#the warmth of the first image and how out of place hera is in it. the almost nostalgic quality to the lighting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illuminatedquill · 7 months ago

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Short Story Summary: Hera Syndulla arrives at Sabine and Ezra's comm tower to drop off the first print editions of their personal trading cards.

*For @alphaofdarkness and @jedi-nurse who inspired this with their conversations on the Discord server. Hope you like it.

Lothal, Early Morning - Sabine and Ezra's Comm Tower

The characteristic soft chime that played whenever someone was waiting below in the comm tower's courtyard alerted Ezra to their guest's presence. Setting down the data-pad he had been browsing through for the Holo-Net's daily news, he stood and walked over to a nearby monitor at the security station that had been recently installed by Sabine as a precaution.

After all, the last time a guest had arrived she had ended up with a lightsaber stabbed through her abdomen. It was not an experience she wished to repeat again.

Shooing a curious Murley off the console, he pushed a button. The monitor's screen lit up, showing the crisp image of the tower's courtyard - and the familiar face of their guest.

Smiling, he spoke into the intercom. "Hello, Hera."

The green-skinned Twi'lek smiled back and waved at the camera. Seeing her face, practically the same since he had first seen it over a decade ago, always filled Ezra with a sense of warmth and comfort. Hera had been a steady friend, mentor, and surrogate mother to him during the hectic early days of the Rebellion. She was the eternal bedrock of the Spectres, the foundation from which all of them had built their new lives upon.

He noted the casual outfit she wore today: not her usual flight uniform, but a fashionable beige sport jacket, dark brown tunic, slim, high waisted pants, complete with comfortable walking boots. Grasped in her hands was a slim, non-descript wooden case.

"Retirement looks good on you, General," he remarked.

Hera snorted. "Semi-retirement. I was practically forced into it by Leia. She was very insistent."

"It's well-deserved," he replied. "And long overdue."

"And boring," she retorted. "I need structure, Ezra. A mission."

He laughed. "So, you're hiring yourself out as a delivery service now?"

She scowled at him. "Gotta do something. I'm still helping people, at least."

"And not getting shot at or participating in dog fights with pirates is presumably a benefit, as well," Ezra added.

"Eh," she said, waving a careless hand. "I kind of miss it, sometimes."

Hera peered up at the camera. "Are you going to let me up or we just going to chit-chat like this all day? I've got other places to be, you know."

Ezra grinned and let her in.

The slim wooden case lay open on the worktable, revealing the contents within. Ezra peered over it, taking in the sight of what Hera had brought.

She sipped at a caf, a special blend of Hera's favorite flavors. "Thanks for this," she said gratefully.

"Of course," Ezra responded. He picked up one of the items within the wooden case and observed it more closely: a trading card, thin and metallic. With a sense of bemusement, he inspected the image of himself on it, conforming to what he had perceived at the time of the photoshoot to be a "heroic" pose: his lightsaber activated and held in a basic guard position.

There was at least a dozen more of these contained within the wooden case.

"Where's Sabine?" Hera asked.

Ezra nodded towards the section of the comm tower's interior, where the master bedroom was located. "Sleeping in. She just returned from Mandalore late last night."

"Busy days for her, huh," Hera said.

Ezra shrugged, still eyeing the trading card in his hand. "Bo needs her to keep the clans in line."

He shook his head. "I can't believe these are actually real. A Jedi on a trading card."

"Hey, don't knock it," Hera said. "Skywalker's got a bunch, too."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Luke? How did the New Republic convince him to do this?"

"Same way we did with you. He had similar concerns: that Jedi shouldn't be involved in this sort of publicity, even with benevolent intentions," Hera explained. She paused to take a brief sip of her caf before continuing. "To counter this, the government pitched that it was for historical purposes. It was a good way to get the young ones across the galaxy up to date with knowledge of galactic affairs and the people who shaped them."

He blinked, remembering the exact same explanation being given to him. "It's a little scary that they found a way to trick Jedi into this."

Hera shrugged. "You're both history nerds. And there's no harm in giving the kids heroes to root for. I think you both appreciate that fact."

Ezra studied the cards some more, smiling a little. Living as an orphan on the streets of Imperial controlled Lothal, he would have given anything to have a fun side hobby like that.

"Leia, her husband Han, Skywalker, and Lando all have their own trading cards, too," Hera commented. She reached down and plucked a card from within the wooden case. "Everyone in the Ghost crew, also. Me, Zeb, Kanan - even Chopper."

