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It was unusual not to hear the mechanical choking sound of the Ghost during the early hours of the morning. It was a sign that the ship was long in need of a repair, a general fix-up to get everything smoothed out. Instead of the strange music Hera was so used to waking up to, she was blissfully awoken to a smooth sounding ship; no diagnostics to be run, no faulty mechanisms and no chortling droid hacking the cabin locks. There was also the even sweeter presence of a warm body pressed into her side. Kanan was emitting even softer noises against her neck, tiny grunts and nuzzles as he warred with sleep.
It was the first time they’d both ended up in her quarters on the Liberator. The first time they’d ended up staying together the whole night in a long time, because that was a difficulty that both the Liberator and the Ghost shared. It was rarely achievable to find time to simply be alone together let alone snuggle into each others embrace on either ship, not with a full Rebellion in the works, a band of kids, a big-brother Lasat that enjoyed third-wheeling too much and a droid that, as previously stated, enjoyed breaking into cabins with little notice.
A soft set of breaths were batting her neck in an unhurried fashion. Kanan was asleep, curled into her body with his legs folded over hers. Hera couldn’t help the smile she pressed into his forehead. He was so relaxed, finally. There was a time he’d never undress down to his guard in front of her, but now that he did, she decided she’d never seen vulnerability worn so beautifully.
The chronowatch that was usually glued to her wrist had failed to ring, which might’ve meant it wasn’t time to get up yet since the alarm hadn’t rang. Although it may have been completely silent because of how hard Kanan tossed it against the wall last night, abrupt and impatient to seize their long-awaited alone time. Hera grinned at the memory as she lifted her hand to cup her yawn. She hoped there was another hour or two to go before the alarm threw her back into reality, especially when she realised how little she’d slept.
Hera tried to chase the cold away as she nestled into the warmth of Kanan’s arms. She fought him for the role of little spoon, eventually prying his arms open. He murmured something against her lekku as she rolled around, her goal to take full advantage of the heat his body left against the sheets. His chest was warm against her and there was a similar heat from his soft breaths on her lekku. Hera folded her arms underneath her head, hopeful for sleep to claim her for just a little while longer.
Kanan was all long-limbed and lean, and while Hera knew he was more than content to share a bed with her, she also knew he needed to stretch out occasionally. The odd time they’d slept in Kanan’s cabin on the Ghost, they’d become more than intertwined with each other. It was a bonding experience, Kanan had said, with his lips grazing her forehead as he spoke. His fingers were wrapped around her lekku for no other reason than necessity.
The captain quarters on the Liberator offered a satisfying resolution; there was space, comfort and the opportunity to be tangled up with one-another at their wish. Hera looked over her shoulder at Kanan, waiting for him to wake since there was little chance of sleep returning to her. She couldn’t spy much at her awkward angle, just his shuttered eyes and dark hair curtaining his features.
And just when she thought her dreary eyes would close a little while longer, Hera felt lips move against her shoulder.
“What’s the verdict?” Kanan asked, already shimmying his head into place in her neck.
“Hmm?” Hera purposefully feigned a sleepy voice.
“This place better than the Ghost?” Kanan gave her a light kiss on the shoulder, his lips soothing and gentle.
“Are you crazy?” Hera scoffed, suddenly alert. She could feel Kanan moving behind her, readjusting their position so that he could see her face.
“Well, I’ll be honest, these rebellion rooms aren’t awful.” He drawled with a slight sluggishness to his voice after turning Hera around. She groaned before tucking herself back into him, fetching the comfort of his hold.
“Oh really,” she chuckled lightly, hitching a leg over his side with an urgency to keep them together “sounds like backtracking.”
“Maybe I just don’t mind not falling to the floor in the middle of the night and hitting the ladder on the way down.” The rough calluses of his hands soon found her leg, the one she’d used to draw them both closer together.
“You know, the Kanan I met on Gorse wouldn’t have a single complaint about sharing a bed with me.” Hera murmured into his clavicle, her lip catching the faded scar on his skin. It was barely there, but she knew his body well enough to detect where all his tattooed wounds lay.
“You’re right, he wouldn’t. But he’s long gone.” Kanan squeezed her thigh as he spoke, then loosened his fingers to travel along her skin. Hera sussed that he was onto her, playing the game of finding scars with each other. They’d already done that though, so now he was merely just spectating.
