A/N: So...that happened. I was very encouraged by the reaction to my first SWR fic, Talk, that I couldn't resist having another go in this fandom. This was written in the hour and a half after the finale aired, so excuse the poor pacing. I just had to get out all of my headcanons while they are still fresh in my mind. I'm sure there's going to be at least half a dozen fics like this one; I can't wait to read them all!

Note that there are major spoilers for the season two finale here. The companion song to this little story is Lord Huron's Meet Me in the Woods. I played it about ten times while writing this, because I feel that it sets the mood. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Into the Endless Night

Part One

"Kanan, you need to lay down," she insisted once they were safely indoors. Her lover clung to her arm like a much older man, and she didn't like the feeling one bit.

"Commander Sato is going to want a full report," he mumbled, as if that was any excuse to neglect his health. "And we ought to order a full sensor sweep of Malachor, just in case-"

That train of thought was interrupted by Rex, who pushed past them and continued up the hall in his typical brisk manner. Zeb followed shortly thereafter, repeating his name once before falling silent and preparing for whatever the oncoming storm was to bring. The two of them disappeared into an open hatch, which closed abruptly.

It only took a few ticks for the wail to begin. It seemed to be the kind reserved for the mourning of a loved one, or comrade in arms, or a treasured friend. Hera felt chills snaking their way up her arms; as Zeb's accented tones joined the fray, mumbling what she assumed to be condolences, she thrust her shoulders back and charged ahead. "You need first aid," she said as soon as they had traversed several corridors on the way to the infirmary.

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but an astromech's treatment couldn't hold a candle to Hera's healing touch. That, and her fingers were digging so deeply into his side that he feared they would leave a mark if he refused.

The two of them finally reached the proper door; upon entering the access code, she was relieved to find it empty. Their makeshift base had yet to be properly staffed or retrofitted, and for once that was a good thing. It took a bit of struggle and more than a few words of coarse language to get Kanan atop the stretcher, but once that was complete, Hera turned to grab a handheld scanner, hoping to shed some light on the situation.

To her surprise, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, nearly pulling her down on top of him. She hummed softly under her breath as his fingers worked, ghosting over her lips and neck. He paused to feel the vibration of her vocal cords, eventually progressing to seize hold of her waist. There was nothing amorous in this gesture; no, it was more of a reassurance that she was still there with him, there in one piece.

"I suppose you don't want to talk about it," she asserted when he'd finally released her. Squatting down to her haunches, Hera began to rummage around in the drawer underneath him.

From below, she could hear the air catch in his throat, and the bed lurch as he shook his head violently. "You'll want the gel, not the patches."

Her hands froze over the package of bacta; even with his vision compromised, Kanan's hearing remained as sharp as ever. She had to admit, it was definitely a relief.

"I'm going to remove the bandages and apply fresh ones," she announced, and started a little to see the corners of his lips turn upwards into the ghost of a smile.

Nothing could have mentally prepared Hera for the sight of her lover's wounds. Yes, his eyes were open, but the irises were clouded over with blood and tissue. The damage itself was a jagged gash that ran between the temples, a little crooked but at least a centimeter deep. It was a wonder he hadn't bled out before making it back to base.

She swallowed the emotion building in her chest and set to her work, determined to eliminate every last trace of dirt and debris. Kanan seemed to enter a somewhat meditative state; the only indication he was in pain was the soft hiss of breath coming from between his teeth as the bacta made contact with his brow.

After a moment of silence, she reached for her belt and removed a handheld beacon, which she engaged and held in the jedi's peripheral vision. The whites of his eyes appeared almost translucent, with tinges of pink encroaching at the lids. Could it be that only the day before she'd gazed into his eyes as he swore to her that they would see each other again, come what may?

The irony hit her like a punch to the gut. Quietly, she began to move the beacon from side to side, praying for some response from him. Just the barest twitch of an eyelash would have satisfied her, but if the powers that be were entertaining requests, they showed no sign of yield.

"Stop, love," he rasped, the emotion in his voice palpable. It occurred to her that he'd probably heard her activate the switch, and it disappeared as swiftly as it had come out. "This isn't permanent. And even if it was, it doesn't change our situation."

But it did. Oh, by the heavens, it did. He would have to relearn how to do everything without the aid of sight, even if a sensitivity to the force did help things along. Ahsoka was missing or hurt or even worse, and they couldn't do a thing about it from Atollon.

