Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The breeze whispered through the trees with a hush-like breath held too long. The cliffs of Seatos lay behind the Ghost's auxiliary ship, and the gentle crash of distant waves echoed against the ancient stone. While Hera stood at the ramp with Ahsoka and Huyang, voices low and filled with weary hope, her son had wandered quietly into the woods—pulled by something neither wind nor reason could explain.

Jacen didn’t mean to go far. At first, it was only a few steps, his hand grazing rough bark, eyes narrowing at the way the light filtered through the trees. There was a shimmer to it today, like the Force was stretching just beneath the surface. He could feel it—not words, not visions, just a warmth in his chest that tugged him forward.

Chopper grumbled behind him, the astromech droid struggling against the uneven forest floor, his wheels spinning uselessly over tangled roots and damp moss.

“ Bwraaah whu dwee dwee dwee! ” he beeped irritably, tripping over a thick root and letting out a warbled curse in binary. Jacen spared a glance back, lips quirking in apology, “Sorry, Chopper. I just … feel something. I think I’m supposed to follow it.”

The droid let out a low, frustrated whine, spun in a circle, and beeped something that likely translated to 'You're impossible' before turning around. Struggling poorly to navigate the woods, it's loose soil and poking tree roots.

Jacen didn’t wait. He kept moving, each step quieter than the last, the Force nudging him like a breath at his shoulder. The trees deepened around him, their trunks ancient and curved, reaching toward a sky the color of worn silver. Alien birds scattered ahead of him, but he barely noticed.

Then the young boy's eyes landed on him.

At first, it was just a silhouette—a man walking between shafts of golden-red light that sliced through the canopy. He moved cautiously, his cloak brushing the ferns, hands loose at his sides. He was tall, strong in posture but careful in his movements, as if waking from a long dream. His long dark hair was tied back, a short scruffy beard clinging to his jaw. He was looking for something. Not with empty sockets, but with eyes—clear and bright, like pools of memory.

Jacen froze. His breath caught, but he didn’t run. There was something about this man that felt right. Like the moment before waking up from a good dream—the kind that didn’t fade, not even after the sun was up. The man saw him too. He stopped mid-step, frowning in confusion, “Hey,” he called gently, voice rough from disuse, “You alright?” he coughed clearing out his throat

Jacen tilted his head but didn’t speak at first. He didn’t feel scared. In fact, the feeling blooming in his chest was the opposite. Warm. Safe. The way sunlight feels through a cockpit window.

“I followed something,” Jacen said, almost shyly, “I think it was you.” The man blinked, he stepped forward slowly, lowering himself to one knee so he wasn’t so towering over the young boy before him, “What’s your name?” the mysterious man asked.

“Jacen.”

The man’s breath caught, He stared back like the name had knocked the air from his lungs. He blinked again, slowly, and a tremor passed through him.

“Jacen…” His voice was a whisper, not a question, almost testing the name on his lips as if he hadn't spoken it in eons . Jacen nodded, watching him curiously, “What’s yours?” the boy asked rocking forward and back slowly on his feet.

He hesitated a moment, “Kanan,” he said at last. Jacen frowned faintly. The name didn’t mean much to him, but it settled into his bones like a lullaby he didn’t remember being sung.

“I don’t know you,” Jacen admitted, but then smiled, “But I think I like you.” Kanan almost laughed, though it came out broken and tight. His hand hovered in the air, unsure whether to touch the boy’s shoulder or hold back entirely. The Force between them was a river of memory, and Kanan didn’t need it to tell him what he already suspected.

Ten years old. Half-Twilek he was sure. Eyes like Hera’s, but everything else—his presence, the way he moved, even how he reached for the Force like it was a mystery he could solve with his heart—that was Kanan.

“You said your name’s Jacen?” Kanan asked again, gently, “Yeah. Jacen Syndulla.” Kanan’s heart cracked wide open. It took everything he had not to fall apart. “Your mom,” he said slowly, almost reverently, “wouldn’t happen to be Hera, would she?” Jacen nodded, a little unsure now, “You know her?” he said now fidgetting with his vest.

Kanan sat back on his heels, stunned. He looked up at the patch of sky between the trees and exhaled hard, like he was finally coming to the surface after being underwater for years, “I did,” he said softly. “Better than anyone.” Jacen stepped forward then, closer, sensing the pain behind the man’s eyes but not frightened of it. He paused just in front of Kanan, staring at him openly. “I think the Force wanted me to find you,” Jacen said, Kanan gave him a trembling smile, “I think you’re right.” Jacen reached out slowly, Kanan quickly met him part way letting the little boy grasp his hand. "Do you want to see my Mom?"

The golden light had shifted. Long shadows crept across the mossy ground, and the wind carried with it a quiet tension that Hera couldn’t name.

She stood with Ahsoka near the loading ramp, arms crossed, nodding absently as Ahsoka spoke about what she’d seen in the World Between Worlds. But something had shifted inside her. A low thrum in her chest. A thread tugging at her gut.

Huyang’s voice chimed in with one of his usual dry remarks, but Hera didn’t hear it. Her eyes flicked away from the conversation—toward the tree line. Then back across the Stone circle, and then back again at the trees. Jacen had been playing only moments ago with Chopper to watch him,

Now gone.

So was Chopper.

She blinked. Looked again. No small figure playing near the rocks, no sarcastic droid grumbling in binary. Her stomach dropped, “Jacen?” she called, turning sharply on her heel, “Jacen!” her voice carried louder as her heart thumped in her ears.

Ahsoka stopped mid-sentence. She followed Hera’s line of sight, frowning, “Where’s Chopper?” Ahsoka asked, tension instantly creeping into her voice.

Then, like on cue, Chopper came tearing across the clearing having finally made his way back out of the trees, half-rolling, half-tumbling over the rough terrain. His panicked beeps were shrill and urgent, “ WhraaAAA dwee bwuu bwee! ”

“What is it, Chopper?” Hera demanded, jogging forward, Chopper spun in place, arms flailing, then turned and pointed his dome frantically at the woods. His translation was clear enough—Jacen had wandered deep into the trees. Alone .

Hera didn’t wait for clarification. “Jacen!” she shouted, voice cracking with fear. She broke into a sprint, boots thudding against the ground as she headed for the tree line. Ahsoka was right beside her, already drawing closer to the Force, her steps silent and sure.

The forest enveloped them with a strange quiet, as if the trees themselves were waiting, they didn’t have to go far.

