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You have got to tell him, Syndulla. You’re letting it affect your work, she thought, perched in the cockpit of The Ghost, twisting her mouth over a recent realization.
Falling for someone had never been part of Hera Syndulla’s rebellion plan. Gathering likeminded people together and caring for them as a team, as family—that was one thing. But growing attached to one person in particular? It was foolish and dangerous. Romantic relationships were for complacent citizens, not freedom fighters.
The rebellion came first. It always came first. She hadn’t brought him along to stare at and sigh over. He was crucial to her campaign. In terms of bringing down the Galactic Empire, Kanan Jarrus was of the utmost importance.
But in terms of Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus was…
“Oh, you’re being ridiculous,” she hissed at herself, even if her heart did beat a little faster when he was nearby. So what if she couldn’t breathe when they squeezed past each other in the ship’s narrow passageways? So what if his smile made her smile? Or she missed him immensely and unfathomably when he was out for a drink? Kanan meant no more to her than…
Hera sat back in her seat, staring out the cockpit window as the universe zipped by. There were times like this, when he was parked in the passenger seat, that she would notice he was staring at her as all the stars and planets in the galaxy whizzed by outside. He would look at her as if all the wonder in the universe couldn’t measure to her. She had called him out on it the first few times, teasing him for being so obvious, but now she let it slide. Now, she liked the attention. She liked knowing he was looking at her.
Hera brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes. Maybe she needed to get more sleep. Maybe she needed to own up to the fact that, yes, Kanan meant something to her; something that she had never experienced and didn’t know how to handle. Maybe she needed to accept her emotions and tell him.
But telling him was risky. If he didn’t feel the same way (after all, she knew he was attracted to her, but she also knew he was a dog), then maybe he would leave. Or if they did pursue something between them and it didn’t work out, then things could be tense or awkward or, again, he could leave.
And if he left, would he be vindictive? Would he tell the Empire about her? Would her downfall be because she let a little crush get out of hand?
But then, what if it did work out? What if he did feel about her the same way she did about him? What would happen if they chose to be together and spent every moment, waking and otherwise by each others’ sides. Fighting the Galactic Empire by day, all smiles and banter, and then by night—
Hera fought back the image of being in bed with him, asleep or indulging in more dangerous behavior. She tried not to think about the particular curve of his smile, or the way he might sigh as his body pressed against hers. She heard him say her name, the way he had said it a million times before, but it was somehow different; he was saying her name in a new language altogether, one never before spoken by beast or man.
“Hera, are you listening?”
The Twi’lek nearly jumped out of her skin. “Kanan?”
“No, it’s the Emperor. Of course it’s me.”
Hera turned in her seat to find Kanan standing in the cockpit’s doorway, half dressed and running a towel over his hair.
“Oh,” she said.
“I need you to remind me to get a new tunic when we get there. Mine’s got this big rip in it now.” He dropped his towel around his shoulders and moved to take his place in the passenger seat.
“A rip?” Hera asked, frowning. “What happened?”
“Eh, who knows. Probably just snagged it.” He explained, scrubbing at his ear with the towel. “How’s space?”
“Space is good, full of stars,” Hera said, checking the instruments. “We should get there before too long.”
“Good, I could use a drink.”
“You say that after every mission.”
“Well, I mean it after every mission,” Kanan teased. “Miss Bossy Boots.”
“Addict.”
“Killjoy.”
Hera felt her cheeks push into a smile as she reached over and playfully punched Kanan in the arm.
“Hey!” He laughed, and grabbed her hand as she tried to move away. “Play nice!”
“Kanan, I have to fly the ship,” she objected as he stood, tugging at her arm.
“Oh, please, you could fly this thing blindfolded with your feet,” he said, and pulled her to stand.
He playfully drew her away from the window, humming some tuneless melody. He twirled her on the spot and made a big show of whipping his towel from his shoulders and tossing it to the ground. Hera laughed as he pulled her closer to him and wrapped one arm around her waist. He adjusted his hold on her hand and continued to hum as they began to sway back and forth.
