circular guard before, he found.  At some point the younger Kanan had dissembled it and reassembled it to his liking, clearing the crystal of its taint when he had done so; the second kyber crystal that made the dual blade possible was gone.  Casting his mind out further, Kanan couldn’t sense it anywhere on the ship – though with unaligned kyber crystals it was always hard to tell – so the boy might have left it on Mustafar or lost it somehow.

He lifted the remaining kyber crystal gently away from the other components to examine it on its own. It was attuned to the other Kanan, but only weakly, the way any item in the possession of an active Force-user would attune itself to them over time.  The boy’s fear had kept him from sinking into it inasmuch it was possible with any random kyber crystal, rather than the one he had found on his Gathering.

Kyber crystals weren’t sentient, not like people and not the same way holocrons developed a kind of low-level sentience over time.  But they weren’t not, either, and Kanan could feel this one responding to him with cautious interest and gaining enthusiasm. The other Kanan hadn’t hated it – either he was too good a Jedi for that or he had saved those strong emotions for the Grand Inquisitor, either consciously or otherwise – but he had both resented and feared it.

He could sense the crystal’s previous owners entangled in its matrix.  It puzzled him for a moment; amongst the Jedi kyber crystals were only ever passed down between Temple Guards, who set their own lightsabers aside as long as they served in that post, and he had never had any reason to examine a Temple Guard’s lightsaber closely.

The Grand Inquisitor was a Guard, he thought with a sudden start.  Not for the first time, he wondered how much of what he had seen in the temple on Lothal had been real.

Telemetry wasn’t one of his wild talents and this wasn’t really telemetry, but he still blinked in surprised at the flash of memory that he felt through the crystal.  It passed in less than a second, but even that was long enough for Kanan to be aware of the younger Kanan’s constant fear, that hot flash of satisfaction when he had taken it from the Inquisitor who had borne it previously, that Inquisitor taking it from another, and another before him, and then a moment, scraped raw and bare, when the crystal been removed from its original lightsaber and bled to its red sheen.  Beyond that, there was nothing, as though the trauma of its bleeding had wiped the crystal matrix of its memory of its first bearer.

I’m sorry, Kanan thought, for whatever that was worth. The idea of his own kyber crystal being stripped from his lost lightsaber and corrupted that way was unbearable, nearly as bad as the loss of his sight.  Kyber crystals were sacred to the Jedi; his own body was only flesh.

He felt the crystal align itself to him, the resonance of its silent song altering incrementally until he could barely tell it apart from his own body.  He let it settle back into the framework of the lightsaber hilt, his mind bringing the disparate pieces back together, settling firmly and comfortably into place.  When he raised one hand, the lightsaber fell neatly into his palm, feeling different somehow than it had when he had first taken it from the boy.

He raised the lightsaber in front of him, feeling the strong, familiar warmth of it in his hand. He depressed the trigger almost without conscious thought, the blade springing up before him.

“It’s blue,” the younger Kanan said, his voice harsh with longing. “It’s yours.”

Kanan deactivated the lightsaber and let his hand fall to rest on his knee.  “That weapon is yours,” he said, nodding at the lightsaber the other man still held. “You know it, I know it, your crystal knows it. The crystal is the heart of the blade; the heart is the crystal of the Jedi; the Jedi is the crystal of the Force; the Force is the crystal of the heart.  All are intertwined – the crystal, the blade, the Jedi – you are one.”

The other Kanan began to weep, harsh, gasping sobs that shook his whole body.  Kanan was on his feet in an instant, pulling the younger man into his arms as he wept.  The other man didn’t try to pull away, just leaned against him.  He was all turmoil in the Force, fear and pain and the open, bleeding wound that was his connection to the Hunter.  Kanan held him the way he would have held Ezra, but unlike with Ezra he didn’t need to speak out loud; just let the warmth of the Force pass between them in something more primal than words.  Words would have rung false, anyway; so he just held the other man, letting him cry as if his heart was broken.

*

“Do you remember when we went to that mountain resort in the Mid Rim?” Hera murmured, her lips against the back of Kanan’s shoulder.  His skin was warm against hers, still a little sweat-slick from their earlier love-making.  She felt comfortably relaxed, curled against his back with one leg thrown over his. “When that Imperial officer was supposed to meet with that spice dealer?”

“And he broke his neck skiing and we got to spend the rest of the week eating expensive desserts on someone else’s credit and having sex in front of the fire?” Kanan said, his voice warm and amused.

Hera flushed despite the fact that they were both naked in bed together.  Their – whatever it was – had still been new enough to be a little shocking to her, but she had been able to put that aside when they were on their op, undercover as an Imperial officer on a discreet vacation with his Twi’lek mistress.  The role had let her relax a little, to admit that, just for a little while, this was what she wanted – to shut the world out beyond the confines of their small suite.

“I think that resort is still there,” she said. “There wasn’t much fighting on that world – just a little in the cities, not out in the countryside.  I wouldn’t mind going back sometime.”

Kanan turned over so that they were facing each other. “I wouldn’t mind that either,” he said.  He kissed her, his mouth warm and comfortable against hers, and Hera smiled.

She put an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer to her and murmured, “Well, there isn’t a fire right now, but –”

“I think dessert’s right here,” Kanan said, grinning against her mouth.  He had one hand on her back, moving it lower to squeeze slightly and make her gasp.

Hera kissed him again to stop him from saying anything else.

*

“I’ll miss you,” the other Hera said.  Her voice was still a little hesitant, as if she wasn’t certain how to admit any of her own feelings to anyone else.  “It’s…nice to have another Twi’lek around.  And you’re not like –”  She flexed her fingers on the handle of her caf cup, thinking for a moment before she went on. “My family wants certain things from me, and I just…I don’t know how to be that for them.  You never wanted anything from me.”

“I wanted you to leave the Empire,” Hera said gravely.

“You never told me that,” the girl pointed out. “You never expected it.”

Hera opened her mouth to respond and then hesitated, thinking back on everything she had said those past few days.  She supposed she hadn’t ever come out and asked for anything other than help getting to Scarif, and she wasn’t certain she had ever asked outright for that either. She had stated her case, and left the two Imperials to make up their own minds.

“I didn’t need to,” she said at last.  She smiled at the other woman over her own cup.  “I didn’t have to.”

The other Hera sighed. “I wish I could have that kind of faith in anything.”

Hera flicked a glance in the direction of the cabins, where the two Kanans had gone to talk or meditate or both. “Nothing?”

The girl followed her gaze and sighed again. “I love Kanan more than anything,” she said, lowering her voice. “And I know he loves me.  But – it’s not him, it’s me.”  She looked down at her mug, turning it until the handle pointed directly at her, then up at Hera’s distressed expression and bit her lip. “Oh,” she said, even softer. “It’s me, then, not…us.”

Hera tried to arrange her features into something less appalled and reached across the table to lay one hand on the other woman’s. “I would stay if I could,” she said. “Both of us would.”

The girl turned her hand palm up and curled her fingers briefly around Hera’s. “When I was at the Academy, I never –”  She hesitated over the words, frowning. “I…forgot who I was.  And I can’t be – I can’t be you, or who I would have been if I’d grown up with the Fleet, but I didn’t know what was…me…and what was – what was the Empire.”  Her hand moved briefly under Hera’s, as if starting to gesture before she stopped herself. “It’s…nice, I suppose…to have a baseline.”

“I’m not sure I’m much of a baseline,” Hera said mildly.

She lifted a shoulder in a brief, constrained shrug, the same kind of gesture Hera had seen a dozen Imperial defectors make over the past few years; uniformed Imperials weren’t prone to much in the way of expression, while armored troopers tended to exaggerate their gestures when they made them at all. “You’re something. And I can’t – I’ve never been able to remember anything from before the Spire very well.  It’s there, but it’s – it’s like it happened to someone else, or something that I watched in a holovid.”

She looked down again, not releasing Hera’s hand.  “Auntie said – but it’s not what happened at the colony.  I mean, it didn’t help, but – the Spire – my cell there – it was my whole world for so long.  It’s like my life ended there.”

Hera squeezed her hand, not knowing what to say in response.  If she had been one of her cadets back in the Alliance there were things she could have said, but this wasn’t a cadet or a recruit or another officer, it was…her.  It could have been her.

The other Hera looked up suddenly, heat flushing her cheeks. “May I ask you something?  You can say no.  It’s – it’s a little – a lot – personal.”

“Of course,” Hera said, bemused.  She squeezed the other girl’s hand again, then released her to wrap her fingers around her mug.

“You and Kanan – your Kanan.”  The girl bit her lip, not meeting her eyes.  “When –”

Hera bit her lip, not sure whether to blush, laugh, or cry. “Sometime around now, I think,” she admitted, after a moment where she got herself under control.  She could feel heat in her face, spreading up under her flight cap to the base of her lekku.

The girl’s eyes went wide. “That’s a long time,” she blurted out, then covered her mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry –”

“No, it’s – when did you?”

The other Hera looked down, blushing so hard that it vanished beneath the high collar of her shirt and the edge of her flight cap.  “About four months after Gorse,” she said, her voice small. “He was so beautiful, and he – he was so kind and he – I wanted him so badly.  I never wanted anything – or at least, I never wanted anything and got it before then.”  She put her hands over her face, breathing hard, then lowered them after a moment. “You don’t know what it’s like in the service if you’re a Twi’lek.  They’re – it’s –”  Her hands were shaking.

Hera reached across the table and took her hands in both of hers again. “It’s all right,” she said gently. “It’s over with now.”

The girl wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I thought I was broken,” she said. “People kept – telling me things about what Twi’leks – what Twi’lek women – were like, and I – I knew they were wrong, but they kept saying it, and I felt like I was going mad.  Or that I was broken.  Or both.  And he – I wanted him so badly.  I’ve never felt like that about anyone else.  He was – he still is – so beautiful, and I wanted him so badly.  I didn’t think that I – that I could feel like that.  He wasn’t like anyone else I had ever met, and he – he treated me like I was a person.  Like it didn’t matter.  Or – that’s not right.  Like it was just part of me.  Like me being a Twi’lek mattered because it was part of me, not – not because I was a Twi’lek.  Do you – do you know what that’s like?”

“A little,” Hera said. “It was different for me.”

The other woman looked at her uncertainly, but whatever she saw in Hera’s eyes must have convinced her. “What was it like for you?”

Hera hesitated, setting her teeth against her lower lip as she thought.  “I wanted to fight,” she said finally, trying to remember what had been going through her head at the age of eighteen.  “More than anything.  My father only cared about Ryloth, but I wanted something bigger.  Kanan – I met him on Gorse too – was part of that.  I couldn’t let myself think about anything past that.  He understood that.”

The other Hera nodded slowly.  “What happened?”

“Well, we both almost died,” Hera said, and the girl made a sound that was almost a laugh, though she immediately looked worried that Hera would be offended.  “It was complicated.  I probably made it more complicated than it needed to be; I never wanted to talk about it. We just – went on, I suppose.  And then we started getting a crew, and – it was harder because there were more people on the Ghost –”

The girl winced, for which Hera couldn’t blame her.