He reckoned that every scar, mark and scratch pressed into her skin had a story. Some he’d heard, through little dribs and drabs, and some he waited for. He wouldn’t even gently encourage her, he would wait.
“You sure?” Hera hummed, taking her fingertips to his face. Then she dipped them lower, skating past the fur of his chin and down his neck, reminding him of exactly how she touched him there for the first time all those years ago on Gorse. Every caress was a fleeting reminder of just how electric her touch could be, and Kanan knew his heart was powered by it.
“Mhmm.” He was overwhelmed with a sudden burst of love for her. He dipped forward, nuzzling her cheek and smushing their noses together.
“Mhmm to you too.” Hera giggled into his skin, leaning into him just as fondly. The base of her lekku vibrated, her bare head brushed under his chin. The unusual sensation of coarse hairs was somewhat delightful against her skin that was usually clothed.
They stayed like that momentarily, squeezing and hugging and just relishing in the tiny moment of being together before reality rushed back in to grip them and toss them into their war. Kanan unravelled himself first, rolling to lie fully on his back. He stretched with a satisfied groan, freeing his stiff limbs from where they’d cramped up during the night.
“See? Can’t do that in your bed.” He quipped, throwing his hands behind his head. Hera wouldn’t tell him, but that position really made his abs look like a handmaidens washboard.
“One. More. Complaint.” Hera said with warning and a feigned withering glare, her finger bounced against his nose with each word.
With a devilish grin, Kanan stole her hand hovering near his face before she had a chance to reel it back. He toyed with it for a moment, with her, before delicately pulling it towards his mouth. “Morning, Captain.”
Hera raised a brow, unimpressed. Although, perhaps inwardly, her heart twinkled at the sound of his roughish voice, perfected to a crisp and rogue tone by the morning.
“What? You don’t like sweetheart.”
“When did I say that?”
“Your face betrays you, you know.” He smirked as he poked her in the cheek.
“I’m not going to make a habit of this, you know.” Hera swatted him playfully.
“What, this?” Kanan gestured between the two of them. His brows wiggled teasingly as he leant forward to try for another kiss, simultaneously dragging Hera on top of him.
“Hilarious.” Hera brought a hand up against his mouth, preventing its mission “I mean sleeping like this on this ship. The Ghost is barely okay, only when the others aren’t aware -“
“- or awake -” Kanan chimed in as he swerved his head to her jaw instead, his mouth fleeting against her skin.
“- or that,” Hera’s eyes fluttered close as she sharply inhaled, “but this…”
“I understand.” He managed to kiss her jaw, light and soft, “last night was…well, amazing. As it always is with you. But I wouldn’t want to jeopardise anything.”
Hera smiled at him, her mind wandering.
She settled on, “Thanks.”
“What?” He asked, a chuckle leaving his lips.
“Nothing.” She stroked his chin, the hair rough under her fingers, “you know, you’re not what I expected.”
“Oh, really?” He gave a provocative thrust of his hips, lips curling into a smirk, “you’re not so bad yourself.”
“Kanan,” she placed her finger on his lips, trying to savour at least some of the sincerity of their moment, “if you told me seven years ago that I’d be with some guy I met on Gorse…honestly -“
“Some guy? Wow.” He kissed the finger that was against his mouth. “This is why I tell you to count your blessings everyday, because it’s me. I’m your blessing.”
“Now you sound like that gunslinger from Gorse.” She giggled. After a pause, she said “Is this what you meant?”
“What?” Kanan responded quickly, a line appearing between his brows at Hera’s sudden seriousness.
“When you offered to sleep with me on Gorse, was it this or you know, the other thing?” She asked, her cheeks darkening.
“Sweetheart, ah - you know I’m really not like who I was on Gorse, I’m not proud of that person.” Kanan scratched his chin, his gaze downcast. “But since you asked, let me tell you honestly and very, very gently, that that Kanan wasn’t exactly offering to spoon you on those mats above The Asteroid Belt.” He said wryly, “I obviously wish I could take that back now.”
“Charming.” Hera rolled her eyes, flopping back onto her pillow.
“I was, wasn’t I?” He sent her a flirty wink, tapping her on the nose, “strange how that didn’t work out.”
“Didn’t work out?”
“Now, this.” He kissed up her shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable, moving into her side. “This is perfect. Me, you - more you, I’ll admit. I’d take this over anything else.”
“Over taking me?” She asked with a little wickedness in her gaze. She further punctuated her question by trailing a finger around the hem of his shorts.
