A/N: This is a bit of a mess. Sorry in advance.

Six Degrees

Her skin was cold. Kanan touched Hera's hand and it was cold and that was wrong. She was a Twi'lek; Twi'leks were warm. He remembered waking up next to her for the first time, bare skin touching bare skin. He remembered the rush of alarm when he felt warmth radiating from her. The heat of passion was long past; her skin shouldn't have been on fire. He remembered pressing his hand on the small of her back, her neck, her forehead, trying to gauge her apparent fever. He remembered how she rolled over lazily then, swatting him away. Stop it, she murmured drowsily, assuming that his touches were prelude to an encore of the previous night. Let me sleep. He remembered insisting, You're sick. You have a fever. He remembered how she looked at him, eyes just barely open. Six degrees, she said, as if that alone should be enough to lessen his concern. That's the average difference between the temperature of a Twi'lek and a human. Six degrees, love.

Six degrees.

If the TIE had fired another six degrees to the right—

But she was cold now, lifeless and gone. A surge of misplaced anger threatened to burn Kanan alive. What had she been thinking, going up in that X-Wing? She'd have been better protected in the Ghost. It was bigger, more heavily armed, and it was like an extension of herself. She could have flown it perfectly through the fray, like she had so many times before. It was her own fault—

No.

Kanan took a steadying breath as he boarded the Ghost. (Would Sabine fly her now? He wondered idly.) He wasn't angry at Hera, or himself, or even the Empire. Not really. He was angry at the circumstance, but they'd known this could happen. They'd always hoped they'd both survive the rebellion, but there were no illusions. No guarantees. That had been fine, for a time. But the day came when they had more than just themselves to think about, and they had to take precautions; the baby changed everything.

Kanan hesitated to say that Hera getting pregnant had been an accident—that made it seem like their baby was unwanted, and nothing could be further from the truth—but it was an accident all the same. They hadn't been looking to start a family in the middle of a war. The moment she told him, all he could think of was how happy he was, and that made him feel extraordinarily guilty, knowing how a pregnancy would interrupt Hera's role in the rebellion. But she, ever gracious, had placed his hand low on her abdomen so he could feel the small bump announcing new life and she said, I know in my heart this child will grow up in a galaxy free from fear and oppression. Isn't that what we've been fighting for, love?

With a baby on the way, they'd agreed: the Ghost would no longer serve as a combat vessel, and Hera wouldn't fly in combat. It was a sacrifice they willingly made. They'd spent years risking their own lives, but risking their child's was unthinkable. Hera remained in a command position, overseeing operations from the ground as she carried the baby safely to term. Depa Billaba Jarrus arrived quietly amidst the upheaval of the Alliance's forced relocation from Hoth to deep space, the only bright spot against a backdrop of bleak uncertainty. As they cradled their baby, adored her, and watched her grow, they felt uneasy; things were too quiet after Hoth. The Empire all but pulled back from its pursuit of the rebels, and the entire galaxy seemed to hold its breath, waiting for either deliverance or disaster.

Endor was a little bit of both.

Kanan stood over Depa's crib now, listening to the pattern of her breathing as she slept. How would he tell her, he wondered, that her mother died defending the galaxy from an unspeakable evil? How could he ever explain that, in a moment of dire need, Hera had chosen to forsake her own safety so that other mothers might have the chance to raise their children out from under the Empire's shadow?

Depa began to stir, whimpering. Kanan bent over the crib and scooped her out, cradling her against his chest. She nestled her head in the curve of his neck and shoulder and quieted almost instantly. He wondered whether it wasn't his own troubled musings which woke her; he sensed that she possessed a tremendous gift for empathy.

"Do you think she knows?" Sabine's voice came from the doorway behind him, raw and watery.

"I'm not sure," he murmured. Through the Force, he gently touched Depa's mind. It was warm and radiant, so similar to Hera's, yet so uniquely her own. One word stuck in his core as their minds twined together for just a moment: resilient. He broke their tenuous connection and kissed her forehead. "She'll be just fine."

