Chapter 10: The Lie

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

The Ghost was silent. Fitting for its name, but it was the lack of a droid's snarky beeps and a little lady's cheerful squealing that threw Kanan off the most. It was as if the air was dead. The ship was in limbo.

Kanan descended the ladder from the gunner station and walked onto the bridge. Chopper was working silently on the ship, utility arm extended as he ran the diagnostics. Hera sat in her seat, completely still, gaze held to the blue and white streaks of light painted around the ship as they flew through hyperspace.

"Hey," he said, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

She startled and turned to face him. "Oh, hey." Then she looked back to the stars.

Kanan frowned slightly. He did not like the dejected look she had about her. He walked over and crossed his arms over the back of her chair, leaning on it and looking over her shoulder.

"Well, we made it out alive," he said, going for positivity.

"Yes." She looked shyly up at him from where he hovered very close to her. "I suppose we did."

More silence.

The air felt static, awkward. Even Chopper didn't make his usual annoying ruckus.

"Alright," Hera said in a sigh. She smacked her legs with her palms and rose to her feet, headed out the hatch. "I'm gonna see if there's anything that I can turn into dinner," she explained, then paused. "Or, breakfast. I don't know." Then she was gone.

Kanan stared quietly after her, not sure what to do.

Chopper beeped contemplatively to himself, deep in thought from where he worked at the control panel.

"Shoot," Kanan mumbled.

Chopper let out a low whirr that said something like "and then there were two."

But he didn't want there to be two, he thought. At least, not between him and the astromech. He wanted to get to know Hera. Not the annoying little scrap pile whose hobby was threatening him with a taser.

Kanan found Hera in the ship's small storage room. She was sitting on the floor, setting up a portable gas-lit stove that looked a little worse for wear. A sack of dry patuu rice and a can of bothan beans had been pulled out of a storage bin and set next to the stove.

"I hope you like staple starches," she said as he walked in, her attention glued to the stove, "'cause that's all we're getting tonight." She chewed her cheek in concentration as she tried to get the sparker to ignite the stove.

"Sounds good." He went to try and help her with the stove, but she shrugged his reaching hand away. She got it a moment later.

Kanan watched as she filled the pot with water from a jug and placed it on the lit stove. She grabbed the bag of rice and tried to pull it apart with her hands. It was one of those difficult ones where you had to find a particular string to tug and it would all fall loose, but if you tried to open it any other way, it only got tighter and more impossible.

She stopped trying to pull it apart and tried to pinch and rip it at one corner, but to no avail.

Kanan watched her struggle for a minute longer before it got to be too sad to watch. He sat down on the floor next to her. "Need help?"

"I've almost got it."

She then tried to pluck a string that looked looser than the others, but again was unsuccessful.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she snapped. The frustrated crinkles on her forehead deepened.

"Okay, okay," he said, surrendering and backing off. He resigned to watching her continue to struggle.

It was, truly, an arduous four minutes.

Alright, Kanan thought, this was really getting to be too much. "Hera…"

Hera looked up at him dismally before giving in. "Fine," she relented, handing the sack of rice towards him. "You try."

Kanan accepted it and got to work. He held the corner of it with his teeth and started to pick at it with his fingers, looking for the right thread to pull. He glanced between Hera and the sack. She was sitting cross-legged and hunched over, looking away.

"Is everyfing alrighth?" he asked around the sack of rice. He gave her a hesitant look. "Hafe I done somefing wrong?"

"No," she replied, shifting uneasily, and Kanan wasn't sure which question she was answering. Her voice waned, and it sounded like she was going to continue, but she didn't.

Kanan's jaw was starting to ache from being clenched around the sack. His fingernails were a bit too short to try and pluck at the string, but he'd finally found the right one. Noticing his struggle, Hera reached over and used her nimble fingers to yank the taught string out of place while Kanan continued to hold it.

"I guess… I don't know. The mission didn't work out right. It didn't succeed. Not as it was supposed to," she explained as she worked on the string. She finally managed to snag the thread under her nail and pull on it wide enough to hook her index finger around it. With a few tugs, it came loose, and the sack opened up.

"What do you mean?" Kanan asked, releasing the sack and handing it back to her. "From what I remember, we made it out alive, which had seemed pretty unlikely at more than one point. I'd consider that a success."

Hera shrugged, measuring out a bowl-full of rice and setting it next to the stove as she waited for the water to boil. "I guess. We just… we didn't get the Wookies. They're still back there, dying in the mines. We didn't save them."

Kanan went quiet, a little stunned.

