Chapter Text
Everyone deals with grief differently. This much Hera knew. Everyone reacts to grief differently. Not just emotionally, but physiologically. It was the grief of Eleni's death that made Hera's father hypersensitive to every noise she made, it was grief that had kept him in bed for a week and his nerves on end, and it was grief that twelve years later had Hera keeled over the waste system in the ‘fresher. Any hopes of eating breakfast were thrown up along with the sorry excuse for dinner she ate the night before. Her hands felt shaky as she wiped the clammy sweat from her tattooed brow. Her breath steadied. Finally. Hera stood up to wash her hands, pausing to make sure there was no shuffling coming from the Ghost. She did not want to talk to anyone about…it. It which was nothing. Sure, she was no stranger to loss, and, sure, she had never felt physically sick because of it before, but this time it was different. Ezra was gone and Kanan…he was really gone. She could feel her heartbeat, hard and frantic, throughout her head, in her throat, behind her eyes, in double time with each step she took back to the common room - where she had been sleeping for the past few weeks. No one tried to question her. She was grateful.
Hera had just barely sat back down on the cushions surrounding the dejarik table and pulled the flimsy blanket around her before she was back up again, walking across the room to the caf machine. It was early enough that none of the remaining specters were awake, but it wouldn't be long before her day would normally start anyway. The beating of her heart slowed as the caf machine hummed, the familiar smell nearly drowning out the wretched taste in her mouth that had woken her up to run to the fresher in the first place.
They were still on Lothal, there was work to be done, citizens who had been relocated needed to find their homes, governors and various politicians to find a place. Honestly, it all gave Hera a headache. It reminded her too much of the life she left back on Ryloth, all the politics and militarization but no real action that she could take. But it was what needed to be done, it just wasn't something she felt good at. Closing her eyes, Hera tried to pretend the subtle splashes of caf hitting the bottom of the mug was the subtle thrum of hyperspace, even though the Ghost was dirtside. The subtle beeping of the machine and cease of the gentle trickle took her out of her peace, but it meant the caff was ready. She hesitated for a moment. Her hand hovered, about to grab the mug but for some reason, she just didn't. Hera closed her eyes and tried to push away the gnawing feeling of-of- of what she honestly didn't know. It was just a feeling.
Hera shook her head and that feeling away. Goddess, why did her lekku feel so stiff? The warmth of the caf spread over them, her arms, her stomach, and through her brain, dulling down the loud thoughts. As slowly as the liquid warmth spread through her body, an equally as liquid smile spread on her face. Pulling the blanket off the seat of the dejarik table and wrapping it around herself, Hera padded down toward the cargo bay. The doors were already open. Strange. But a lot was going on, maybe she had forgotten to close them. She stayed looking at the waves that echoed through the creamy brown of her caf with each step down the ramp until-
“Force! What the-Sabine?”
By some miracle, Hera had managed not to drop the hot liquid on the young girl's colorful head of hair when she walked right into Sabine.
Hera began to ask “What you doing out-” as she sat down next to the girl. Sabine quickly shoved her helmet on her head and shifted to the side, away from Hera. “What are you doing?” Hera's tone switched to a more authoritative one as she raised a brow at the strange actions.
“You’re sick, I heard you throwing up,” Sabine muttered through the helmet, it was clear that she was working hard to keep her voice even. Her legs were curled up into her arms and her chin, well now the helmet, rested on her knee pads. Hera sighed at the girl who, for some reason, decided to watch the sunrise in full Mandalorian armor.
“I’m not sick, Sabine, just…stressed is all.” Hera moved closer to Sabine, still giving her space while picking up the blanket to drape over the beskar-plated shoulders. This time Sabine didn't shuffle away, she just sniffed slightly.
“That’s the third time this week. You should probably get checked out.”
Sabine's voice was so small. Between each word was a shaky breath, but still, she kept on speaking; “Maybe it's a side effect, from that stuff that Pryce…you know…”
Hera sighed. Sabine was so sweet to worry about her, but what she was really doing right now was deflecting.
“I know you didn't really have time to fully wait out any side effects back when it-uh- happened-”
“Sabine…”
“I just don’t know what she did, and if it’s not that then it’s something because you’re not -no offense, Hera- but you’re not exactly acting normal-”
“Sabine.”