Ezra snorted. He glanced over at the trading card Hera was holding, this one featuring Sabine. She was wearing one of her go-to civilian outfits, her head encased in a speeder-bike helmet. The characteristic Sabine Wren smirk was also in vivid display, along with one other feature that immediately caught his attention.

He frowned. "That can't be recent," he said. "When did she grow out her hair?"

Hera turned to him, surprised. "Right," she said. "You weren't here to see that."

She offered him the trading card. Ezra took it, gazing softly down at the image of his wife.

"She's beautiful," was all he could say. He had only ever seen Sabine with short hair, a necessity with her Mandalorian helmet. Even when she had come to rescue him on Peridea, Sabine had worn a short pixie-style cut. Ezra had assumed that had been her style the entire time he had been gone.

The deep purple he remembered from Peridea was present, but it blended beautifully with the longer locks of burning red. It reminded him of the gouts of flame bursting forth he had seen in paintings of dying stars; the effect of her dye colors presented the look of pure starfire flowing down her shoulders.

"Yeah, Sabine had these done a while ago," Hera confirmed.

"But they're just being released now?" Ezra asked. "Why?"

She sighed. "It took quite a bit of convincing for Sabine to acquiesce to this decision. You know how she is with public facing stuff like this."

Ezra winced, imagining the conversations between Sabine and the New Republic officials to be short and one-sided. Despite her brash exterior, he knew his wife to be an immensely private person, preferring to keep out of the public eye.

"I finally got her to agree, but Sabine would only do it on two conditions: first, that she would have a say in how the cards were designed. If her face was going to be on them, she wanted to ensure that the cards were artistically up to her standards."

Ezra smiled slightly. Sounds like her, he thought. Art was Sabine's first love, before she met him. She would want to make sure that the artwork showcased on the trading cards was befitting of the heroes they featured.

"What was the second condition?" he asked.

Hera cocked her head at him, her eyes suddenly wistful. "That her trading cards would only be sold as a set, not to be separated for any reason."

Ezra's brow furrowed. "She wanted her card to be permanently paired up with another?"

"Yes, Ezra," said Hera quietly. "Yours."

His eyes widened at the revelation.

"That's why hers are only being released now," continued Hera. "She was waiting for you."

Ezra was silent, looking over the cards: his and Sabine's, paired together.

Not to be separated for any reason.

He coughed, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. Hera clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think they look better together," she observed wryly. "Don't you?"

Ezra smiled; his eyes were moist with emotion. "Yeah," he agreed. "They do."

Sabine wandered out of the bedroom a little after mid-day. Her hair was sticking up on one end; eyes still bleary from the long sleep, she shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Ezra.

"Had a good sleep?" he asked her.

She laid her head onto his shoulder. "Mmmmm. First soft bed in weeks. Heavenly isn't strong enough to describe it."

He kissed her head softly. "Is Mandalore still doing alright? No one's gunning for another civil war? "

"Yeah, clan meeting went nice and smoothly," she replied drowsily. "Boring."

Ezra chuckled, strongly reminded of Hera's same response earlier this morning.

"Sounds like progress," he mused.

She shifted her head on his shoulder, moving into a more comfortable position. "Heard you talking with someone. Was it Hera?"

He nodded. Sabine grimaced. "You should have woken me up, goober."

"You were tired. Hera didn't mind. Said she'll call later, to catch up with you."

Sabine didn't argue back, which was an indication of just how exhausted she still was. "What did she want?"

Ezra produced from his pocket the trading cards. "She was dropping these off."

His wife sneaked a glance at them and let out a surprised breath. "Karabast," she muttered. "I forgot these were a thing."

"Freshly minted, first edition," he bragged. "Super rare and valuable, I'm told."

She snorted. "Whatever. We should sell them and buy tickets to a star cruise."

Setting the cards down on the worktable, Ezra grinned and hugged his wife close. "I'm also told," he said gently, "that ours are not to be sold separately."

Sabine went quiet.

He reached over and laced his hand in hers. "It's very thoughtful of you," he whispered. "Thank you."

She squeezed his hand back. "We're a package deal, Ezra. I don't want anyone separating us ever again. Even in something as silly as trading cards."

