The hum of the star destroyer's sublight engines was louder than he remembered, the din of his holding cell altogether different from what he'd grown accustomed to waking to, disoriented and miserable. Before he could give himself away, he bit back the groan rising, unbidden, to his throat.

He barely found the will to slit his eyes.

He was still disoriented.

But, after an infinitesimal moment of taking inventory, not quite so miserable.

Kanan blinked, his vision bleary at best. He could not immediately discern his surroundings. The lighting was dim, but not the dismal black and shadow of his holding cell. This was a soft, warm glow that accompanied the gentle whirs and clicks of nearby sensor equipment, out of his direct line of site. The reassuring thrum of the Force was discernable, too, but no longer the manic, steady pulse it had been as he fought to keep himself alive and his crew safe. It was oddly comforting.

And wrong.

Kanan swallowed dryly, tentatively sucking in a breath and slowly releasing it when his ribs twinged in protest. He felt like he'd been wailed upon, for certain, but that hadn't hurt nearly as much as he thought he'd remembered it hurting previously. Instead, a deep and penetrating warmth seemed to envelop him, cushioning him in a viscous blanket of sweet-smelling, gently bubbling liquid. He was vaguely aware of almost floating in his semi-upright position, resting in an open half-tank, or tub, of sorts. Faintly, he could hear the murmur of an aerator in the background. Everything blended together so soothingly and he felt so fatigued that he nearly dropped back into sleep.

Something wasn't right.

His fingers twitched beneath the liquid surface, and he felt something tighten reflexively around them: another hand, plunged into the bubbling ooze around him, clasped his; another hand that belonged to his lovely, green-skinned pilot. With effort, he managed to turn his head a bit more for a better look.

Oh.

Hera was slumped in a medical lounger beside him, clad in a tank and pair of sleep pants, a blanket thrown about her petite shoulders. Despite the awkward angle of her arm, her eyes were closed, pink lips parted in sleep.

He gaped, albeit wearily.

She was a sight for sore eyes. She was beautiful.

Kanan did not know how long he stared, trying to make sense of where he was and how he was there, but his head ached fiercely and was having none of it. He sighed, the breath ending on a ragged moan that he quickly swallowed, lest he was dreaming and truly not in safe hands.

Could he be dreaming?

The fitful dreams he'd been besieged with aboard Tarkin's ship had been fraught with disjointed images and quite a lot more pain; they'd never been this kind, nor had he felt the Force presence of the ones he cared for so deeply...

Then perhaps not a dream.

He was beginning to feel overly warm, now, and thirsty. He squirmed, or attempted to, in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, and Hera's eyes opened. She gasped, the hand that held his tightening further as she sat up fully. The blanket pooled around her slender waist and she looked as if she wanted to say something but words were a long time coming.

"Kanan…" she eventually breathed, and he felt the weight of fear and concern in her soft voice.

Kanan felt the corners of his mouth tug into a weak semblance of a grin. "…Hey," he croaked.

It left him winded.

"Hey…" she replied softly.

Her eyes were suspiciously wet.

"…I'm all right…"

Her chuckle was watery. "I very much doubt that, love. You've had a rough go of it for the past cycle."

Kanan blinked heavily and considered her words, but all he could come up with was a rough, "Mmm."

Hera freed her hand from his in the tub and removed a thin compress he hadn't even realized was plastered to his forehead, wiping her tacky hand with it and reaching behind him to produce a small cooling flask. She was reverently gentle as her free hand slipped beneath the nape of his neck, her fingers nimbly pressing into the aching pulse points at the back of his skull while supporting him and tipping the cup to his mouth.

The amount of water was small but so blessedly cool and wet that he could not help the grateful noise of relief that he let out once he'd swallowed.

"More?"

"Please," he gasped, nodding slightly, and didn't care in that moment how ridiculous he should have felt in his helplessness.

Hera seemed pleased to lend the support, however, smiling gently and patiently offering him a few more sips. It was comforting and intimate, and for now, Kanan allowed himself to bask in it and her touch. When he took too much and choked, she eased him back and let him settle.

"What happened?"

Hera's eyebrow twitched upward as if surprised by the question, reaching over his head to the tray he assumed was back there. He tried to track her movement, but failed when the effort resulted in a fresh stab of pain behind his eyes.

"Adrenal failure. Shock," she replied, carefully pressing a fresh compress to his throbbing head.

The coolness and gentle pressure she applied were instantly soothing, of which he must have given some small sign, because Hera smiled tenderly down at him and continued in a slight hush, "Your body is as tenacious as your mind, fighting tooth and nail to come down off all that psychotropic paraphernalia and adrenaline. It's refused to sit down and shut up, even half-submerged in a bacta-bath."

Kanan felt his mouth twitch with a frown as he considered his current position. Shifting slightly, he could feel the faint pinch and tug of intravenous lines in his arm. The Ghost did not house a fully-equipped medical bay, much less a supply of bacta for anything other than topical treatments, perhaps an injection or two in truly dire circumstances, but certainly not enough for a dip.

"How - ?"

"Our benefactor - " Organa, is what she did not outwardly voice, " – apologizes that supplies for a full submersion tank were not readily available; the rebellion and its fleet are growing, but the logistics of getting to you and receiving their closest aid were a bit..impromptu. We did the best with what we had."

Ah. The blockade runners. The rescue. It felt so far away, yet hovering at the edges of his consciousness, all the questions and pain and torture - keep them safe, there's nothing to tell, Ezra, no - no, get out...

"Ezra - "

"Hey," Hera's reassuring hands were on his face, "Kanan! He's fine, we're all fine…please, breathe, Kanan."

"Hnngh..."

"Take it easy, it's okay...shh. We're all okay…"

Kanan drug his eyes open - when had he let them close? – and held her gaze for a moment, the soft bubbling of fluid and his sharp breathing punctuating the silence that had fallen. There was something in her typically silky voice that unsettled him; something haunted in her eyes when she finally blinked and looked away, but he was so incredibly drowsy, and though he could feel the Force curling about him, he felt terribly weak and not particularly cogent. Unconsciousness beckoned him once more.

He leaned into her touch, silently pleading with her to not pull away from him now. Her touch was a balm to the pain and confusion. She did not draw away, though, allowing him to soak up the comfort.

"I wasn't sure…" Kanan sighed, his eyes drifting shut again when her fingers, unusually cool, carded through the damp strands of his unbound hair. I thought I might be dreaming…

"Rest, Kanan. You're safe. We're all safe."

He felt the tight bands in his chest loosen, his posture relaxed again in the warmth of the bacta fluid. It should smell worse…

A soft chuckle.

Had he said that aloud?

A hand closing around his again. His fingers barely managed to flutter in acknowledgement.

The gentlest press of lips at his temple. Now, he was dreaming.

...stay…

The same, faint pressure at the bridge of his nose.

"All right, love."