“Yeah. Definitely.” He replied with his breath noticeably catching. A quick blush formed on his cheeks as he reeled Hera into him.
“The best part about Gorse was meeting you and blowing up that moon.” He spoke into the crevice of her neck, moving his lips down to her clavicle.
“That’s right, Moonbeam.”
“Agh,” He groaned into her shoulder, teeth barely scraping her skin “that stupid name. I hate that. Can’t you call me something else?”
“Your face betrays you too, because I know you love it, Moonbeam.”
That was the third set of eyes on her in the past fifteen minutes. It took everything in Hera not to swivel around and stare right back, then follow up with a series of questions. Although she wasn’t too sure how Commander Sato would react to her sounding off at his cadets for looking at her. Well, mostly at her.
Interested, curious - but not in her. She knew very well what a crude glance looked and felt like, and it wasn’t what was pawing at her in the eighth corridor on the second level of the Liberator. That may very well be the problem. Not like a leer, or a questioning gaze, wondering if she was spoken for. She spied a glance at Kanan who was walking at her side. Maybe the curious eyes didn’t have to do much wondering at all.
At first, Hera would’ve put it down to the simple change of environment for some cadets. Most of them were Imperial Academy runaways, based in Mandalore and separated from family, with no-one but their fellow cadets that were usually suited, booted and helmeted.
If they’d never seen a Twi’lek, apart from a holo or the back of a magazine, Hera would understand the initial curiosity. Nobody else was walking around the base with a swinging set of lekku. In fact, there wasn’t another Twi’lek in the base. Which made for a very lonely time in some aspects - the halls of the Liberator were safer than the alleyways on the planets below, and most people were too preoccupied with the rebellion to transpire as the Office Creep - but unfortunately the Twi’lek species’ association with slavery was etched permanently in the minds of even the good.
They picked up eyes whenever they walked together, although Kanan insisted it was all down to Hera. There was no subtlety when striding through the corridors with a Jedi. Kanan was a marvel to most spectators, especially those older than him. Then to all of the cadets, he was a walking fable, a tale turned true - living proof that bedtime stories could be real.
While he didn’t wear a sign that indicated that he was one of the last living Jedi, it was just something immediately noticeable about him. If they had to line-up everyone in the base and figure out who the Jedi was, Hera would immediately understand the majority who would gravitate towards him. While Kanan had tried to dispose of his former life, he couldn’t help but carry it around.
He also happened to be the most good looking old fable walking around. So, it was pretty understandable why eyes tended to be drawn in Kanan’s direction.
“Did you see that?” Hera asked, whipping her head around to catch sight of the curious eyes she swore were just on her.
“See what?” Kanan replied, a twitch in his brow. It took no effort for him to swivel his step as he continued to walk, tilting his head to find whatever Hera was signalling.
“They just -“ she cut herself off, smacking her tips together in frustration.
The two cadets that were the culprits disappeared from their spying spot at the end of the corridor.
Hera sighed obnoxiously, loud enough for Kanan to ask her about. His hand ghosted along her back, the warmth of the rub tentative and fleeting.
“Relax, Captain. No-one’s keeping tabs on you.”
“No-one knows, right?” She said after a moment, folding her arms into her chest “we’ve always been subtle. Right?”
“Oh, so this is - this is about us?”
“Shh.” Hera planted her finger against his mouth, halting his speech.
“Right.” Kanan turned to stand in front of her. He’d already decided this was a conversation they should stand still for, given Hera’s absence of her usual businesslike quality. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it if her cadets or even the crew saw her panic stricken and stressed.
“Well, in that case, I don’t think we‘re obvious.” He shrugged, kind of blasé, like he was about most things he didn’t pay much mind to.
”Right. So we’ve been subtle, right?” Hera drew a frantic smile together, looking at Kanan for confirmation.
“Right.” He said unconvincingly, “Except that one time I kissed you after you got back from that recon mission on Lothal. Sabine said there might’ve been pilots around, but I can’t really remember.”
“Well, that’s not too bad.” Hera bit her lip as her fingers fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.
“And that other time when I stayed in your quarters on the Liberator and that cadet with the glasses may have noticed me leave the next morning.” Kanan rubbed his chin.
“Wait, what -“
“- and, of course, who could forget, when we showered together that time -“
“- well, actually we were saving our water rations, remember? It makes sense to use just one person's rations.” Hera hissed as she shushed finger more promptly by placing her hand on his chest.