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #star wars #ezrabine #ahsoka show #ahsoka #natasha liu bordizzo #sabezra fanfiction

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laughingphoenixleader · 3 years ago

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More Than Ever Before

Kanera Week 2021 Day 2

Prompt: Connection

“Kanan hadn’t been able to stop fidgeting all morning. His hands probably hadn’t stayed still for longer than one second since he’d woken up two hours before his datapad’s alarm was supposed to sound. Wave after wave of emotion has rolled over him, and it’s left him a ragged mess of sparking nerves.

“Kanan, you know what’s about to happen is a good thing, right?”

The smirk in Ezra’s voice is accompanied by a tinge of concern. Kanan tugs at his collar for the thousandth time in the last few hours, directing an exasperated glare at the boy who feels so much like his son.

“Of course I know that,” he responds shortly, crossing his arms, if only to keep his hands still.

“Yeah, real convincing,” comes Zeb’s comment from Kanan’s bunk.

Kanan sighs and brushes nonexistent dust specks off of the shoulders of the nicest shirt he owns. Which isn’t much different from his usual one, though it’s newer, cleaner, and a lighter shade of green. His favorite shade of green, in fact. He checks his datapad for the millionth time—and his heart stops beating for longer than what’s probably healthy.

It’s time.

His stomach starts flipping uncontrollably. Images of what the next few minutes will hold flash through his mind in a rush of color. Kanan turns to his two best men and asks in a shaky voice, “how do I look?”

Ezra and Zeb hesitate way too long for Kanan’s comfort. “Great!” Ezra encourages unconvincingly, while Zeb doesn’t even try, visibly cringing.

Kanan sighs heavily. Leave it to him to disappoint Hera today of all days. But there isn’t much he can do about it now other than make it worse, so he heads to the cargo bay. Kanan descends from the ladder to find that Sabine and Chopper are already there, the former gingerly cradling a needle, its barrel filled to the brim with vibrant ink. Sabine’s face nearly mirrors Kanan’s own hurricane of emotions. He crosses the room and places a hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna do great,” Kanan tells the Mandalorian, who squeezes her brown eyes shut, takes in a steadying breath, then opens them again to look earnestly into Kanan’s.

“I’ve spent every free minute I’ve had practicing,” she tells him. Self-doubt begins to fill her features. “But that hasn't been too many. Look, if you think we should call in—“

“Sabine,” Kanan interrupts. He looks into the eyes of the girl—no, the woman—who is as much a daughter to him as Ezra is a son. His voice fills with warmth and gentleness. “We wouldn’t give anyone else the honor. You’re the best artist we know, and it wouldn’t be the same if it were someone else.”

A small smile lightens her expression. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. And I know she is, too.”

At least Sabine has a reason to be nervous.

Kanan had never been one to become nervous or flustered around women, what with his Master being one and with his not truly caring about the opinions or feelings of the women he spent time with during his time as a wanderer. They had all only been yet another distraction he'd sought from the guilt, grief, and trauma that had so plagued him back then. He'd never gone speechless, never been tentative, never really given a kriff. But with Hera, everything was instantly different.

She brings out the awkward, nervous, flustered side of him. At first, he couldn't understand where it had come from. Kanan was a flirt; a player; and he'd had plenty of practice with women. He'd soon discovered, though, that none of that mattered when he was near Hera. Sure, he still flirted relentlessly at first, but, for the first time, he'd really cared about what she thought of him. Kanan had wanted to follow her anywhere, rather than let her follow him and then leave her whenever he felt like it. He didn't want to cross her boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable, and he gave more kriffs about how she'd react to everything he said or did than he'd ever thought he could.

He'd eventually identified this whole "giving a kriff" thing as "being in love".

So here he is, nerves and insides twisted into a tight knot, which he now takes a moment to unravel. There's barely bridled excitement and anticipation there, making him feel like he's a detonator about to go off, as well as the nervousness that he'd identified easily earlier. What am I so nervous about? Kanan asks himself insistently, searching within. What she'll think when she sees me not looking good enough for her. What'll happen if the Empire decides to act in the middle of the ceremony. Deep within, he finds the real root of his nerves.

What if she realizes how much better she deserves and changes her mind?

Kanan, like Sabine, takes in a steadying breath and allows himself to close his eyes for a moment.

If you doubt her that much, you don't really trust her word. She proposed, too, remember?