"I almost envy her," Sabine whispered. She shifted and cleared her throat. "I came to tell you—when I checked on her earlier, I thought she felt feverish."

Kanan's first instinct was to panic, but then Hera's voice rang in his mind: Six degrees, love.

His mouth began to turn in a smile. "She's half Twi'lek," he said simply.

Sabine shook her head, nonplussed. "Okay, so?"

"So her temperature runs warmer than ours, by about six degrees."

"You're sure?" She sounded anxious and worn and older than she was. Kanan started to second guess himself as he laid a hand on the baby's head, checking to make sure she really didn't have a fever. She felt pleasantly warm, the way Hera always had.

"I'm sure," he said.

Sabine sighed, tension draining. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"I'm going to bed, then. You should, too, Kanan. We're all going to need rest before we face tomorrow."

"I know." He paused. "Sabine?" She had started to leave, but half-turned in the doorway when he called her. "You and Ezra," he continued, "Don't take each other for granted."

He sensed a flicker of surprise from Sabine as she wordlessly left the room, and then another from Ezra as she walked into his room uninvited. Kanan smiled knowingly as he heard the low murmur of their voices; he remembered what it was like to be so young and so in love and so afraid.

His door closed and Kanan rocked on his heels for a moment, unsure whether he wanted to put Depa back in her crib or hold her a little while longer. He opted to keep her close. With her still sleeping in his arms, he climbed carefully into bed and she curled up on his chest. Kanan knew he should take Sabine's advice and get some rest; he knew that tomorrow would bring fresh grief, and so would the day after that, and the day after that. But for the moment, he wanted to hold his daughter and talk to her as she slept, telling her all about the mother who had given her a lifetime of love in only six short months. He wanted to feel her heartbeat and listen to her soft, sleep-heavy breaths and know that she was safe and that Hera's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

He had asked Hera once, not long after they first met, what drove her to work so hard for the galaxy's freedom, why it was so important to her to help others. I want to leave places and people better than I found them, she'd said, more hopeful, more whole.

Kanan drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly. Depa shifted, drawing her little legs into her chest, shivering slightly. Kanan's carefully-balanced serenity began to shatter; cuddled up to him, and with a body temperature as high hers, how could she possibly be cold? Did he need to put her in warmer pajamas? Where did Hera even keep Depa's pajamas? How was he going to be able to take care of her by himself? He was still blind, for kriff's sake! Hera had been the one teaching him how to navigate the thousand tiny things involved with caring for an infant. Now she was gone and—

Kanan Jarrus, everything is going to be fine. Even during labor, in the middle of the Hoth disaster, she'd seen his unspoken anxiety. We're going to be fine. The baby is going to be fine. Stop, love. Just breathe.

Her voice, a memory, called to him in his darkness. Clarity began to reorder his thoughts. If Depa needed a new set of clothes, he'd ask Sabine or Ezra for help finding them; they wouldn't mind. But that would be the second step. The first step, he realized, would be to cover the baby with a blanket and see if that stopped her shivering. He stood carefully, bracing Depa against him with one hand, and digging in her crib with the other until his fingers found the soft fabric of her blanket. Settling back into bed, he covered her with it and sure enough, she stopped shivering. She blinked up at him briefly, green eyes sleepy and unfocused, but content. She fell back to sleep and Kanan felt giddy with relief.

First trial over, he thought. Hera would be rolling her eyes at that a little bit, but she'd be proud.

Kanan kissed the top of Depa's head. "We'll figure this out together," he murmured. "Don't you worry, love."

A/N: I have a few rotating headcanons concerning a Kanera child, so those will be recurring and recycled through any fics I write on the subject. Unless noted, none of them are connected. It's hard enough trying to work within the official Star Wars canon. Never mind trying to work within headcanons and AUs, am I right? Making this distinction mostly for myself; I got very confused with a couple of my other fics as I was writing this one. Typical.