“Yeah, yeah, you tell yourself that, Captain.”
“Oh, Force.” She stepped away from him, two fingers between her brows, “Maybe we should try harder at, you know, being discreet.”
The conversation had always been about discretion. After the first few accidental kisses that came with flurried apologies, Hera realised that not having a relationship wasn’t an option. She was too drawn to Kanan, and he was too besotted with her.
Sometimes, she wished they could keep it further on the sidelines. Not because of embarrassment or priorities, or anything else. She just didn’t want to be excused of getting lazy with her work or distracted, because everyone always came down harder on women.
The sidelines had been successful at the start, even Fulcrum didn’t suss anything out and she was a Jedi. Then the subtlety had become the obvious, like when Kanan would duck to her during meetings and catch her eye, a silent conversation just between them. None of it was overfamiliar, at least not intentionally.
One afternoon in the briefing room with a few select people involved in the planning of an all important raid on Imperial convoys, Commander Sato had offered Kanan the lead on the mission. Ezra had been jumping up and down on the other side of the door, too excited to care if those inside could hear his heavy boots. Hera had been there beside him, politely excluded from the meeting because of some lousy clearance excuse - but Jedi like Ahsoka and Kanan didn’t need that.
Hera could hear the grin on his face as his spoke, how he ruthlessly told the entire commanding group that he wouldn’t accept a mission without her approval, citing his Captain’s importance over any of the Commanders on base.
“Right, discretion, okay.” Kanan shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“Just for a while.” Her gaze softened on him.
“Okay, sure thing, Captain.”
“Kanan, don’t be a nerf.”
“I’m not - I just hope you remember this conversation later - about seven hours from now.” He tapped his wrist where he donned no chronowatch. “Do you want me to bring another blanket like last time?”
“Stop talking.” Hera pointed at him, “I’m serious. I’m very, very serious.”
“So am I. Last time you were freezing, this is me offering you a blanket -“
“- enough. Don’t come to my room later. We’ve got to behave, and get adjusted to not sleeping with each other every night.” She gave him a very stern look, counting on its success.
“Aye-aye, Captain.” Kanan drew a two-fingered salute and then ventured off course, placing the same two fingers under her chin to pull her in for a quick kiss.
A good General managed all their duties promptly, professionally and with the upmost respect one could muster. The formal resistance against the Empire materialising in front of her in the form of ships, cadets and actual briefings with real people and not just holos had her rejoicing, claiming that it was better than any birthday she’d ever celebrated. The best part was the ships, no matter how shrill the voice inside her screamed “no, it’s the community uproar against the Empire!”
Hera was at her best when she was sky-high in a ship, especially the Ghost.
There was the small matter of ground duty that occasionally peeved Hera. While she smiled inwardly when her flying skills were complimented, she realised quickly that it was both a compliment and an opportunity. It was suggested that her ground duty be split between debriefings and pilot-training. It wasn’t terrible, not at the start.
Hera never really adjusted to ground duty well. In fact, the first week had her grumbling and complaining even before she woke up, arguing into Kanan’s chest about how she believed teaching the cadets in the sky was a more appropriate teaching method rather than just talking about it.
Kanan would rise to a muffled voice instead of a chrono alarm and he rarely complained. On the days he was available, he assisted Hera with her lectures. It meant he could support her and occasionally pry her grip away from the doors to the hangar bay.
If she couldn’t be in the skies, she could definitely try to express her joy for flying to the hopeful cadets, even if it was through training seminars. It helped that the trainee pilots were full of youth and wonder, multiple sets of wide eyes taking in every word she uttered. When Kanan was there, arms folded and seated to the side, the eyes would sometimes draw to him. That was understandable, Kanan was almost as exciting as a spacecraft.
There was no naïveté masked within the young pilots, they had all seen enough war to be thoroughly convinced that taking up arms in a rebellion less equipped than the Empire would be better than observing from the sidelines.
Trainee pilots had been and gone, the turnaround of training them rather quick and successful. There had been no unruly or difficult students. Everything had ran smoothly until her current group; a mix of sixteen to eighteen year-olds with basic flying experience from odd jobs around the galaxy. Some too big-headed and some too close-minded to even have the patience to sit through a seminar.
She only had to get through a morning session before she could recoup with Zeb and Sabine for a supply run. Her gaze drifted from the hand-drawn interior maps of the A-Wing ships to the bundle of students ahead of her. Kanan was slouched against the wall on her side, body angled towards her with a hint of pride on his face.
