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It’s an undercover mission Hera isn’t stoked about but the rest of her specters certainly are as they dress in formal attire, ready to snazz it up with some of the big leagues although she’s almost sure every single one of them (maybe not Sabine) might just make a fool of themselves if they try.
Kanan is as nonplussed and nonchalant as he always is, his abundance of swagger dialing up notches she didn’t even know he could reach. Maybe it is a good thing he is so calm and unconcerned because his ease often did travel. If not only to her but the rest of their little made up family.
Chopper was less than thrilled he was being left alone to guard the ship and prepare for a quick take off in case a get away was needed. In fact he’d nearly zapped Kanan, he had managed to catch Ezra and their resident lasat who was only just refraining from squashing the bucket of bolts because the droid had rode off to safety behind the green twi’leks legs.
She’d already been irritated, having to buy an all too expensive dress with her hard earned credits she’d rather have used on upgrades or repairs. The crew noticed as well so they thought better than to try their luck.
The dress in question was tight, cinched at the waist with a plunging neckline that ended right below her breastbone. A slit ran up the length of her left leg, exposing most of her thigh.
A thin layer of lace, a deeper crimson that the rest of the dress lined the neckline and everything from the waist down. She would have liked to forgo the heels, but the matching ruby skyscraper stilettos were a must. As was the obsidian headdress and stockings wrapped around her head and lekku, the dark a contrast to her open back that made the curvatures of her shoulders all the more alluring.
It took her crew, even Chopper who was cuddled against the back of her calves moments to notice the outfit. As soon as they did the air in the ship grew tight, Sabine speaking up first, her dyed hair matching the lilac dress she was wrapped in.
“You look great!” there’s an affirmative from Zeb, and an excited, “Yeah!” From Ezra. Kanan doesn’t say a word, his mouth parted in the slightest as his seafoam eyes took her in, astounded. As if she were a religious experience, like the rare sightings of Diathim Angels on Lego.
Hera is helpless against the gentle endeared smile that tugs at her lips and the blush sprouting over her features. She turns away, not wanting to let her flush show, knowing it’d only boost his ego or provide fodder for their cannon fire flirting.
“We’ll then, let’s get this over with,” her sultry rasp thankfully smoothes over the near tremble to her words as they head into battle. Kanan’s arm suddenly interlinked with her own.
“A beautiful woman is always in need of an escort,” He’s beaming as he says it, and she fights not to turn her head and look because she knows what she will see. A tight fitting white shirt that strains against his muscles, his caramel skin visible through the cloth if looked at closely enough.
Not that he made his skin hard to find, his top three buttons were down, exposing his built physique and curled hair that begged for a hand to rake through it. Their closeness had been in the plan, if it hadn’t she wouldn’t have allowed him to hold her arm.
It was a necessary precaution, one she couldn’t even begrudge any longer because it’s been this way ever since she was born and long before. There were far too many new injustices for her to be upset over, even if her being brought more than enough footholes for her to trudge through.
A female twi’lek in a fancy party was sure to be mistaken for something , so Kanan’s presence alone let even the sleaziest of sleemos know if they want her for something, they must go through him first.
Rings sat on their index fingers, their cover naming them as engaged but not married. They weren’t sure some coaxing would be needed for their contact, and engaged meant there were no permanent strings attached to Kanan making her an eligible pursuit if one was determined enough.
Hera was a little nauseous thinking about men’s debauchery, especially when it came from her unenthusiastic expense.
Sabine and Ezra paired off, and Zeb is a lone wolf as they enter the party. The lights dim, the band on the stage locked in a spotlight to highlight their playing. Her dress is muted in the light, nearly black but she’s sure if she was on stage she’d be as vivid as fresh bloodfall.
It doesn’t stop the eyes from locking on though, her viverscent skin would never not be eye-catching. Even the dark.
Ezra and Sabine immediately sequester themselves in a corner booth that isn’t so hidden to make the act suspicious.
Zeb stalks over to a round of poker or something else of the sort, and the players eye the suavely dressed Lasat before they welcome him in with open arms and a pat on the back. The dealers and players are always the most welcoming to newcomers so long as they can prove themselves at the table.
She envies the effortless assimilation to their environment, no matter what she does hers will never be as seamless, and if it does it comes at the price of her dignity. Maybe it’s selfish of her to be so concerned when the world is so dire, yes she’d be willing to be humiliated to save the galaxy, but she has feelings and emotions too. The hoops she jumps through is like chewing glass and swallowing it’s pieces, garroting her throat.