Ahsoka and Lux Bonteri are there, too, with the former being Hera’s best friend (besides Kanan), and the other being Ahsoka’s husband and a very important part of what’s about to happen. Kanan slips out of his reverie and nods to the couple as Ezra, Zeb, and Rex enter into the cargo bay and sit down on the floor. Ahsoka follows suit, and Bonteri stands at the far end of the cargo bay from the ramp.

At that moment, he feels her, and her bright, life-filled, soothing presence instantly causes the roiling emotions within him to calm. Kanan slowly turns his gaze to the open ramp, and the moments before she appears seem to last longer than all of the years they’ve spent together. Then she comes into view, and Kanan’s heartbeat speeds faster than it ever has, even in the wildest of battles.

It isn’t the dress, which is made of a brilliantly orange fabric that defiantly contrasts the galaxy-wide tradition of the white wedding dress. It’s fierce, yet modest—so very Hera—with a conservative neckline and a skirt that hits her ankles, with strips of matching orange fabric wrapping elegantly around the waist.

It isn’t that her head is uncovered, allowing her mesmerizing lekku to move freely.

It isn’t that the light of the rising sun bathes her, causing her vibrant green skin to glow.

It’s the look on her face that gets him.

Kanan has never seen Hera so filled with joy. Their eyes meet, and hers are shining more brightly than he’s ever seen them do before. She beams at him, her unbridled happiness nearly knocking him off his feet.

Kanan thinks that he might be content if this moment could last forever…but then I wouldn’t be able to marry her.

Thus, though he cherishes this moment, he also eagerly anticipates the ones to come.

Hera hadn’t been fully sold on this “big-reveal” thing. She’s never been the theatrical type, though she can pull it off if needed. Things like that remind her too much of the stereotype placed on her people.

However, because Kanan had lit up when Sabine had mentioned that Mandalorian custom of the bride's dramatic entrance, Hera had instantly known that it should be a part of their wedding. He wasn’t as much of a fan of the fact that part of the tradition would also dictates that the couple spend the three days preceding the wedding apart from each other. “I always appreciate you, Hera,” he’d told her sincerely. “I don’t need a break from you to make that moment special.”

Her heart had warmed at his words, but her decision had remained the same. “I know, love,” she tells him. Then, quietly, “but I think it might be good for us.”

Ever since Kanan’s miraculous return after the explosion of the TIE Defender factory on Lothal, the two had been more inseparable than ever before. The five weeks before Kanan had returned home had been the most torturous of Hera’s life. Her loneliness had seemed to pound upon her until she found it hard to breathe, the absence of her other half leaving her feeling helpless. Like she was constantly reaching behind her to stabilize herself, but could find nothing but empty space. She had thrown herself into her work, her drive to keep others from experiencing the pain that she was feeling pushing her forward. Any moment of rest only led to the storm of emotions descending on her, and with them, reminders of all she should have done differently. All those times he said he loved you, the voice inside her screamed, you hurt him by not saying it back. Images of his expressions of disappointment, suppressed frustration, and rejection that he’d displayed whenever she’d refused to echo those three words back to him shot through her like so many blaster bolts. You waited until you were under the influence of a drug, the worst time imaginable, to tell him. He never believed you. Kanan died doubting what you still feel for him. He died feeling rejected and unloved.

Her explanations that she’d used whenever he gave her one of those looks seemed empty now, only covers for her own selfishness. Once I say it, everything will be different. And that kind of different won’t help us be the best fighters we can be. My people are nonverbal when it comes to these things…they value those words more than any other species I know. Once they are said by both people, they make a commitment that can’t be broken. They choose them for life. They pledge to put the other person above everything else. I don’t want to break any promises to you, Kanan. Or any that I’ve already made to the Rebellion.

Kanan had done his best to understand. He hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t guilted her into saying it or ever attempted to force her, though it was clear that he wanted to hear those words more than anything else in the world. She had denied him the right to feel loved. Kanan, who deserved all the love in the world. Kanan, who had cared for her so well, even when she didn’t want to be cared for. Kanan, who had constantly made her feel more loved than she had ever imagined she could be.

Spending every second working herself to the bone, helping others through their own struggles, kept these thoughts from crushing her. If she didn’t sleep, she couldn’t have nightmares bursting with flames and death and turquoise eyes. The lack of his presence had been a throbbing, open wound, and her loneliness had been suffocating.

