A/N: Here's that Kanera follow-up I mentioned in the first chapter. I think it effectively brings this story to a close, but make sure to check out 'Rebels Behind the Scenes' for more spacefamily bonding. P.S. I think I've watched the season three trailer at least once a day since it came out. P.P.S. Hugs to everyone who reviewed.
When they had returned from Malachor, everything had been a blur: the air thick with questions and gasps, Ahsoka's name heard over and over again, rumors already flying about, Ezra's strange, heavy silence pervading it all. But Hera heard none of it, saw none of it. The noise faded into a dull thunder, like she was hearing it from underwater. The only thing she processed, the only thing coursing through her, was Kanan, his name pulsing in her ears like her own heartbeat.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Ka-nan.
Ka-nan.
She guided him into the medbay, she sat quietly with him as the covering was removed and his wounds cleansed, she held his hand as he gritted his teeth and eventually cried out against the agony, and she stayed when the droid had left him with clean bandages and a heavy dose of anesthesia. Their comrades had come and gone, and she had answered their questions, accepted their condolences, and sent them away without processing their visits. Eventually, the roar of background sound faded to a murmur, and then to nothing; the stony silence of medical, penetrated only by the beep of a single monitor, like a still pool of water rippled again and again by the same droplet, prevailed. But even then, Kanan's name remained, consuming her attention. She hadn't the faintest concept of time, or how long she had been sitting at his bedside; her moments were measured by the pulse she felt under her fingertips, joining the rhythm in her head.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Ka-nan.
Ka-nan.
Another name broke the silence.
"Hera?"
It took her a moment to process the sound of her own name; she had thought his so much, it had almost become a part of her (more a part of her than he already was).
Hera turned her head, and upon recognizing her visitor, tried to look upbeat. "Hey, Sabine."
"Hi." Sabine looked fraught, wringing her hands and looking as if she wished there was a paintbrush in them. "Can I come in?"
"Of course."
Sabine did, and pulled a chair up next to Hera. The Twi'lek remained still, leaning over Kanan with her hand wrapped around her wrist as if one of them, Sabine wasn't sure which, was anchoring the other to life. Hera was staring at him, too; the same intent way she stared at Ezra when he had some mischief to confess, though Sabine didn't know what offense Kanan had committed.
Maybe getting injured, when Hera had been powerless to stop it.
After a few minutes of oppressive silence, the girl cleared her throat.
"Are you okay?"
Hera blinked a few times as if roused from a trance, and Sabine stumbled to cover for the abruptness of her query.
"I mean, I was in earlier, so I know Kanan's as okay as he can be." Hera frowned and tried to remember the Mandalorian visiting, only to find with some guilt that she couldn't. Sabine continued. "But you've been in here for hours."
Hera took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sabine, I should be asking if you're okay. It's been so crazy, I know I've been distant since they got back, and I'm sorry—"
"No, Hera, I'm asking you." Somewhat bluntly, the Mandalorian cut her captain off, but then her voice softened."You don't have anything to apologize for, you're worried about him. But I'm worried about you."
The truth that Sabine would never hear was that Hera was exhausted. Her throat hurt, from fighting the rising lump in it for so long. At least half of her limbs had fallen asleep, and the harsh lights of the med center had given her a headache that had dulled only because she'd stopped paying attention to it. She could no longer distinguish between anger or grief, she had been trapped between both for so long, and even her lekku felt heavy with sorrow.
But none of that mattered; she couldn't show any of it. She was Hera Syndulla, Phoenix Leader, Captain of the Ghost, member of the Rebellion. People looked up to her, depended on her. With so many people to be strong for, she couldn't spare so much as a moment of weakness. Shedding tears was a luxury she couldn't afford. Her sorrow was a burden she would carry alone, with her chin up and shoulders back, to be released only in solitude. She refused to so much as tell Sabine it was on her shoulders.
So she swallowed, hard, and forced a brightness that matched the med center lights into her voice. "I'm fine."