It’s in these moments she questions if this war does end, who will she be? She’s never been anyone without it, and the persona she’d formed as a commanding righteous pilot dedicated to the cause, chips from time to time.
It’s the constant loss and degradation that peels back the layers of hope she tries to put up in excess. Not only for herself but others. Kanan’s arm unwinds from her own, moving to her lower back, guiding her to a table up front where they could watch the band play.
They didn’t know who their contact would approach, they made it easy by all of the spectres being there, he could approach any one of them and things would play out and they could go on.
The front was obvious, so when they’d arrive if they chose them Hera would lead the man away to the bar or vice versa. The details had been iffy, a bad sign already, but they were in dire need of the information their contact would hopefully provide.
“A drink for the lady?” Kanan questions, tone jaunty and a little louder than normal as to clue in potential eavesdroppers. Drinking on the job wasn’t uncommon, but it was standard to find something that wouldn’t even get them close to tipsy.
She knows it’s not Kanan’s fault but more often than not when he picks her out something, there’s just a little bit too much alcohol for her to even want to drink it. So she laughs, a bubbly thing that for a moment borders on something sincere when she thinks back to a mission she nearly threw up the fruity daiquiri he’d picked out.
“Yes,” he moves to stand but her hand on his shoulder keeps him from rising, “But I’ll get it, you never get my order right,” there’s a certain pitch that comes natural to all girls when speaking to their crush but it quickly pulls back into her sultry fond rasp that turns heads.
Her trip over to the bar feels similar to walking through a field littered with landmines. She’s sure she sees a man drooling, their heads peaking closer and closer to her with each click of her heel until she is leant against the counter.
The bartender is no slouch, rushing towards her like a trained albeit lustful dog. There’s a menu in his hands, and he quickly gets to work on explaining the specials. The bar lights bring her colors back, and there is a whistle from behind but she purposefully ignores it.
The bartender takes in her attire and suggests accordingly, “For you my dear I’d suggest a bloodsour,”
“A virgin one please,” he nods and gets to work, she watches him make it carefully; unsure if he’ll give her a spiked drink regardless. He doesn't and for that she’s grateful. It’s done a second later and as the glass is poised to her lips an intruder is at her shoulder, confidently slapping a credit down to pay for her drink while the muzzle of a blaster sticks into her side.
“That’s a lovely lovely voice,” there’s a split second where she’s frozen and that spike of something is wrong must tip off Kanan, or he’d already noticed because her peripheral catches his gaze from the table. She’s sure the other concerned glare she feels is Ezra.
For once they are smart enough not to react, really she doesn’t know but she’s willing to bet Sabine is holding Ezra’s arm to keep him from intervening, but really she’s most surprised by Kanan’s restraint.
His tolerance for her in danger had always been low, she wonder’s how tightly his jaw is locked and wishes she could stroke it to help quell some of that worry. But there's a gun in her side, if shot would obliterate her liver, potentially her intestines, and tear away the bottom of her lungs.
They are a fair bit away from a medical vicinity that would take her and immediately not notice she is in fact one of the galaxies most wanted, so she needs to play along.
“So I’ve been told,” it’s a measured response, one she very carefully has to keep nonchalant as not to put out the rasp that’d attracted her this seemingly volatile attention.
“Why don’t you get up there and sing for us then baby?” the gun presses a little more forcibly, edging her off the seat and she obliges without any hassle other than shifting her dress so the slit is even once again.
The gun is tucked away as she makes her way up the steps, monster in tow, and her head is purposefully level so she won’t look down at Kanan who she knows is stuck to his seat. There’s an instinct to fight but she couldn’t even if she wanted too.
“We have a new singer tonight. Let's give her a big welcome and hope she does well,” He introduces, and she notices two things. One, no one in the joint questions it meaning this is a common place procedure, especially with his threatening words, and two the patch under her feet is hollow.
She hasn’t sung much, but she does know she can do it. It’d never sounded off key or off putting when she’d sung under her breath in the shower or while tightening bolts.
The people in the room clap, drunk men hollering, and she school’s her features knowing this is an all or nothing moment. If she must sing, she’ll play the part of a canary and then she will fly home: easy in theory, disorienting in execution.
“The world was on fire and no one could save me but you,” jaws drop and Hera grips the stand, her lips close to the mic, and her voice fills the building. She has no idea where the words are coming from. But then again, she does, and he’s sitting right in front of her.
“It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do,” Zeb’s game has stopped, in fact even the bartender is no longer serving or making drinks. Everyone’s at attention.