Near the edge of the woodland, where the trees opened just enough to let the sun spill through in soft golden stripes, two figures emerged. Jacen walked with a smile on his face, small fingers curled around the large hand of a man beside him. The man had to lean significantly to reach the boy’s hand, and still it looked like he barely believed this was real. He walked slowly, cautiously, eyes scanning the terrain, the ship in the distance, and then—

Hera.

He froze.

She skidded to a halt, eyes wide, chest heaving.

Kanan.

The face she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Older still. His hair tied back the way she used to tease him about, his jaw scruffed with the beginnings of a beard. But his eyes—his eyes were whole.

He met her gaze and stopped moving. Ahsoka came to a dead halt beside Hera, hand flying to her lightsaber instinctively. Her eyes narrowed, searching the Force for deception. "Promised I'd see you again .. right" Kanan spoke with weak shrug of his shoulders as if he didn't believe the words he said anymore then he expected her to believe them.

Hera’s blaster was already half-drawn. "Jacen,” she called, voice tight, breaking on the second syllable, “Come to me. Now.” Jacen hesitated, confused by the sudden fear in her voice. “But he’s okay. I promise,” Jacen insisted, squeezing the man’s hand, “I have a good feeling about him. Like Ahsoka,”

Kanan winced at that—Force, he remembered that feeling. He’d followed it himself more times than he could count. But he also knew the woman standing across from him, trembling between rage, shock, and something deeper: a grief she’d never dared reopen.

“It’s alright,” Kanan said softly, letting go of the boy's hand “Go to her," he said keeping his hands visable , fingers splayed for Hera. “But—” Jacen frowned as Kanan rose back to his height again. Feeling the wince as he stretched out his spine once more.

“Jacen.” Hera's tone wobbled between need to be firm but thick with fear that hurt Kanan to hear. “It’s okay. She’s scared. Go.” Kanan nodded his head towards Hera keeping his voice level and calm. Even as his heart ran rapidly at the encounter, he chasted himself for how it must look. Some man wandering out of the woods with her young son.

Jacen looked between them, uncertain, but the urgency in Hera’s posture finally registered. He rushed across the clearing, throwing his arms around his mother’s leg, hugging tightly onto her and resting his cheek against her hip.

Hera wrapped one arm protectively around his shoulders, the other still gripping her blaster. Her eyes never left Kanan’s.

She couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t breathe.

Ahsoka stepped forward slightly, her own weapon still sheathed, but her stance poised for the worst. “You’re… supposed to be dead,” Hera said at last, the words a fragile thread. Kanan stayed where he was, hands visible. He didn’t try to move closer. “I was, I think ” he said quietly. “I think I still might be. I don’t understand it. But I felt something. And I followed it.” He looked down at Jacen carefully “And I found him," the boy looked up at his mother trying to find her eyes but Hera didn't tear them away from the man before her. Her hand slowly ran through the boys hair as if more to calm herself then him.

The woods seemed to hold its breath. The trees swayed gently, even the ever-chirping insects had gone quiet, as if the planet itself was watching.

Kanan remained where he’d crouched—hands still visible, posture open. "I don’t know what happened," Kanan said softly, the edges of confusion bleeding into his voice now that the adrenaline was fading. "The last thing I remember... I was on Lothal. That Imperial fuel depot. I pushed the ship away." He paused, face tightening, "I remember the fire. The heat. And then—"

His brow furrowed. He looked around, as if trying to anchor himself in the present, "I woke up here. Just... lying on the forest floor. No wounds. No pain. Just this strange pull in the Force" Ahsoka was the first to break the silence. Her voice was quiet, contemplative, “The Force has been… strange here.”

She glanced at Hera, “Thrawn is out there. With the Great Mothers—three Nightsisters bound to the dark side in ways we don’t fully understand. If they’ve tampered with time or life or memory…” She trailed off, unease settling in her eyes.

Kanan looked between them, frowning, “Sorry Thrawn isn't dead? Where did three Nightsisters come from, aren't they all dead?” he frowned trying to rack his brain to keep up.

Hera’s jaw clenched, “No.” Her voice cracked slightly, and she quickly steadied it. Kanan opened his eyes still frowning about to ask her to clarify, “No, I saw you die, Kanan. We all did.” Kanan closed his mouth again. He could feel it the fire, the heat of it. He'd felt it prickle his skin and yet, there had been no marks when he woke up here.

Her hand moved from her blaster to rest gently on Jacen’s shoulder, “I’ve spent years trying to make peace with that.” Kanan swallowed, his throat visibly tight, “I know. I would’ve stayed dead if I could. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He'd known what he was doing, what it would cost them. But her life? When he knew she was pregnant? He'd sacrifice his dozen times over for hers.

Jacen finally spoke, his voice small but insistent, “But he feels good , Mom. Like Ahsoka or Sabine. I think it was the Force was pulling me to him.” Hera’s heart twisted. There was no denying her son’s sensitivity. It had always been likely that Jacen would inherit his father's Force Sensitivey. Hera , in all honestly, had never finalised how she was going to deal with that. When Jacen was babe in her arms, it was all her focus to make sure the Empire would never find out about him. Would never get ahold of him. Now? Now he was beginning to grow, beginning to feel and test the abilities she was sure would come about one day. Still, she couldn’t dismiss the gnawing terror clawing at her gut that someone would want to take away her son when they realised his Force-sensitivity .

“Chopper. Huyang.” Hera’s voice was sharper now. The droid wheeled forward, still humming, while Huyang trundled stiffly behind him. “Take Jacen back to the ship,” Hera said without looking away from Kanan, “Make sure the shields are raised. Lock the ramp.”

Jacen’s face fell, “But—” the boy's hands tighten around her, “Go,” she said gently, touching his face, “Please. I need to talk to him. I need to know your safe on the ship Jacen" the boy hesitated, but even at his age, he recognized the barely contained fear behind her eyes. Reluctantly, he let Chopper nudge him along, casting one last glance at Kanan as he was led back toward the clearing.

When he was out of earshot, Hera finally exhaled, “You’re not making any sudden moves,” she said flatly like the general she was, “That’s a good start.” she huffed.

Kanan gave a tiny, helpless smile, “I’ve learned a thing or two about dealing with angry Twi’leks.” It was meant to be teasing, lighthearted—a sliver of the old Kanan peeking through but Ahsoka raised a brow and Hera’s expression didn’t change.

Kanan winced, “Okay, yeah. Sorry. Not the time.” He shifted uncomfortably, moving his weight from one foot to the other, fully disarmed in posture and tone. “You want proof. Something only I’d know.” Hera folded her arms, but didn’t interrupt.

