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It was her first mission after recovery, straight out of the Bacta tank they had stuck her into as soon as it arrived on Phoenix Home. She definitely owed Bail Organa a favour for organizing the increasingly rare Bacta, although he didn’t seem to think so. He had laughed it off, but admitted that there was a transport of fugitives that needed escort from Hutt space to Alderaan. The simple things he could do while still in political service of the Empire: harbouring fugitives, sending out medical care, accidentally losing ships to the Rebels …
Her crew had protested but Hera was adamant.
“We get into hyperspace. We get out of it, introduce ourselves as their new wingman, get into hyperspace again and get out of it again near Alderaan. That’s all.”
“That’s all – if there is no Imperial trouble. And Imperial trouble kind of sticks magnetically to us”, Sabine had pointed out. Kanan had eyed Hera in the most annoying way she could imagine. Wary. Cautious.
Alright, she did still feel weak and thin and bruised and as if something out of her mid-section was missing and had left a gaping hole. But she could walk and sit and steer her ship.
“Phoenix leader’s on her feet again”, Kanan finally sighed and flashed her a smile. “We can’t do a thing to hold her back.”
“At least we can watch her back”, Zeb grinned and patted her shoulder very carefully. “Shall I carry you around?”
“Thank you, but no, thank you”, she answered and forced a brave smile. Even the conversation wore her out, but she would rather be carried by Zeb than admit it. And even the first one was not an option as long as she wasn't unconscious.
“It’ll take us a while till we get into Hutt Space where the transports wait for us. I'd like to prepare some food. Any wishes?”, Sabine said and nudged Hera gently to sit at the Dejarik table. They all stood around in the common room and looked at her as if she was some strange sort of plant.
“Noodles”, she sighed. “That would be great.”
“Noodles it is.” Sabine rummaged around in the cupboard. There was not much in there, but Hera was pretty sure she would find noodles.
“Let me help. You’ll spoil even noodles!”, Ezra teased Sabine who just pretended not to hear him. Hera stood up again. “I’ll set the course.”
“Chopper’s already doing that”, Kanan interrupted and sat beside her, seizing her arm and pulling her onto the bench again with him. She shook her head. “So, why am I even here?”
“Because you wouldn’t let us do it without you. Try to just sit around and give us commands. Like Sato does.” He grinned, but there still was something uneasy in his eyes. Worry. Pain. The feeling that it would never feel light and simple anymore. She stroked his hand with her thumb and hardly noticed it herself.
“What’s the matter, love? You’re not worrying about me, are you?”, she said softly. Usually she didn’t call him love while the others were around. It was certainly no secret that she loved him, but she thought it to be distracting if they mumbled sweet nothings while others were eavesdropping.
He eyed her with his ocean-green eyes. She blinked, she could hardly bear his troubled gaze. Not here. Not now, his eyes told her. She knew that he had been worried crazy, that he had feared she would die. She had feared so herself, in the short moment when everything went fiery red, only to fade to a black swirling pain. The memory of that fear was still raw and desperate and made her heart clench like a fist. But she had not died and she wouldn’t let herself be slowed down or taken out of the game by wounds or fear - neither her own fear nor others'. He must know that. She knew he did – that this was the reason for his gaze.
“Would you like me to stay behind?”, she whispered. He shook his head.
“’Course not”, he said with a faint smile. “I’m just afraid. I can’t switch it off, Hera, not now. But later. Perhaps.”
“I have to go on.”
“I know. Let me just ... let me just worry sick about you. Never mind. It'll pass.”
Sabine and Ezra shot a glance over their shoulders, although Kanan had tried to say it casually, as if he was joking.
That was just him. He was always where she needed him, to assist her, to help her, perhaps sometimes to protect her or rescue her or catch her if she fell. But he would never stop her. We saved each other’s life quite some times. And this was the first time it was almost too late. The thought would be nagging at me, too, if it had been him instead of me ...
“Erm – we have a can of cullust cucumber. I can make something out of that”, Ezra interrupted her thoughts with that shy grin of him.
“I’d love that.” She flashed him a smile. Why had everything to be so awkward?
The ship moved into hyperspace and she had done nothing but a sit-in in the common room. Chopper told her the status from the cockpit, his rough droid voice echoed through the short metal corridor that formed the center of her home. Their home. She allowed herself to lean back, still aching beneath her rips. Kanan watched her, Ezra and Sabine cut cucumber and Zeb sat in his chair and staired at a datapad, trying to pretend he was reading information about their mission.
“Dear, I can’t take this any longer. Would you just pretend I’m okay and go on like usual?”