“I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you,” Kanan set down his glass so as not to break it, the force and his heart knowing that this song is directed at him even though her eyes won’t settle on his person.
“And I’d never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you,” a line from her nightmares. A sentiment she held on the trips he didn’t come home from, not for months or weeks, sometimes even days. That line is pure fear and she knows it, he knows it, the crew listening probably knows it too.
Kanan struggles with the urge to yank her off stage and into his arms.
“No, I,” her voice drags and it’s almost as if the building shutters, “Don’t wanna fall in love,” Kanan and herself nearly shake, and her neck hurts from her own resistance. Determined to get this over with without simply falling into his lap.
Their relationship had always been fickle, her dedication to the war clear, his love for her more often than not apparent. It’s true, she hadn’t wanted to fall in love, it is probably why she did.
“No, I- Don’t wanna fall in love. No I- Don’t wanna fall in love,”
It’s only for a split second but he is her homing device, her focal point. The love of her life, and her eyes need to take him in before she drowns in these words, “With you ,”
It’s so quick but it mottles the flurry of feelings in her chest, and as always when the topic of their relationship comes into play. She is festered with irritation and anger, it’s directed at him, it always is because she cannot bear to pull it back towards herself even when she knows she’s the one who fell as well.
Their love is not unrequited, but as a captain, someone who’s supposed to be in charge, in control, it’s easier to pin him as a siren than admit she’d caught him in the net first.
“What a wicked game to play,” His eyes burn her, “To make me feel this way,” the flirting, the touching, the affection-
“What a wicked thing to do. To let me dream of you,” the future he constantly brought up for them that she refused to see even when she so desperately wanted to. Blind .
“What a wicked thing to say,” Words for herself that she hears from Kanan in her worst dreams, “ You never felt this way, ” she loves him, she does, and it is right of him to call her out for that fact even if he never actually does.
“What a wicked thing to do. To make me dream of you,” she knows she’s led him on even though she’d warned him she would. He stayed and loved her regardless because even though it was her job to provide hope, it was him who actually had it.
“No, I- Don’t wanna fall in love. No I- Don’t wanna fall in love. No-I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I- Don’t wanna fall in love,” she does, she does , she has, she so deeply and desperately has.
Gravity pulls her eyes back down, the place quiet, unsure if the song has ended. He looks up at her desperately, a thirsted, starving man, “With you,”
The crowd booms, and she is so ready to get off stage, and Kanan’s body language alone as he tries to unpin his shell shocked self from his chair is ready to take her into his open his arms, and even if it’s clumsy and improper she’ll slide down straight off the stage if the gunman let her.
She hadn’t even realized the man had made his way back up the steps, taking her arm and the mic before she could even move to retreat, it creases her lover’s brow and his lips are in a tight line.
“Well well, what about an encore folks? Maybe something different this time,” the clapping and agreement of the guest keeps her still. Somehow designated as entertainment, and she knows how Kanan turns his head; he's scoping to see if any of the specters had got the information they came for but nothing turns up meaning he can’t make a scene and get them home.
Hera takes a deep breath, knowing this is weirdly cathartic, and motions to the piano player to slow the tempo while encouraging the mon calamari on the violin to keep with her.
“If it’s gonna get violent tonight. Tell me you’re gonna be alright,” although her last song had been infused with measured displeasure and aggression, her heart settles, more fear than before pulling at her eyes and her own yearning for the man in front of her pumping her blood.
“You’re gonna be. It’s an eye for an eye and I don’t know if I,” she nearly stutters after those words, not knowing if he’ll like what she says next. They are bound by their own preconceptions, but she knows deep in her heart, he feels the same.
It is war and they both know the indecision and trepidation that comes for all those involved, “Want you fight, want you to fight,”
“I’m losing my mind. Don’t leave me behind. We need a bit more time,” their worlds expanding, the resistance is changing, and although it was her that pulled him in, she fears as he trains Ezra and searches for his purpose and connection with the loth wolves that she’ll lose him.
“‘Cause I don’t want the world to turn without you,” it’s dramatic and it’s so terribly against everything she stands for, even more so than what he’s supposedly supposed to, but there is so much light in him, she wonders how he even thinks it’s possible for him to fall into the dark.
She knows he says it’s because of her, and maybe at first and now partially it was, but he was a good man. And she knew with or without her, he would have gotten up. Fed up with innocence being harmed, he would fight. It’s why she loved him.