“What are you doing?” She asked, smiling in an attempt to placate whatever emotional reaction was happening in her stomach.
“Practicing,” Kanan said.
“For?”
“For whatever bar we end up at. Men in bars always look at you and I want them to know you’re spoken for.”
“Am I, now?” Hera placed her free hand on Kanan’s bare shoulder and ran a thumb over his skin. She felt her heart flip.
“Of course, Captain. You’re married to the Rebellion. No time for romance when you’re overthrowing a government.”
Hera’s heart sank. He was right. Of course he was right. They were in the middle of the fight of their lives and she was thinking about some sort of complicated emotional involvement. Romance would only get in the way.
“What’s wrong, Hera?” Kanan asked in a sing-song tone, as if he’d asked the question a thousand times.
Hera drew a deep breath and spoke plainly, “I think I need to tell you something.”
“I’m all ears, beautiful.”
Another deep breath, slower, this time. Kanan continued to guide their dance back and forth, back and forth across the cockpit. It was almost a rocking motion, Hera thought, one that might lull her to sleep in any other situation.
“You remember when we met?” She said.
“Of course.”
“And you remember when you joined my crew…”
“I am your crew.”
“Kanan—“
“Shutting up.”
Hera’s mouth twitched in a smile, but only for a moment. As Kanan looked down at her, he seemed to realize the gravity of whatever was about to happen and the dancing stopped. His brow raised with concern, he silently pleaded for her to say whatever was on her mind. Absentmindedly, Hera pushed back the damp hair clinging to Kanan’s forehead and looked into his eyes. She could feel her heart beating a bit faster (or was it his?) and she took one more breath.
“Kanan Jarrus,” she said, and quickly closed her eyes. “I love you.”
There was a silence between them for a long moment. Hera thought her heart might explode or simply stop altogether and she instantly began to regret what she had said. He wasn’t interested in her that way, obviously. He was a dog, a girl-at-every-space-port kind of guy. There was no way he felt anything beyond a basic, primal attraction to her. She was such a fool.
“You know what, forget I said anything,” Hera said quickly, pulling away from him. But Kanan didn’t let her go. He pulled her back against him and lifted one hand to touch her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter for fear that if she opened them, she would see that she was right.
“Hera,” Kanan’s voice was soft and calm in a way that she had never heard before. “Say it again.”
She shook her head, still refusing to look at him.
“Please. Say it again.”
Every inch of Hera’s body went numb and she swallowed heard. All or nothing. She held her breath and opened her eyes to find herself looking directly into his.
“I love you.”
A flicker of a smile crossed Kanan’s lips before he leaned down and pressed them firmly to Hera’s. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her to him. Admittedly, Hera was a little taken aback, especially as Kanan lifted her from the floor for a moment before breaking the kiss and grinning like a fool.
“I know.”
Hera pulled away from him suddenly. “You know? You know? What do you mean ‘I know?’ I just told you! For the love of everything, Kanan Jarrus, I swear—“
“Hera! No, Hera!” Kanan laughed, struggling to pull the blushing Twi’lek back towards him. Despite her objections, he managed to plant his hands on either side of her face and turn her to look at him. “Hera, I know.” He smiled and she lowered her brow. “I know. I love you.”
“… What?”
“Hera Syndulla, I, Kanan Jarrus, love you.”
“… What?”
Hera felt like she’d been hit with a hoverbus. Kanan snorted a laugh and wrapped his arms around her once again.
“You love me?” She asked.
“Of course I do.”
Hera stood dumbfounded for only a moment more before she laced her hands together behind his back and rested her head tentatively against his shoulder.
“… I went through all of that stress and you just knew?”
“Try not to overthink it,” Kanan advised. “I don’t really get it either.”
“You damn Jedi and your mind tricks.”
“Got you to fall in love with me, didn’t I?”