There was a pause when she asked for questions, sensing the confusion from a few of the students by their unreadable expressions. From somewhere at the back of the crowd, a hand was raised and quickly followed by another grabbing it down forcefully.
Hera quirked her brow in the direction of the two hands, speaking warily, “Does anyone have any questions?”
“Isn’t he the Jedi?” A whisper flurried across the third row, a couple students with their heads ducked together had their eyes drawn in Kanan’s direction.
“No, that’s the little one.”
“No, there’s two!”
“Maybe he’s going to teach us next or something.”
“He’s always with her.”
The conversation grew as Hera stared wide-eyed at the students. Her arms clamped together at her chest, boxing in her erratic heart in an attempt to keep it steady. She didn’t dare look in Kanan’s direction, but heard him shuffle all the same as if he was about
“I have a question, General Syndulla.” A hand waved from the centre of the crowd, a blurt of giggles followed.
Hera regretfully turned towards the hand, a sigh escaping her. She didn’t have to look to know Kanan was also steering his gaze towards the voice.
Some of the students had fully turned around to observe their classmate, a couple with sly grins on their faces. The hand that waved appeared more fully, a young boy with a mop of brown-black hair. A stupid grin broke out on his face as he asked with only the slightest apprehension on his face, “Are you and Commander Jarrus hooking up?”
It was shocking to find how much Hera physically recoiled at the words. She almost choked on her own gasp as she looked back at the class in undisguised horror.
Some of the teenagers struggled to contain the wiggle of their shoulders as they choked back laughs and others stared at Hera in shock as if they couldn’t believe their classmate asked that kind of question.
With her lips drawn in a curt line, she simply said, “Training dismissed.”
A crowd formed around the Ghost. Mostly trainees and pilots on ground duty that had stopped to observe the unusual spectacle.
It wasn’t because the ship was a beauty, a sabacc winner’s dream - it just happened to be sporting some interesting artwork on the exterior.
“Does Hera know about this?” Zeb grunted, his brows furrowed and deep.
“Do you think it would still be there if she did?” Sabine exclaimed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck.
“Why am I not allowed to see?” Ezra complained, shifting restlessly behind Zeb’s paw that obstructed his view.
“Know about what?” Kanan asked, striding up to stand alongside his crew.
Sabine and Zeb jumped at his entrance, their heads whipping towards him in alarm. A few of the other cadets moved aside out of pure intimidation, and some disappeared altogether, not prepared for the Jedi wrath they expected.
The crew watched as Kanan registered the art on the vessel he called home. There on the Ghost was a very familiar looking Twi’lek painted over the burnt panels.
In a recognised style of classic pin-up art, there was Hera immortalised on the side of the ship. The painting smiled coyly at them through lowered lashes, face posed over her bare shoulder with lekku swishing.
Kanan couldn’t help but notice the coil of one lek, a twisted tip that indicated something flirtatious. He’d seen the real thing on Hera multiple times, and it was better on the real Hera - not this contortion of stereotypical graffiti.
The figure was drawn as realistically as possible, so that observers would recognise Hera - the fact she was the only Twi’lek in the vicinity helped too - but also lacked sufficient clothes, something that wasn’t true to reality. Instead of a shirt, she donned a mustard-coloured bra alongside her the lower half of her flight suit with the dual white belts flapping around her hips.
The crowd had basically dispersed upon Kanan’s arrival, only little footsteps audible from a couple hundred yards away. The gossip of the Jedi and General courting had circulated, and while most of it was in jest, no-one willingly wanted to see the reaction of an actual Jedi seeing his partner tarnished on her own ship.
”What’s going on?” What was more real than the painting of Hera, was Hera. She stormed through the hangar, ignoring - or just not seeing - the nervous looks around her.
“Wait, Hera - I’m pretty sure you’re needed in the briefing room!” Zeb used his wide shoulders and large torso to his advantage, blocking the sight of the small painting.
“Oh.” She inhaled sharply, masking any other reaction.
“Kriff,” Sabine was biting her lip to the point of bleeding, her fingers pulling at her sleeve.
”Woah, what the kriff!” Now free of Zeb’s grasp, taking advantage of his distraction, Ezra turned to the Ghost with a stunned expression.