“– it was all right,” Hera hastened to assure her. “It was just different.  And then Kanan got an apprentice, and we started working with other Rebel cells –”

The other woman nodded in sudden understanding. “Everyone at the ISB knew about us,” she said softly. “But around other people it’s different.”

Hera nodded. “It was stupid of me,” she admitted. “We’d been together for a decade – sleeping together for most of that – and I just thought we’d go on.  He – knew.  He knew there was something coming.  And I wouldn’t –”  She took a suddenly shaky breath; this time it was the other woman who squeezed her hands.

After a moment she raised her head and smiled crookedly at the other Hera. “It’s good that he knows you love him,” she said. “And that you know.  I wish I’d had that when I was your age.  There’s nothing wrong with having a mission, but – I thought it had to be that at the cost of everything else for such a long time.  That cost us both.”

“I’m sorry,” the girl said gravely. “That sounds difficult.”

Hera didn’t think it sounded half as difficult as what she had been through, but she wasn’t going to say as much, since she wasn’t sure that there was anything she could say about it that wouldn’t sound like a veiled insult.  “Will you be all right, once we’ve gone?”

The other Hera nodded. “Yes. I don’t know what we’ll be – who we’ll be – but I think we’ll be all right.”  She glanced at the door the two men had gone through. “He’s better now. I didn’t think he ever would be.” She hesitated, then added, “I am too.”

Hera squeezed her hands. “I’m glad,” she said. “I wish –”  She wished a lot of things, but at the end of the day she needed to get the Cluster-Prism data back to the Rebellion and she needed to get back to her son.

“We’ll be all right,” the other Hera said again. “Both of us.  I – thank you.  I don’t know what would have happened otherwise, but…thank you.”

*

“This could be a little awkward,” Hera said thoughtfully.  She accepted her blaster from the other Hera with a faint smile, automatically checking the safety and the charge before holstering it; since she had never needed it she hadn’t bothered asking for it back before now.

Kanan smiled at her. “Awkward as in ‘duck, they’re going to start shooting’ or awkward as in ‘this is going to take a lot of explaining’?”

“Probably the second one,” Hera said.  She checked the bag slung over her shoulder for the fifteenth time that morning, making sure that she had the datacards with the Cluster-Prism files and the ISB files she had gotten from the other Hera, along with the box Bail Organa had given her for Leia. “Maybe the first one, depending who’s there.  I hope Zeb hasn’t decided to make a three-ring circus out of this.  Or Chopper.”

Chopper grumbled at the sound of his name and Hera smiled a little. “My Chopper,” she clarified. “Not you.”

Kanan grinned in reminiscence, then stepped aside to talk quietly with the other Kanan.  Hera turned away to give them some privacy, looking at her counterpart.  After a moment she held out her arms.

The girl hesitated, then stepped into her arms, returning the embrace.  Despite the obvious muscle in her shoulders and arms she still felt terrifyingly fragile to Hera, as if she might shatter under too much pressure. Hera pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “You’ll be all right.”

She got a smile in response. “So will you,” the other Hera said.  She hugged Hera again, then stepped back.

Hera looked over in time to see Kanan put an arm around the younger man’s shoulders in a swift, fond embrace.  He said something to him, too low-voiced to make out, and the other Kanan nodded, his response equally soft.  When Kanan released him, he came over to Hera.

She put her hands out to him, smiling, and he took them. “Thank you,” she started to say, at the same time he said, “Thank you –”

Hera laughed, then released his hands so that she could hug him. “Thank you,” she said again. “I just – thank you.”

He hugged her back. “Thank you,” he murmured in response.  He didn’t clarify that, but he didn’t have to.

“Be well,” Hera told him gently, kissing each cheek.  She hugged him once more, then let go of him.

The other Hera was speaking shyly to Kanan.  Hera waited for them to finish, then saw both men wince in unison.

“Are you all right?” the younger Hera said, startled.

“It’s starting,” her Kanan said.  He gave Kanan a crooked smile. “I think we’re both going to be sensitive to that for the rest of our lives.”

“Forgive me for hoping it never comes up again,” Kanan said, returning the same grin.  He put his hand on the other Hera’s shoulder, smiling at her, then stepped back.

Hera held out her hand and he took it as he stepped up beside her.  She could feel the pressure coming, the air starting to hum as her vision flickered at its edges.  The younger Kanan and Hera backed up, as did Chopper.

“May the Force be with you,” said the girl.

The universe dissolved around them.

*

“– ait, there’s something wr –”

Luke Skywalker’s voice was garbled, as if coming over a malfunctioning comm.  Hera tried to respond and couldn’t; when she breathed in, there was nothing there and she gagged; she opened her eyes not to blackness but to nothing, to an absence.  She would have screamed if she could have.

The only thing she was aware of was Kanan’s grip on her hand.  She felt his fingers flex against hers, his breath hissing out between his teeth with effort.

“– ith me, togeth –”

The second voice was female, familiar, with the same quality of being barely there.  Hera flailed out wildly with her free hand, but there was nothing.  It was like being in vacuum, but worse; there were no stars, no planets, no pieces of shattered starships to orient herself with.  There was only Kanan’s hand.

“– n, think about your mo –”

Kanan’s hand flexed on hers again. Hera dug her nails into the back of his hand, terrified that she might release him by accident and lose him in the void.

“– the Force –“

Hera had the sudden sense of being thrown, disorientingly familiar as the familiar confines of the Ghost’s common room coalesced around her.  For an instant she still saw the younger Kanan and Hera where she had seen them last, then they were gone, replaced by Zeb and Chopper.  She staggered sideways, fighting back nausea and supporting herself on the holotable before she fell over.

“Whoa!”

“Mama!”

Hera jerked upright in time to see Alexsandr Kallus grab Jacen and thrust him behind himself before he could run to Hera, his hand on his holstered blaster.  Sabine was there too, her blasters already in her hands and raised, pointing at –

Hera flung herself in front of Kanan, who had very sensibly not moved. “It’s him!” she said. “I swear, it’s him!”

She took in everyone in the room with a glance – Zeb, Chopper, Sabine, Kallus, Jacen, Luke and Leia, Rex in the doorway, and –

Ahsoka Tano, one of her lightsabers already in her hand and ignited, her expression hard.  Kanan’s head was turned towards her, his white eyes fixed on hers.  Luke, who was holding the bell-shaped artifact between his hands, drew in a sharp breath; even Hera felt the air flex between them.

“It’s him,” she said again. “It’s Kanan, I swear.”

“We’ll see about that.” Ahsoka deactivated her lightsaber but kept in her hand as she stepped forward, gesturing Luke to stay back when he made to join her.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Kanan told her quietly as she approached.

“I could say the same for you,” Ahsoka said.  Her gaze went to the lightsaber on his belt, the one he had gotten from the other Kanan, then she said, “Don’t fight me.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

“He’s –” Hera started to say, but Ahsoka held up a hand to silence her.

“It’s all right,” Kanan said, turning a quick smile on her. “This won’t take long.”

“What –” Sabine started to say, then gave it up, her blasters still raised.

Ahsoka replaced her lightsaber on her belt and placed her palms on either side of Kanan’s head, her gaze boring into his.  Kanan didn’t pull away; Luke sneezed and Leia put a hand to her head, her expression pained. Jacen made a startled sound and Hera made a reflexive motion towards him before Kallus met her eyes.  She stopped.

Ahsoka stepped back suddenly, her breath ragged.  “I –”

Kanan wiped blood away from his lower lip where he had bitten through it. “That’s a little hypocritical, isn’t it?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then took a step back until she could sit down abruptly on the bench-seat, pressing a hand to her forehead.  Something passed silently between them, and Ahsoka’s hard expression softened.  Her shoulders slumped suddenly as she said, “It’s good to see you again, Kanan.”

There was a long moment of silence in the room, then Sabine flung herself forward with a shout, nearly bowling Kanan over as she hugged him.  Zeb was just behind her, sweeping Hera into the embrace as well as they almost knocked the holotable out of its seating.

“How!” Sabine said, not so much a question as an exclamation “How – it’s you?  It’s really you?  This isn’t a trick?”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, sounding slightly strangled. “It’s really me.”

Zeb yelled in triumph. Hera found herself laughing, effulgent with joy and success.  She could hear Chopper shrieking just behind her and managed to disentangle herself from the group embrace to kneel down and put her arms around her droid.  “I missed you,” she told him fondly, then looked up.

Kallus looked as gobsmacked as everyone else in the room, still holding onto Jacen’s hand as they came over. “Mama!” Jacen said, and Hera released Chopper to put her arms out. She swept her son into a hug, kissing his forehead and breathing in his familiar scent.

“Hello, love,” she said. “I missed you.”  She reached behind herself without looking, knowing when Kanan took her hand.  He knelt beside her, and Hera looked over at him, smiling.  She was crying; she didn’t remember starting, but she could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Jacen,” she said, “this is your father.”

[anathtsurugi]

A Gentle Nudge - A Kalluzeb Ficlet

Hey all! Still alive up in here. Surgery recovery is going well, but yeah, that’s definitely why the delay in the latest chapter of TCTW. In the meantime, have some more ficlet.

 I am a Jedi. My patience is without limits.

 "Zzzzz."

 I will not be moved to anger. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 Though I'd say you're already suffering pretty hard, a second, snide voice in his head adds.

 I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the kriffing Force, and the kriffing Force damn well better be with me!

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 Kanan Jarrus gave up on sleep with an enraged cry, sitting up in his bedroll. In all his travels throughout the galaxy, he had thought he'd come up against the worst snorers the stars could show him.

 Then he had met Garazeb Orrelios.

 This fool Lasat could snore louder than a sonic buzz saw and nothing could seem to wake him once he'd fallen asleep. Kanan had tried shoving him, poking him, shouting as loud as he dared, even tried some less than gentle Force prodding. Nothing. His companion was dead to the world. There was nothing for Kanan to do but spend the night on forced watch, because there was no way he could sleep with that racket in his ears, and he couldn't quite talk himself into smothering their new companion.

 He would just have to suffer through it in grudging meditation...and vow never to go on a night run with Zeb ever again.

XxX

 Just go to sleep. You've heard worse.

 "Zzzzz."

 Seriously, if you can sleep on the streets, you can sleep anywhere. This sleemo's not gonna get to you.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 You're not gonna blow this by complaining to Hera the first kriffing night!

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 "I give up!" Ezra Bridger snarled miserably, curling into a ball and burying his head beneath his pillow.

 In the alleys and slums of Capital City, he had heard all different kinds of snoring, from the tiny and petite to the loud and monstrous. But nothing, nothing he had ever heard in his young life came anywhere close to the sound of Zeb Orrelios snoring. Forget the scent, forget the grudging, growling anger and snide comments and threats of bodily harm. Nope. He could handle all of that.

 It was the snoring that would drive him crazy.

 He didn't doubt they'd put him, the new kid, in a bunk with Zeb for a reason. Well, if they were trying to smoke him out, they had another thing coming. He was sticking this out. But just because he had tried everything he could think of to get the snoring to stop short of outright shoving a pillow in his bunkmate's face didn't mean he couldn't make Zeb pay for his own lack of sleep come morning.