Whether he heard or sensed her tears beginning to fall was a mystery, but in the next moment Hera felt herself seized by arms and drawn forward. The pair exchanged a clumsy, breathless kiss, desperate in its intensity and reassurance. His lips caught the tears streaming down her cheeks and she gratefully leaned into his touch, careful not to make contact with his exposed wounds.

True to habit, they separated at the sound of boot steps coming down the corridor, ready to act at a moment's notice. The noise faded soon thereafter, and Hera was reduced to undignified hiccups as she fought to regain her composure. As she carefully wound a new strip of bandages about Kanan's temples, he began to speak on all he had seen.

He told her about how three inquisitors had been slain by a mysterious stranger later identified as the sinister Maul. He told her how he'd warned Ezra once, twice, a thousand times, how he couldn't be trusted. How he'd gone ahead and scaled the side of the pyramid, activating a device that had the potential to lay waste to all of humanity. He went on to relay how he'd hidden his face with the mask of a temple guard, and how Darth Vader had appeared atop his TIE fighter. How Ahsoka had sworn not to leave him and basically signed her own death certificate, staying on the platform as the walls of the temple came crashing down around them. And when all of that was out in the open, he explained how he'd held his padawan as he wept, all the while feeling the sith holocron jabbing at his ribs.

"I'm losing him, Hera," he lamented, sitting up with her assistance. "You should have seen how he took to Maul without question. All of that training, and they were right. I couldn't help him...I couldn't protect him from any of it!"

She thought that such was the nature of youth entrusted with power unbecoming of their experience, but said nothing. Ezra was probably off with Sabine somewhere, telling her nothing of significance but just enough to terrify her at the same time. And they would have to deal with that soon enough, for Kanan had long centered his efforts on the boy, as he should. He was tremendously powerful from what she had seen, and would bring clout to whatever side he represented. But this was more than just a ploy for power; she truly cared for Ezra as a valued member of her crew. She'd even irrationally come to think of him like a son, and accordingly took personal responsibility for his well-being.

"You might be losing his trust, but that only means that you must win it back," Hera muttered into his collar, rubbing small circles into his back. "We knew this would be a challenge when we first welcomed him aboard, and nothing has changed, even if the stakes are higher."

He took this in for a moment, then nodded slowly. It wouldn't do to hide from the inevitable and commiserate in private; there was an extensive list of things Kanan would have to accomplish before he could achieve peace of mind.

One. Inform Commander Sato that he had an open position for fleet adviser, even if just for the time being.

Two. Commence the search for his friend.

Three. See to the immediate welfare of his crew, not excluding his wayward padawan.

Four. Do whatever it took to destroy that sith holocron, for once it was gone, the oppressive cloud of darkness over their little world would begin to dissipate. He might even-

"You should go," she encouraged, helping him stand. Her words were heavy with emotion, and he felt the burden she carried as if it was his own.

Before he stepped out into the threshold, determined to find his way to the control center by himself, Kanan reached for her hand. Hera took it and raised it to her lips, working her way across his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He didn't have to see his surroundings to know that her lekku were crossed at the ends, her back slightly hunched with concentration. Certainly, after all this time, he knew her body like his own.

It was almost as if she was imparting to him some of her strength to get through the briefing ahead and return to her. Kanan didn't have to ask to know that she would leave the light on.

Where she lacked mental fortitude, he was there to give her the barest of pushes in the right direction. Where he lacked reason, she knew the way. Such was the way it had been since their first mission, and such was how it always would be.

"Thank you for coming back to me," she said.

The door came open and he stepped carefully into the corridor; the background noise of the base seemed louder than when he'd entered, threatening to drown out his thoughts and setting his heart to pound out of time.

"Thank you for waiting," he answered, and the hatch slid closed.

Hera stood in the midst of the infirmary for several moments, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Then she swiftly exited the room and turned in the direction they'd come, her mind already formulating her actions several steps ahead.

She foresaw the next few days as the start of a path into a darkened wood, foreboding and all-consuming. But there were demons at her heels and either side, so she only cared to press forward into unfamiliar territory. Hera had spent her entire life running from one thing or another; surely a round of pursuit wouldn't be unwelcome.

The point of no return was already far behind them.