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A younger Hera would have been horrified that she would one day grow to resent the pull. It was intrinsically part of her identity as a selkie, and she loved being a selkie. Why would she ever wish to rid herself of the irresistible draw to the ocean that rested in the soul of every one of her people?
Sitting in bed, with Kanan completely asleep, she had never wished for something stronger. It had been such a good run too, with three whole months of being content, happy even, on land. But restlessness had been creeping up on Hera all week, and now it was the full moon and she felt like her human skin would strangle her if she stayed in it another day. She’d been trying to push through all night, laying still in their bed until long after her partner’s breathing evened out. But time hadn’t helped, neither had a cup of tea or listening to music or even staring at their sleeping children.
So here she was, with her legs hanging off the side of the mattress and tears pooling in her eyes. The feeling was to the point that it wasn’t going to get better until tomorrow, and there were still far too many hours until then. There wasn’t any use in denying it; she was returning to the sea tonight.
Maybe she could come back in four weeks, like she always promised herself she would. It wasn’t a particularly strong promise, considering she only held it marginally more often than not. But, there was the extra motivation of not wanting to miss Ezra’s birthday, since she had made a point to be there every year for both of the kids.
Their kids, who she was now gazing at. Their doors were next to each other and across from her and Kanan’s room, so they were the first stop on her walk out. Guilt was a common feeling associated with them and how she practically dumped them on Kanan. Sure, they were alive, unlike if she hadn’t stopped them from drowning, but they deserved more than a parent who left without warning and a parent who longed for her to come back. Sometimes that guilt was enough to convince herself to stay an extra cycle, or come back earlier. But on nights like tonight, it wasn’t.
In a quiet whisper, she apologized to both of them and said that she couldn’t wait to see them again. For a moment, it seemed that Sabine had woken up, but she went still again. Hera wondered if it would be less painful to say goodbye to their pseudo mother before she left rather than waking up to their father mourning the loss of her. But, that would require explaining to them what she was, and that…wasn’t possible.
Instead, she made her way out to their tiny kitchen. Just seeing the sliver of ocean visible from their window made her ache to return to it. Eventually, she pulled her eyes away from it and found the same pad of paper she always wrote this kind of note on.
Kanan deserved more than a note and she knew it. That man had been in love with her since she made the mistake of sleeping with him six years ago, and while it was impossible for a selkie to truly love a human, she held some kind of affection for him that was impossible to shake. It was what made it so hard for her to just leave him forever and spare him the pain that she knew he went through every time he woke up to one of these notes. He had also never asked her to just stay away, but that might be for the same reason she kept coming back.
What he deserved was the truth about what she was and why she left. Tonight wasn’t the first time that she would stare at her completed note and wonder if she should add a confession to the end. Or better, wake him up and explain in full. But then, he’d try to keep her from leaving, and she might just let him. He could even hide her coat, not that she thought he would of course, but the possibility was still drilled into her.
A small “merp” drew her attention to the floor, where her cat was looking up expectantly.
“Hey Chop,” she spoke quietly, hoisting the furball into her lap. “I’m gonna miss you too.”
He responded with a meow, and for not the first time Hera believed he could understand her.
“I know.” She ran her fingers along the fur of his back. “You can handle a little time with Kanan. And Ezra and Sabine will be there, and I’ll be back soon.”
With the reassurance, Chopper hopped off her lap and disappeared into the living room. She let out a sigh and sat up, leaving the apology on the table. Her coat was exactly where she had left it, the furthest to the left of the closet in the hallway, behind Kanan’s singular winter coat. It felt every bit the extension of herself that it was as she slipped it over the only clothes she would take with her.
After a last indulgent look at Kanan, she was sure to close the front door silently.