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What was originally a light drizzle turned into a ferocious storm. The rain actually sounded like it would pierce the windscreen of the Ghost. The emergency lighting system recognised the lack of daylight in the cockpit and flickered on, humming. Hera wiped her brow and adjusted her cap, the dreaded tightness of the edges indicated that she’d been wearing it too long.
Out of sight, her hand reached up and fumbled along the display panel. A tired sigh escaped her as she stared ahead, struggling to find anything visible in the midnight storm.
Hera was sitting on the floor of the cockpit with her legs dangling over the nose turret, and could’ve easily stood to claim the hydrospanner but didn’t. Her fingers searched again until out of frustration, she retreated to tear her glove off and throw her hand back up.
After what felt like an eternity, she found the hydrospanner, the long helm caught against the right length of the steering.
Kanan had likely gone to bed, exhausted by their earlier mission. Their trip to Lasan had basically confirmed neither of them were expendable - and the Ghost would agree, now brandishing a new set of wounds that Hera knew would scar deeper than any of the previous scratches and dings.
Kanan said it was an idiots mission to venture all the way into the heart of Lasan - Hera rebuffed, citing that while she understood reservations he had, she couldn’t turn away. Deep down, she know that Kanan agreed - he said as much, and quietly opened up about his worries, how he thought he was leading her into danger. He leading her into danger. She would’ve laughed if the thought wasn’t so sad.
Hera simply made a quip about being in charge and that there was no danger that could truly scare her. There was nothing that she would refuse to face.
She was wrong, of course. Lasan was being turned into a graveyard in front of them. There was nothing optimistic about that. There were many, many terrifying things about the situation that she didn’t know how to handle. The noises rang through her earcones, never quite shutting up.
When her forehead bumped the durasteel panel for the third time, she let herself rest there for just a moment. She was too exhausted to move and definitely too tired to do repairs, especially to the high standard she preferred, but refrained from resting.
The silence of sleep would force her to register it, like the blackness of night and her windowless cabin would create pictures. Some real from memory and others configured up by the corner of her mind she couldn’t control. There had been terrors of all kinds thrown at her since leaving Ryloth, many keeping her up at night, but the destruction - the total wipeout of Lasan before her eyes was beginning to tattoo to her skin and she was terrified the ink would never come out.
The smoky smell of gunfire and well, normal fire, stuck to the clothes she hadn’t slipped out of. It reminded her of how her clothes smelt as a child, the Separatist soot forever stuck in the material.
Lasan wasn’t comparable to Ryloth, not at all. One planet still spun and one was gone forever. She didn’t even want to draw any comparison in her mind out of respect for the people that lost their world.
Yet, it was eerily similar. Hera had left her home, not the other way around. The Lasat Kanan found and carried to the ship was the only survivor they could locate. Even Chopper struggled to scan for any native souls and while the droid was frustrating, he was accurate.
Now hunched over, Hera rubbed her thumb against the hydrospanner’s rubber grip. The bits that were supposed to hold the durasteel panels in place scattered around her. Part of her wanted to cry, the other part felt selfish for using the destruction of Lasan as a gateway to her feelings about Ryloth.
It was something that she kept buried. There wasn’t any need to talk about it. Chopper never brought it up and Kanan, well, she’d never really found the time to sit down and talk about her past with him. She hadn’t decided whether she wanted to.
The memories flooded her, yet she held in her tears. The landscape of Ryloth as seen from her eyes as a very young child, an infant possibly. The beauty stretched across the planet
The only explosions should’ve been from the volcanoes, the only predators should’ve been from the jungles and the only darkness should’ve been in the caves.
Whether they wore uniforms of the Separatists or the Empire, they still shared an identical manifesto. Her homeworld was ransacked and ruined. The skies she looked up to as a child had always been black, full of smoke and Star Destroyers - everything the sky shouldn’t be.
Another bitter sigh escaped her. She thought about the Lasat they transported to the nearest town, not too far from the heart of Corellia. He didn’t want to stay with them, but the Ghost remained stationed on the outskirts for the night just in case.
Rustling and then something firmer, hands affixed to her arms, one roamed to press her shoulder.
