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“Hey, Kanan, we got plenty of targets,” Hera said, voice traveling through comms. “You maybe want to hit any of them?”
Kanan was up above; his job was manning the overhead gun.
A headache had started at his left temple, and it was slowly drilling its way to spread behind his eye. The pain had been sudden, throbbing, and it’d left him unfocused. But now he was firing at oncoming TIE-fighters. And he was missing, hitting either the edges of wings, or nothing at all.
“Kanan, you okay up there?” Hera asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just keep being perfect.”
“Oh, you know I will.”
“Hey, can you two stop flirting?” Ezra asked through comms. “We have a lot of work to do.”
Funny that Ezra was being the responsible one.
Kanan was about to fire at an oncoming TIE when suddenly it felt like something had stabbed him right through the head. The pain went all the way down to his teeth. He cried out, nearly falling from his seat and down the shaft to the deck.
There were people saying things, maybe asking questions. He was stabbed again with that invisible spear. He was double over, holding his head, groaning.
The pain had taken over the whole front left side of his head, and it felt like someone was trying to scoop out his left eye with a spoon.
Kanan thought he saw someone beneath him at the bottom of the ladder, but he wasn’t sure. A TIE exploded, and he only knew because the bright light had the pain throbbing worse than ever, and he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up.
“...and Kanan’s not looking good,” he caught on, Sabine speaking right beneath him. “Kanan, what’s wrong?”
The pain subsided just a bit, and he tried taking deep breaths.
“Migraine,” he said.
“Karabast, right now? Okay, just come down the ladder. I’ll be here to help you.”
“Where’s Hera?” he asked, really wanting her right about now.
The ship rocked, and Kanan nearly fell again. He started climbing down, eyes squeezed shut, having to feel his way down.
The rungs were cold against his hands, and he wanted to rest his head against all that cold. Maybe it’d help, maybe it’d get his stomach to stop twisting and twisting and—
The Ghost shuddered again—another hit to the shields—and Kanan fell.
Before he could fully hit the floor, Sabine caught him, arms looped under his armpits.
“Hera, I got him!” Sabine yelled.
Yelling. That wasn’t great.
All around him there was chaos and light and noise and sound, and it was making it so much worse. But the mission. The mission was important. He had to—
Kanan stood, but was hunched over like an old man.
“Hera wants you in your cabin.”
“No, no, I have to… The mission—”
“The faster I get you to your quarters the faster I can get back to the fight.”
Liking that logic, Kanan let Sabine help him through the passageways to his cabin.
He lay there in the darkness, not even moving his head. He feared that if he did he would throw up.
Everything was spinning and swirling, and he was still surprised he had his left eye. It hurt so bad right behind it, and all around it, and his temple was a nightmare of agony.
It seemed like the fight would never end, but eventually there was a jolt he recognized—the Ghost jumping to hyperspace.
Minutes later, Hera was coming in to see him.
“Kanan, are you all right?”
“Not really,” he got out.
“What can I do?”
Kanan managed to peel his eyes open and saw Hera standing in the doorway.
“Stay with me?” he asked.
Hera gave him a gentle smile, and came to kneel by his bed. She started rubbing his back, and Kanan let out a sigh.
“Thanks, Hera.”
His eyes slid closed, and he felt her kiss his cheek.
“You’re very welcome, Kanan.”
Kanan drifted off with Hera soothing him.