Spoilers for "Twilight of the Apprentice"

Kanan is in his cabin, the same as yesterday and the day before. He doesn't hide in there all the time, not the way Ezra has been hiding ever since their return. Kanan will emerge a few times per day, make his way to the common areas, speak to the others. He'll go to his appointments with the medical droids as they check his dressings. He'll let Chopper, in a rare gesture of kindness from her favorite antisocial droid, guide him from place to place across the base. Kanan is hiding but he lets himself be seen to show he's not.

Hera knows this game.

She stands outside his door, listening. It used to be that he would spend his free time meditating, seeking out the inner peace that's always been just beyond his grasp. Kanan is three quarters of a Jedi. Ezra is half. Ahsoka is dead. Without his sight, and without the closest they had to a full, true Jedi, he holds himself separate and responsible, and he considers himself useless to their cause. Hera is positive he's not meditating, no matter how silent he is. He's in there feeling sorry for himself.

This can go three ways.

She can go in there and offer him comfort, kindness, and the reminder that they all still need him. She can point out she saw his value to the Rebellion and to her when they first met, that morning when he'd grouched about his hangover while they fought off Imperials, strangers thrown together in unexpected alliance. She can speak the words they've both tacitly agreed not to say to each other, because her heart belongs foremost to the Rebellion and Jedi aren't supposed to feel.

She can go in there and shout at him. Hera's had plenty of practice at slapping sense into someone who's too doused in self-pity to see their life isn't as bad as they think. She can point to dozens of examples of other Rebels with wounds from the war, some far worse than his, who get up and fight every day without hands, without legs, without hope. He has senses she can only imagine, and he can see things she never will, and shutting himself off from the rest of the team because he doesn't have the use of one sight denies the rest of them their chance to fight with the other gifts he still has.

She can walk away.

For the last two days, she's stood here listening to his silence, and she's chosen to walk away. She's told herself it has been to give him space. Hera plays games, too.

She opens the door without knocking. Her heart cracks to see the sudden turn of his face, looking without seeing to the source of the noise. He startles easily among them now. He's startled in his own room.

Whatever senses he's using come into play. "It's polite to knock, Hera."

She shrugs, then realizes he won't see her affected gesture. "So it is." She steps inside and shuts the door.

"It's also polite to ask to come in."

"My ship. The Captain has right of passage anywhere aboard." She steps closer to him but doesn't touch him. That's a different breach of etiquette she won't cross. "You've been hiding in here for days."

"I was out this morning. Ezra is holed up in his room. We really should do something about that."

He's deflecting. Yes, there's worry in his voice. For all he blames himself for Ahsoka's death, they all suspect Ezra is feeling worse after allowing himself to be manipulated into a situation that cost them so dearly. They will have to deal with the boy, coax him from his doubt and his sorrow. But she's not standing in Ezra's room.

Still.

Hera sits. Kanan is already sitting. This would bring him to eye level but she will not make that joke. She tells him, "He's holding himself responsible for what happened. He ran into a situation he didn't know he wasn't prepared to handle, and someone he cared about died. That weighs heavy on anyone."

"Yeah, and he's still a kid."

"People blame themselves for things they couldn't have prevented, no matter how old they are."

"I'll talk to him. I'll explain to him none of this was his fault."

"Will he listen any better than you will when I tell you the same thing?"

The words strike home. He tilts his head and his lips pull into an unhappy tight line. "I should have known. I should have done something."

"You did everything you could based on the information you had. No one can ask you for more than that." She reaches out, not touching him. He pulls away, instinct or the Force telling him what his eyes can't. Hera waits. After a long moment, Kanan relaxes and places his hands next to hers, lets her take hold. "Ahsoka made the call to save the two of you. And it's not her fault, either. Blame Maul. Blame Vader. It does no good to carry the blame for yourself."

"I could have stopped the mission. I should have." He pulls his hands away. "She had a vision. On our journey to Malachor. Ezra was in the back getting some sleep. Ahsoka and I were meditating together, and she said something. 'Only the last Jedi can defeat him.' When she came out of the trance, she didn't remember saying it, or who she meant."