“There’s the obvious stuff,” Kanan began, glancing down shuffling a pebble at his boot, “I could rattle off passcodes from every panel in the Ghost, unless you’ve changed them—probably should’ve by now.” His mouth twitched with the hint of a smile, “Or how Ezra kept trying to sneak your spicecake stash, but I was the one who finished it and let him take the blame.” Ahsoka raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Hera didn’t even blink.

Kanan hesitated, then looked up, “Alright… how about this: After Malachor, when you came to me shaking in our room… you asked me if I regretted not following Jedi rules. If being with you was a mistake.” Hera’s breath caught. Her arms loosened slightly, “You said it before you realized you said it out loud,” Kanan went on, “And I told you the truth—that you were the only thing I was ever certain about,” Kanan gave a small, sheepish smile. Ahsoka’s gaze flicked briefly to Hera, then back.

A long, excruciating silence hung between them as Kanan's eyes hung on Hera who didn't budge.

Kanan sighed, exhaling out every fraction of air from his lung , and filled them once more. “When you told me you were pregnant,” he said, “I already knew. I’d felt it. For weeks, maybe. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to have the moment to yourself. To decide when— if —you wanted to share it with me” His voice thinned slightly as he spoke, the feeling welling in his chest again.

“That was the hardest secret I ever kept. Harder than pretending I wasn’t a Jedi. Harder than hiding my lightsaber. Because it wasn’t just mine. It was yours," Hera's arms dropped to her sides. Her breath left her in a soft exhale, but her jaw stayed set. Tension rose in her shoulders.

“That…” she said, quieter than before, “doesn’t prove anything. I told Sabine. Someone could’ve overheard. You could’ve learned it later.” Kanan just nodded, his adam's apple bobbed “I guess you’re right. You’re being careful. I get it. You should be.” he fumbled the words out a bit. As much as he understood, it didn't stop it hurting.

He took a breath, his voice cracking just slightly as he continued, “I remember you, Hera. I remember how you used to put extra caf into my packs," His eyes flicked to her, watching for even the smallest reaction, “I remember how you used to fall asleep reading flight manuals in our bunk, then deny it the next morning—say you were just resting your eyes.” A beat. Hera’s stare faltered.

“I remember loving you,” he said simply , “and wanting to do right by the family we built… and wanted to keep building.” Ahsoka exhaled slowly, remaining silent, but her hand had lowered from her lightsaber. She was watching Hera, waiting for her to decide what came next.

Hera stood very still, wind teasing at her lekku . The shadows lengthened as the sun dipped behind the distant cliffs. Hera remained guarded, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest as if holding herself together. Ahsoka had let the tension flow from her, letting her guard fall and accept in the Force around them.

“I still can’t believe this,” she said, voice cracking despite her effort to keep it firm. Hera shook her head trying to clear her thoughts, then one thing run out. His grey-blinded eyes were no more. She'd thought she'd seen his eyes, his beautiful eyes, clear moment before the flames engulfed him but- “You were blind , Kanan.”

Kanan’s smile faded. “I know I was,” he admitted. “But… I felt my sight come back to me to see you onto the ship. When I woke up, I could see the sky, the leaves falling from the trees around me. I didn’t understand it either.” Ahsoka stepped forward, her voice calm, analytical . “There are instances in the Jedi archives. Force healing—miraculous recovery. It’s rare, and poorly understood, but…”

Hera scoffed under her breath, “Kanan wasn’t ever good at that" she murmured quietly , Ahsoka shot her a look. Hera looked away, from her. “I just… You’re not helping, Ahsoka.” Hera muttered, louder this time.

“You know I am,” Ahsoka replied evenly, “I’m trying to understand. Just like you.” They stood in silence again, the wind whispering through the trees like it too feared to interrupt.

“We can’t leave him out here,” Ahsoka finally said, giving Hera a soft look. “Trick or not. This planet’s not built for anything to survive long alone. And it’s hard to reach—”

Hera didn’t respond right away. Her eyes remained fixed on Kanan, whose gaze hadn’t left her since the moment he emerged from the trees. Not pleading. Not desperate. Just there. Waiting. “I don’t know if I can leave him,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Ahsoka share her a sympathetic smile.

Kanan didn’t react, “I don’t want to believe it’s you,” she continued, louder now, straighter, stronger, “Because if it is… and I let you go… I don’t think I could survive losing you twice.”

Kanan said softly, “You don’t have to believe anything right now. I’ll wait. I’d wait a lifetime for you if I had to.” Hera looked away, blinking hard, “…Let’s go,” she said finally. “But this doesn’t mean I trust you.”

The ship came into view through the low trees, its silhouette familiar and grounding—the Ghost, home for so many years, still sturdy and waiting.

But the ramp was still down.

And Jacen was still there, leaning far over Chopper’s dome, trying to peer out into the woods. Hera stopped short, her exhaustion shifting instantly into frustration. Jacen bounced around Chopper running down the slope with the astromech behind him

“Jacen Syndulla!” she called, storming the last few steps, the boy stopping dead in his tracks, “What did I say ?” Jacen’s eyes widened, “I was just—!” She didn’t let him finish. She scooped him up into her arms in one swift motion, despite the awkwardness of his growing limbs.

“You’re getting too big for this,” she muttered against his dark green hair, Jacen clung to her, confused but comforted by her grip. The young boy nuzzled into her neck and lekku , his eyes shifting to spy Kanan walking stiffly behind them.

“Kanan is off-limits for now,” she said firmly, “No questions.” Her hand threaded into his hair as Jacen tried to shuffle around,

“But—”

“No.”

She carried him up the ramp while Chopper grumbled with what sounded like smug droid satisfaction. Hera turned to Huyang, who had remained at the ship’s threshold like a sentry.

“Run bloodwork,” she said sharply, “Look for clones, anomalies, anything . I want answers.” Hera asked turning a slow circle to peer back at Kanan who hung at the top of the ramp waiting for her cue.

“Understood,” Huyang responded with a graceful nod. Ahsoka turned to Kanan, “Protocol.” she said as his eyes flickered down to the cuffs in her hand. His heart sank at it but, “I get it.” He raised his arms, palms open, “Go ahead.”

She clipped binders to his wrists—nothing too restrictive, just enough to ease Hera’s nerves. He didn’t flinch. He walked slowly to a wall pipe, sat down with the ease of long habit, and let the cuffs click into place.