Maybe Hera just wasn’t as deliberate as Ezra in her emotions, as her face left little to be read. She pursed her lips as her eyes focused in on the paintwork, a tiny sound of Ryl uttered from her lips. Sabine looked towards Kanan, wondering whether it was an appropriate time to ask for a translation. One look in his direction told her he was still seething, his arms crossed and his face crosser.
“I have paint remover. It’s strong stuff.” Sabine said shyly after a few moments.
“Thank you,” Hera nodded to her, flickering her gaze from the ship to Sabine.
“I’ll find out who did it, Hera.” Zeb said earnestly, a hand clutching at his side, indicating where his bo-rifle would usually be. It promised that whoever was the artist would face a violent punishment.
“It’s alright.” Hera said, “There’s probably no malicious intention, but it probably should disappear sooner rather than later.”
”I’ll get my stuff!” Sabine ducked out of the conversation, immediately racing off to get the cleaning products. She tugged Ezra along with her, the boy groaning at her side about doing more work.
Hera turned back to the painting, still amused. She felt Kanan side up against her, an elbow nudging her in the rib.
“Whoever this artist is, they’re very generous.” Hera said passively as she gave the painting another once-over. Kanan couldn’t tell, but he thought her eyes lingered over the curves of the figure.
He made a skeptical noise of amusement and, when he realised she wasn’t overly irritated or upset, leaned his head to hers to utter a quiet whisper.
“Trust me, they’re not.”
“Oh really?” She drawled back.
“It’s very true to life.” Another nudge in her side, fond and tender.
“I don’t understand how this stuff makes you two flirt, I really don’t get it.” Zeb said gruffly from behind them, shaking his head. “Lunatics.”
By the time the A-Wings arrived, the trainees no longer had to study maps of their interiors.
The Ghost would have to put up a very good fight, as her newest ship tugged at her heartstrings, attempting to claim the position of the favourite - but Hera insisted the Ghost would always he first. The A-Wing ships were new, fast and efficient, representing a fresh challenge against the Empire.
Hera stroked the ship, still warm from the test flight she’d just come down from. It was beautiful, like the ones that crashed on Ryloth during the Clone War. She sighed and thought of her home, but as she studied the ship she thought of her new home. Sabine was ducking between the wings of the ships, skirting around mischievously.
Hera raised a brow, intrigued. If Sabine wanted to fly a ship, all she had to do was ask. The girl was a talented pilot, a great partner in the field. Although by the musing drawn across her face, Hera could tell that flying was the last thing on her mind.
Sabine stood with her hand under her chin as she admired the ship, her eyes wide with awe and idea. Hera suddenly recognised that look.
“You want to paint something on it, don’t you?” She said smugly, watching the teenager reply with an open-mouthed, toothy grin.
“Am I that transparent?” Sabine gestured to herself.
“Mhm. What are your ideas?”
“Remember that one of you on the Ghost a few weeks ago?” Sabine said sheepishly.
Hera raised a brow. The art that had mysteriously appeared on the Ghost had been scrubbed off in dual effort by Sabine and Kanan. There was a brief moment where Kanan queried if the piece could be transferred to the wall of his cabin, only to be roughly elbowed by Hera in reply.
“No, not like that! Not you!” Sabine said, hands held up in surrender,“Maybe something that’ll prevent anyone else from using it, trying to borrow it, you know?”
“Like a big ‘HANDS OFF’ sign?” Hera chuckled, reflecting on the Sabine’s idea. She wasn’t opposed to artsy emblems if the interior of the Ghost was anything to go by.
“Or, ‘PROPERTY OF HERA SYNDULLA’, what about that?” Sabine said excitedly, eyes whimsical with ideas.
”What’s the property of Hera Syndulla?” Kanan asked, ducking under the belly of an A-Wing to stand beside Hera.
“Something like that, yeah.” Sabine shrugged, “But don’t worry, it won’t involve any misogynistic crap.”
“You know, back during the Clone War, the ships used to have pin-ups on the outside.” Kanan interjected, a lightness in his tone.
“What?” Sabine looked up at him, a mixture of intrigue and disgust outlining her features.
“Kanan.” Hera warned.
“Nothing vulgar, obviously! Or I wouldn’t be telling Sabine.”
“I’m seventeen.” Sabine snipped.
“So young.” Kanan continued, “I don’t agree with that one of Hera on the Ghost, she didn’t agree to it after all. But there were definitely some variations that were tasteful and -“
“- choose your next words carefully.” Hera turned towards him,
“- fun.”