He looked Hera over. She'd rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. She had a faraway look about her that seemed like she was staring at the stove but was probably seeing something else. Regret, guilt, and grief for something that she wasn't even responsible for in the first place trickled off of her like dew on a leaf, heavy and sodden, and when it fell to the floor, it splashed and scattered into droplets, catching on Kanan's clothes and seeping through to his soul.

And not for the first time, he realized that despite her snippy remarks and the everyday sass that he was starting to get used to, her heart was so much bigger than herself.

Hera hurt for others she had never even met. She blamed herself for when she did nothing to help them. And she berated herself for when she failed a mission that no one had charged her with but herself.

She loved, and she cared, and she cared hard. Harder than anyone was asked to or even meant to.

And not for the last time, he realized that Hera, this sparky little lady that he was still getting to know, was a much better person than himself.

A sizzling sound hissed through the air. Hera jumped where she sat and whirled towards the pot, snapping Kanan back to reality.

"Oh shoot, the water!"

The water was boiling up and out of the pot, steaming and bubbling as it spilled out onto the floor. Hera frantically reached for it with outstretched hands.

"Hera, wait! It's still—"

He was cut off by a high-pitched yelp that echoed through the ship and the clang of a pot clattering to the floor, spilling the water everywhere.

"…hot," he finished, but the damage was already done. Hera sat back clumsily, mouth clamped and eyes screwed shut. She nursed her hands and tucked them close to her chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He felt stupid the moment the question slipped out of his mouth.

"Yes," she managed to say, but then groaned and hunched over more. "…No."

With a sympathetic smile, he moved over to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let me see."

Reluctantly, Hera obliged, and embarrasedly offered her hands. Kanan took them into his own with efforted delicacy and looked them over. The sage-green skin was already turning red, but there was no sign of white blisters forming yet. He touched her palm gently with the pad of his thumb, and she winced back.

Kanan sat back up, his hands still in hers, and met Hera's nervous gaze.

"You'll be alright. It's not too bad, from what I can tell," he said reassuringly. He gestured to her palm. "It's not blistering yet, which means it didn't burn too deep. We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Do you have any medkits?"

Hera nodded and gestured with her head towards one of the storage bins. Seeing where she pointed, Kanan released her hands and went to open the bin. As she'd said, there was a small red and white bag. Unzipping it, he quickly found what he was looking for: a coolant antibacterial gel and some sterilized gauze wrappings.

"Once we wrap them up, you'll be good as new and ready to fly in no time," he said, trying to cheer her up.

It worked a little and Hera smiled slightly.

"I feel like a child," she said sheepishly.

"Well…" Kanan faltered, but he smirked teasingly to let her know he was kidding. She rolled her eyes in return.

He took her hands in his again and undid the cap on the antibacterial gel, applying it generously to her palms as gently as he could. He did everything he'd seen their field medic Soot do on the battlefield whenever the boys had gotten burns from blaster shots that just got too close. At least, he did it to the best he could remember.

Hera watched as he worked, though a bit distractedly. Her eyes started to wander and her shoulders started to droop again.

"My father always told me I was too much of a bundle of nerves to be a rebel," she said after a while, but Kanan wasn't sure it was too him. Her gaze was drifting again. "'Shape up, Hera. Get control of yourself, Hera. Don't wear your emotions on your sleeve, Hera,'" she went on, straightening her back, tucking her chin in, and deepening her voice to mimic her father. Then her shoulders sagged again. "It got pretty tiring."

"Sometimes, our parents don't always know what's best for us," Kanan began slowly, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. Hera flinched as though he'd drawn her back from whatever bad memory she'd been lost in. "Sometimes, they only know what's best for themselves, but… not everyone thinks the same way."

He felt her staring at him as he worked. His cheeks felt a little warm and he felt a tad embarrassed, which just wasn't like him at all, but he kept his eyes on his work and tried to continue talking. He wasn't quite sure where these deep and emotional words were coming from, but he just went with it.

"But maybe he was right. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for this type of stuff."

Kanan pinched his brows together. He steadily wrapped the gauze between her thumb and forefinger. "I think you're a good rebel, even if it doesn't work out all the time. You've helped more people than you probably realize," he paused, then added quietly, "including me."

Hera eyes grew wide, stunned. "Kanan, I…" she started. But her words faded and she fell silent again.

Kanan finished the last wrapping and tied it off, not as neatly as he'd hoped, but it was still somewhat secure. When it was done, however, he found himself not wanting to let go of her hands. They were soft, but still calloused from a childhood of a war and struggle, and he held them lightly. He found his thumb faintly ghosting over her knuckles.