Since the moment he came back, Hera has had to fight everything in her to keep from sticking to his side at all times. To keep from telling him how much she loves him every time she sees him. One thing that she didn’t keep herself from, though, was proposing. Though she hadn't been the only one with that idea.

“I’m ready to make it official,” she’d told him fiercely, several days after his return, just as he'd begun, “Hera, I—”

Kanan had blinked, caught off guard. “Go ahead,” she’d prompted quietly. He had laughed breathlessly.

“I think I’d only be repeating after you.” His breath had hitched, then he seemed to not be able to get the words out quickly enough.

“Marry me, Hera?” he'd asked softly, staring deeply into her eyes as he sank into a kneel.

“Yes, love,” she told him, staring back, her lekku brimming with energy.

Kanan’s grin could have dimmed the brightest suns.

As he’d risen back to his full height, she’d placed her forehead against his and declared, “I’m ready to fully commit to you.” She had known that Kanan had waited ten years to hear those words. She’d wiped a tear or two from his cheek as they’d held each other close for a long, long time.

And now, here they are, standing in the cargo bay of the ship that has been their home for years, about to fully, completely, officially commit to each other.

Hera has to admit that, now that she’s experiencing it, she is sold on the big-reveal thing.

The look in Kanan’s eyes is one that she knows she’ll treasure in her memories for the rest of her life. She’s nearly knocked to the ground by the sheer force of the love emanating from him, and the breath is stolen from her lungs. Time seems to freeze, and everything and everyone around them seems to fade. It’s just Kanan and Hera. Spectre One and Spectre Two. Gunslinger and freedom fighter. Jedi and pilot.

All that matters, in that moment, is the two of them. The two that will soon become one. The unbreakable, irreplaceable bond between them, the kind of bond which Hera has always unconsciously longed for. That Hera constantly relishes and revels in, appreciating it a thousand times more now that she’s experienced life without it.

All of this shoots through her in a few seconds, and, though time seems to freeze, Hera’s legs do not. As she slowly makes her way up the ramp, she takes in his appearance. His light brown skin, its color reminding her of the rock formations of Ryloth, now that she thinks about it. His hair, the color of caf beans, which has now grown out longer than it was when he first gave himself that terrible haircut, but which is still not long enough to pull back into his signature ponytail. Though she likes it better long, he pulls off this look well, too. Hera might be slightly biased, though. She admires his tall frame, his clearly toned physique, his truly one-of-a-kind eyebrows, his clean, more-formal-than-usual outfit. And, of course, those vibrant eyes of his.

Hera doesn’t put much stock in physical appearances, and it takes a lot to fully capture her attention.

So the fact that she can’t take her eyes off of Kanan is truly remarkable.

After what simultaneously feels like a lifetime and an instant, she stands facing him, and she can tell that her Jedi can’t keep his eyes off of her, either. Her heart can’t seem to decide if it wants to flutter persistently or pound relentlessly, so it decides to combine the two. “You look great,” she lets herself mouth to her fiancé. A small smile springs to his face. “You look better,” he mouths back. Hera rolls her eyes, a smile playing at her own lips.

“Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus,” Lux begins, his smooth, accented voice softening the resh’s in their names. “Those of us who are present today have come so that you may demonstrate your devotion to each other, devotion that will last for a lifetime and beyond. Are you both ready to begin?” The couple nods. Lux returns the nod.

“Sabine?” he defers, beckoning to her. The Mandalorian takes in a shuddering breath, then steps forward.

“I’m so grateful to have been trusted with this honor,” Sabine’s sincerity pours from her tone. She turns to Hera, needle at the ready, her expression determined, yet soft. “Extend your arm for me.” Hera obeys, and Sabine wipes her arm with a disinfectant wipe. “This is more than artwork,” the Mandalorian artist begins. “This mark will forever display to the world your connection to each other. This mark is a promise; it can’t be removed, just like your bond can never be broken. Do you consent to this mark being placed on you?”

“I consent,” Hera tells Sabine, anticipation and sincerity building up inside of her until she’s about to burst. Sabine picks up the needle, readying it in her practiced hands.

Hera hates needles. Something about them sets off warning bells within her. They had never really been a problem until the absolutely excruciating experience of having her lekku covered in tattoos. When she’d been thirteen years old, she’d asked her father about her parents’ tattoos upon their lekku. “They are a test of one’s endurance,” her father had told her. “Only the bravest and strongest of our people can withstand the process of obtaining them.” He had cast a fond look on Eleni Syndulla as he had spoken.

