Something for that absolutely fantastic season finale. I don't own Star Wars Rebels (but I wish I did). Ramblings below.
"Ah! That stings!"
"It wouldn't hurt so much if you stopped moving."
"Yeah it would."
"…..Ezra Bridger, sit still and let me-"
"Think it'll leave a scar?"
"Huh?"
"D'you think it'll leave a scar? Cuz it'd be pretty cool if it left a scar."
Hera looked with quirked eyebrows at the youngest member of her crew, his cheeks squashed between her fingers as she desperately tried to tend to the tears across his face. They weren't too bad, but the fact that they came from a lightsaber only served to remind Hera that on the whole, the group had come very close to losing someone, if not everyone. The fact that Ezra actually wanted to keep such a reminder made her both incredulous and amused, in a dark sort of way. Bringing the antiseptic back up to the wound, the Twi'lek spoke to keep her charge from fighting her grasp.
"Oh? And why would you want a scar?" In all honesty, it might actually forever mar his tan skin, considering it was a cutting burn, not something easily bandaged or stitched up. Ezra looked at her with brilliant blue eyes, rife with child-like pride and something deeper.
"Because I can look in the mirror everyday and say 'I survived a fight with the Inquisitor'…plus, maybe Sabine has something for scars?" She held back a laugh, releasing him. He saw her mirth, and subsequently a blush spread across his face. To further add to the young padawan's embarrassment, Zeb had entered the common room on the tail end of his explanation. Smirk playing across his exotic visage, the Lasat poked his roommate in the back.
"If anything, kid, she'll just say it makes you look like a tooka with half its whiskers gone." Ezra simply folded his arms and pursed his lips in an attempt to look insulted. All three of them knew it was merely jest and joke, though. Making light of- coping with, really- the fact that one of their own had nearly died.
In the middle of her laughter- Ezra's adorable face was simply too much to hold back- Hera noticed a dark shadow in the door leading to cockpit. Intuition- and a glance of an unfamiliar hairstyle- told her it was Kanan. The man she shared a special connection with, the rebel that supported and lead them as fearlessly as he could, the Jedi they fought tooth and nail to get back, and the stubborn idiot who should be resting right now because kriff to going through torture and immediately fighting that damn Pa'aun and then saying 'Oh, I'm okay.' Poker face engaged, because there's nothing she'd rather do than hold him tight and talk to him to make sure this aftermath wasn't some delusion, the pilot of the ship strides over to his dark hiding place to turn him around.
Her tirade is cut short by the haunted look in his eyes, bags surrounding them seeming that much deeper in the dark, hair loose and wet from a recent trip to the fresher. He doesn't even have a proper outfit on- just a loose shirt and some baggy trousers, towel draped around his neck. It's something she's seen before- a long time ago- but not often enough for her to be used to it. Green eyes softening, her motherly growls downgrade to a soft whisper.
"Kanan?" His focus switches from Ezra to her, and twitch tells her that he's attempting to smile. For her. For all of them. Sabine's voice joins the two troublemakers and before long, Zeb is trying to teach them Sabacc, sans Chopper's insulting commentary. There's one last glance at the little family they've gathered before he responds.
"This isn't a dream?" Hera is taken a bit aback by the hoarse nature of his voice and the implication of such a question. It was a question she asked herself, after the feelings of adrenaline and euphoria died down, but to hear it upon the lips of the rescued was disconcerting. Didn't he have faith in them? As a force –user, couldn't he see past illusions? But he's never finished his training. And with that thought, Hera struggles to hold back a sharp gasp as the train of logic makes a full circle.
He grips her hands then, breathing hard, eyes shut tight. "I-I've dreamed this so many times, just to come back to- Hera, I hope to the ends of the galaxy that this is you, and not some illusion for him to rip away. I-If I fall asleep-"
All that can she can bear running through her mind is- What have they done to him? The instinct to hug him is strong, and she acts upon it immediately, holding him tight, holding him close.