Hera jumped and then peeled her eyes open, letting out a jittery gasp. “Kanan?”
“Hey,” he squeezed her shoulder, “you weren’t too far off falling into the turret.”
Kanan was there, suddenly in front of her. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier except lacked his pauldron and holster. Strangely, but not for the first time, his hair fell around his shoulders, free of the tie that usually shackled it.
Hera looked in the direction of the turret, the clear window was black and it seemed like such a further drop than it was.
She rubbed her palm on her forehead, slowly taking herself out of Kanan’s hold. That had become second nature, always gravitating around him instead of giving into the pull.
“Hera, you okay?” He asked more seriously, his voice full of concern.
“Tired.” She answered, letting her hand fall into her lap to join the other. A couple frantic blinks roused her and brought Kanan into focus. She gaze fell away from him just as quick. “I’m fixing the - the thingy.”
She gave a lousy gesture to the panels and scattered bits around her.
“You’re not fixing anything. You’re replacing the durasteel panel again.” He eyed the unattached panels as if they personally upset Hera. “You’re delaying going to bed.”
“I’m not.” She replied quietly, without fight.
“Come on,” Kanan encouraged gently. Hera felt the presence of his hand near her arm again but it never made contact.
“Not yet.” She insisted, pausing to rub the bridge of her nose. “I need to sit here for a while. I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”
“I’ll stay.” He said, already settling into a more comfortable position than his kneel. “You don’t mind?”
“No.” Hera found herself making room for him. She pulled her legs up to her chest and collected some of the bits from the floor. “Someone has to stop me falling into the turret.”
“Exactly.” He grinned, tapping her on the nose as he moved.
Hera blinked her surprise. For a moment her shoulders were tense until they begrudgingly relaxed. It wasn’t the first time Kanan had done that, touching her ever so briefly.
It was merely a sign of friendship. They were definitely friends, bonded through forced close-quarters and battle scars.
They sat together in the peaceful silence. Only the humming of the lights and the fall of rain was distinguishable. He’d started to sit up with her at night, more frequently in the past few months. He wasn’t trying anything, that had all stopped just weeks after he boarded. Kanan’s sport of choice was flirting but he seemed to stop exercising entirely once he moved into the Ghost. Hera was embarrassed that she used to feel disappointed, just a touch.
Kanan’s shoulder rubbed against her head, but maybe she was leaning into him. The sweaters he wore during downtime were her favourite. The soft, scratchy material was like a soft toy that she used to cuddle into as a child.
If she fooled herself, she could believe this type of peace was meant to last. Maybe she missed the opportunity when she turned down Kanan’s advances. After all, he wasn’t playing hard to get - he was very willing and very easy at the time, but Hera put that down to an act.
On the other hand, she found herself wondering what exactly would’ve played out if she accepted. There was no denying Kanan’s confidence, but he was no persuader of any sort. During his first few weeks on the Ghost, he wore out all his lines and almost forgot to parade his feelings about her.
Hera didn’t mind, they worked up to quite a solid friendship after that. It didn’t stop her mind wandering occasionally. The fleeting thoughts only happened when he stared at her a little too long. Maybe he grinned in that certain way, or let his hair down and fan out around his shoulders.
Oh, her father. If the great Cham Syndulla could spy upon her now. Hera’s shoulders sank, her whole self crumpled. Never did she want or require her father’s opinions, especially on her personal life, but she knew he’d provide it anyway.
If her father knew about Kanan, he’d be terrified. He wasn’t unjust in his feelings, because humans had enslaved twi’leks since Hera could remember. A twi’lek woman alone with a human man. It was the subject she used to have nightmares about.
He’d react the same way if he found out she was housing a Zygerrian or Hutt. It wasn’t Kanan’s fault he was human, but he might have to do some apologising if he ever bumped into Cham Syndulla.
“I wanted to talk about the Lasat.” Kanan said quietly, although his words were clear.
Hera physically turned to him, forgetting where she was. Her open mouth and chin caught his arm before she pulled back.
What she tried to steady was the surprise on her face - the kind of expression that asked ‘that was what you were going to say? Out of all the options?’. But there was no use controlling the bewilderment in her eyes.