“I could do it!” the teenage Hera had proclaimed confidently. Cham’s gaze had shifted to her, stern and skeptical. “No, Hera,” he had denied firmly. “Someone as young as you would not be capable of going through with it.”

Naturally, Hera had had to prove him wrong.

Had she regretted it during the process?

….maybe a little.

But she had swallowed her screams as the needle from the specially designed droid had pierced the skin of the most sensitive part of her body. Every cell had urged her to demand that the torture stop, but both Hera’s rebellious spirit and, ironically, the way that her father had taught her never to surrender led her to go through with it. And though it seemed to last for hours and her lekku twitched and burned and throbbed for weeks, she bore the pale swirls with pride. Hera’s strength and resolve had grown immensely…and she had discovered how much she enjoyed proving her father wrong.

This event had instilled a phobia of needles within Hera, no matter how nonexistent her regrets might be. So when the interrogation droid had pulled out that giant syringe on the worst night of her life, everything within Hera had gone into fight-or-flight mode. Since neither was an option, she had had to let the horrible thing stab into her, releasing unwelcome chemicals into her system. That hadn’t exactly improved her feelings towards needles of any kind.

So, when Sabine lowers the needle to Hera’s skin, Hera can’t help the instinctual panic that begins surging through her veins. One side of her brain is in complete chaos, begging her to take back her consent. But every other part of her knows that this is her Sabine doing this. And that every bit of terror she feels, every bit of pain she is about to feel, is all beyond worth it in order to demonstrate her love for Kanan.

Hera immediately feels the Jedi's attempt to meet her eyes, his invitation to focus on him rather than the needle that begins to penetrate her skin. He knows everything about her, so, naturally, he knows how much of a sacrifice this is for her. Hera is willing to make any sacrifice for him, and the burns that cover most of his body—except for his face—are proof that the sentiment is mutual. This needle feels nothing like the others she has felt before—it’s small compared to the one that the interrogation droid wielded, but about the same size as the one used upon her lekku. The pain she feels from it is minimal compared to the others she’s felt, which comes as a huge relief. The instinctual terror coursing through her eases slightly, especially since Kanan’s expression is generating nothing but support and gratitude. Each second that she spends in discomfort, she suffers for him. And that makes it more than worth it—far more worth it than any tattoos gained for the purpose of refuting her father.

Lux begins to read off the vows, which he had volunteered to gather from many different planets and cultures. When he had asked Hera if she had wanted any from her own planet, she had rejected the idea. After all, they had already planned to employ the traditional Rylothian tattooing ceremony. The description of the commitment that they are about to make draws from many places’ definitions of marriage. The former Separatist has done his research well, as expected. Sabine finishes her work on Hera’s left arm, then switches to her right. Hera watches her Sabine’s face for a moment. Her expression is laced with concentration and focus, and the part of her that is truly and fully artist has taken over. Hera returns her focus to the words being spoken, just as Lux asks if Hera will promise to remain at Kanan’s side for the rest of her life, to be his most faithful supporter, to have his back and fight with and for him, to remain forever bonded to him, and to be devoted to that bond and to strengthening it. Hera can barely even feel the needle at work as she focuses in on the words that flesh out the bright future ahead of the two of them. When Lux finishes, leaving the last sentence open-ended for Hera’s reply, she responds,

“I do.”

Kanan shivers, his expression filling with more emotions than Hera could possibly read. The depth and strength of those feelings emanating from him leads Hera’s own heart to thrum and swell. The promise and commitment that she just made clearly means the galaxy to him. After a second or two more, Sabine finishes her work. Kanan, who has kept his eyes on Hera’s face rather than on the artwork being done on her forearms, now stares down at them, and a smile spreads across his face. Two jaig eyes, inked in a very familiar shade of turquoise, now adorn Hera’s virid forearms.