 Where was it Sabine kept those spare paints again?

XxX

 Just another tired soldier.

 "Zzzzz."

 He needs his sleep same as you.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 Bear up, Captain. You got through Echo's and Wolffe's snoring. You're gonna get through this, too.

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 "Oh, for the love of kark, Zeb!" Rex snarled as he sat up beside the slumbering Lasat, delivering a blow to his massive shoulder that did nothing whatever to interrupt his sleep or his snoring. "Guess now I know the reason Kanan refused to do these overnighters with you."

 The only response he got was a warbled binary chuckle from Chopper as the snarky astromech rolled through the little camp.

 "No, you can't poison him," the old clone scolded...

 ...tempting as the offer was at this exact moment.

XxX

 If the Spectres had learned anything about Kallus in the weeks since he'd properly joined up with the Alliance, it was that he was a supremely light sleeper. It wasn't possible to enter a room without waking the man if he happened to be catching a few moments' sleep. Ezra had once attempted to wake him and had gotten a hand at his throat for his troubles.

 He hadn't made that mistake again.

 None of them had asked questions when Kallus and Zeb had begun to spend more and more of their down time together...nor when they'd even begun to hear certain noises from behind Zeb's closed and sealed bunk doors.

 No.

 The question they all really wanted to ask was...what would happen to this burgeoning relationship of theirs when Kallus' light sleep came up against Zeb's infernal snoring?

 And that answer came on a routine supply run.

 Awaiting their contact planetside, the team had set up something of a camp beneath the Ghost. After fighting off a local gang to prevent the discovery of the drop off point, Zeb and Kallus were both plainly exhausted and had fallen asleep together near the heating unit Hera had going, facing each other with their arms loosely around one another. And of course, as they all knew he inevitably would, Zeb began to snore.

 "Zzzzz."

 "Oh, boy," Kanan muttered.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 "Here we go," Ezra said nervously, eyes flitting to the napping pair.

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 As if set to a chrono, Kallus started awake, eyes darting about for danger, but he quickly realized it was only the sound of Zeb snoring. Smiling easily at the Lasat, he shook his head and pressed a kiss to Zeb's forehead. Then he began to push him and they all tensed, waiting for the inevitable struggle that would ensue.

 But it never came.

 With Kallus' gentle nudging, Zeb simply rolled onto his other side and fell silent. And for a moment, the Spectres all reveled in the sudden silence of the camp, all shocked beyond words. But before Kallus could fall back asleep, they were all on him.

 "How did you do that?" Sabine demanded in a hiss.

 "I- I'm sorry?" the ex-Imperial started, looking up at all of them.

 "I didn't think that was physically possible," Kanan said.

 "Did I miss something?" Kallus continued to ask in bewilderment.

 "Alexsandr Kallus, you are a miracle worker," Hera declared with a smile and a small shake of her head.

 "What?" he tried again, still unable to make heads or tails of their amazement in the blissfully silent atmosphere.

 "No one in the galaxy has ever been able to get Zeb to stop snoring. And then you just waltz in here and give him a little nudge and that's the kriffing end of it?" Ezra demanded. "I call bantha poodoo! You come into my house-"

 "Shush," Kallus pleaded with a small smile, understanding beginning to dawn. "You'll wake him."

 "Mating krayt dragons couldn't wake Garazeb Orrelios," Rex put in. "Doubt even you're gonna change that."

 "Well...we'll see," the ex-agent said tenderly, more for a different pair of ears than theirs. Kissing one of those ears, he smiled and tucked himself back in against Zeb, wrapping an arm around him and spooning him from behind. Zeb himself just gave an easy sigh, smiling peacefully in his sleep.

 No one else commented on it again. They all simply sat back and relished the unexpected peace and quiet of the night.

So I feel like I should probably tell the story that had a hand in inspiring this little piece.

I have, historically, always been a very loud snorer. My wife's a very light sleeper herself and she quickly discovered that the best way to alleviate my snoring was to give me a little push so I would roll over and cut that shit out.

Some things I suppose I should point out here are that I am, A. a damn heavy sleeper, and B. one stubborn bitch. I've never considered myself a particularly accommodating person. When I dig my heels in on something, they will stay dug, come hell or high water. Neither of these things are true with my wife. Where a combined earthquake and hurricane could never wake me, she can wake me with a few gentle touches and a whisper. And when she wants me to roll over, all it's going to take is that little push.

Everyone else? Ehh...they're not so lucky.

When I was waking up from my recent gallbladder surgery, I learned from the nurses that they'd had to fight me every step of the way to keep me lying on my back. Apparently I had done nothing but try to curl up on my side. Probably could've saved themselves the heartache and just gotten my wife down to recovery. Heheh.

[greensword101]

So, I had jokingly talked to @princesstadashi a few times about an AU where everyone’s age was the same except for Ezra’s. I’d say he would be around 7 in this au, still had his parents taken from him on Empire Day.

For a year, Ezra has been surviving on the streets of Lothal as an urchin. No one offers much sympathy for him and he holds the heartbreaking belief in his head that his parents were taken from him because he must have been bad.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try being good from time to time, like saving a fruit vendor from having his goods wrongfully stolen by Stormtroopers with a stolen communicator, a few rocks, and a decent impression of some deep voiced officer. He got a piece to eat for free as thanks that time.

During the weapons raid, Ezra manages to sneak inside one of the crates in his attempt to snag some food. Turns out it was a weapons crate. Cue chase scene where he is stuck inside a crate Zeb took and is terrified for dear life. By the time he gets out of the crate, he is on Ghost and the entire crew is staring bug-eyed that ‘Oh dear GOD, there’s a stowaway and he’s a kid!’

The thing is, they all think he is some random kid with parents out of their minds with worry. And Ezra is all ‘sure, let’s go with that’ and is secretly screaming on the inside like ‘they’ll find out I was lying and they’ll be ever more mad at me!’

As much as they want to return him to his ‘family’, the Ghost crew has already been sighted by Imperial forces and they have no choice but to do the rendezvous and mission first.

Hera takes to Ezra instantly, but not for his skills that were shown in canon. He’s a little kid and is a gold mine of questions she more than willingly answers for him. She gets the impression that he is intelligent, if a little shy.

Sabine isn’t too impressed by him; after all, he ends up adding to their load with his presence. She can’t help but think that his parents will end up killing them when they return the boy. If they’re able to.

Zeb is gruff, hates having his personal space invaded and can’t wrap his head around why the kid is treating him like a giant stuffed animal! Ezra’s only complaint is that the Lasat smells awful.

Chopper is neutral towards him. He doesn’t think they’ll see him again after the day is over and gets irritated when the boy keeps poking him for no reason.

Kanan, for reasons he doesn’t understand yet, feels that there is something strange about the stowaway boy. He keeps his distance from Ezra because of this, which is fine for the boy because Kanan kind of scares him too.

The weapons stolen from the Imperials is sold in exchange for food that the crew distributes at a resettlement camp while Ezra senses Kanan’s lightsaber in his room. He just gets his hands on the thing when he hears Kanan shout:

“Don’t touch that!”

Kanan doesn’t see a Force-sensitive kid. He sees an idiot boy with his hands on a very dangerous weapon now put it down right now young man before you lose an eye! When Ezra absentmindedly mentions that he could hear it, then Kanan gets scary.

“Stay out of my room. Don’t touch that again!”

Because Kanan is now thinking that the chances of the kid staying under the radar forever are slim if the Empire discovers him. He tells Hera and realizes that they might need to help Ezra get relocated somewhere safer too. Another thing to add to their list that they refuse to ignore.

If Ezra wasn’t scared of Kanan then, he was now.

During the rescue mission that turned out to be a trap, Ezra overhears Hera attempting to communicate with the other members on the enemy ship and decides to head out there and warn them himself. Cue Hera having a heart attack when she sees he is gone and the rest of Ghost thinking Hera sent a 7 year old to risk his life to warn them.

Ezra gets captured right as they reach Ghost and he demonstrates his Force powers for the first time, disarming the guards and saving Zeb from being shot, giving him the chance to escape. No one is happy with the outcome and turn around immediately to rescue the kid. Zeb bangs his head against a wall the entire way back.

Kallus learns of the Force sensitive child in custody and decides that ‘reeducating him’ would make him a useful asset for the Empire. He attempts to get information about Ghost from Ezra, but he doesn’t budge. He does almost cry in front of the officer, though and Kallus thinks that he’ll be easy to break.

The Inquisitor will be pleased to have a Force-sensitive child in his grasp.

At the same time, Ghost returns and everyone is battling through Stormtroopers because they are not going to leave a little kid behind. That’s not their way. Kanan is fighting especially hard, replaying the last time the two of them spoke in private and wincing more and more at the memory. I shouldn’t have been so harsh, he thinks, I’ll make it up to him somehow.

Ezra pulls the same ‘my uncle’s the Emperor’ trick and while the guards outside his cell don’t care that some little brat is their prisoner, they get nervous when Ezra threatens to ruin them - and maybe Ezra inadvertently uses the Jedi mind trick on them with the correct phrasing - and they go inside. Cue Ezra using the Force again to disarm them of their blasters.

Ezra has only been fending for himself for a year, so he doesn’t think of air vents to sneak through. Instead, he slowly starts realizing that he can do stuff like move things without touching them or mind control. So he uses the mind trick again to convince the guards that they are escorting him to his stuff, and then to a ship he can escape in. For extra measure, he has one of his ‘guards’ send a false report of a breach in the upper hangers - inadvertently making it easier for Ghost to land.

That’s when he bumps into Ghost and it takes several repetitions of ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ from Ezra to prevent two dead Stormtroopers. There is no small amount of relief from Zeb, Sabine and Kanan to see the kid unharmed and maybe Sabine pulls him into a tight hug that makes Ezra wish she wouldn’t let go. Zeb still punches the troopers, though no one is upset, and he doesn’t mind that the kid hugs his leg. They decide to bring one of the soldiers as a prisoner for information.

Kallus appears, now pissed that the kid is out of his cell and the Inquisitor will kill him for not delivering the promised apprentice he had just told him about. Ghost escapes and it’s happy reunion for all.

Kanan catches Ezra alone while Zeb interrogates their prisoner and learns about where the Wookies are really being sent. Its awkward for both of them. Ezra still sees him as the scary guy on the team and Kanan has no idea how to talk to children.

“Hey...kid...look, about earlier...when I saw you holding that...and you said you heard it calling to you...”

“He’s saying he’s sorry!” Sabine shouted from the hallway. Kanan is flustered, but it did the job of calming Ezra down and looking at the older man in a less intimidating light. Kanan tries to discuss with Ezra a plausible story to tell his parents when they drop him off and Ezra lets it slip that he lives by himself. There isn’t time to unpack the comment because Ghost landed at the coordinates their prisoner informed them of.