She finally stopped the verbal spiral and looked over at Hera through the thick helmet. Hera tilted her head, a gesture asking Sabine to remove the metal barrier. Shaky hands reached the chipped paint and pulled the Mandalorian helmet off her head. Sabine's eyes were swollen and red, and obvious tear stains streaked along her young cheeks, pooling under her chin. Hera closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the teenager. Normally so closed off, Sabine curled into Hera’s side, her arms wrapping around her waist.
“Don't worry about me, okay? I’ll get through this. We’ll all just get through this.” Hera whispered. Her jade fingers combed through short strands of hair as she let the girl cry into her sleepwear.
As devastating as it was to see the girl who felt like her daughter cry, there was something nice about sobbing alongside her. As skilled as they were at being rebels, the Ghost crew was underdeveloped when it came to dealing with emotions. The minute they returned to the base after Kanan's death, everyone went their separate ways to deal with it the best they could. Not even Hera could muster up the strength to keep her family together. She felt broken, Sabine and Zeb felt the need to break and Ezra was…she wished she had known how he was, she could've done more to be there for him, and then maybe he’d still be home. Hera pried her mind away from those thoughts. Ezra did what he had to. Instead, Hera focused on the moment, finally they were coping together. After years, Sabine was letting down her guard. Their crying naturally came to a stop, but Sabine remained snuggled against Hera’s chest, and Hera never let go, her cheek pressed against tangled purple hair. The early morning sky was bright as the sun began to float over Lothal mountain ridges. The two shuffled slightly, staying in an embrace but turning to see the purples and pinks of the sun on the twilight clouds.
“Lothal has the most beautiful sun rises and sets in the whole galaxy,” Hera murmured, only half aware that she was quoting verbatim what Kanan had said to her not even a week before Ezra had boarded the Ghost. “Still, somehow, it's only the second most beautiful sight before me,” he had said. In this moment, nearly four years later, she felt like she was hearing him say that for the first time. The sun made its ascent past the dusted mountains until each shadowed rock came into full view in front of Sabine and Hera. Despite the light breeze, there was a stillness in the air and a feeling of peace washed over Hera. It was like the planet itself had seeped into her skin and through her body. The overwhelming sense of everything surrounding her would've been terrifying if it wasn't so fulfilling. She took a deep breath and came back into herself, unsure when she even left.
“Did you feel that?” she whispered, a sort of breathless awe caking her voice. Was this what Kanan had meant when he said the force was in every living thing?
“Feel what?” Sabine asked, sitting up slightly to look inquisitively at Hera. The puffiness of her eyes had gone down but the deep blue bags beneath stayed strong as a testament to the week or so of sleepless nights.
“Nothing,” Hera shook her head lightly, giving the teenager a slight squeeze. “Hungry?”
Sabine nodded curtly and pushed herself up. Hera chuckled when Sabine reached to help her up, but accepted the hand nonetheless. A strange mixture of surprise and dread washed over her when she realized just how much she was relying on Sabine to help her up.
The Ghost was just as quiet as when she left it. The two silently walked into the common room. There was Kallus, sitting across from the cushioned seats Hera had been using as a bed. Hera wasn't even sure which room he'd been staying in these days, though, if she was honest, she didn't have the wherewithal to care. “Good morning General.” He said softly into a cup. Good, he found the caf I made Hera thought and she couldn't tell if she thought it sarcastically or not. She reached into a few cupboards, pushing past the most immediate (and bland-tasting) rations that the ship had been eating recently. Hera felt it was time they had at least a semi-proper meal. The more she pushed through food, the more her stomach did little flips. Nothing seemed remotely edible to her, let alone appetizing. She could feel the uneasy exchange of looks from Sabine and Kallus behind her, but she ignored it. She really needed them to stop worrying about her, and looking physically ill at the sight of food wasn't helping. Hera thought that she had, at least for the day, cried and vomited all of these grief symptoms out of her this morning. She settled on a seal-tight pack that would rise into a bread that, for the most part, didn't taste like cardboard once water was added to it. Kanan had possessed the ability to turn the dry bread into a delicious meal in just a few minutes. She should've paid attention to whatever it was he would do, because she would kill for that spice-infused bread dish he used to make with the same packs she held in her hands. That thought made her feel sick, even more than the sight of the ration packs. Missing him because of food? It was a thought anyone who hadn't eaten properly in a little over a week would have, and she was missing him every second already, but she couldn't let herself think like that. She paused with her head in the cupboard, she had only taken out one pack. Deep breath in deep breath out. She had to get her heart rate down, and the bile in her throat down with it. She needed food and so did her crew.
“Hera?” Sabine's voice broke through the pounding in Hera’s ears.