“And I don’t want the sun to burn without you. Yeah, I don’t want the world to turn without you,” his face is pained, a battle in his mind that Hera wins like he knew she would because she should.
The jedi were wrong.
She hopes she can quell some of that pain, “You don’t have to be the brave one every time.” He’d tell her the same, he does so under his breath.
“I know you wanna make it right,” she feels the galaxy, the future of the Jedi on his shoulders and she doesn’t know how to help but she wants to, “You wanna make,”
Excuses, empty assurances, keeping her, the team out. Isolation she won’t stand for, “It’s a lie for a lie and I’m getting tired. On the other side, on the other side,” Each instance had stung her with poisonous stingers, ones that broke off within.
“I’m losing my mind. Don’t leave me behind. We need a bit more time,” She’s pleading and as always her frantic mind can shudder and make even her inept, “Can you hear my cry? An old lullaby. Drifting through the sky,”
And as always, with uncertainty comes the yearning for guidance, for love, for true assurance. The desperation from within has finally won, she needs him to know he is loved wholly and unflinchingly.
“‘Cause I don’t want the world to turn without you. And I don’t want the sun to burn without you. Yeah, I don’t want the world to turn without you. And I don’t want the sun to burn without you,”
The drums begin and she doesn’t know why but she keeps with it even though her lungs are screaming, “‘Cause I don’t want the world to turn without you. And I don’t want the sun to burn without you,”
Her mind is too spent for words so she gives herself and her bleeding heart time, “Oh oh, oh oh. Oh oh, Oh no. Oh oh, Oh no. ” There is more for her heart to give, and it is obvious the patrons are looking for something grand, Kanan deserves it so she continues to give into this confession of a serenade.
“So won’t you. Hold me now.” His knuckles are white as he forces himself to stay in his seat. Her question is something she wants an answer to, even though she already knows she’ll get it, but as always she knows she’d led them down this uncertain path.
Feeling like a love struck loon, years younger with a crush, like what should have happened in a right universe , “Hold me like I never did anything to hurt you,” his lips purse as if he’s ready to refute her and she knows he wants to.
“Don’t let go,” his eyes show a promise never to, “Give me another minute to lay here in your echo,” the jedi gives readily, his chest thumping in a mantra. His heart hers.
“I don’t want the world to turn without you,” the lyrics outline his lips, “And I don't want the sun to burn without you. Yeah, I don’t want the world to turn without you. And I don’t want the sun to burn with you,” whispered words of lovers that would forever be written in the stars.
The band does not stop and neither does she, repeating her chorus of “Oh oh, oh no,” eight times before the music begins to slow, and she is painfully honest as she stares at him, nearly forgetting they are not alone.
“I don’t wanna live a life without you,” It’s so quiet and the war flashes throughout her mind, and she knows, he knows they may not make it to the end. So she must offer an assurance because as captain, as a leader in this resistance, it is what she is meant to do, “I will watch the world burn without you,”
The twi’lek doesn’t wait for the thunderous applause that is sure to come, nor does she stick around to figure out what that trapdoor may do. She’s rushes to the edge of the stage where he’s already standing, his hands latching onto her hips and pulling her to him
The gun, the plans, her mind is reeling for her Jedi and for that she is rewarded with his arms pulling her in tight before his lips descend upon her own. Her hands are tangled in his hair, and when they part she’s immediately burying her face into his beating heart.
She doesn’t hear the applause, but her keen senses pick up the clicking of a blaster, and she’s in the perfect position. Her body in front of Kanan’s, and unless they went for the head, they wouldn’t take him without taking her too.
And although they’d threatened her, after that show, she can say with certainty they won’t kill her if they want her up on that stage again. The same turn of the head, scoping, Hera feels the confirmation of his heart, fully yet excitedly assured.
She doesn’t know if it’s the kids or Zeb who has the info but that doesn’t matter, nothing matters. The patrons are either deathly still or making a beeline for the exit. The sight of the blaster startling them, but they got what they came for, the gig is up. No more precedent to follow.
They run, Hera losing her shoes and miraculously not breaking her ankles. Bolts in the air being expertly deflected by two genuine Jedi. Zeb barreling through crowds to clear their path back to the ghost with the disk in his pocket. Sabine firing bolts back at the men pursuing.
Hera is used to the rush of adrenaline, so desensitized to chaos that it no longer feels as if the world would end with her, but here and now as her hand is intertwined with her Jedi's, she feels alive.
“I didn’t know you could sing,”
“I wasn’t entirely sure I could either love,”