The Wookie rescue goes as well as it did in canon - aside from the Ghost crew getting simultaneous heart attacks when Ezra slips from their sight to rescue the child Wookie. Kanan reveals himself to be a Jedi and is ready to murder Kallus when he tries to shoot down Ezra and the Wookie child. They escape and Ezra leaves the room after watching the child reunite with their parent.

The crew offers to walk Ezra back to his house, but he waves them off. He reaches his tower in Lothal, having stolen Kanan’s Holocron instead and accidentally activates it. That’s when Kanan shows up and gives his little “You can stay here or come with us” speech and disappears. In canon, Ezra is amazed by the stealth hi/bye and with the knowledge that he was helping a Jedi. In this au, Ezra is a seven year old boy who lost his parents and believes it was because he was bad. He’s not impressed and becomes hysterical when Kanan pulls this trick.

The Ghost crew is about to leave, since they all realized that Ezra was lying about his parents, but Kanan decides to check himself. He comes back carrying Ezra in his arms like a parent holding a child, sobbing into his shoulder while Kanan mouths “Help me” to Hera. It takes a while to calm the kid down and when he hears that they weren’t going to leave him behind, he’s almost catatonic with shock at the news.

Kanan doesn’t even finish asking Ezra if he wants to learn to be a Jedi when the kid shouts “YES! YES! YES!” And then has to deal with the kid glomping him while the others laugh.

As if the cosmos had decided that he needed to be humiliated even further, Kanan is the one who ends up having Ezra as a roommate instead of Zeb - Zeb is both relieved and disappointed, the kid was growing on him - and therefore his babysitter.

That night, Kanan and Ezra are about to knock off.

“Night kid,” Kanan yawned.

“Night Daddy.”

Kanan suddenly realizes with terror, amusement, and joy that they didn’t just get a new crew member. Ghost gave the boy a family and Kanan as his father. 

[hnwriter]

So I wrote (another) fic.

Hera, debriefing Yavin IV on her mission and Kanan’s death, reflects on her fractured memories and what Kanan means to her.

TW: drugging

There was a lot of of Jedi Night/Dume that I just....wasn’t happy with, so full disclosure, many elements of this are canon divergent. Namely the treatment of Hera’s torture and Kanera--I wanted a story that reflected Hera and the strength of the character I fell in love with and give her back the narrative that I felt she was robbed of within those episodes.

           “General, if this is too strenuous right now—”

           “Senator Organa, I’m fine. Simply—” A heavy sigh escapes her lips, giving her pause to choose her words carefully. “—tired. It’s been busy here on Lothal.” Flashes of blue. Flashes of red. Long silences she doesn’t understand, burning hot. It’s what she has left.

           Hera looks up to the holo of Senator Organa, Senator Mothma, General Ackbar—some of the Alliance’s highest command. They need her debrief.

           They need her.

           She clears her throat again and looks up—maybe, on Yavin IV, they could be thinking how it’s unlike their new General to not speak immediately, purposefully. Maybe.

           Maybe.

           “The IT-O interrogator took most of my memories. I crashed in the streets and ran when I could. There was a bounty hunter I couldn’t outrun—Imperial officers were closing in. Comms were jammed and I couldn’t get online to check on the rest of my squadron. I found one other pilot—he’s still here on Lothal with my crew and Ryder’s forces. His call sign, I don’t—”

           “We understand, General Syndulla.” Mon Mothma’s voice is soft, constant—it’s not exactly personal enough to be comforting but Hera appreciates the leave to continue speaking nonetheless. Focusing between the details of what she can remember feels like grasping for a specific single grain of sand along an entire beach.

           She hates feeling incompetent, incapable.

           She hates not knowing the inside of her own memories more. The pause makes her think of Maul and she grimaces for as long as it takes to remember his eyes peering through her skull, his powers shredding through her consciousness.

           It’s your mind, Hera. Still yours. The self-reassurance feels like a lie but gives her enough comfort to steel herself. Another breath. The General continues.

           “I was captured sometime in the middle of the night by Governor Arhinda Pryce and taken to her personal office where I was—” Flashes of light. Dark rooms. Red eyes. Pain.

           “—interrogated.” Mothma and Organa shift. They know what she means. “I don’t know for how long. Ryder or Ezra Bridger may have a more accurate assessment for you there. Vice Admiral Thrawn was there at some point—I don’t-I don’t remember much of what he says.” Her teeth grit.

           Flashes of blue.

           “My crew assembled a rescue mission for me—Ezra Bridger led it, assisted by Sabine Wren and Kanan Jarrus.” His name is a silver weight on her tongue, binding her teeth together. Her blood runs cold and her breath turns to ice.

          The room is nearly dark and he appears as a bright and electric blue. She can barely walk, barely speak—something holds her up and she’s reminded it’s Kanan when she looks up. He’s everything. She feels nothing.

          “I hate your hair.” He’s oddly calm. His banter is weak. It’s nuance she can’t pick up on because—cold air. They’re out of the office. Suspended. Long way down.

          He’s carrying her—she rests her forehead to his neck and attempts to find a center. It doesn’t come. Cannot come. There’s worry in his gaze when she jumps at every noise. She can’t react. Can’t think. Can’t—flashes.

          She continues.

           “I don’t—remember—much. I know we met the same bounty hunter at some point. We escaped through the same gliders that my crew rode in on—it caught fire at some point—”

           Flying. Cold air through the still wind of Lothal—there’s a parasitic sluggishness that’s invaded her skeleton, rendering half her strength into dead weight. Kanan’s next to her—Kanan—his hair’s different—and she’s flying—and she’s flying—

           The Kalikori is stuck underneath her arm—Kanan got it back—he got it for her. It’s her’s. Not Thrawn’s. There’s a wish lodged between her hijacked consciousness and her past that is reminding her she wanted to add Kanan to it one day. Zeb and Ezra and Sabine and Chopper, too. Her family.

           Crashing. Flying. Falling. Running. Climbing. She’s moving but not thinking—there’s enough of her awake to be horrified of how little she can process but so much of her is smothered she can do nothing but scream within her own head. Scream, thrash, claw, and climb—the poison entangles all of her instincts into a sticky, thickened mess. She’s sinking, sinking, sinking—

           “Kanan—”

           He looks back at her. Green. Gray. Red.

           “Kanan, I love you.” A laugh. The present? The memory?

           “You’re saying that like it’s something I haven’t heard before.” Tremble. Quiver. Fall. He grabs her waist and—that’s not—No, it is Kanan.

           “We landed at the fuel depot and climbed to the top.”

           “Why the fuel depot?” Ackbar asks. “It’s not exactly an easy place to land—"

           “I don’t know. Kanan just said go there. I couldn’t exactly strategize at the time.” Silence from the holocall.

           She continues.

           “I’m saying it because—” Why was she saying it? Why was she speaking? Why were they there? Where was she—

           “Hera, Hera, I know. It’s okay. I love you, too. You’re safe. Look, it’s Ezra and Sabine—” A ship in the distance. Boarding. The kids’ eyes. Sabine is flying. Not her flying. Not her flying—looking for Kanan. He’s still behind—

          “The fuel depot was shot and Kanan held back the explosion with the Force.”

           Red. Hot and burning—fire. Kanan’s eyes. It’s Lothal. It’s Gorse. It’s the first time she realized what he was and realizing now that this is all he’s going to be. It’s fragmented and fractured violently—Ezra is grabbing her—is that Ezra?—and it’s Kanan looking towards her. Sightless eyes that can’t see her and a soul that always did.

           “Kanan!” Why isn’t he moving? Why isn’t he there? She reaches out and it’s Gorse again and it’s the decade they’ve been together and their family and every moment alone. It’s every devotion of love made and the marriage they never needed. Why isn’t he moving closer? Was he already—

           She can’t see him anymore. Only orange. Only white.

           Tears. Sabine’s. Ezra’s. Her’s. Ezra has his arms around her and she looks to the stars.

The horizon of space, the longest friend she’s ever had, runs cold into her bones.

           “He was engulfed in the explosion while Sabine was able to fly away due to his Force push.”

           Sabine is yelling. Ezra is crying. She’s staring out into a horizon. Cold metal slips into her hand. Chopper. Her droid.

           It’s not Kanan.

           Silence echoes like blaster fire from the other end. Her debrief is over. They know the TIE factory is closed. There are no other details she can give—she can’t remember anything else. There’s only a war to win and a death to mourn.

           “Thank you, General Syndulla.” The quiet, patient voice of Senator Organa pulls her eyes to his. “I’m sorry for your loss.” There’s a second tone to his words she hears, and she thinks of his Queen. His wife. She hears exactly what he’s not saying. I know the fear of this loss. I’m sorry you’ve lived it. The pain of the sincerity stings hot in her chest—a decade she’s had with Kanan settle agonizingly in the back of her throat, building to tears she won’t let fall. Ten years of their special, hellfire, warbent happiness entwine around her ribs and in her ears, she hears the crack of her bones.

           “Thank you, Senator Organa. My crew lost a lot—” A husband. A mentor. A father. A partner. A friend. “—but we’ll continue on.”

           Silence again and she looks up to these powerful, brave beings. The blue-based imitation of their real selves cuts in half each other their determination—these are the architects of this Alliance, and the strongest voice in the beating, combined, communal hope every pilot and soldier feel. Each of them has lost. Each of them has been burned by this fire they’re stoking—they’ve each dedicated their lives to this rebellion.

           But, they’ve never not known a life that hasn’t been one of rebellion. It’s not to undermine their worth, but to her knowledge, they’ve never had their lives cut out of the sky. It’s unfair to make this assumption, she knows, but her grief makes it anyways—none of them had built a rebel out of shambles of themselves for the sake of someone else’s livelihood and freedom.

           Kanan had rebuilt his life for the Rebellion that took it. He did not die in vain, she knew it. Hera would not let herself think anything else, would not let his death be useless. But, she sees his lost soul in the lives of every Rebel, and she sees what she knew and what she loved and what she lost.

           He’d given so much. Been so much.

           “My crew and I will be staying on Lothal longer. There’s work that’s to be done and we understand you may not be able to send more forces here. I won’t ask for more, but I ask for the leave to continue our work. We can do good at an impactful level. Lothal has always been a beacon for hope and I won’t see it die.” They look at each other, think it over, but Senator Organa speaks first.

           “Do what you must, General Syndulla. And may the Force be with you.”

           “May the Force be with you.” The holo cuts out and she’s left alone with silence. Chopper who has rarely left her side since Kanan’s death is with Ezra, Sabine, and Zeb now, and she’s happy for that. They need each other.

           The Kalikori sitting across from her next to Kanan’s mask stands as tall as he did. It’s not hard to imagine him leaning on the wall, laughing at Sabine and Ezra bickering, In fact, it’s remarkably easy to see the line of his shoulders and the way his beard shift when he smiles. It takes no effort to see Sabine and Kanan standing at each other, the dark saber in her hand, Kanan’s in his, staring across thousands of years of war and being family nonetheless. Always. In the piece she carved to represent his life, Kanan is playing sabacc with Zeb and yelling after Chopper and sitting in her copilot’s chair again. She can almost reach out her hand and feel the curve of his face and the sensation of the scarred skin across his eyes and temple. Almost.

