Shel's Note:

This story was written by my teen niece, who has begun testing her fanfic muse, so please be constructive in any criticism.

Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

By Erin

(written October 28-29, 2020)

Author's Note:

The title of this story was inspired by the song, "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head" (written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, 1969).

Kanan Jarrus was beginning to think the universe hated him. Actually, he knew that already, but his present situation was reiterating that fact.

He and Hera had come to this moon for a job. Before Chopper and the Ghost could come to pick them up, they'd gotten caught in a massive thunderstorm.

Thunder and lightning always brought bad feelings for Kanan, memories of another life. He supposed it was just chance that he'd been on Kaller during the rainy season. If he'd been on Mygeeto for Order 66, he'd probably hate the cold and snow instead.

Every time thunder rumbled, he would jump; every time lightning flashed outside the cave they'd found shelter in, he'd press himself into the wall a little more.

Hera must know he was acting strangely, but she hadn't said anything about it. She probably wouldn't, either.

Until, suddenly, there was the loudest Cracka-BOOM! yet. Kanan flinched so hard he bumped into her.

"Sorry," he mumbled, face aflame. He was being an idiot, really: How many twenty-four-year-olds are scared of a storm?

"All right, what is it?" Hera raised an eyebrow. "You've been jumpy since the storm started."

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You're trembling," she pointed out.

He couldn't help himself from glancing at his hands. Sure enough, they were shaking.

"I thought you trusted me," she said.

"I do," Kanan insisted in confusion. What did his fear have to do with trusting Hera?

"So…talk to me."

He sighed as the pieces clicked into place for him. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he just knew Hera would think she was working with a youngling. And he didn't want to disappoint her. "I don't like storms," he quietly admitted after a few minutes of silence.

"Why?" She wasn't laughing at him. In fact, she seemed quite concerned.

He took that as a sign to continue. "When I was - when my master died… I was on Kaller. They'd get these huge storms there, and I was out on the streets for most of 'em." He stared at the ground. "Stupid, isn't it?"

"Hey."

The sharpness in her tone made him glance up at her.

"It's not stupid," she argued. "It makes sense that you'd remember storms as something bad. That isn't your fault. And you knowstorms drive me crazy because I can't fly as well in them."

Kanan shrugged.

"I don't like purrgil, either," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but you actually have a reason for—"

"Shush," she cut him off. "You've got just as good a reason. So stop beating yourself up for it."

Rrrrmmm…

"That didn't sound like thunder," Kanan observed.

"It wasn't," Hera agreed with a smile. "It's the Ghost. What do you say, we get out of this storm and off this moon?"

There was a dust storm on Atollon. That wasn't so unusual; every so often, big clouds would block out the planet's sun, Ashbo, for a while. There was never any rain, just lightning and thunder.

It didn't bother Hera - she'd gotten used to it. But Kanan hadn't spent as much time on Atollon as her.

So when, in the middle of the night, thunder crashed loudly outside, he bolted upright in a panic.

"Easy," Hera soothed. She knew his fear of storms had eased a bit since they'd met. But now? She'd needed to stay by his bedside during this storm just in case.

He fumbled blindly for her. "Hera? Hera, I can't see you - I can't see!"

"Sh, I know, it's okay." He'd only been released from the medbay about a week ago. The white bandages over his eyes stood out in the relative darkness of his cabin.

More thunder rolled and Kanan pulled away into the corner of the bunk.

His hands were shaking. She took them in hers and guided them up to the sides of her face. "Breathe," she instructed. "What are you touching?"

He paused, thinking. "You," he determined. "Hera."

"Yes." She brought his fingers down to the corners of her mouth so he could feel her smile. "Where are we?"

"On the Ghost." Kanan's hands began to still. "In my cabin."

"Good."

"There's a storm." He knew he was no longer shaking but he couldn't stop the fear yet.

"There is," she accepted. "But you're safe inside."

He took a slow, deep breath. "Okay."

"I'm right here," she promised. "You're not on Kaller."

"I know." He shifted on the bed to get more comfortable. "Stay a while?"

"Of course," she smiled with relief. "Lie back and I'll tell you about the time I tried to sneak two meilooruns into my room."

Hera was reading a novel on her datapad - a luxury she had plenty of time for now that the war was over. Cozy in her bunk with a blanket and a mug of hot tea, she didn't pay any attention to the raging tempest outside.

On stormy days before Lothal, she would usually spend time with Kanan. He'd never truly liked storms, but he'd become much less skittish about them through the years.

He was gone now and the memory of his death would always hurt. The happier memories of him helped ease the pain.

"Mama?" Jacen called. The door slid open to reveal her son, with tousled green hair and a toy Loth-wolf clutched in his arms.

"Yes, luv?"

"Can I come in?"

She nodded and he scurried inside, immediately burrowing in next to her under the blanket.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pretty sure from his small, tight frown, that it was storm-related.

Jacen mumbled something into her side.

"What?"

He lifted his head, pressing his cheek against her. "Don't like the storm."

"Why not?" Hera remembered having a similar conversation with Kanan, years ago.

"Loud," Jacen pouted. "An' it means I can't go outside, an' it sounds weird on the hull. I'm not a baby."

She thought it was funny that he knew words like "hull," but still couldn't tie his shoes on his own. "No, you're not. But it's okay to be afraid of loud storms. You know," she murmured, "your father didn't like storms either."

"He didn't?"

"Nope. And do you know what I told him?"

Jacen shook his head.

"I told him that the storm couldn't get to him if he stayed inside and that it would be over soon enough." Hera pulled her son closer.

"That's nice, Mama." He wormed his way under her arm and, within moments, fell asleep.

You know what, luv? Hera thought. Storms aren't so bad after all.

The End