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Ezra Bridger opened his eyes. The Ghost’s night cycle was almost over, and he heard talking from the freighter’s small kitchen. Kanan must be awake, then. He checked his chrono. Oh-six-hundred hours, and time to rise. He dressed quickly and headed towards the eating room, hoping that Kanan had made some caf.
As he approached he heard low talking. Hera was awake too, her soft Twi’lek voice reverberating around the Ghost’s thick metal hull. Ezra could sense her feelings, but her thoughts were readily protected.
Ezra chuckled. Hera always fortified her consciousness now that two Jedi were back on the ship. Kanan’s emotions were as unreachable as ever. Ever since their mission to Malachor, Kanan had been quieter, perhaps not wanting to admit that he needed help even dressing himself.
True, he was getting better, but having the Force help him sense where the caf was in the morning was taking its toll. Sabine had taken the time to create Kanan a mask, which covered the still-healing scar that Maul’s fiery red-bladed saber had left across his face.
Ezra winced to think of when he’d first seen Kanan after the duel: bloody, blind, and exhausted. It had been enough to make Ezra want to vomit and sob at the same time, and Hera’s reaction hadn’t been much better.
She’d wrapped her arms around him so tightly that Ezra was sure it had hurt Kanan’s ribs although he hadn’t said anything; he’d just hugged her back. She’d stared into his blank eyes with a sorrowful look that compelled Ezra to give them some space.
They weren’t giving each other space, Ezra found, as he entered the kitchen. Hera and Kanan were standing in the middle of the room, kissing each other so tenderly that Ezra didn’t make a motion to interrupt.
One of Kanan’s hands was resting lightly on Hera’s hip; the other was caressing her jaw. Their lips made patterns on each other and Ezra couldn’t help but stare.
Hera noticed him first.
“Oh, hey, Ezra,” she greeted him, stepping back.
Ezra grinned broadly. “Heh—hi, Hera.”
Kanan stayed where he was, his back to Ezra. Ezra knew that he was mentally kicking himself for not sensing that Ezra was awake. Ever since Kanan had been blinded he’d been distant from the Force, seemingly lacking necessary confidence.
Hera smiled, obviously trying to pretend that nothing had been going on. “Do you want some caf?” She shoved a mug in his direction, and then headed to the cockpit, a little too hurriedly.
“Uh, hi Kanan.” Ezra sipped the caf and struggled to appear normal. “Sorry about that…I didn’t know…” Ezra wasn’t sure if he should apologize or not, but since Kanan wasn’t speaking he went for it.
Finally Kanan turned towards him. His mask was resting on the counter, and Ezra could see the raw skin around his eyes was on its slow way to recovery.
“It’s all right, Ezra.” Kanan’s voice was inflected with emotion as he replaced his mask. “Go ahead and eat.”
Ezra cast a wary glance at his master and then seated himself at the table. Kanan exited the room, lightly brushing Ezra’s shoulder with his hand. Ezra wasn’t sure if the gesture was intentional, but he appreciated it nonetheless.
Kanan primed the hyperdrive and the Ghost shot into lightspeed. Hera turned toward him, seated in the co-pilot’s seat.
“See, you can do it.” She encouraged him with a rub on the shoulder. He swiveled his chair to face her.
“Thanks, Hera,” his voice was deeper than usual.
She rose. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll arrive at Lothal early tomorrow morning.”
Kanan nodded, and put out his hand. Hera took it and guided him through the doorway. Now that he was blind, he had to relearn the Ghost’s passageways, never mind flying. But with Hera’s help, he’d just launched a ship into hyperspace for the first time since Malachor. Not like he’d done anything but flip the lever, but it still did wonders for his mental state.
They continued down the hallway, past the quarters occupied by the others. Zeb and Ezra were bedded down together, with no one sharing with Sabine because she was picky and didn’t want any hands on her artwork. Chopper and his new friend AP-5 were so diabolical that they’d demanded their own room, leaving Hera with Kanan.
He’d moved in to her room, as she’s made it clear that no droids would invade her space. Kanan, however, had very little belongings to move and needed help with most daily things anyway.
They turned into her room, the door sliding shut behind them. Hera hit the button to lock the sliding mechanism.
“To protect us from droids,” she explained. Then she turned and removed his mask, setting it in one of the small drawer located under the bunk. He slipped his lightsaber off its clip and rested it next to his mask.
Hera tugged his shirt off over his head. Her hands landed on his chest, and Kanan felt Hera’s pulse falter. She hurriedly reached to undo his belt to help him into his sleeping-pants, when he caught her hands in his.
“Hera…” Kanan knew that his now milky-white gaze was a bit unsettling for her, so he looked down where he knew their hands were.
He heard Hera’s breath halt slightly at the touch and the tone of his voice. “What is it, love?” Her voice was the low, soothing whisper that he heard only occasionally, when all was quiet.
“Hera,” Kanan repeated, “I really…” he sighed. “I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me.”
He could feel Hera smile. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s just another way I can help you.”
Kanan smiled, a little sadly. “Well, I really—it means a lot.”
He stroked her hands, amazed, as he always was, at how soft her skin was. He could sense a loving warmth emulating from Hera, so bright and strong in the Force that he could practically feel her heartbeat.
“Don’t mention it. We’re a family; we do these things for people we love.” Hera stepped closer, and Kanan could feel her breath against his lips as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course we’re going to take care of you. Never doubt that, love.”
She helped him step out of his pants, and then into his pajamas.
Kanan nodded. Hera tugged him gently to the bed and sat down. She helped him to lie down, his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, loosening his hair tie.