“Oh,” she looked up at him, “has he contacted you?”
“No,” Kanan cast his gaze downward, perhaps a little moved or upset. “I think we should bring him back.”
Frowning, Hera asked, “to Lasan?”
“Here.” He shook his head, “he could help. I think he could do some good.”
“Bring him here to the ship?”
“It’s up to you.” Kanan said assuringly, “but I think we should find him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll still be at the bar. I know if it were me that’s where I’d be.”
Hera’s brows knotted, “We dropped him off at the spaceport?”
“Which was right next to Oga’s Cantina.” Kanan answered with a wry, knowing grin.
There was a panging under all her clothes, like a smaller version of herself was caged inside of her and banged desperately at the bars.
There was a Lasat who’d just lost his world and all his people, and all Hera could think about was about the lack of next-time opportunities she’d get with Kanan. With a new person onboard, they’d actually be a crew - not just two people and a droid living together. The latter was an idea that could be easily romanticised - it was something she saw when she’d walk down a street with Kanan a step behind her. Other people, strangers, recognised their potential.
“Oh.” Hera said as she tried to shield her disappointment, “okay. That’s a good idea. We’ll find him tomorrow and ask him to join us onboard.”
Kanan’s grin grew as he asked, “does the rule still stand?”
“What rule?”
“The one where you don’t pick up companions.” He retorted as he wagged his brows.
Hera’s eyes widened, wondering what he meant - if he meant anything like that. But then she realised Kanan wasn’t giving her a warning. He wasn’t reminding her not to get involved with the Lasat because he didn’t get a chance. It wasn’t about Hera’s words to him back on Gorse about a travelling companion versus a handyman willing to do good in the galaxy. He wasn’t throwing her a sly threat about screwing the new guy.
The man was so good-hearted that it made her sick. Truly, he wasn’t all that bad when he wasn’t trying to sweet-talk to her.
“Well, this isn’t a travelling hostel.” Hera rolled her lips, pressing them tightly together. “We should see what his interests are, if he wants to fight back.”
“We could give him a day or two?” Kanan suggested, warmth and hope noticeable in his tone.
“Yeah.” Hera sighed. “He lost everything.”
“Okay.” He said, rising to his feet and offering his hand, “time for bed.”
It wasn’t a minute since she was in despair, thinking of her wretched past and some Lasat’s wretched future. Now, at the utter mention of bed, she was picturing something entirely different. Maybe her thoughts had escaped her a few times and she’d ran with them.
It wasn’t the first time she’d thought about it. She never outright intended to, it was more of an unconscious thought. Perhaps childishly, she’d already sailed through what it would be like kissing Kanan and, well, more. But only in her head where her thoughts were internalised and trapped.
He could hardly reach in and pull them out.
“Should I have given you some time?” She blurted out, looking up at him with wide, frazzled eyes.
“What?” Kanan paused, his outstretched hand frozen.
Grimacing, Hera started, “I should’ve given you some time… before asking you to jump back into everything, go up against the Empire.”
Shaking his head, Kanan said, “No, sweetheart. I had eight years of time.”
He offered her his hand again and pulled her to her feet. Hera smiled as she let the touch of their hands linger, refraining from pulling away until she absolutely had to.
“Plus one.” She added dryly.
Kanan rounded his lips into a grin, nudging her arm gently. “True. But this last year hardly feels like any time at all, especially ‘cause you’re working me to the bone.”
Hera tried to reply with equal wit, but something of a shudder sailed through her. “You signed up for it.”
“I did.” He nodded with approval. Dramatically, he looked around the cockpit before settling his gaze on Hera, “although, I thought the Ghost looked like it could run a lot better - it really is false advertising -“
Hera leaned forward and kissed him. She didn’t know whether to blame it on lack of thinking or whether she was truly thinking for the first time. Desperately, she tried to let go. All the thoughts, Ryloth, the Lasat, everything, fled her mind as she kissed him.
It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. This one wasn’t comparable to the first anyway.
Whether it was desire to draw them together or something else, like surrendering to him after holding out for so long. All she knew was that she needed someone to hold onto.