"It's not a dream. It's not. Unless I'm the one dreaming because karabast, Kanan I missed you. And I know it isn't a dream, because I would never dream that Ezra came that close to d-" He flinches in her arms and she stops, not wanting to cause him further pain. But she doesn't let go, and neither does he. It's a long moment, and she stretches it even further by tangling her fingers in his long locks, content to just stay and pretend that everything's all right.
Eventually the Sabacc game gets rowdy- if Chopper isn't against tossing out stormtroopers in space, he certainly isn't against cheating- and the individuals known as Kanan and Hera, have to step back into the roles of Kanan and Hera. There isn't much difference, but the fact that Kanan is an audacious gunslinger and bold leader, and Hera is an extraordinary pilot with nerves of steel and motherly instincts of durasteel. Kanan and Hera are simply two beings that try not to let the trials of the past affect their future, trying to stand tall for the lonely souls that gravitated toward their other forms. As the Jedi- her Jedi- steps out of the shadows into the light, smirk upon his lips. But not in his eyes.
It takes little to no time for the 'children' to notice their leader and immediately smother him in hugs and affection, Ezra excitedly showing him the rips in his cheek as if they were badges. Banter starts up, the nervous twitch in Kanan's hand only seen by Hera in her spot from afar- it's not intentional, but her crew is so enthusiastic, so relieved to notice the small crack in the façade of someone so influential to them. And she doesn't blame them- she would rather pretend that things are okay too.
Maybe on the surface they are. They're alive. The Rebel Alliance is real. They're not alone. Their missions haven't been worthless skirmishes. But Hera muses on the nature of scars before she steps back into real time- some appear outwardly, but like Ezra said, they can be reminders that one is strong enough, or perhaps lucky enough, to survive. And some are deep, unseen rends in the mind- far more damaging then a physical blow. And even if some are given forms that can last a lifetime, unseen scars can linger for far longer.
Determination lit her soul on fire- they can linger if one lets them. She wouldn't do that. Far be it from her to stand aside as he suffers. That's not what their relationship was built upon. If it wasn't impossible to save him from the Empire, then it wasn't impossible to save him from this. The secluded instant ends as the pilot Hera joins her family, defending Kanan from remarks about how his hair looked so weird when it was down. Smiles abound in the light argument, betraying yet again that they were so very, very happy that no one's missing in the worst way possible. Fulcru- ahem, Ahsoka steps in as well, talking at length with her fellow Force-sensitive, and humoring Ezra's vain pride.
Of course, the sweet moment comes to an abrupt halt as Ezra nearly passes out from a lingering concussion- what, you think a kid could fall from that height and get off scott free? Naturally the next few moments are spent worrying over him and Kanan, who nearly falls from exhaustion himself worrying over Ezra. Ahsoka lightly reminds the crew- the family- that they're Jedi, not immortals, and Hera can't help but smile. Smile at the fact that they are breathing- yes, worse for the wear, rife with scars new and old- but they're all breathing free and among friends.
And that's enough for her.
Okay, so this is mostly a fluffy plot bunny that got injected with some nanites and turned emotional EVO. I originally intended for this to be a lighthearted one shot about the crew reacting to Ezra's kickin' new scar. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut torture's bound to leave some scars too, so angsty Kanan snuck in here, and then Hera and Kanan in one place activated my OTP mode. So then this happened.
...Is it too much to ask for Kanan with his hair down? I kinda just wanted to have a canon shot of Ezra finding him in the restraining bolts with his hair all down and messy, without his armor and tears in his clothes, like he's been roughed up. But, Rebels is a Y7-ish show, so eh.
What's going to happen now, is maybe I'll start this introspective piece with Hera, and then travel down the line of our little space family and their thoughts on both Ezra's superficial scars, and Kanan's unseen ones. ...Is it too much to hope for a little showing of PTSD in season 2?
Challenge for all the artists out there!: Since there's a bit of open endedness to the fates of our favorite rebels, would anybody try drawing an older Kanan or Ezra (or both. Both is good) teaching or surrounded by little younglings at the new Jedi Temple on Yavin IV? I just really need a happy pic to turn to when my over-analystic brain imagines grimmer fates. - CC