Kanan leaned his head back against the hull, eyes closing briefly as if trying to center himself—but when they opened again, they drifted, unbidden, to the far end of the ship.

To Hera, clutching their son as if she might lose him next. To Jacen, watching Kanan from over her shoulder with wide, unblinking curiosity and the same Force-born intuition Kanan once helped train in another wayward kid.

And for a flicker—just a flicker—Kanan’s composure cracked. The tiniest break in the wall.

But he said nothing.

Time ticked on, Kanan kept his back straight, legs crossed calmly beneath him, his hands resting on his knees. The cuffs chafed lightly, but he made no fuss about it. He’d been through worse.

Across from him, Jacen hovered behind a stack of supply crates, peeking out from behind them like he wasn’t sure if he was sneaking or confronting a dangerous animal.

Chopper beeped an annoyed series of warnings nearby, clearly under orders to prevent interaction, but the kid was persistent. Eventually, with a clever bit of climbing and tiptoeing around the droid’s whirling arms, Jacen found himself standing just shy of Kanan, on top of a ledge that Chopper couldn't reach.

Kanan didn’t move, but his gaze lifted. Jacen stepped forward slowly, arms behind his back, face serious in the way only a ten-year-old trying to act grown-up could manage.

“Hi,” he said finally, Kanan nodded once, “Hi.” Jacen stared for a moment, rocking on his heels. “Everyone’s acting weird,” he said, “I found you. But now nobody wants me to talk to you" there was a bit of exasperation in the young boy's voice that tugged in Kanan chest he wanted so much to chuckle at.

But rather on the outside he didn't let his expression change, “They’re just being careful" he said short, and quick. Casting his eyes back down the hallway. Wary still of Hera's own worry.

“Why? Did you do something?” Jacen asked him drawing back his attention,

“No.”

“How do you know my mom?”

Kanan looked away hiding the emotion away from his eyes, brow furrowing faintly, “We go back a long way.” Jacen frowned, not satisfied “How far?” Another beat, “Really far.” The boy’s brow furrowed, puzzled, he folded his arms. In a way Kanan thought looked so much like Hera when her frustration got the better of her.

Jacen looked down at the cuffs on Kanan’s wrists, “Are you dangerous?” he asked almost hesitantly as his arms dropped down again, “No.” Kanan replied. “Then why are you tied up?” he tilted his head again in just a way that felt like Hera once more, Kanan fought to keep smile from splitting across his face as he met the boy's eyes gently. “Because sometimes grown-ups don’t have the answers they want yet.” Jacen wrinkled his nose as if the answer wasn't satisfying at all. Really it probably wasn't. Kanan could imagine himself offering similar response at Jacen's age.

Before Jacen could ask more, a quiet presence approached from the corridor behind. Ahsoka stepped in, cloak trailing softly along the floor. Her gaze passed over Jacen before settling on Kanan.

“Jacen,” she said softly, “Go to your mother, won't you?” He opened his mouth to protest, but something in her tone stopped him. He glanced one more time at Kanan , “Are you gonna stay?” he asked with a tentative worry “I’m not going anywhere,” Kanan said , Reluctantly, Jacen nodded jumping down from his ledge to run off with Chopper following. Leaving the two adults alone.

The corridor was dim and still, the kind of quiet that comes when people have said all they can — but still have so much left to feel. Ahsoka stood studied him from a few feet away.

“You always sat weird when you meditated,” she finally said, “Left ankle under right, not the other way around.” Kanan smiled faintly, “Helps my back. Temple floors weren’t exactly ergonomic.” he shrugged.

“Funny. I remember one of the masters tried to correct you on that during a class in the Room of Stillness.” Ahsoka could vaguely remember the boy Kanan was . She was older them him at the time, had only really known him in passing and a handful of moments.

“She also tried to make me stop twitching my foot. Didn't work.” That earned him a small, cautious smile from Ahsoka as she leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded. “You remember that room?” she asked narrowing her eeys a fraction as if it test him, “Sure,” he said, eyes half-lidded now. “The blue glow from the skylights… the air always smelled like polished durasteel and incense. You could hear the fountains in the meditation garden if it was quiet enough.” Ahsoka’s expression shifted — subtle, but not lost on him.

“Do you remember the trick you and Cal pulled with the droid decoy?” Kanan laughed — a quiet, warm sound. “Painted it to look like an assassin and sent it running down the hall with one of Cal’s old robes on. They chased it halfway to the Council Chamber before it fell over.”

Ahsoka exhaled a slow breath, “Knew that was you two” Ahsoka sighed, “We didn't get caught,” Kanan said, shaking his head, “Trust me, we caused a lot of trouble in our early days" Her voice softened, “You’ve got a good memory.” she commented a gentle observation.

“I forgot a lot,” Kanan admitted, “Or tried to" he sighed sucking in a hard breath "Buried a lot after Order 66. But... the important things stayed. I guess” he hummed. They sat in silence again, the harder memories burning between them both unable to touch them without opening up wounds they'd both feel too sharply.

Then Ahsoka asked, her tone light but edged with something sharper, “Do you remember what Master Billaba said to you before everything?” His face changed — not startled, not afraid, just still. Thoughtful. The words came softly.

“She told me not to look back“ his voice cracked in a way that felt so genuine, so human. That the pain leaked into every fibre of himself. It wasn't the moment Ahsoka had meant for, but she recongised just how deep this moment had sit into Kanan's being. Of who he was, and who he'd become.

"She died saving me,” Kanan added, “I hated her for it, for a while. Then hated myself. I ran for years before I ever touched my lightsaber again.” he closed his eyes roughly, pinching them against the dam of emotion that threatened every time he tip toed those memories.

“Until Hera?” she asked gently, His eyes opened slowly, lip twitched, not into a smile but something deeper, “She reminded me of the people I wanted to protect. And who I used to be. She made me better.” Ahsoka studied him, eyes unreadable.

“You know,” she said, arching a brow, “the Council wouldn’t have approved.” she studied him carefully now. Relationships, Love, the act of intimacy, giving your heart to someone was frowned upon within the order. Banned really.

He snorted, grateful for the shift in tone, “Of Hera and me? No kidding. Jedi weren’t exactly known for embracing romance. Or... family .” he huffed laugh . A sly smirk came across his features, casting a glance up at Ahsoka “The odds of her even getting pregnant were… very slim. Honestly, I figured the Force was just messing with me.” The pair shared a brief buzz of laughter at it.