“Paint whatever you want, Sabine. Just not me.” Hera returned to her datapad, clicking aimlessly as she walked away.
“So, why did everyone have pin-ups on their ships?” Sabine folded her arms, turning to Kanan.
“Probably to inspire hope or something,” he continued, “personally, I think it’s a whole lot better than some of those magazines you used to find in the ships. Whole lot worse than some modest pin-up.” He lowered his voice, just loud enough for Sabine to hear, “but, I see why Hera hates all of that stuff. Twi’leks used to get the worst of it, real bad. Still do, obviously.”
“You couldn’t have saved that speech for when Hera was standing here?” Sabine teased.
“What? Being with Hera has taught me a lot about the injustice in the galaxy.” Kanan answered with an incredulous look and a hand against his chest.
“You were in the Jedi Order.” She retorted.
“Oh, yeah, that too.” He gave a wry roll of his eyes, then returned his gaze to the ship, admiring it.
“Being with Hera?” Sabine said a few moments later.
“Ah,” Kanan clicked his tongue, and then made a ‘hmm’ sound to suggest he was thinking, “working with her. Partner like co-pilot. Friends. You know.”
“Uh-hu.”
“How’d you even meet Hera, anyway?” Sabine asked, “I don’t exactly picture you guys running around in the same circles.”
“Oh, nice try. You can ask Hera for that story.” Kanan had already turned to walk away, heading for the same direction as Hera.
“Maybe I will.” Sabine called after him.
“Good luck.”
The A-Wings were beautiful ships, especially in the hands of the rebellion. The ships were also a work of art in the hands of Sabine, the most talented artist Hera knew. The ship that belonged to Hera, adorned with her callsign signature at the helm and her ranking. Her two homes were becoming one, but she would always hold a special spot for her first family.
Sabine wiped her hands against her thighs, stains of paint marking her - or identifying her. One hand was blue and the other green, she looked like a strange product of interspecies parents. She turned triumphantly, spinning towards Hera as she gestured to the ship.
“Do you like it?” Sabine brushed strands of her out of her face nervously, the sudden confidence vanishing as she scanned the Twi’lek’s features.
“Sabine…” Hera could barely look at the girl, even if the blue streaks of paint now in her hair were prompting her to chuckle.
Instead Hera felt pulled to the ship, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the A-Wing. Beside the far window panel was a small decal, handiwork of Sabine. A splash of bright blue appeared as a glow or firework, in the heart of the piece stood a victorious man fist-pumping the air. A man that looked strikingly similar to Kanan, even adorned with his favourite green sweater and typical ponytail. Written underneath was ‘Moonbeam’, the nickname that Hera just had to tell Sabine about when she was reciting the story of how she met Kanan.
“Sabine, I - I love it.” Hera looked up at the artwork, eyes wide and awestruck.
Sabine quietly muttered a ‘thank you’, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Before they could continue their conversation, Kanan appeared from behind one of the other A-Wings, identical except for its lack of personal flourish.
“Alright, let’s see what our artist’s latest creation,” Kanan stopped, eyes wide, “what the -“
”Kriff,” Sabine mumbled from Hera’s other side.
”Sabine, what the -“ Kanan’s mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes about to bulge out of his head. A flush crept up his neck and poked out at the edges of his sweater which he pulled nervously.
“Kanan, dear, tell Sabine her artwork is wonderful.” Hera said with a sickening sweetness.
”You - you - you’re okay with this? I mean, if you’re okay with this, then I’m okay with it.”
“I love it, dear.” She gave another look at the painted version of Kanan before sweeping a hand up to the real one, cupping his jaw to pull him down to her with ease. She kissed his cheek lightly, and all ideas of subtlety vanished for a moment, and then dipped away from him.
“Thanks, Sabine. It’s amazing.” Hera squeezed her shoulder, an adoration across her face. She stepped away from both of them, reciting something about checking the other side of the ship for any other embellishments. Sabine didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d only painted one.
”You could be less terrified of Hera.” Sabine chuckled after Hera was out of earshot.
”Thanks, Sabine.” Kanan scoffed, then ran his eyes over the painting again. “And Hera’s right, your art is gorgeous as usual - especially this piece.” He exaggerated a nod to the tiny pin-up version of himself, “Can’t work out why…”
Sabine shook her head and turned away, bowing to collect the well-used cans of spray paint. She heard a soft exclaim and straightened up, turning her head towards the sound.
”Does this say moonbeam, seriously?”