Jedi mysticism has never been a large part of her day to day concerns. Even Kanan primarily used his skills to fight before Ezra came along and gave him a reason to throw himself into deeper study. Visions, meditations, communications with distant or dead Jedi Masters, these are his area. Hers is keeping their loose ship's family together, keeping their fleet flying, and keeping her eye on the eventual downfall of the Empire. If he says Ahsoka had a premonition, fine. Hera doesn't have to understand it.

"You think she knew she was going to die? And you think you could have possibly stopped her if she believed that was her destiny?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I'll never know. But Hera, I was there. Her exact words were 'the last Jedi.'"

Finally, she grasps the other end of the stick he's been chewing on. Three Jedi left on that mission. One died. Two remain, both damaged in different ways and blaming themselves for what's wrong with the other.

"How many other Jedi survive?"

"As far as I know, only Master Yoda and General Kenobi. There could have been more. There are always rumors." Five Jedi. One is now lost forever. Two are missing. One is blind and full of doubt. The fifth is a boy who won't come out of his cabin. And it's possible another one is out there unaccounted for, is the one Ahsoka saw. The last.

"Not all visions come true. You've said so yourself."

"I know that."

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Or it means of the four still left, three are going to die, or turn, or walk away." He smiles bitterly. "Not that walking away helps. Ahsoka walked away, and look where that got her." Hera doesn't give a carnock's left antenna about Yoda or Kenobi. They're not her problem. The two Jedi on her ship, the two in her family, they are the ones she cares about turning to the Dark Side, or dying.

Kanan is frightened, and a Jedi is not supposed to fear. Fear leads to bad places.

"You can't live your life afraid of a prophecy that may not come true. Maybe Ahsoka had a bad dream, maybe she ate a spoiled nut. She didn't remember saying it. That sounds like a nightmare to me." They all have enough of those.

"And if it wasn't a nightmare? Hera, I disregarded her vision once, and that may have cost Ahsoka's life. I won't risk Ezra's life or his soul disregarding her a second time." He won't even consider his own life, his own spirit. His Master sacrificed herself for Kanan, and he won't dishonor her memory by doing less for his own apprentice. He's infuriatingly noble sometimes, and that's why Hera's heart isn't given only to the Rebellion.

"You're using this as an excuse to walk away."

"I am trying to find the right path. I can't fight now." His fingers twitch, and absently he strokes the bandage at his temple.

"You can strategize. You can lead from the ship's bridge. All the computers have voice interfaces. You can teach Ezra what he still needs to learn."

"Not as a Jedi." His voice is firm, but underneath the pronouncement she hears the loss. He was adrift the last time he stopped living as a Jedi. If he stops again, stops forever, chooses a path away from the person he thought he was born to be, she's not sure he won't drift away for good. His blindness won't prevent him from living that life. His faith in destiny and his concern for Ezra will.

Jedi aren't supposed to form attachments, are not supposed to care. Kanan's powers made him a Jedi. His heart will make him something else.

"No," she agrees at last. "Not as a Jedi."

There's been a tension in his shoulders. She's noticed without seeing and she notices now as something passes through him and out, like a demon he didn't know was riding along with him. He made his decision. He's been worried Hera would fight him on it.

She forgets sometimes how much he relies on her when he's doubting himself.

"Then that's settled," she says breezily, standing up. "You're not a Jedi any longer. And you're staying here with us. Dinner is in an hour. See if you can drag Ezra out of his room to join us this time."

He looks numb. The choice is made and the words are said, but he'll be reeling for a while. "Yeah. Hera?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For being there." He has that awkward look on his face now, the one he gets around the time he remembers what Jedi are and aren't supposed to do. But he's no longer a Jedi.

"You're welcome. You know we're here for you. We're all happy to help you figure out who you are now." Her own deflection has always been to place the crew between them. She still belongs to the Rebellion first.

"I know."

Hera hesitates. She doesn't only love the Rebellion, and Kanan isn't the only one who should be thinking about the future. "When you do figure out who you want to be, my cabin is two doors down." She presses her lips to his cheek in a quick motion, like a bird dipping for a drink.

She will have to relearn him, not rely on the expression in his eyes. His whole body registers the shock of the kiss, and he turns his face to hers although she's already stepped away and has gone to the door.

She leaves without saying goodbye. She won't let him say goodbye again.

Hera makes her way to her quarters. If her heart stops racing, maybe she can get some work done before dinner.

Two minutes later, there's a knock at her door.

end

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