And no matter how hard Hera tried to hide it, Sabine saw it then, the faintest quiver of her bottom lip, before her mouth pressed back into a firm line. The Twi'lek always hid everything so well, but it was the same trace of weakness, of true heartache, that she had glimpsed when the Jedi were preparing to leave for Malachor. At least then she had been able to do something about it— sending Kanan to approach Hera. But now, she felt utterly helpless, unable to do a thing to amend her captain's sorrow, and it fueled the slow burn of anger within her.
"Okay," Sabine said slowly, accepting the lie for the time being as a favor to her captain. "When was the last time you ate, or slept?"
The ghost of a wry smile touched Hera's cheeks, which suddenly looked hollow, but she didn't lift her gaze from the floor. "How long ago did they leave?"
Sabine facepalmed, an action she had now performed for both halves of the pair. When she lifted her head, her eyes searched the room and found inspiration. "If I bring that cot over here, will you at least lie down?"
Hera frowned. "Sabine, you don't need to take care of me," she said. The Mandalorian had already gotten up.
"Well, somebody needs to, and I probably owe you one anyways." She pushed the gurney towards them. Hera frowned at her over the sterile white sheet, and Sabine stared back, her chin lifted in defiance. But eventually, Sabine's eyes dropped, and all the impudence drained out of her stance.
"Please, Hera," she said. "You need to rest."
Hera sighed, and heaved her body onto the mattress as if her legs were duracrete. She turned on her side, but never let go of Kanan's wrist.
"I'll take a shift watching," Sabine said, and dropped into Hera's chair. It had accrued the kind of warmth that only hours of ceaseless occupation could cause. The Twi'lek dragged her eyes from Kanan to Sabine until fatigue overcame her, and against her will, they fell shut. Eyes finally closed, Hera dropped into sleep like a ship dropping out of hyperspace, Kanan's pulse her only lullaby. As her breathing slowed, Sabine exhaled a sigh of relief. It was followed by one that was not her own. She looked around in bewilderment, trying to locate the source of the exhalation, but someone's voice answered her confusion. It was raspy, weak and muddled by the dregs of anesthesia, but it was unmistakably Kanan's.
"Can't believe you got her to sleep," the Jedi mumbled.
Sabine gasped. "Kanan!" She shot a look over at Hera, to make sure the pilot hadn't woken up, and Kanan seemed to sense it.
"Don't worry. She's usually a light sleeper, but after today, she'll be out cold."
Sabine laughed; she wasn't sure if it was relief, elation, or even just the warmth of Kanan knowing Hera so well, but it felt good in her chest. "How long were you awake?"
He shrugged. "Not long. But I knew she'd never sleep if I woke up." Slowly, Kanan brought his hand across his body and fumbled for Hera's, the one that was still holding his wrist. "You can learn a lot of things from Hera, Sabine, but make sure you learn this— the person who takes care of everyone always forgets to take care of their self." He threaded his fingers through the Twi'lek's, and Sabine watched as his lips turned up in a smile.
"Taking care of Hera's my job," he chuckled. "But I appreciate you stepping in. You're a good kid, Sabine." Even though they were bandaged, she was certain his proud smile reached his eyes, and Sabine felt her own stinging with tears that she refused to let fall.
"Thanks, Kanan."
She stayed with him for a while longer, until he had drifted off as well, and left the two to sleep with their hands intertwined. Sabine felt that they more than deserved it. She came back later, intending to drop off a nutrition bar for when Hera woke up, but the Twi'lek was already awake.
Sabine watched through the window, as Hera looked down to the fingers that held her own, and then moved her lips in what she assumed was a soft "Kanan?"
The Jedi opened his eyes and started to say something back, and Hera launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. Sabine waited for a moment, but Hera didn't move away, and Kanan's arms came around her waist, holding her tight. Once again, Sabine decided to give the pair privacy, and slipped away.