Both Sabine and Lux now turn to Kanan. He rolls up his sleeves. Sabine spent several hours of yesterday illustrating his arms—Kanan’s tattoos were much more expansive than Hera’s, and he and Hera had agreed that they wouldn’t force their little audience to sit in the cargo bay watching them for hours. He's clearly already given his consent, so Sabine now sets about finishing the designs she began the night before. Hera keeps her eyes on Kanan’s as Lux begins to recite the vows, which differ slightly from Hera’s. Kanan doesn’t seem bothered by the needle at all as he listens intently to the voice that lays out the kind of lifelong partner he is about to promise to be. Hera treasures each moment of this ceremony, so grateful that this was somehow able to happen in the middle of a galactic war. When the time comes, Kanan meets Hera’s eyes and tells her, in a voice full of warmth and certainty, “I do.” At that moment, Sabine stands back, wiping her forehead, muscles relaxing. Hera looks down, and her heart skips a beat, then clenches with love for Kanan. Verdant swirls cover his arms, from his biceps down to his wrists, ones exactly like those that decorate Hera’s lekku. Though they wouldn’t have been as excruciating as those done on the most sensitive part of Hera’s body, the small ones on Hera’s wrists sting enough for her to know that Kanan is still putting himself through lots of pain for her.

As if he hasn’t been through enough already.

Then the weight of their statements hits Hera with as much force as a charging Blurrg. It’s finally official.

Kanan is my husband.

“Then by the power granted to me by the New Republic, I cement your bond, permanently declaring you husband and wife.”

Kanan and Hera slowly turn their gazes from Lux to each other, and Hera can see the depth of her feelings reflected in the eyes of the love of her life. Lux winks at Kanan. “If you like, you may—"

Hera steps forward at the same time as Kanan, grabs his shirt, and pulls him towards her, pressing her lips to his. Euphoria washes over her, her lekku buzzing with delight as they involuntarily twist into the position that communicates “I love you.”

We’re finally married.

She’d thought it might feel surreal or shocking, but instead, it feels nothing but right—like they’ve waited ten years for their relationship to finally reach its full potential. The satisfaction of anticipation finally being fulfilled is so freeing.

Kanan feels Hera grin into their kiss, and he breaks it just to see her expression in all of its glory. Her eyes sparkle with the same look that she gets when she’s flying as she looks up at him, her grin lighting up her whole face and causing his expression to mirror hers. They grin uncontrollably at each other, nothing but pure joy filling them both.

Kanan knows for certain that this is by far his favorite memory he’s ever had. He has a feeling he’ll be seeing that effervescent grin often in his dreams…and, hopefully, in reality as well.

He rests his forehead against hers, drinking in this heavenly moment. After a few seconds, he registers that there are other people in the cargo bay, and that they’re cheering like they’ve just won the war.

The couple turns to face their family members, each of whom is grinning almost as brightly as the two of them.

Sabine embraces Hera, and Kanan, with his enhanced hearing that came with years of blindness, hears her crow, “Finally!”

Hera laughs, still glowing more than he’s ever seen her glow before. Kanan is distracted from their conversation by Ezra coming up to him.

“Congratulations, Master,” Ezra tells him, flashing him an enthused grin. It hadn’t taken long for Kanan, once he’d come back to his family, to locate Ezra and lead the rest of the crew to him. Their bond still ran just as strongly as ever, a brilliant string connecting them, no matter how far from each other they might be. Kanan pulls him into a hug, and the surprise that ripples out from the kid makes him chuckle. “Thanks, Padawan,” he replies, grinning.

“This is amazing, Kanan,” Ezra tells him sincerely, sinking into the hug. “That you two get to be together and to be happy.”

Ezra’s voice cracks slightly as he continues. “Seeing her without you was really painful.” Kanan’s heart squeezes as he remembers the open wound of grief he had felt within both Hera and his padawan when he’d first returned. The wounds are healed now—but the echoes of a suffering too terrible to name still reverberate through them, leaving them changed from the way they’d been before the fuel pod had exploded. “This feels right, Kanan,” Ezra tells him, his voice thick with tears he’s obviously stifling. “You being back…you and Hera…like everything wrong with the galaxy is fixed again.”

Kanan blinks away his own tears, pushing down his rising tide of emotion. “We haven’t even won the war yet,” he reminds Ezra, chuckling slightly. “But yeah. It does feel that way.”

Ezra lets go, fixing Kanan with a fierce look that reminds the Jedi Knight just how much his Padawan takes after Hera. “We’re going to win,” he declares, confidence and belief rolling off of him. “I can feel it.”

“Feelings aren’t always right, Ezra,” Kanan hates to insist.

Ezra grows thoughtful for a moment. “Right. I know that. But this time…I can feel something coming.”

Kanan meets the eyes of his apprentice. “Any idea what that could be?”

“Yeah,” Ezra answers slowly. “Hope.”