           Almost.

           Oxygen moves through Hera’s lungs and is exhaled, and it’s disorienting how much it hurts to do something that was once so remarkably easy. Again, she closes her eyes, and again she tries to search through her mind for any sliver of clarity of Kanan’s last moments alive. Again, there’s nothing but pain.

           And she’s furious. Furious she died and furious she can’t remember and furious that what she has is excruciating to pick through. Kanan’s last hour alive and most of her own memory of it has been built together on someone else’s story. It’s not right that he’s dead when he deserved longer, and there’s a logical part of her mind that says he knew the risk, but her pain flinches away from relief as easy as that.

           She’s together enough to be strong for her crew. When the General walks out, she hugs Sabine and Ezra and Zeb each as long as they need, not letting go until they do. She stays with her family and lets the silence hang and she can find enough strength to remain constant for them. Tears well in her eyes but, for the kids, she can remain together enough to hold them because no one knows Kanan for them like she did, so she can stay upright. For them. Because she has to. Because she needs to.

           When they go to sleep, she locks herself in a ship, flicks on the sound insulator, and screams. Screams because she should be able to remember, screams because her body still hurts from the torture, screams because she misses him and screams because they were in love during a war, but they still deserved longer. Hera fought for the future but only saw everyone else’s, never hers. Kanan saw his in his mind, and saw hers, and for them, he carried their dreams of a life together, so when Hera came to him in that way no one saw, their dreams were whole enough for her to carry, too.

           She screams until her voice is raw and cries until her eyes are dry and sting with the exertion. It all hurts too much, burns too hot, cuts too deep—a loss like this is not enough to bend her spine but stars, does she hurt anyways.

           Hera looks up to the stars. Just as they were when he died, they’re cold tonight, too. She doesn’t know how to be okay without him and doesn’t know how she’s going to adjust to any normal that doesn’t have him at her side. They did things together, and now that’s broken.

           Trembling fingers reach out to touch the duraglass, reaching for the stars like it’s Kanan’s hand. Presses her palm to the surface like it’s his chest—closes her eyes like she would when he kissed her. Her hand falls when her screams start again, because when she opens her eyes, it’s still not him.

           She falls asleep in the cockpit and in the morning, she leads.

           She continues.

[pomrania]

What Matters Now

((prompt from here))

Ezra had to stay calm and in control of himself. His eyes hurt and itched horribly and he couldn't see he couldn't see but it was nothing compared to the pain that leaked out from Kanan. He was okay. He would be okay. It had just been the light, from that holocron, flashing brighter than anything he had ever seen and knocking him back. Surely it would get better, in time. It had to.

Kanan though... Ezra wasn't so sure. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he had heard tremors in Kanan's voice from pain that couldn't be concealed, felt the mask covering his face, and caught a mumbled half-explanation of "lightsaber". Had heard Kanan stumble, and Chopper's quiet directions, even before they made contact.

He still wasn't sure how they had managed to get back to the ship and escape, both the planet -- they never should have gone there -- and Vader. He remembered following the sound of Chopper's increasingly-frantic beeps, then the unmistakable noise of lightsabers clashing, and then Ahsoka yelling at them both to run straight ahead. Somehow, he and Kanan ended up on the Phantom, alive if not unharmed, and Chopper had gotten them out of there.

Kanan shouldn't be comforting him. (He shouldn't be crying.) He was fine. He couldn't really see anything no matter how much he scrunched up his eyes, and they were really itchy, but he wasn't in a lot of pain. Kanan was hurt, and Ahsoka was gone, that was what was important.

The sounds around them changed. Chopper moved closer, and beeped that they were on their way back to the base and had avoided any pursuit. Chopper's presence was not currently required to direct the Phantom, so the priority now was caring for the two organics.

"Kanan's hurt," Ezra said, before Chopper could suggest anything else. "I don't know what --"

"Lightsaber," Kanan mumbled, voice distorted both by the mask, and by pain. "Across the face. Eyes. 'M stable, no bleeding."

Chopper instructed Ezra to slowly take off the mask, because the droid did not trust Kanan's judgment of his own condition, in general, and especially not when impaired.

Ezra worked his fingers to where metal met skin. He tried not to press on anything, but going by Kanan's sucked-in breaths, he hadn't fully succeeded. He lifted it away as gently as he could.

He could feel pain radiating outward from Kanan, from air hitting the wound, at the same time the smell of seared flesh reached his nose. It had been there before, but muted and distant. Now it filled the entire space, like a physical presence, and Ezra felt like he was going to throw up from the sheer stench of it.

But that wasn't just "flesh", that was Kanan. It had to be worse for him. Ezra could deal with it... until he imagined what it had to have come from. His mind painted a vivid picture of ugly blacks and reds slashed across Kanan's face, eyes burnt away, maybe even some bone exposed.

"I'll get the med kit," Ezra heard himself saying. He couldn't remember if Chopper had asked for it or not. He slowly stood up and felt for the wall. He knew where it was. He'd packed it himself, as part of keeping the Phantom ready at all times, but he'd never expected to have to use it like this. He fumbled at the latch securing it in place, finally released it, only to be struck with another problem. He knew roughly where Kanan and Chopper were, but he didn't want to run into them, especially not Kanan, and make it worse.

Walk slowly, Chopper directed. A little more to the left. Keep going, almost there, stop. Set the kit on the ground. Take a seat, it was directly in front of him.

Ezra sank down with an uncomfortable amount of relief. He had been shaking during that short walk.

He listened as painkillers were applied, before anything else. If Chopper of all droids did that without being asked, it had to have seemed really bad.

"You still can't see," Kanan quietly said.

"No," Ezra admitted, like the word was torn from him. "But I'm fine, really."

"At least it means you don't have to see this," Kanan said, and Ezra wondered what expression he made with that phrase. "How's it look, Chop?"

Chopper only replied that it looked like a lightsaber injury, and told Ezra to hold out various containers from the med kit, he'd say which was the one he needed.

Once Kanan's face was bandaged, the smell of burnt flesh wasn't as strong. It was mixed with various medical scents as well. Ezra didn't know what they were; Chopper hadn't identified anything, only said that it was what he needed. Kanan was no longer broadcasting pain. It was better now. There was nothing more they could do.

Apparently, Chopper did not feel the same. It was Ezra's turn now, he said. It didn't matter if Ezra said he was "fine", his eyes should be bandaged too.

"I'm not injured!" Ezra protested, holding his hands out.

"Just do it," Kanan said, his voice low. "It's... easier, with something there. I can do it for you, I've put on enough bandages to know how."

"You shouldn't have to help me," Ezra said.

He felt a brief pulse of faint amusement. "Nothing hurts at the moment," Kanan said. "Let me do this, before it starts to wear off."

Ezra sat still as Kanan's hands wrapped the bandage around his eyes. The light pressure there felt odd, but it was easier with something holding his eyelids closed, so he wouldn't strain to see something he wasn't able to.

He felt like they should be doing something else on the way home. Discussing what had happened, how they were going to tell Hera and Rex, what to do now that the Inquisitors were gone but so was Ahsoka, what if Kanan didn't heal -- what if Ezra didn't heal -- but he had no energy for it. For anything, any more. He leaned back, and let the thoughts and memories wash over him in the dark.

-

They didn't need Chopper to tell them when they had arrived at Atollon. They could both feel it.

Ezra tried not to listen to the message that Chopper sent out. He didn't want to hear what it would say, but he couldn't help but pick out some words. "Missing". "Unknown". "Sight". "Both". "Require".

He was tempted to add "disaster", but if he spoke, someone might respond and ask questions.

When they landed, he wasn't sure whose apprehension he felt. It was hard to tell, when it could come from either or both of them. The pain though, that was Kanan's. Not as bad as it had been, but the painkillers had worn off enough by then that it was noticeable.

The door opened. Chopper told them to stay there for the moment, someone would come and get them, and then he left.

Ezra's hand hurt. He was squeezing Kanan's hand. Kanan was also squeezing back, then let go.

Footsteps, rushing into the Phantom. "Oh, Kanan," Hera murmured. "Ezra." A rustling, then a grunt. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Kanan, can you stand up? Come with me, I'll help you. Tell me if you need to take a break, it's not a problem."

"I couldn't -- couldn't keep that promise," Kanan said. "And we...."

"You both made it back here," Hera said, a waver in her voice, "and that's what's important now. Come along."

As they left, Kanan's halting footfalls along with Hera's slow ones, Ezra wondered what he was supposed to do. Maybe they had forgotten about him, and he would just sit there, forever, dokma crawling over him like he was a piece of the scenery. It wasn't likely, but he still imagined it. It was better than thinking about what else the future might have in store.

The smell, the sound, and the presence all came at roughly the same time.

"Come on kid," he heard Zeb's voice say. "Just get up, and I'll get you out of here. Grab hold of my arm, a little higher, there."

"I don't..." but Ezra didn't know what he was going to say. That he didn't need help? He did. Even if there was nothing wrong, he wouldn't be able to see with bandages over his eyes, and it was disorienting.

He clutched Zeb's arm like a lifeline as they started walking, and then left the Phantom. There was so much space around him; if he got lost, he could travel for days and still never find anything he knew. Or wander with it within reach the whole time, but never realize. He had to get better. He had to. He was going to get better, right?

Kanan might not.

"Where are we going?" Ezra asked.

"Right now, to the Ghost," Zeb said. "I think the med droid will be busy for a bit, and if you have to wait anyways, there's no point in waiting there when you could instead be waiting somewhere more comfortable."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," Zeb said, and twisted like he wanted to pat Ezra on the shoulder, but realized that wouldn't work at the moment; "you'll be fine, we'll take care of you."

"Yeah, okay."

It was supposed to be reassuring, but Ezra didn't feel any better. He couldn't see, Kanan was hurt and might never see, and Ahsoka was gone and probably dead.

He wondered how they were ever going to get through this.

[gkingoffez]

The Phoenix

So Star Wars Rebels has consumed my soul. Here’s a short character study/scene rewrite from S1E15 Fire Across the Galaxy, because I’m just itching to get some of these feelings out.

Summary: Later, there would be proper time for mourning and remembering, but in this moment- the Inquisitor dead and the world burning around him- Kanan Jarrus takes a second to sit back, shutter his eyes open and shut, and think- 

I’m so sorry I failed you, Ezra. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. 

AO3 | FFN.NET

The battle is shorter than Kanan would have expected, but the most important thing is that he wins.

He has the Inquisitor at his absolute mercy, dangling from a catwalk across a chasm with two blue lightsabers crossed at his throat. Around them, the Star Destroyer is shaking and surging with hot, explosive energy, and in this chaos and heat Kanan understands that it would be so, so easy to give in to anger and hate.

He could do it- just leave the Inquisitor right here to die, in the middle of this burning metal tomb,  above a forsaken planet. One little action, and Kanan could cut off his head or step on his hand, and watch him fall to his death just like Ezra.

