Thank you to UnfathomableFandoms, Valkyrie-Sythe, majo2, Ichichi05, A M3mb3r123, BuruPlays2, Guest, Force sensitive, angel74, and AzulaBlue92 for leaving feedback on the last chapter! :D
One more chapter after this!
A.N. No out-of-canon ships in this story, unless you really want to read into it.
Everyone on the Ghost had nightmares occasionally. Ezra usually woke with a holler, looked around in disorientation, and flopped down snoring seconds later. Sabine never talked in her sleep (as far as Hera knew), but she twitched agitatedly, and had punched Zeb once after the Lasat tried to wake her. Several times Hera had stumbled into the kitchen after a late night run, only to find Zeb broodily nursing a claing. Hera's own nightmares always involved falling, reaching out for someone close before the galaxy spun beneath her crushed ship.
She could only imagine what Kanan's dreams had been like after the temple. They had run so many night ops together that they could almost predict each other's sleeping patterns. Kanan would fidget, murmur distressingly, shout once or twice, and suddenly bolt upright, gasping erratically before he settled back down to feign sleep. He never talked about it, and Hera wouldn't intrude.
Recently, everyone was getting out of hand.
Zeb's late night excursions to the kitchen were becoming routine checkups between the kids' rooms. Sabine had started shouting, flinging herself at imaginary stormtroopers. Chopper crept into Kanan and Ezra's rooms at least once a night. Hera watched the blast doors of the Imperial Star Destroyer slam shut, penning her boys inside. Again and again and again.
Kanan was a wreck.
How many times she had coaxed him to lie down, finally sleeping alongside him just to remind him that everything was normal. As soon as his eyes closed he began flinching, torment and pain flitting across his expression before the real terrors began. Whispers for his deceased master had become destitute cries for his padawan. Over and over, until Hera feared neither of them would sleep.
Until the doors swished open – always on schedule – and a messy haired kid popped in. A twitch of Ezra's fingers on the door, uncertain if he was wanted, a nod from Hera, and before Kanan could fully wake the kid was bundled securely between them. The nightmares continued, but Kanan and Ezra seemed to reach out to one another, cushioning the worst.
The trouble came when the kid refused to leave his own bunk. On those nights, when he stared at the mural on the wall while Zeb crankily urged him to find Kanan, no one rested.
Apparently this was such a night. Hera had scarcely begun to doze when Zeb's muffled complaints drifted through the walls.
"Just get out of the bunk already!"
"Go away!" was Ezra's reply.
"Now look here, you little –"
"Stop it, Zeb! I know you're not real!"
"Oh, for the love of – fine! I've had enough of this."
"Zeb – don't – put me down!"
Thirty seconds later there was an awkward tap at the door. Hera eased from Kanan's arms and tapped the keypad, already knowing what to expect. Zeb sheepishly nodded to the kid slung over his shoulder.
"Cantankerous brat wouldn't stop shouting. Mind if I leave him with you?"
Hera waved him inside. "Guess there's always room for one more." Kanan really needed to invest in a larger bunk.
Zeb chuckled, twisting one ear self-consciously. He strolled to the bunk and tossed Ezra down, cackling at the teenager's sullen glare. "There; that'll solve the rat problem."
"S'going on?" Kanan blearily mumbled. He glanced at Ezra and grumbled something, pulling the kid close. Ezra shook his head even as he snuggled in.
"Not real."
"S'fine." Kanan yawned. "Y'can sleep it off."
"Wow, they're out already," Sabine whispered from the door. She hugged her arms, looking younger without the armor, and Hera was reminded how unprepared her crew was for the harshness of the Empire.
"What are we going to do on missions?" Sabine said dryly. The joke was too serious, even for her.
"We're not taking any missions," Hera said decisively. Not until Kanan's injuries were healed and Ezra slept through one night without waking up, dreading he was alone.
Catching Zeb and Sabine's dubious glances, Hera added, "The Fulcrum mentioned there are some nasty garden herbs to eradicate on Lothal. I think we can take some time off for a little horticulture."
"Ah, now you're talking!" Zeb chuckled. "I know a dealer in the black market who can offer us a decent flamethrower."
"No, no, no, no," Sabine said quickly. "No fires, remember? We can't be smoking out Ezra and Kanan."
"It's only dangerous if the roots are crushed first."
"No chances. We'll have to blow up the entire farm."
"Which will result in smoke, which –"
"We'll be far away before it reaches the Ghost's vents."
Hera exasperatedly shooed them out. "When you two are finished plotting, some of us would like to sleep."
"I say we harvest them all and rig them in Mustafar," Zeb suggested.
"And if Vader happens to be there, we're all barbecue," Sabine shot back.
"Well, we won't be if we do it fast!"
"Which always works perfectly seeing as …."
The door snicked shut and Hera leaned against it with a contented sigh. "One day at a time," she reminded herself.
Slogging back to Kanan's bunk, Hera flopped down beside Ezra and slung her arm over them both, trailing her fingers through Kanan's hair. Frudal flowers could go burn themselves, she thought drowsily. All that mattered was her boys were back.