“Yeah?” Hera popped her head up, grabbing three more packs, a smile plastered to her face.
“Just…making sure you're okay,” Sabine muttered, unsure what to make of the clearly fake alertness from her captain. Kallus, or Alex as he had been trying to get Hera to refer to him, had assessed Hera's actions as some indication of weakness and got up to help her. Hera gave him a warning glare but conceded to handing him the ration packs when he said “Please let me. I just want to be of use.” It really wasn't just about her.
Zeb stepped out of his room and joined them at the table, carefully moving Hera’s pillow so he could sit. Everyone smiled at each other, but no one really spoke.
The mostly aromatic bread, for some reason, made Hera’s head spin. The smell that she could make out wasn't pleasant. But she ate it with the others. Same with the next day, and the day after. The crew had decided that any more effort other than pouring water on the yeast was far too much work and for the rest of the week the instant bread was their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And for the rest of the week, Hera couldn't hold it down for longer than thirty minutes.
* * *
She needed something to happen. Staying still on her ship with nothing but her thoughts and her sorrow was taking a physical toll on Hera. She was losing muscle mass, she was exhausted, and she was on edge all the time. She was starting to understand Chopper's attitude. Before, when Kanan had first died, none of this had happened to her, and that was because as soon as it had happened there was another battle to fight. But now, there was nothing. They waited for the Empire to make their next move, the locals were handling everything themselves, and Hera itched to leave the planet's surface. It held too many memories. The stillness made her motion sick. Hera needed something to happen. She hadn't heard from Senator Organa since they secured Lothal. But she wasn't worried, she could tell he was safe. How she knew she didn't know, but she knew. Knowing this, however, made her angry, if he was okay why hadn't he given them a mission?
The rest of the crew was restless too. Sabine, fortunately, had her art to keep her occupied. Zeb and Kal- Alex - had each other, which made her a mix of things. Normally she’d be happy for them, tease a little, pry even more, but she couldn't stand it now. Zeb, of all people, seemed to be better at communicating emotions honestly than she had ever been. Regret ate at her. But, if she was to find the silver lining, at least she had gone back to sleeping in her room. Fatigue was starting to hit her at all the wrong parts of the day, and napping in the common area was just inconvenient and far too vulnerable for her taste.
The familiar sting of metal hitting Hera’s shin alerted her of Choppers' presence. She groaned but dropped to her knees to greet him anyway. She had set off on this hike to get away from him. This past week he had taken to trailing at her heel nonstop everywhere she went. Tinny spouts of binary telling her to “get repairs for whatever organic illness was causing her to spend her mornings in the ‘fresher” followed her everywhere she went.
“For the last time, Chop, grief has physical responses, as soon as we get a real mission I’ll be back to normal,” she said, patting his dome as she stood up to look out over the mountain she had hiked. It was a small trail, but the sunlight and light breeze were something she needed. Chopper's binary was strange, but Hera could understand it as he warbled: Or it's what I warned you of when you first brought a male aboard your ship.
“To the Ghost, now.” Hera pointed sternly to her ship. This was not a conversation she was having. She had considered… that as the culprit, but then quickly unconsidered it. There was no way that she was, as Chopper would say, “harboring a mini organic”.
She had a brief panic over this before, a few years ago. She had not only given herself an unprecedented amount of stress but had brought the same anxiety to Kanan. Everyone on the Ghost noticed her franticness and his sudden need to do everything for her. It was a long week or so of avoiding questions from her crew and trying to get Kanan to just act normal until they finally had a mission that allowed for a stop on a planet that had a supply of pregnancy tests. Turns out the constant stress of a literal war just happens to affect the consistency of menstrual cycles. Back then she had someone to panic with, there was no way in all sith hells she was going to put herself through the panic on her own.
Chopper warbled a protest, but Hera just shook her head and continued to point.
“And you better not worry the rest with your ‘theory’!”
Maybe that tone was a little harsh, but her crew was already treating her like glass, she didn't want to be treated like Nabooian porcelain.
She took a deep breath and focused on the ground. She was doing this more recently, meditating like she would see Kanan do. There was a draw to it now. She had felt connected to the galaxy before, whenever she would fly, but this was a new connection with each breath. In this state, she can feel him. Fully around her like a hug, and for a second she thinks maybe Chopper's theory wouldn't be so bad. And for a second she feels like the universe is agreeing with her and telling her it isn't. And then it’s far too real and terrifying and she decides she’s just imagining this-whatever this is-and she’s making a beeline for the Ghost.