“Than we’d eat dry space crackers, and that’s not what we want”, Ezra said. “Take it as a celebration of your recovery. An … awkward celebration with lots of silences and sideway glances.” He tried to break the ice with honesty. She laughed.
“As long as it won’t become a tradition. Silence and sideway glances at every birthday party. Or life day. Or even wedding. We have Empire Day for that!”, Zeb grinned and looked up from his datapad. They were trying so bravely. She should just go and sit in the cockpit.
“Sabine, I’ve got a question”, Kanan started and took Hera’s hand again. “When I was … young, I heard one of the clones talk about Mando customs.”
“Some of them were trained by Mandalorians and adapted some Mando stuff, yeah”, she said absentmindedly, chopping prumates now.
“There is a Mando oath to bind a person to another?”
“There are several. An oath to bind yourself to a superior. An oath to bind yourself to someone you lo…” She looked up, the knife fell down a hairbreadth away from her finger. “Ah. Oh.”
“Can you tell me the words – for the latter one … for example?”
“I … I guess”, she said, eyes widening, turning around very slowly.
“I think I’ll be in the cockpit”, Hera said, a short wave of panic taking her.
“Don’t be”, her bade her and smiled. He didn’t let go of her hand. He lifted their hands onto the table, as if they were arm-wrestling now. She started to tremble, fought down the urge to flee.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m celebrating”, he said and lifted one eyebrow, his smile tried to split his face. “Sabine, I need words.”
“Y-yes. I … I’m not sure …” She looked at Hera, and Hera looked back, eyes wide, heart pounding. There it was, her last chance to shake her head, laugh it off and head for the cockpit. She didn’t take it.
“I pledge my loyalty to you”, Sabine forced out a whisper.
“I pledge my loyalty to you, Hera.” Kanan’s voice was full of that smile he wore. Zeb and Ezra stared at them as if they were not sure if this was a peculiar dream.
“To be true to you until we die or you don’t need my loyalty anymore.”
“To be true to you until we die or you don’t need my loyalty anymore”, he repeated, his hand so warm around her slender, cold fingers. She was trembling. This was nonsense.
“I will love you. And your children will be my children.” Sabine almost choked on the words, her embarrassment very clear in the colour of her cheeks.
“I will love you. And your children will be my children”, he said, his eyes two ocean pools the depth of souls. She fell into them. She pressed her lips together.
“That’s all. Mandalorian culture is a bit … informal”, Sabine mumbled, turned around quickly and continued to chop vegetables.
“Thank you”, Kanan said as if there was nothing to it.
“That wasn’t fair”, Hera whispered furiously and tried to stop shaking.
“It was just words”, he said with the most cheeky shrug.
“It wasn’t. You kriffin’ married me”, she answered in an angry hiss. His eyes widened as he grasped that he might have upset her.
“You … I wasn’t … I just wanted to … you don’t have to … we’re not …” He fell silent, reflected for the length of a blink and continued, more firm. “It works one way. It’s a one way wedding.”
He tried to let go of her hand. She gripped his fingers firmly. “Don’t you dare letting go, Kanan Jarrus”, she managed to say. His hand relaxed. She felt the stroke of his thumb on her skin.
“I won’t”, he said simply and met her gaze again.
“I pledge my loyalty to you”, she recalled and her voice, still a bit furious, fluttered like a small bird’s wings. “To be true to you until we die or you don’t need my loyalty anmore." The healing wound she still felt beneath her ribs was suddenly flooded with the sweetest, warmest ache she could imagine, something that didn't feel physical at all. "I will love you. And your children will be my children.” She felt cold and warm at the same time. He was too far away, and too many eyes lay upon them. His smile returned, a grateful, warm, unselfish smile, that bastard!
“I’m not sure about Mando customs but I’d suggest a kiss now”, Zeb harrumphed from his chair. She didn’t have to look at him to imagine his broad smirk.
Kanan leaned over. His face, too long and too handsome and with that absurd nose of his, radiated happiness. His right hand still clutched hers. His left hand touched her arm, her shoulder, pulling her close. She closed her eyes, helpless, feeling very strange and vulnerable and invincible. They kissed, long and tender and without losing their smiles.
“I officially declare you space-married”, Zeb chuckled.
“You should really do some great job with this cullust cucumber sauce”, she heard Sabine tease Ezra. “It’s their wedding dinner now.”
***
Dinner had been delicious. And finished as the Ghost went out of hyperspace. Hera sat in the cockpit, feeling strangely warm and happy, a silly and simple and awesome feeling.
Hutt Space lay before her.
“Mission begins, captain”, said her co-pilot. “Are you ready?”
She smiled at him. “Always.”