Something dark inside of Kanan wants this- something vicious, and out for blood, and suffocating in grief is there, clawing for attention- but he also knows, above everything raging in his heart, that that is not the Jedi way. Kanan knows that if he gives in to this temptation, it will be a step towards the Dark Side of the Force, and the Inquisitor, the Sith and the Empire itself would win overall. Nothing he had taught Ezra would mean a thing if that happened.

He withdraws both lightsabers and sticks them to his belt, failing to avoid the thought that they are both his now.  He looks down at his beaten opponent- hanging helplessly from the metal ledge above a deadly fall, framed in shadow and the shifting oranges, yellows and reds of the core exploding beneath him.

“There are some things far more frightening than death,” the Inquisitor snarls with pointed teeth, his yellow eyes boring right up into Kanan’s.

But Kanan doesn’t need to guess what the Inquisitor means- he’s well familiar with things more frightening than death. More frightening than death is watching someone you love die to save you, their last words telling you to run for your life; worse than death is having to kill your former friends, to fight your way out; to hide, scared and alone, and need to drink yourself into oblivion to stave off the pain. Worse than death is losing everything but your own life time after time, and still having to carry on despite the holes where the things you loved used to be. Worse than death is watching Ezra Bridger fall to a spinning red lightsaber, and being helpless to stop it.

The base is shuddering, the walkway under him is beginning to sway- below, the unstable core explodes again, and-

-the Inquisitor lets go.

If it had been a different time, if he had been a different Jedi, perhaps Kanan would have reached out and tried to save the other man; but here in this time and life, he is too shocked, too unprepared to do anything but kneel down and watch with wide eyes.

The Inquisitor’s final act is to be swallowed by a mouth of fire, and then it’s over.

It’s over.

He feels no vindication, no justice in the moment, although a tight tension seems to lift itself from his shoulders, and his limbs go limp. For a moment, he feels nothing at all, except hollow and worn.

Kanan had pushed his everything into his feet and the lightsabers in his hands for the fight, but now the adrenaline is dying down and the weight of days of torture is returning to pull at his body as well.  

He knows there is no time to stop, no time at all to rest- from the size and sound of the explosion, the entire ship is going to blow, and soon- no time to retrieve Ezra’s body. He would have preferred a proper ceremony, a proper fire, and a proper chance to say goodbye, but time was ripping all of that away from him.

…

(A flash of spinning red arcing towards Ezra; a scream, a lightsaber cluttering to the parapet; a fall; and Kanan’s world comes crashing down around him once again.

One look at his small Padawan lying deathly still on a lower walkway seems to crack something inside of Kanan. For a second, it overcomes him- a wild, raging grief that had makes him clench his eyes shut, dig his fingernails into the palms of his hands and want to implode in on himself like a supernova.

But suddenly, a wave of calm seems to wrap itself around him- he feels strangely at peace, disconnected but in control at the same time, suddenly ready to stand up where before he had been ready to fall. He senses something familiar in the sensation- something he hasn’t sensed in a very long time, and it comforts him greatly. Everything else fades away as he takes up his old lightsaber alongside Ezra’s unique design, and-

(-not thinking of how he’d never get to see the boy’s smile or hear his laughter again, how he’d never train with him or teach him the ways of the Force that Kanan himself had long forgotten, would never grip Ezra’s shoulder or mess up his dark blue hair again-

-nor did he think of how Hera, Sabine, Zeb and even Chopper would react when they found out Ezra was gone, he didn’t want to think of their heartbreak and tears, their devastation-

-but mostly Kanan didn’t think about how it was all his fault, how Ezra shouldn’t have even been on the ship to begin with, how he had failed-)

-with nothing left to fear from the Inquisitor, he charges into battle with every last bit of strength he has.

He feels it, like a change in the wind. The Force is with him.)

…

The explosion below is growing angry, and it will soon engulf everything; the ship, Ezra, and Kanan himself if he doesn’t get moving. But neither his mind nor legs respond to this logic, and instead he stares for an extended moment into the flames that had swallowed his enemy whole.

Later, he will probably feel too many too familiar feelings crash into him over and over like the waves of an ocean. Later, there would be proper time for mourning and remembering, but in this moment- the Inquisitor dead and the world burning around him- Kanan Jarrus takes a second to sit back, shutter his eyes open and shut, and think-

I’m so sorry I failed you, Ezra. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.                        

“Kanan,” a voice replies, and for a moment it’s unrecognisable, until Kanan realises it is Ezra’s.

A stab of pain tears into his chest- he’d been taught in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant that life merges with the Force after death, so that all living things connected by it in life can be reunited in death. He clings to the idea that Ezra must be there now, calling out to comfort him, to push him forward. He has vague memories of hearing Master Billaba’s voice in his dreams in the weeks after he’d witnessed her death as well. Or perhaps it is all just his imagination, an auditory hallucination conjured by his exhausted brain, or his guilt. There is no way-

“Kanan!” Ezra repeats, except this time his voice is coming from Kanan’s right side- but that doesn’t seem right. He blinks, shakes his head, turns and- and-

It’s almost indescribable, that shocking, relieving, euphoric feeling of knowing that something you thought lost forever was, in fact, standing right in front of you. Battered and bleeding, but in one piece, and just there. Kanan feels a great pressure suddenly lift from his soul.

Alive. He’s- he’s-!

Ezra’s hair sways in the smoky wind, and he is framed by the light and moving shadows of the fires raging below, but Kanan doesn’t doubt what he sees for a second. He looks right into Ezra’s very blue, very alive eyes, and finds himself with something he’d never really had before- a second chance.  

“I thought I’d lost you,” is all he can say, soft, and with something tender present. He tries to say a lot of other things in that one sentence, things he’s not sure he’ll ever find the words for. Thank you, I’m sorry, I thought I’d never see you again and it almost destroyed me.

I love you.

“I know the feeling,” the boy responds.

Ezra grins, and Kanan drinks in the way he tilts his head and sways his arms, every small detail and mannerism putting a fire back in Kanan’s heart. He looks at everything he’d been so sure he’d lost forever, and lets it chase the darkness and grief away.

“Let’s go home,” Ezra adds, with a shrug of his shoulders to the exit.

After that, there’s not much room for any thoughts beyond escape the burning Star Destroyer, what is this strange fleet that has come to save us, and how is Ahsohka Tano alive, but as he runs down the walkway and through the white Imperial corridors, Ezra Bridger at his side, he can’t help but feel like the universe is as it should be.

They’ll be alright.

Ahhhhhhhhh, you’ll probably see more Rebels stuff from me fairly soon, I have two other WIPS so far. 

Thanks for reading.

[bedlamsbard]

220 words written today -- I was just going to write a sentence or so because I’m wordcount tracking this month, but I had this bit in mind already.  I am so tired and I apparently stressed myself into a frenzy this past week and have just been crashing all day -- I’ve got the signed form but I literally don’t trust myself to submit it correctly because I’m that level of exhausted I usually don’t get until the tail end of finals or moving or cons or thesis submission. Apparently we’re at the level of pandemic where I worked myself into a frenzy over a form and made myself stress sick.  (After spending the first couple days of the week “overexcited because I experienced human interaction and gave myself an emotional hangover” sick -- no, I got a covid test this week, it really is me being too fucked up to function.)  Department town hall this morning, depressing as hell (don’t ask), went into some kind of hyperfocus frenzy on clothing, didn’t eat? until 4 pm or so? jesus. started a cooking project I absolutely should not have started because I didn’t realize I was this fucked up until I accidentally tossed diced onion all over my kitchen and at that point it was a little late. (to add insult to injury I’m not even sure it’s turning out, yes, it’s 1 am, no, I don’t want to talk about it.)

Snippet from reluctant roommate AU concept 1 (from yesterday and today because I’m tired).

Chopper rolled up beside her and crooned a question, patting her hip soothingly with one of his manipulators.

“No – no, I’m all right,” Hera said shakily.  “I’m all right.”  She knelt down and hugged him, an awkward, uncomfortable proposition at the best of times, but at just this moment she wanted to.  She tipped her head down against his dome, trying to control her trembling and unable to do so.

The Inquisitor could hurt her, regardless of what he had said.  For all Hera know, what she considered being hurt and what he considered hurting someone could be two entirely different things.  She already knew Agent Beneke wouldn’t care, not after what he had said the last time they had talked.  He would probably be thrilled.

Chopper patted her shoulder.

“I’m all right,” Hera said, though she couldn’t make herself believe the words and suspected that Chopper knew her well enough that he wouldn’t take her words at face value the way most droids would. “It will be all right.”

She hugged him again, then forced herself to release him, though she stayed kneeling, suddenly too tired to get up. “Can you plot a course to Barzhun?” she asked him. “Then file the flight plan with the Bureau.”

She should have done that herself, but at the moment the effort seemed too much to bear.  Besides, she didn’t want to run the risk that Agent Beneke would try to talk to her again.

[bedlamsbard]

I was originally planning to wait on posting any of this concept because I wanted to add more, but since I’m not sure when that’s going to happen and also we could probably use some nice Backbone AU Kanan/Hera, here are a couple of scenes from the field AU concept.  This is a Backbone’verse AU, set while Hera is back at ISB HQ and Kanan’s off at the Crucible.

About 2.5K below the break.

Hera heard the cockpit hatch slide open behind her and had to resist the urge to scream. Chopper, tucked up near the nav console, let out a low rumbling noise of discontent that the intruder apparently decided to ignore.

“This is a pretty nice ride, Hera,” Markus Anjali said, oblivious of Chopper’s reaction. “Why don’t you –”

“Don’t sit there,” Hera snapped as he put his hand on the back of the co-pilot’s chair.

He looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because it’s my ship and I said so.”  And because it was Kanan’s chair, and she couldn’t bear to see anyone else sit there.

Markus shrugged in elaborate unconcern and took the empty chair behind it instead. “So why don’t you fly this ship more?”

“I work in an office, Markus,” Hera said, willing him to go away. “The only thing I’m flying these days is a desk.  I can’t exactly park the Ghost in the HQ speeder lot.”

“You could still hop over to one of the moons,” Markus suggested. “They have some nice resorts. In fact, after we get back to Naboo why don’t we –”

Hera was saved from having to turn him down again by Chopper impatiently telling them that they had reached Christophsis and were exiting hyperspace.  Hera suspected they were a minute or two early, but that would still put them in the system and she wasn’t about to argue.

They came out of hyperspace a few hundred kilometers outside the Imperial blockade around the planet. Hera transmitted the Ghost’s transponder codes and received permission to continue her transit to the planet, along with an approach vector that she was warned to stick to or risk being destroyed.  Since she had no intention of deviating, that wasn’t a problem. Markus chattered at her through the entire approach, while Hera resisted the urge to tell him to go back and join the other agents she was transporting.  Or to shoot him.  At this point she wasn’t picky.

She spotted the Imperial encampment as she entered the atmosphere and descended down towards the crystalline planet’s surface.  A landing officer on the comm gave her directions to her parking spot and she angled the Ghost down towards it, sliding into a spot between a couple of other nondescript light freighters presumably piloted by other field agents.  As she was powering down the Ghost’s systems, movement on the landing field outside the viewport caught her eye.