“Or maybe it had a plan" Ahsoka hummed, “Maybe,” Kanan said, more quietly this time. They both turned their heads toward the distant hum of the quarters down the corridor — Hera’s soft voice, muffled, drifting faintly into the silence.

“You've love with your heart on your sleeve, Kanan” Ahsoka said. “Completely," Kanan looked up at her with calm, steady eyes, fully confident in that notion. It'd taken him so long to step away from his drifter lifestyle and embrace a home with her, when he had his heart had been entirely open to her.

The stars outside the viewport hung motionless, caught in a still twilight. Hera sat slouched in the pilot’s chair, one elbow braced on the armrest, her thumb anxiously rubbing a chipped bit of the control stick’s paint. The ship hummed low around her, a familiar sound she usually found comforting. Tonight, it only reminded her how much everything else had changed.

She looked up sharply as Ahsoka entered, cloak brushing the metal doorway. There was purpose in her stride, her expression unreadable but focused. “I’ve got a way to find Sabine,” Ahsoka said without preamble, “It’s thin, but it’s something" there was a warming smile on her features that warmed Hera's chest all the same,

Before Hera could respond, Huyang’s voice followed behind like the shadow of certainty that stopped Hera's heart for a moment, “And I’ve completed the preliminary analysis,” the droid announced, stepping into view with his datapad in hand, “The subject’s DNA is a near-identical match to archived medical records of Caleb Dume—also known as Kanan Jarrus. And more notably, a 99.7% genetic relationship to Jacen Syndulla.”

The words dropped into the room like a seismic charge, a heavy pause. Hera didn’t move. She didn’t blink. Then she scoffed, bitterly, “Well, obviously he’s Jacen’s father. I was there.” But the sarcasm didn’t soften anything. Her voice didn’t lift. She didn’t smile. If anything, her shoulders seemed to draw tighter around her heart.

Ahsoka stepped forward, her eyes gentle , cautious , “Hera…” she drew out the women's name slowly settling into the seat beside her. “I know,” Hera interrupted sharply, voice too loud in the hush. She waved a hand as if swatting away smoke, “I know it all lines up. The DNA. The memories. The Force. Everything points to it being him.” Her voice faltered, and she turned away, eyes shining.

“And still…” She exhaled, hands gripping the edge of the console now, “I buried him. I grieved him. I told Jacen his father died a hero. I held it together through war and peace and… and diapers and baby fevers and night terrors. I did it all on my own, because I had to. Because Kanan was gone .” She bit her lip, hard. Ahsoka didn’t speak, but she shuffled closer, a quiet presence — solid, grounding. “You think if you believe it now,” she said softly, “you’ll have to lose him again" her hand rested on Hera's knee, comforting warm presence.

Hera didn’t answer. “You think Jacen will have to lose him after only just getting to have him,” Ahsoka added, even softer, like a truth no one wanted to say aloud. That broke something. Hera’s breath hitched, her shoulders shaking as she looked down at her hands.

Finally, she nodded, voice barely there. “He’s only ten. Still so young. He doesn’t know what it means to lose someone like that. Not forever. Not again .” A heavy silence stretched between them. “I watched him,” Hera said after a moment, “Watched Jacen walk back through the trees holding his hand like they’d always known each other. Like the Force had tied them together before either of them had a name for it.” She swallowed, “I could see it. I could feel it. That connection. And I wanted to tell him no. To make it stop. But how do you deny your kid something like that? How do I say: sorry, sweetie, but you don’t get to know your dad — not when the Force just handed him back?” Her throat tightened again, and she pressed a palm to her mouth.

Ahsoka’s voice was low and steady, “You don’t have to decide everything tonight.” Hera let out a shaky laugh — small, bitter, real. “That’s the thing. I don’t know what to decide. If this is real — truly real — why now? Why after ten years? Why when Jacen’s already growing up, when we’ve already built a life, a system, a rhythm together? I could’ve used Kanan when Jacen was screaming at three in the morning and spitting food at my face.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees now, staring at the floor like it held the galaxy’s secrets.

“And now... now Jacen’s starting to understand things. About the Force. About himself. And he felt something out there. Something right . And I’m terrified it’s going to vanish. That I’m going to have to stand there and explain to him why the dad he never got to meet had to go again. That I couldn’t keep him. That I didn’t know how or why.” Her voice broke again, “I can’t put that grief on him. I barely survived it myself.”

Ahsoka remained quiet, her presence warm and there, close enough to be there, far enough not to press. “The Force doesn’t always give us answers,” she said gently, “Sometimes it just gives us moments. It’s not about deserving them. It’s about being present enough to meet them when they arrive.” Hera wiped at her face, breathing unevenly, “What if he’s not meant to stay?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Ahsoka didn’t respond with false hope. Her silence was kind, she too couldn't give any firm answer that she knew that Hera wanted to have, “I don’t know,” she said finally, “But right now, he’s here. And he’s not running. He’s just… waiting. For you.” Ahsoka took one of Hera's hands in her own, gently running her thumb back and forth over the women's fine green skin.

Hera looked toward the corridor, toward the back of the ship where the man with Kanan’s face was waiting. Waiting for Her. Just like he always had, like he had for the months they'd first started travelling together tossing and turning on the idea of blurring the lines between crewmate and lover. For the years that followed of how public of a relationship she'd allow him. To the end, when all he'd wanted was a future with her, and Jacen, away from the empire.

But she wasn’t ready to go to him yet. But some part of her, small and aching and cautious, didn’t want to turn away either. She nodded, just once.

Then looked to Ahsoka, “You said you had something to find Sabine?” Ahsoka straightened , “ A path. With the Purgill" there was a sparkle in Ahsoka's eyes that drew smirk from Hera , "That's quite the plan" she chuckled wetly.

Huyang’s voice crackled in again from the corridor “I’ll prepare the nav systems. And monitor… our unexpected guest.” As Ahsoka stood, Hera remained in her seat, eyes fixed ahead, voice quieter now. “And Ahsoka… if this is real... if it really is him…” She didn’t finish the thought, Ahsoka gave her the smallest smile, “You'll know. You've always know him more then anyone else ever could”

When the cockpit door hissed shut, Hera exhaled, long and heavy. Her chest felt tight—torn between hope, fear, and something far more dangerous: want.

She rubbed at her temples and then pushed herself up, murmuring under her breath, “It’s late.” The corridor outside was quiet except for the occasional mechanical click of the Ghost's systems and the faint hum of voices coming from Jacen’s room. Hera paused outside the open door. Inside, Jacen knelt atop his bunk with his blanket flung over his shoulders like a cape. Chopper was whirling in small circles on the floor, chirping dramatically in protest every time Jacen “attacked” with a swooping hand or sound-effect-laden blaster shot.