Like he had back in the shipyard, he softly felt the thrum of her heartbeat through the Force, warm and beating and very much alive. This time, however, instead of panicked and thudding, it was fluttering, light, and trembling slightly, like her hands.

Kanan realized with a start the tension of the situation and quickly released her hands. When he looked up awkwardly, Hera was gazing at him, flustered and a little in wonder. A rose-color tinted the green of her cheeks.

"I think I know just what you need," Kanan said after a moment, desperate to fill the silence. He stood up and stepped over the dropped pot and the puddle of spilled water, headed towards the top left cupboard.

"Hey," Hera objected, "you're not supposed to go in there. That's Rule Number Two!"

"Actually, it was Rule Number One," he corrected, ignoring her and opening the cupboard. He opened a box inside it and quickly found what he was looking for: Rylothan dark chocolate.

Taking an untouched bar and closing the cupboard, he went and sat back down next to Hera and handed the rich and aromatic treat to her. Begrudgingly, she snatched from him and took a small bite, but any irritation in her face melted away as it hit her tongue.

"Not fair," she mumbled grumpily around a mouthful of chocolate as she took her second bite. Kanan only offered a cheeky smile in return.

He set to work about re-heating some more water and making dinner while Hera ate her chocolate with bandaged hands and watched. This time, he managed to get it to a boil without getting distracted and letting it spill over. He dumped in the bowl of dry rice and beans and covered the pot to let it steam up.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Hera said as he leaned back on his elbows to wait for the rice to cook. "It's a whole mess that I've dragged you into. Both the thing with the Pykes and just having to deal with me."

"That's not entirely true," Kanan reasoned, flashing a teasing smirk. "I've only almost died two or three times."

"Oh, shut it," she groaned, but he could see the smile hiding behind the chocolate bar. "You know what I mean."

Kanan chuckled, and the room fell quiet again.

"I've been thinking," Hera started again after a bit, "that… well, I should have told you about my mess with the Pykes to start with. It was a big risk that you didn't know you were getting yourself into, and I should have been honest about it."

Kanan shook his head. "I hardly thought that joining a rebel who'd just crashed on Lothal was going to be a business free of danger. I knew there were bound to be risks," he objected.

"I know, I know, but my point is," she went on, taking another bite of chocolate, "that we should be honest with each other. If this—" she gestured with her wrapped-up hand to the space between them, and Kanan had no idea what that meant, but decided that was a topic of discussion to be addressed later— "is going to work out at all, we need to tell each other the truth, always. We can't work together if we don't trust each other. We have to be honest."

Kanan felt himself go still as he grasped at the meaning and the weight of her words: the truth, honesty, and trust.

He'd already told her he was from Coruscant, that he hadn't lived on Lothal for too long, and that he wanted to help. And all of that was true. He wasn't being dishonest, and that's what she was asking.

But he still wasn't being honest.

The history of his life as a padawan was also the history of the downfall of the Jedi Order. It was a narrative of the archaic past that had not even passed yet; the remnants of its ruin still trickled through the backbones of the societies embedded in the galaxy. The spilled blood of his Masters, of padawans, and younglings acted as the foundation for the rise of the Empire, seeping through the cracks in the tyrannical façade of the Sith. His past, and therefore his future, was far from over. For every moment that he breathed, it was one more moment that he defied the Empire and all that it stood for, one more moment of putting his life on the line, one more moment of waiting for whatever death he deserved to snatch him when he wasn't looking.

It was a secret that needed to be kept. For his safety, and for Hera's. The lie that he was living was one that he would have to die with, especially if he, or anyone he cared for in the slightest, were to survive.

"Kanan," Hera said quietly, and he realized that he had been silent for too long. She was gazing at him with an olive solemnity to her eyes that he found beautifully striking and equally as convicting. She was waiting for his answer.

And letting the shame run like water down his back, he gave her one. He mustered the utmost amount of sincerity that he could scrape up from within himself, then breathed in, breathed out, and swallowed the lie.

But words failed him, as if his own tongue forbid him to betray her. All he could do was give a weak nod of his head.

And being the intrinsically good person that she was, Hera trusted him. She smiled once, and much to his shame and guilt-drenched disbelief, placed her hand on his and squeezed it tight.

Just wanted to say a big thank you to those leaving comments and reading. I'm glad you all are enjoying this, and your reviews are oh-so encouraging. So, thank you! I hope you enjoy the rest of this wild ride!