Then just as quickly, Hera withdrew. She met Kanan’s wide, stark eyes. His face was full of lopsided joy and that daft grin he wore when something he really liked happened. Oh, karablast.
When his grin dropped at the sight of her expression, the joy was still seen unbounded in his gaze. He sharply inhaled. All he could do was look at her, barely uttering, “I’m sorry.”
Whispering almost breathlessly, Hera said, “Why are you apologising?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled at his collar, his skin completely flushed.
“Okay.” Hera breathed, her mind frantic, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He said, his cheeks reddened.
“I’m going to bed?” Hera stuttered with wide eyes. Almost rapidly, she jumped to her feet and made a beeline for the door.
“Wait,” Kanan said, a twinge of desperation in his voice, “do you -“
“I don’t know.” Hera stopped abruptly, her gaze trained on the door. She could simply walk out and go to sleep, forget any of this happened, but… she grimaced, knowing she couldn’t do that to Kanan.
“I didn’t think you felt like that.” He said quietly.
“I’m not really sure.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
“Okay.” Kanan said steadily.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, rubbing a hand against her face.
“For what?” He took a step closer, now they were back to being inches away from each other.
“For kissing you and then not knowing what to say about it.” She turned fully, welcoming him with fretting fingers.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He covered her trembling hand with his own.
“Neither do you.” Hera looked away, ashamed, keeping her gaze down. She picked at the loose threads on his sweater and a devilish part of her wondered how much she’d have to pick for it to all come off.
Then, when her eyes drew to his hair, she was reminded of their time together. While it was tied back into a ponytail on Gorse, a few weeks as a tenant on the Ghost was enough to panic Kanan and that panic ended up in a very short, very fast haircut.
Now it was longer, almost back to its length. She admired him, had always thought he was the most handsome human she’d ever seen. That thought alone would be enough to send her father into cardiac arrest. She wasn’t supposed to think of humans as lovely and beautiful.
“Don’t cut it,” she said at once. Her hand was already in his hair, feeling for the first time how silky and soft human hair was.
“You like it long?” Kanan asked shyly, his lips turned up in a smile.
”Yeah,” she replied as she gave his hair one last stroke.
Finally, she landed on his lips. Looking there, she could happily confirm Kanan was the most beautiful man she’d ever met and he was the best one she’d ever kissed, even briefly.
When he met her eye, he was hesitant. “Can I-“
“- yes.” She breathed as she flung herself towards him.
It felt effortless, the way she joined with him. With her head screaming one thing and her heart another, she didn’t believe she had the power to make the same mistake twice.
Then, when Kanan’s hand came up to cup her face, it felt like no mistake at all. Still, all she could think about were the string of consequences that would follow the ill-advised kisses. She kissed him a little harder in attempt to banish the thought.
For all Kanan’s strength and stature, he was a gentle kisser. His hands were soft as if they’d never punched their way through a bar. He held onto her, but not too tightly. She still had the opportunity of escape if she wished.
But Hera didn’t want that. She kissed him repeatedly as she sought a comfortable way to angle her head. Kanan’s nose pressed into her cheek, his breath was warm along her skin and his teeth faintly nibbled at her lip.
Appreciatively, she murmured at the contact and returned the favour by tangling her fingers in his hair. She wasn’t inspecting this time or stroking with fervour, she was keeping him close.
With her opposite hand that she she dropped to his chest, she snatched at his sweater, turning the fabric in her favour to pull him toward her. Kanan easily yielded, his hands sought her waist and back.
His hand swept over her face once, then after the second time simply remained. He clutched her, fingers pressing against the cap he’d never touched before. Maybe his fingers were tepid because he wasn’t supposed to touch there, but something surged in Hera’s stomach that pleaded with her to let him.
It hadn’t been a great day for Kanan either. He’d been silently suffering too.
Hera’s world had been stolen from her, offering her the role of a slave or a member of Free Ryloth, if she ever had a choice. Then she’d be a terrorist according to the Empire.
Kanan’s world had been eradicated in front of his eyes. He lost everything, and even worse he’d relived it all today on Lasan.
It was clear he needed something to hold onto. They both did.