“Boom! Got you again, Chop!” Jacen laughed, leaping back. Chopper gave a long, warbled string of beeps that translated to something smug but untranslatable, before spinning around to buzz Jacen’s knee with a playful static shock. Jacen yelped and giggled.

Hera leaned silently in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame. She smiled—softly, almost sadly. For a flicker of a moment, she saw another memory layered over this one. Years ago, on a different day, in a quiet hangar,

“Maybe if your droid stopped trying to electrocute me every time I got near you,” Kanan had complained once, rubbing the back of his hand with a dramatic wince. “Maybe if you stopped stealing my caf, he wouldn’t feel so territorial,” Hera had replied, not looking up. “He doesn’t like sharing you,” Kanan had muttered, and Chopper had revved loudly in agreement before zapping Kanan’s calf causing the man to yelp jumping away from him. Using Hera for a shield.

"Really Kanan?" Hera hummed, his frown at the droid softened casting his eyes to her, his hands sliding down her arms into the curve of her waist as Hera folded her arms over her chest. "Sorry Captain, I'm terrified you know" he shrugged with that boyish charm of a smile plastered across his face.

She blinked the memory away, heart tight. Chopper had never truly warmed to anyone as easily or completely as her, Until Jacen. From the moment the boy could walk, Chopper followed him like a grumpy guardian. He let Jacen climb over him, tinker with his systems, and use him as a makeshift scout in a dozen imaginary adventures. No one else would ever get away with that.

Hera cleared her throat softly, drawing both Jacen and Chopper’s attention. Jacen’s eyes sparkled with energy, still riding high from the strange events of the day. “Okay, pirate captain,” she said gently, folding her arms, “Time to dock your ship and turn in.” Jacen bounced down onto the floor his grip on the blanket slipping "Aww, but Mom—” he pleaded with wide eyes that looked too much like a look Kanan had given her on more than one occasion.

“You’ll need your rest little Captain,” she added, reaching out tickling at the young boy's side who giggled wiggling away from her. Chopper gave a grumble of agreement, which Hera took as solidarity. Jacen relented, nodding his head, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he crawled back onto his bunk, Hera taking a seat alongside him, on the edge of the bunk beside him as the mattress dipped slightly under her weight.

“Mom?” Jacen whispered, already smiling, “Can you tell me one of the stories again?” Hera hummed pulling the blanket up around him “About what?” she asked quietly he squinted, thinking, “About Dad. You and Dad” She smiled gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead, “Alright. Just one.”

He shuffled closer to her, his shoulder pressing against her side as he curled in, already relaxing with the comfort of her voice. Hera took a slow breath. It was always a tightrope—how much to say, how much to leave in the shadows. Tonight… she stayed in the safer place

“Okay,” she said softly, “One story. A short one.” Jacen grinned up at her with wide excited eyes. Far too lively and awake. Hera smiled faintly. “Alright… this one’s from a mission we ran long, very long ago before you were born." hera winked and Jacen poked his tongue out at her making a face.

"The Empire had blocked the canyon pass, and the Ghost was pinned down.” Hera continued, “Did you blast your way out?” Jacen asked, already vibrating with excitement, “Not this time,” she chuckled. “This time, your dad climbed up a cliff — by hand — in the rain, in the middle of the night. He rigged a signal booster using half-fried parts, and bought us just enough time to sneak past the blockade while they were confused.” Jacen’s eyes went wide, “Was it scary?” Hera shuffled herself further down the bed tucking in beside her son above the blankets, “A little,” she admitted. “But I knew if anyone could do it, it was him. He always had this way of doing the impossible… quietly, without ever needing to brag.” She paused, tucking the edge of his blanket around him.

“He got us out, safe. Like he always did.” Jacen was quiet now, blinking up at her, already halfway to sleep. Hera smiled and kissed his temple. “Night, sweetheart.”

Jacen stirred a little still just above sleep, his small eyes blinking back open, “Would he have taught me about the Force?” he asked, words sleep-heavy now. Hera didn’t answer right away. She placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing her thumb gently in circles. “If he could’ve,” she said finally, “he would’ve done everything he could to protect you. I think he would’ve loved to show you the things he knew.” Jacen hummed, not really awake anymore .

Within a minute, he was asleep, his cheek pressed into her arm, breath soft and warm. Hera watched him for a long moment, stroking a hand through his hair, her heart aching with the gentle weight of the boy he was… and the man who should’ve been there to watch him grow.

Just down the hall, out of sight but not out of earshot, Kanan sat quietly on the floor, eyes closed, head tilted slightly toward the door. Her words had carried. Not all of them—but enough. Enough to know she was still trying to protect Jacen. Still afraid.

The soft click of the door echoed faintly as Hera closed Jacen’s room behind her. The quiet hum of the ship filled the silence, but her heart was too loud in her chest to notice. She stood there for a moment, hand still on the doorframe, before turning.

Kanan head lifted when she approached. He didn’t stand, didn’t speak, just watched her with a steady, calm gaze—waiting, like he always used to when she needed time. She stopped a few paces from him, arms folded tightly.

Hera’s voice sharpened, “Remember when we used to move cargo on the outer rim, what was our signal for if it went sideways?" He didn’t hesitate, “Two blinks in the comm, then static. You were improvising the first time. I was furious.”

She took a step closer, “Where did you find my favourite flight gloves after I lost them in the Ghost after that horrible frozen planet we were on” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “In the heat vent under the nav chair. You were half-convinced Chopper had disintegrated them because I'd brought you those gloves when your hands were freezing in your old ones" Her throat tightened. She kept going.

“What did I say to you the night before the Malachor mission, when you were trying to meditate and I wouldn’t let you?” His smile faded, but his eyes softened for her, “You said you didn’t want me to leave. That if something happened, you didn’t want the last thing either of us felt to be frustration. You said... even Jedi don’t get forever.” Hera’s breath hitched. She hadn’t thought about that night in years.

Kanan kept his voice soft. “You were wearing the jacket with the frayed left cuff. I didn’t meditate that night. I stayed awake listening to you breathe. Held your hand the entire night.” Her hand, still folded across her chest, gripped her elbow tighter.

“I don’t know how this is possible,” she whispered. “I don’t know what the Force is doing. And I don’t know if I can believe it’s really you" Kanan sucked in a breath everything drowning out except the women in front of him.