Hera froze with her hands still on the switches, then blurted out, “Chopper, finish up,” and threw herself out of her chair and down the ladder to the hold.

“Hera!” Markus called after her, but she didn’t look back.

She was down the ramp even before it had finished lowering, racing across the field to throw herself into Kanan’s arms.  He caught her with only one staggered step back, his arms tight around her as Hera pressed her face against his chest and sobbed.  After a moment she leaned up to kiss him frantically, looping her arms around his neck to pull him close to her.  He was clean-shaven, with scars on his cheeks and jaw that hadn’t been there before, and his long hair had been cropped short to reveal a notch taken out of one ear.  But it was him, it was him, he was here.

He cupped her face between his palms, his eyes wide with startled delight.  “What are you doing here?” he asked.  There was a hesitant note to his voice, as if he wasn’t entirely used to speaking anymore.

“I was assigned – I brought a load of agents from Naboo,” Hera said. “And I was assigned here. What are you doing here?”

“I was assigned here,” Kanan said, echoing her.  He kissed her again, then enfolded her into another hug, his arms tight across her shoulders.  Hera leaned her head against his leather-clad chest, vaguely aware of his unfamiliar black uniform and the metal cylinder hanging from his belt.  She was too relieved and overwhelmed by having Kanan here at all, not when she hadn’t expected to see him for months more.  Or ever.

“Hera?” Markus’s voice said from behind her.  He sounded utterly baffled.

She felt Kanan stiffen, but made herself straighten up and turn around anyway.  Markus was staring at her with confused betrayal in his eyes, with Cado and Leshan just behind him.

“Isn’t that –” Leshan began, before Markus blurted out, “I thought you didn’t like men.”

“You didn’t think I liked men and you still kept trying to sleep with me?” Hera demanded, too startled by that to think about her response before speaking.  Kanan went, if possible, even more still; Hera reached behind herself to find his hand with one of hers.

Floundering, Markus said, “Well – I mean – you’ve turned everyone down – and that guy you were supposed to be – I mean – I thought he might not be – uh – real.”

Hera stared at him, speechless.

“I thought – maybe you just – uh – needed to –”

“Stop talking,” Leshan told him firmly, seizing him by the arm and thrusting him back towards Cado, who caught him effortlessly and slapped a hand over his mouth when Markus made to protest.  She stepped forward and said, “Hera, I didn’t know your man was –”

Still among the living was the obvious end to that, but she finished with “here” instead, flicking an inquisitive look at Hera.

“I – I didn’t either,” Hera admitted. “I didn’t think – I thought you would still be –”  She glanced at Kanan, glanced at Leshan’s curious expression, and faltered.

“Usually,” Kanan said, looking down at her.  If he was aware of the others, he didn’t show it, all of his attention focused on her. “My ma – my teacher’s been on this op with me, but he had to go back a few weeks ago, so right now it’s just me.”

“Your –”  Hera considered their audience and decided to leave that for another time.  “I have to go check in.  Will you come find me later?”

“Of course.”  He ducked his head and kissed her quickly. “I love you,” he added, his voice low, the words just for her.

Hera smiled up at him, giddy. “I love you too,” she said, then reluctantly released him.  She watched him walk away, raising a hand briefly in greeting to Chopper, who was perched at the top of the Ghost’s ramp, until he disappeared behind the hull of another ship.  

Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Markus burst out, “You and an Inquisitor?”

Hera looked back at him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said, and went to go find the camp commander so she could report in.

*

Major Beck, the ISB agent in charge of the operation, had clearly already heard about her arrival, and eyed Hera askance as she came into the command module to check in.  But she didn’t comment on the way Hera had greeted Kanan and granted her permission to sleep on the Ghost, rather than assigning her one of the two to four person tents the other ISB agents on the operation were staying in.  The concession left Hera grateful; she had had more than her fair share of rooming with other people back at the Academy and didn’t want to do it again.  Especially with Kanan here.

“Besides, it will keep your astromech out of the way,” Beck said dryly, handing over a couple of datachips with the most up-to-date information on the operation that Hera was classified for.  Chopper had become infamous at ISB HQ shortly after Hera’s arrival and had been banned from the premises unless explicitly requested soon after that.

Hera bit her lip, not certain whether to smile or not. “Yes, ma’am.”

As Hera was turning to go, Major Beck added, “Agent Syndulla.  I would be very careful with him if I was you.”

Hera looked back at her, wondering if she was still talking about Chopper. “Ma’am?”

“Be very careful with that man,” Major Beck repeated, and Hera realized that she was talking about Kanan. “He’s not safe.  He’s not entirely sane.  He might have been once, but he isn’t anymore.  A physical relationship with him isn’t against regulations, and I understand that you two have a history, but be very, very careful.”

“Ma’am, I –”  Hera had absolutely no idea how she was going to end that sentence, but Major Beck waved a hand to dismiss her before she had to figure it out.  She left the module feeling confused and a little concerned, then spotted Markus outside with Cado, Leshan, and the other agents Hera had ferried over.  Hera ducked around the side of the module before Markus could look over and spot her, nearly running over a stormtrooper as she did so.  His double-take as he registered first her uniform and rank badge, then her skin color and lekku, would have been comical if Hera hadn’t been so distracted; as it was, she returned his belated salute absently and stepped around him to hurry down the pathway between the command module and the one next to it.

She didn’t spot Kanan as she familiarized herself with the camp, ignoring the stares she got from troopers and agents who didn’t expect to see a Twi’lek in an ISB uniform.  It was the first time that Hera had ever been on a major field operation – when she had been a cadet, she had been mostly used to the stares, but that had been a long time ago now.  In the Imperial Complex back on Naboo she only seldom ventured out of the ISB building, and everyone there knew who she was even if most of them thought that she shouldn’t be there.  At least here her uniform was proof enough of her identity; she had a recurring problem with other Imperials not believing she was one of them whenever she was in civilian clothes.

Since the Ghost hadn’t been stocked up before she left, she stopped in at the mess tent to get dinner, managing to slip out just as she Markus come in with Cado and Leshan.  She didn’t feel like talking to them right now, since she suspected that the only topic of conversation would be Kanan.  She took the boxed-up dinner back to the Ghost and sat in the empty lounge to eat it and read over the files Major Beck had given her, ignoring Chopper as he rolled around, cleaning up grumpily after the agents that had been onboard earlier.  This was punctuated by loud protests that he was an astromech, not a cleaning droid; since Hera hadn’t given him any instructions to clean anything she didn’t bother to weigh in.  She resisted the urge to go and sit in the cockpit or the gunner’s bubble so that she would have a view of the landing field, trying to make herself concentrate on the files.  There was no guarantee that she would be assigned to this operation for any period of time, since she was mostly here as a glorified hoverbus driver in the first place; after the incident with Agent Sarkos on Garel it had been made very clear to her that she wasn’t trusted in the field.

She had finished eating and put the remains in the galley to deal with later when she heard the hatch open down below and then close almost immediately.  Chopper grumbled, wary, and Hera scrambled to her feet, abandoning her datapad as she hurried to the ladder leading down to the hold.  She had code-locked the hatch; there was only one other person who could get in.

Kanan was standing in the hold when she reached the bottom of the ladder, looking around as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was really there.  He turned as Hera came towards him, looking tired and ill in the artificial lights in a way he hadn’t in the fading sunlight a few hours ago. Hera walked into his arms, holding him close against her as he pressed his face down into her shoulder.

They held onto each other, neither speaking, for what felt like a long time.  Hera finally released him so that she could cup his face between her palms and take a good, long look at him, studying his features now that she wasn’t as overwhelmed by seeing him again as she had been the first time.  He looked terrible.

“It’s all right,” Hera told him. “I’m here now.  It’s all right.”  She kissed him gently, then drew him in the direction of the ship’s upper levels.

They curled up together in the lounge, Kanan turning his face wearily against her shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look at her or anything else.  “Do you want to talk about it?” Hera asked him softly.

He shook his head. “Do you?”

“No.”  Hera pressed a kiss to his forehead.  She could tell that he was thinner than he had been beneath his black leathers and that some of the scars on his face were old, some more recent.  There were fading bruises on his neck beneath the high collar of his shirt, and a black mark that Hera didn’t want to look at too closely.

Kanan put his face back down against her shoulder and sighed.  “Are you all right?” he asked her. “That other agent said –”

“I’m all right,” Hera assured him. “I’m bored and I hate everyone, but I’m all right.”  She didn’t want to tell him about getting alternately propositioned and ignored, or about crying herself to sleep every night, or the fact that she had barely been able to look at the Ghost and had kept her feet firmly dirtside for the past four months. At least she didn’t have any new scars or bruises.

“Bored is better than some things.”  Kanan turned his head a little to kiss her neck – not amorously, but as if he wanted to kiss her and it was the closest patch of bare skin he could reach without moving.  “I’m very tired,” he added wearily.

“Can you spend the night?” Hera asked him.  She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but having him here and having to sleep in an empty bed seemed like unreasonable cruelty.

He nodded. “My master won’t be back for another week at the earliest,” he said.  After a moment he raised his head again, his eyes bright as he studied her face, and added, “I missed you so much.”

Hera leaned in to kiss him. “Your clothes are here,” she murmured. “All your things –”

Panic flashed across his eyes, so briefly that Hera half-thought she had imagined it. “I’ve got clothes,” he said. “They’re just all black.”

“Not your color,” Hera said, and he bit his lip in something that was vaguely akin to a smile.

“Not really.”

She laid her hand against the side of his face and kissed him again.  “Will you come to bed with me?”

He nodded, then hesitated. “I can’t – don’t –”

Hera kissed him.  “I’m tired too,” she said.  “Come on, love.  Let’s go to bed.”

[tarisilmarwen]

Splinters: Settled

(This is probably the shortest chapter I’ve done for this.  I kinda wish it could have been longer but I honestly don’t know what else I could have put in it.

In any case, the chapter still needed to happen.  You’ll see why.)

---

"Well now," Hera commented, hands on her hips and an amused smile tugging at her mouth as she entered the common room. "What's this?" she asked.

Zeb glanced down sheepishly at the sleeping teen curled up under his arm. "Er..." he said. "We were talking and... I dunno 'e just kind of nodded off on me."

Kanan, sitting in the chair behind them, straightened up. "Did you need something, Hera?" he offered.

Hera came further into the room, one hand drifting up to rub her shoulder as she looked down with affection at Ezra, drooped against Zeb's left side where they both sat in the booth. "Well I was going to ask Zeb if he could help me move the ion charges into the cargo bay but..." she explained.

Zeb chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, I'm stuck. Apparently I make a right good pillow."

"That's all right," Hera said. Her eyes were full of softness and warmth as she watched Ezra. "I'll get someone else. You can stay right there."

She fell silent a moment.

Ezra's breathing was slow and light. He wasn't in very deep sleep, but deep enough that he hadn't stirred at their voices. His features were loose, expression calm. He looked... at ease.

Hera sighed heavily.

"I haven't seen him sit still in days," she mumbled.