The calming strokes of her hands helped Kanan relax, closing his eyes and sighing.
The Jedi Master was levitating the rock. Her padawan stood behind her, watching with amazed eyes.
“Focus, young Padawan. FEEL the rock.”
The padawan reached out, eyes open, meeting cold hard stone with his mind. The rock was heavy, in fact--
“It’s too heavy to lift, Master.”
The Jedi Master shook her head and smiled. “No, Padawan. Do not focus on how big and heavy it is. Instead think about how small it is—compared to those in the Temple’s meditation room, to the ones that make up the Temple itself. Compared to those, our rock is tiny.
“Close your eyes,” the Master continued, “You do not need to see it to feel it; to sense it.”
The padawan concentrated. He sensed the rock, how light it was, how dwarfed by the high rises of Coruscant. His eyes drifted closed as his willing mind grasped it, felt it, picked it up. The rock hovered, but the padawan’s shut eyes did not receive the image.
Jedi Master Depa Billaba smiled. Caleb Dume was learning fast. But she sensed—
Kanan’s reverie was interrupted by Hera’s lips meeting his. She had bent over—almost in half—and kissed him.
“Bring your mind back to the present, Kanan Jarrus.”
Kanan chuckled. “Sorry.” He sat up. Depa’s words from more than two decades ago ran fresh in his mind. Maybe it was a turning point for his blindness. His Master’s words echoed. “You do not need to see it to feel it; to sense it…”
Kanan sat up. Depa was right. And who was he to soak in self-pity, to create a well that had only started as a mere hole?
“What are you thinking about?” Hera questioned.
“Master Billaba. She once said that I didn’t need to see to feel things; to sense them. She’s right. I’m just making something out of nothing.”
Hera whispered “You’re getting to terms with it, aren’t you?”
Kanan nodded. “I have to be. But, Hera—” Kanan pictured her how her remembered her, her reflective green eyes, her green and white-patterned lekku, her body markings, the blush of dark green that rose to her cheeks when he told her she was beautiful—Kanan uttered a groan.
“What is it, love? What are you afraid of?” a worried looked settled on Hera’s features. “What’s wrong?”
Kanan stayed silent. He didn’t want Hera to know just how raw he was, how attached, how afraid of forgetting her.
“You can tell me. Just take all the time you need.”
Kanan swallowed. He lay back down, resting his head on the pillow. He held out his arms. Hera didn’t need telling twice. She slid next to him, her front to his side, with her head resting on his shoulder. She was warm against him, their bodies coming together in familiar curves.
Long repetition had taught Kanan that Hera usually lay the same way in this position. Her goggles were digging into his neck, and he reached up and grasped the edge of her head-cap and slid it off, down her lekku.
Hera sighed. Kanan knew that the head-piece did feel somewhat restrictive to her. He felt her lekku relax against his arm. Kanan drew a deep breath.
“I’m worried, Hera. Well—not worried. Scared. I came too close to danger. It’s happened before, but every time gets worse. I worry I’ll die, like Ahsoka did, and that I’ll never be there for you.
“I sense something coming, Hera, something that I have no control over. And that we’ll lose someone. I’ve already lost my sight, Hera. I’m afraid—afraid that I’ll forget how beautiful you are, or what your patterns are—that I’ll forget the color of your skin…
“I know it sounds stupid. And maybe I’m just worrying over nothing. But I don’t want to continue if I can’t see…it just all seems so empty. I am learning to sense more with the Force, but there’s still this emptiness that I can’t conquer. The part that stretches into forever.
“I’m terrified, Hera. I don’t want to wake up next to you and not be able to see the green of your eyes…”
Kanan’s confession resounded about the small room. Hera swallowed, and Kanan could feel her heartbeat in her lekku pulsing like a beacon. Finally she spoke.
“Don’t worry, love. You’ve memorized me; you don’t need to see.”
“Prove it,” Kanan challenged bitterly. “Prove that I don’t need to see you.”
Hera took the hand of the arm which she wasn’t lying on and placed his gloveless fingers along her lekku. Kanan knew that she had rested his forefinger at the start of her Twi’lekian markings, which stretched down the length of both her lekku.
Kanan’s fingers automatically traced the pattern.
“See?” He could feel Hera’s smile. “You don’t need to see.”
Kanan nodded; a small admittance. He’d seen it enough times he’d unknowingly committed it to memory.
He rubbed her lek gently. Hera closed her eyes, her eyelashes creating little whispers along her eyelids.
She put a hand on his chest, fingers sinking in the smattering of his hair. “Kanan. You know my patterns. And you’ve said before that you can practically feel it when you touch me.”
Kanan chuckled, giving her lek a slight tug. “And when did I say that, captain?”
“On Lothal. You know, the day we first—”
“The day we first Did It.” Kanan finished. Hera let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. Kanan could practically picture her rare smile, how it reached into her eyes and ignited her features.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her, his hand caressing her face gently, his fingers finding her eyes, nose, earcones…he was determined to make his senses memorize her all over again, just for safety. Hera’s cheeks warmed under his hands, and his thumb felt the corner of her mouth smile.
She shifted up so that she could kiss his cheek. She stayed there, lips against him, just resting. It was an incredibly efficient way to get Kanan to relax, and relax he did.
The warmth, light and love flowing from Hera stimulated his emotions, bringing his mind into the room, focus his senses on nothing but being here in this moment, with Hera.
“I love you,” he whispered, turning his head. “I love you more than I can describe.” His breath ghosted across Hera’s cheek. Hera closed the distance, brushing her lips against his. “I know,” she said. She kissed him again, her mouth parting when it met his.