“I have a system now,” Hera went on, voice rough. “Me and Jacen—we built a life. I raised him, Kanan . On my own. I told him stories about his father like you were some distant constellation. And now you’re back, and I don’t know what that means" Hera fisted the palm of her hand into her eyesocket sighing roughly trying to gather her composure again.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said gently, "I’ll wait however long you need" his voice was low, sad, she could hear it as much as she knew he was trying to mask it.

Her eyes shimmered , “You know he doesn’t even realize it’s you?” she watched his adam's apple bob, “I figured,” he said, qu ietly. "He just knows his father as... his dad. I didn’t want the Empire to connect him and you, any of them to make that connection. I didn't want for him to grow up haunted by the war, or hunted for the Force. I kept it all small... It's been okay until now Jacen's starting to feel the Force I don't know what to do about that" Hera's voice worn on as she spoke almost struggling to get all of it off her heart that had built a home there for so long.

“You did what was right for him," Kanan said, never accusing her, not hurt by her fear. Her need to protect their son. Hera took a slow breath. “He deserves to know you. If this is real. But I’m terrified that it’s not. That I’ll have to explain to my son why the father he finally met is gone again.” Kanan’s face softened further, silence settling between them both. Kanan racked his brain looking for the right words to cnonfort her but they didn't come,

Then finally, Hera exhaled and sat down beside him—still not close, but no longer across from him,

“I hate that I want to believe this.”

“I know.”

“I hate that I do believe it… a little.”

“I know that, too.”

She shook her head and let it fall against the wall behind her. Her voice came quieter now. “When I told you I was pregnant... you already knew,” Hera spared him a glance, Kanan held her gaze as he spoke, “I felt it in the Force weeks before,” he said, “But I waited. Because I knew you weren’t ready to say it yet.” Her eyes flicked sideways, "That was the hardest secret I've ever kept, harder than being a Jedi, because it wasn't mine, it was yours to share with me when - if - you wanted to" Hera's pinkie grazed the edge of his. That same feeling, that feeling she'd always associated as being Kanan welled up inside her. It felt so right, so real.

They sat in silence for a while. No more tests. No more questions. Just the distant hum of the ship and two people surrounded by memories. Eventually, Hera closed her eyes.

“Don’t go anywhere.” She pleaded.

“I won’t,” He promised.

Then—without a word—she leaned across. Unclipped the binders. The faint click echoed louder than it should’ve. Kanan didn’t move, desperately waiting for her to take the lead. “You’re not cleared of suspicion,” she said, straightening up. “I know" his voice barely above a whisper as if he'd breathed the words out.

“But I need sleep. And I need to not pretend you’re not alive and sitting outside my quarters like some lost puppy.” Kanan gave a half-smile, “Sounds like an invitation," that classic Kanan smirk was on his face, “It’s not,” Hera replied steeling her emotions, turning, “It’s practicality.” Still, he followed. Quietly. A step behind her all the way down the corridor.

The door hissed open. She stepped in first. The bunk was modest, but the room carried the quiet weight of a life built on love and resilience. A well-worn flight jacket hung from a hook by the door. A stack of datapads sat beside the bed, one with Jacen’s scribbled notes still open. His drawings were taped unevenly across the walls, paper corners curling at the edges from age and handling. A small holo of the old Ghost crew sat tucked half-behind a model of the ship itself, clearly repaired more than once. Near the head of the bed, a smoothed corner of a blanket was folded back — not military tight, but done with care. An old datachip rested in a frame on the shelf, its label long faded, but Hera’s fingers brushed it every time she passed.

“I haven’t shared this room in a decade,” she murmured, “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Kanan offered, instantly. "You’ll sleep on the bunk,” she said, already pulling off her boots, “We’re not kids sneaking around”

He obeyed, awkwardly sitting, leaving enough distance between them on the bed to mark the years passed. The narrow bunk was barely wide enough for two adults, but Kanan and Hera tried to lay side by side, not quite touching. The stillness between them was palpable — quiet, warm, and fragile. Like if either one breathed too hard, it might break.

Hera had her eyes on the ceiling, arms folded loosely across her stomach. Kanan shited to lay on his side making more room for her, one hand beneath his head, the other resting awkwardly at his side. The space between them was charged.

Kanan’s voice came softly, “You were always tidier than me" his eyes roamed past her along the wall with Jacen's drawings, She snorted gently, “That’s a low bar.” A beat. Then another.

“You remember when you first met my father?” she asked, Kanan smiled faintly. “Of course. He greeted me like I was already part of the family,” despite how Kanan had fumbled introducing Zeb, Sabine and Ezra.

“You bonded over war stories,” Hera murmured, “Tactical resistance. The old days.” Hera snorted at the memory, “And then he shot me and tried to blow up the ship,” Kanan said dryly. Hera huffed out a short, sharp laugh. “I should’ve known something was off,” he added, “Anyone who likes me that quickly usually has an agenda" his classic smirk returned, Hera couldn't help the tug in her heart at it.

“You won him over later,” Hera said, Kanan turned to look at her more fully. “He told me afterward that you had a warrior’s heart. That you believed in things. Even if you weren’t Twi’lek, or family, or even—his words— sensible. ” Kanan chuckled, “I was following his daughter into battle against the Empire. How sensible could I be?” Hera shifted rolling onto her side to mirror him, “He liked you,” she admitted.

Her arm shuffled under her, she shifted to be more comfortable on the bed only to be closer than before. Their hands weren’t quite touching, but hers hovered just beside his, “You know he… he loves Jacen,"

“That’s good,” Kanan said gently, “Surprising" she watched his eyebrows frown a fraction. He wasn't wrong, it was surprising. Jacen was a hybrid after all, Cham had never liked Humans much.

“He’s not subtle about wishing I visited more. But…” She sighed. “Cham’s old-school. Twi’lek culture doesn’t look kindly on hybrid children. He’s proud, but cautious. He doesn't say the word ‘grandson’ often.” Kanan’s jaw shifted , she could see the hard-line form on him . "For Ryloth. You being human? It complicates everything. I did add you to my Kalikori even if he didn't really approve. But he still tries. And Jacen—Jacen just knows he’s got a grandfather who brings him little carved toys and stories from home.”

Kanan's eyes widened at the mention of her Kalikori, something he'd made sure to get for her. He'd teased it as a gift, her drugged mind had found it very amusing, “That’s something,” Kanan said.