"I know," Kanan said, shaking his head. "Trust me, I've been trying to get him to rest since yesterday."

"That's kind of how this happened, actually," Zeb added lightly, tilting his head at Ezra. "Turns out all 'e needed was to sit down long enough."

Hera bit her lip. "Is he still having trouble sleeping?" Hera asked.

"Uh, yep," Zeb replied flatly.

"Every night," Kanan confirmed, mouth flattening into a frown.

Hera smeared a hand down her face, her eyes falling. "I wish there was something I could do to help him," she said miserably. "I hate seeing him struggle like this."

"Not sure what else there is you could do," Zeb told her, adjusting his arm on Ezra slightly, watching carefully to make sure the boy didn't stir. "Sabine and I sit up with him, if he wakes us," he began to list. "Kanan sometimes catches him wandering the ship. Even Chopper's been nicer to him than normal, which is just weird."

Hera brought her hand away from her face, holding her elbow. "Kanan? When we got you back from Tarkin it helped you to have some white noise running. You think that would work for Ezra?"

Kanan stroked his beard, considering it. "Could drown out the Ghost's air filtration system at least. He's mentioned something about that."

That, Hera hadn't heard. "Oh?" she asked.

"The sound it makes," Zeb clarified for her. "They had an IT-O interrogation droid in the room with 'im. Apparently the humming is similar."

"Hm." Hera seemed deep in though, a hand under her chin.

"Did you still need someone to help you move those ion charges?" Kanan queried.

Hera stirred from her trace. "If you're up for it," she said. "Don't worry, they're already loaded on hoverlifts."

Kanan smirked as he put his hands on the rails of the chair to stand up. "Oh so you'll let me move the charges, you just don't want me lifting them," he teased.

She smiled fondly at the joke as he made his way over, one of his hands finding the small of her waist. "I'm sure you'll be very careful," she quipped back. She let an arm slide around him as they turned to go out of the room.

"I'll just... stay here then," she heard Zeb say behind them.

"Let me know when he wakes up," Hera called over her shoulder, as they passed through the door and out into the quiet hall.

---

Not too many chapter notes this round, ain't really got that much to say.

1. The idea for this chapter just sort of flitted across my mind; it occurred to me that the adults hadn't yet had a talk among themselves about the whole situation and then the mental image of Ezra sleeping on Zeb crept in and it was too cute not to add so! This chapter happened.

2. I really just wanted to write Kanan and Hera being all concerned Space Dad and Space Mom over Ezra is what I'm saying. Also big brother Zeb cuddles. :)

3. 'nother little hint towards Kanan's ordeal and recovery after Mustafar.

Oooh I am excited for the next two chapters, they're gonna be fun ones! Thank you for reading my lovelies, and see you next week!

[gondalsqueen]

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Ketsu Onyo/Sabine Wren Characters: Hera Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Original Characters, Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus, CT-7567 | Rex, Mart Mattin, Wedge Antilles, Ketsu Onyo, Jacen Syndulla Additional Tags: Pregnancy, vague mentions of abortion, future character death in the background, Season/Series 04, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Chair Sex, Table Sex, sex during pregnancy, chapter 2 has lots of sex, Secrets, the best pilot in the galaxy, flying combat, character injury, canon torture, flight of the defender, rebel assault, Jedi Night, Major character death - Freeform, Grief, Morning Sickness, Counseling, Masturbation, Dreams, Traditions, Space family, Inappropriate bets, Lothal, Shopping, down time, Space Combat, Battle of Scarif, Rogue One - Freeform, hammerhead corvette!, Yavin 4, Stardust - Freeform, Alderaan, Death Star, labor, Childbirth, domestic life, Lothwolves Summary: It was spring in the northern hemisphere, cascades of purple flowers draping from the trees and a cool breeze against her face and lekku. Strapped to her chest, Jacen slept, lulled by the wind and the walking. Then she was happy in spite of herself, happy just to be in a world that was still alive and getting better. ... 

The next two months lasted four months. Or at least they felt like they did. Part of it was the steep learning curve of keeping this tiny, needy thing alive, part of it the fugue from lack of sleep. Mostly it was the fact that she practically never slept in longer than two-hour snatches, so when she stopped to add up her awake time...two months really was more like four months.

“Stay on Lothal,” Rebel Command told her. “Moving bases is mundane. We can do it without the Ghost.” And Hera, who had thought she’d feel guilty about any time away from her post, took the leave and ran with it.

Everybody helped with baby duty. Ketsu, unexpectedly, had the best luck — maybe because she was the only one who didn’t worry about what would happen if Jacen never stopped crying. She just put him on her shoulder and walked and bounced and went on watching her show, one earpiece in place. “She’s frosty,” Sabine said in admiration, but Hera found little overlap between battle skills and baby skills.

Mostly Hera got up with him when he cried, though. There was no point waking someone else to change his diaper when she was just going to have to feed him afterwards. And even from another room his cries made her milk let down. She was raw with lack of sleep and she cried every time he nursed, muffling the sobs and missing Kanan, missing Ezra.

Jacen was a tiny, wild creature during those first few weeks. When she held him in the small hours, limbs scrunched up against her body and eyes buttoned tight, he seemed more like some kind of cub than a person. She ran her hand over his downy hair and said, “It’s okay, good boy. The world won’t always be so strange.” She kissed the little legs that were quickly becoming pudgy. She tried to remember lullabies from her childhood, but drew a blank and had to resort to singing some of Kanan’s drinking songs, instead: “No wind that blew dismayed the crew nor troubled the captain’s mind.” He’d sung it to her every time she’d been grounded with a bad injury or a stomach virus.

Those weeks were hard and boring, but normal in a way she’d never experienced before. They cooked and cleaned and said “oh Force, how is he awake again?” They repaired things and went to the market. She caught up on mission reports and read everything Rebel Command sent her. Nobody planned missions and nobody shot at them. It was just her and her family, going about life and watching too many shows on the holonet.

Hera walked to the market every day so she could see the sunlight and get out of the house. It was spring in the northern hemisphere, cascades of purple flowers draping from the trees and a cool breeze against her face and lekku. Strapped to her chest, Jacen slept, lulled by the wind and the walking. Then she was happy in spite of herself, happy just to be in a world that was still alive and getting better. Soon it would be summer and the Lothali children would be out of school, twisting open the water mains when nobody was looking and playing in the flooded streets like feral lothcats. She didn’t know what came next and often she was so tired that the world around her seemed unreal, but each day she got to walk in the sunshine.

In the early evenings when he’d been fed and changed and soothed but still wouldn’t stop wailing, Hera strapped Jacen down and put him in a landspeeder. Outside the city she could pick up speed and race across Lothal’s grasslands. And as long as she kept moving, he would calm and sleep.

Except for one night. Hera was so tired that she tried to cheat the system and just walk him around the house instead of driving him. Jacen was having none of it. By the time she admitted defeat and put him in the landspeeder he was worked up into full freak-out mode. He’d calmed by the time they hit the city gates, but then he just sat there blowing bubbles to himself and chewing on his fists, eyes wide open.

“Please go to sleep,” she begged. “Come on, aren’t you even a little bit tired?”

He was not, so she kept driving.

The first howl came from far away. Hera saw the creature climb to the top of a distant hill and raise its head towards the full moon. Lothwolf. Beautiful.

The second came disturbingly nearby. The third just to starboard. And then one appeared in front of her, coming into being where nothing had been before, and she was forced to jam on the breaks.

It’s okay, she thought. These are friends.

Two more stalked up on either side of the speeder. They were HUGE friends.

His own personal amusement park ride paused, Jacen started wailing again. One of the wolves nosed towards him. No, no, he was too little and that was TOO close. Hera scrambled to unbuckle him and pick him up. But then the wolves nosed at her, too. Did they think he was some hurt baby animal who needed protecting from her?

“Hush, you big boy,” she soothed. It’s okay, she told herself again. You rode on one of these things. But that was when Ezra had been around to talk to them, and she didn’t exactly have his way with animals.

One of the wolves picked her up by the nape of her shirt and deposited her gently on her feet outside the speeder. Okay, they weren’t behaving like wild creatures. Two more showed up right behind her and she didn’t know it until one of them nudged her in the back. She must have jumped a half meter in the air, but she stood her ground. Jacen stopped wailing and sneezed, then observed in wide-eyed fascination, though the wolves must have been beyond his range of focus.

Then the first one, the wolf that had stopped her speeder, opened its mouth. She put a protective hand over Jacen’s head as those teeth loomed nearer. But it only extended its tongue, bigger than the whole baby, and...licked him? And her entire arm, too — eew. The next one nudged in and licked them as well. And then there was a whole pack, covering them in wolf slobber, breath heavy and warm all around her but not threatening. They were...grooming Jacen, or marking him. It didn’t seem to hurt him, at any rate.

Once each of the wolves had gotten its turn that wail went up from a distant hill again. They turned their heads towards it and loped off without so much as another look at her.

Well, that had been...the second-most bizarre experience she could recall. Jacen, thoroughly slimy and pacified, nuzzled for her breast. “NOW you’re happy?” she asked him.

...

When Jacen was eight weeks old he got his second and last set of inoculations. He ran a mild fever and screamed all night and they all stayed up fretting while Chopper beeped in annoyance: Within expected parameters!!! What was wrong with them, had they all forgotten how to measure temperature? Two days later Rebel Command let her know that they were settled into the new base and ready to begin regular missions again, the message clear. Hera still hadn’t gotten more than a half-night’s sleep since Scarif, her body was far from combat-ready, and Jace wanted to nurse every three hours. But the break was over.

“We’re not really taking this little thing back to base?” Zeb asked.

“He stays with me,” Hera told him.

“That was a great plan when we thought we were taking him to YAVIN, but this is Hoth... “

“The Ghost is heated.”

“You can’t keep him in the Ghost all the time.”

“He stays with me,” Hera repeated every time somebody protested. And that was that.

That evening she found Sabine staring too intently at the xisor chard instead of chopping it. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go with you.”

She’d known that was a possibility. Hoth was so remote, and Sabine had duties elsewhere, too.

“It’s not just Lothal,” Sabine told her. “It’s the Mandalorian rebellion and Concord Dawn, and Ketsu won’t join in on a military operation THAT totally, and I need to be...not hiding. Not that you’re hiding. But — ”

“You’re tied to the rest of the galaxy now. I know. That’s not a bad thing.”  

“It’s not.” Sabine sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“We won’t just sit on base all the time. We’ll still run missions and leave the planet. You’ll probably see us again in a few months. That’s not very long.”

“I know, but it’s long in baby time!”

Oh, that was it. Jacen had been almost like Sabine’s own child since the moment he’d been born, and to leave that —  Yeah, that was going to hurt. “We’ll comm every night,” she said. “He won’t forget you.”

“Who’s going to watch him when you’re out on a mission?”

“Zeb or Rex or Chopper. We’ll trade off. It’s a series of caves surrounded by solid rock on all sides, Sabine. He’ll be safe.”

Sabine nodded, unresigned, and they made their last dinner on Lothal.