“He’s growing so fast,” Hera murmured, eyes misting. “Smart. Curious. Always asking questions I’m not ready for.” Kanan’s voice was low, “You did it all alone.” Hera sniffled rubbing her eyes into the crook of her arm before meeting his again, “I had help,” she said, “Chopper. Zeb. Sabine, when she was around. But yeah. I was alone in the ways that mattered.”

Kanan exhaled slowly, “I never wanted to leave you” he sighed, “You saved me,” she whispered, “I’d do it again,” his nose brushed hers. Hera hadn't realised they'd been moving fractionally closer, and closer.

“But part of me still hates you for it,” she added, voice cracking, “I needed you, Kanan. Raising him… it wasn’t just hard, it was terrifying. Every day I wondered if the Empire would find us. If he’d show too much. If I’d lose him too.” Kanan’s hand twitched, gently brushing against hers. She let her fingers curl lightly around his. “I know,” he said.

Hera’s eyes welled. She reached out, fingertips gently grazing the curve of his face — his jaw, his cheek, the familiar scar near his temple, “You still feel like you,” she murmured. He turned his face into her palm. “You still look at me like I’m the only one in the room,” she whispered.

They stayed that way for a long time. Then, slowly, Hera slid closer until their foreheads touched. Her breath was warm against his chin. “I haven’t shared this bed with anyone since you,” she said, “I didn’t want anyone else.”

“I’m not anyone else,” Kanan whispered,

They didn’t kiss.

But they didn’t move apart, either. Instead, their legs tangled naturally, arms folding around each other, slow and instinctive. And when Hera finally rested her head on Kanan’s shoulder, he held her like he remembered exactly how — like ten years hadn’t passed, and they were still whole.

In silence, side by side, they drifted toward sleep.

Chapter Text

The sky outside the window buzzed faintly with the hum of speeder traffic, the endless blur of Coruscant’s late-night life. Hera’s apartment sat high above the busier mid-levels — not luxurious, but secure, with a clear view of the stars when the clouds broke and Jacen pressed his face to the glass.

The space itself was compact but carefully made warm — walls lined with faded star maps, Republic flight insignia tucked into frames beside Jacen’s childhood scribbles, toy starfighters scattered near the holotable . A jacket still hung by the door, too small now, but never packed away. The corner shelves were filled with model ships, old datachips , and one lovingly preserved photo of the original Ghost crew, tucked beside a newer image of Hera holding baby Jacen in her lap, Chopper grumbling in the background.

Tonight, though, the apartment felt unusually still.

Hera moved through the open kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, gaze flicking toward the living space. Kanan sat on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, watching Jacen build something with scattered tools and spare ship parts. The boy worked in quiet concentration, occasionally glancing back at the man who, for now, he only sort of understood. Kanan offered bits of helpful advice, Jacen seemed to appreciate it every time. Even wanting to show Kanan his progress.

Chopper hovered nearby, low beeps rumbling under his breath like a suspicious mutter, his photoreceptor lens occasionally narrowing on Kanan as though daring him to prove he belonged.

“I know, Chop,” Hera murmured from the kitchen, “I’m still getting used to it too.” The droid grumbled something not entirely polite and rolled off toward the back hall, sparing one last glance at Jacen before disappearing.

Hera crossed the room, slowly. She sat beside Kanan without a word for a moment, just letting the quiet hum of domestic life wrap around them , “Jacen,” she said softly , He looked up , “Yeah?”

“Can you come sit with us for a second?” He set the tools aside and padded over, curling up on Hera’s other side tucking his body into hers and Hera wrapped one hand around him, the other brushed through his curls, then looked over at K anan. He met her gaze, gave a slight nod.

“Sweetheart,” Hera began carefully, “there’s something important I want to talk to you about. About Kanan.” Jacen tilted his head, frowning , for a fraction of a moment he always looked to want to run off , “He’s not going away, is he?” there was a pinch of worry to Jacen's young voice.

“No,” Hera said with a gentle smile, “Not if we can help it," she quickly added, Kanan leaned forward slightly. “You know how you said you were following something that day we met in the woods?” Jacen nodded, “It felt like something pulling at me.”

“Me too,” Kanan said, “It wasn’t just random. The Force is always trying to connect things. Especially people who matter to each other. People with a bond.” Jacen looked back at his mother, frowning , “ Our bond?” he asked confused , Kanan mentally backtracked himself thinking he'd run bit too quickly ahead of the young boy.

“Remember all our stories about Dad?” Hera said quietly, “That Dad saved us? And we thought he wouldn’t come back. I told you he was a hero, and that’s still true. But the Force… it did something none of us expected. Somehow, it brought him back.” Hera spoke so carefully , slowly, as if giving enough pause to let the information sink in and give Jacen the time to put it together in his own mind before they came out with it.

Kanan reached out slowly, resting his hand on his knee , “Kanan is your dad,” Hera said sparing quick glance up at Kanan, to the worry she could see edged in the lines around his eyes. Since finding enough trust in Kanan after that first night to allow him and Jacen to be around each other properly they had both hit it off easily. Jacen had leapt at any opportunity to spend time with him. Even if Hera had always made it supervised by her or few rare instances Chopper just to ease the still there fear.

And now, Jacen stared at him, lips parting but no words coming. Maybe the change from being his mother's old friend living with them , to being his dad was a large step to take. “I didn’t want to confuse you,” Kanan said, “And I sure didn’t want to replace whatever story you’d built in your heart about who I was. But I want to be here, in your life. If you’ll let me.”

Jacen turned back to Hera, eyes searching hers, “Is it really true?” She pulled him close, her arms folding around him placing a kiss to his forehead, “Yes. It’s true.” Jacen’s brow furrowed, clearly processing. Then he turned and looked at Kanan again.

“So…” he said slowly, “you don’t live in the woods?” Kanan laughed, “No, no, Much as Chopper wishes I did I think.” Jacen was quiet for another moment. Then he slid across the couch climbing over Hera and wrapped his arms around Kanan’s waist. It wasn’t a huge, dramatic embrace — just a quiet kid, pressing close, like the rest of the pieces were finally clicking.

Kanan placed his hand on Jacen’s back, eyes closed for just a second, breathing it in.

“Okay,” Jacen mumbled into his shirt, “I think I'd like a Dad anyway, You make Mom really happy” Hera felt her face flush, heat creeping up her neck and prickling her ears. Kanan flashed her one of his classic smirks, with a wink. Kanan leaned his head down placing a whisper of a kiss into Jacen's hair, smiling faintly.

“I love you, kid,”