“Didn’t know we were short on that,” Kanan remarks.

“Maybe we’re not,” Ezra replies, another Hera-esque look on his face. This one’s softer, yet there’s a hard determination behind it. It’s the same expression that Hera wears whenever she gets talking about fighting for those in need. “But lots of people in the galaxy are.” Kanan is hit hard by that. It seems that his habit of making things about him hasn’t completely faded. Or, maybe he now makes things about his family, too—but the galaxy doesn’t revolve around only those he loves, either.

“You’ve got more wisdom than I give you credit for,” Kanan tells Ezra, his respect for the boy deepening.

“Having a deep conversation in the middle of a celebration?” comes a smooth, bright, playful voice from beside them. Kanan and Ezra startle slightly. Ahsoka Tano shakes her head. “Just like Jedi,” she sighs, feigning disapproval.

“But you’re—“ Ezra begins, then stops short. “Oh. Right. Not a Jedi.”

“Correct,” Ahsoka agrees, smiling at him understandingly, a bit of mischief exuding from her. Kanan could tell that there’s a lot of youthfulness behind that cool, calm exterior that she keeps up. He’s had glimpses of it and wonders if she’ll ever become close enough to their crew to fully let her guard down. I’m sure Bonteri gets to see it plenty, Kanan muses, holding back a smirk. “My Master and I were never that type, anyway,” Ahsoka continues, her eyes taking on a tinge of sadness, though she continues smiling. “We preferred throwing banter back and forth to deep conversations.”

Kanan nods, attempting to communicate through his eyes that he shares in her grief and understands to a degree. It isn’t the same—in his opinion, Ahsoka’s Master’s fate is much worse than what Master Billaba suffered. A pang goes through him on his friend’s behalf, as it always does when he thinks about what she must be feeling, overcoming the exuberance within him for a moment. Ahsoka seems to appreciate his look, nodding almost imperceptibly. Kanan allows himself to slip out of his reflective mood and into the spirit of the occasion. “I would, too, but my Padawan can’t throw well for the life of him.”

“Hey, Kanan!” Ezra protests. “I can banter!”

“Maybe with Imperials, kid,” Kanan smirks. “But that’s not saying much.” Then he turns to Ahsoka, who wears an amused expression and seems to have something to say.

“Congratulations, Kanan,” his friend tells him. “You’re the right person for her. I’m so glad that the Force made a way for you two.” Ahsoka eyes flit across the room, towards where a certain brown-haired former Senator stands chatting amiably with Hera, and a slight smile spreads across her face. “Like it did for me.”

At that moment, Bonteri and Hera’s conversation seems to cease, and the former makes his way to where his wife stands next to Kanan and a grinning Ezra.

“You have all of my congratulations and best wishes, Kanan,” Bonteri tells him warmly. His accent closely mirrors that of an Imperial—but it lacks the Imperial sharpness and hardness.

“Thank you, Lux,” Kanan tells him. “For everything you did to make this happen.”

Lux inclines his head. “It was my pleasure. I know how difficult it can be to find someone to officiate these days.”

Kanan nods, knowing full well the depth of Lux’s understanding.

Zeb eventually claps Kanan on the shoulder, grinning triumphantly—“I knew you two were gonna have to do it sometime!”—and Sabine also treats Kanan to a hug. Even Chopper refuses to electrocute anyone all morning, bumping into Kanan’s legs every once in a while in a less aggressive way than usual. More like a Loth-Cat affectionately rubbing against his legs than some kind of demon trash can ramming into them. Rex is there, too—he seems to greatly enjoyed this ray of joy in the midst of all the darkness he’s experienced.

“Never been to a wedding before,” he remarks to Kanan later, as the whole crew, along with Ahsoka and Lux, eat lunch together.

“Makes sense,” Kanan replies after swallowing his spoonful of the stew that he’d created. He’d spent more time working on the lunch menu than his own appearance…nah, that wasn’t true. But the two had come close--and the food had turned out much better “You spent all of your time around either Jedi or other clones.” Rex chuckles.

“Right. Never thought I’d see a Jedi wedding, that’s for certain.” Kanan laughs, too. “Crazy how much things can change.”

“Yeah,” Rex agrees. “I mean, look at us. Who would’ve thought you’d invite me, of all people, to your wedding?”

“And Hera didn’t even have to make me,” Kanan purposefully, jokingly sounds mystified, then continues in a more genuine tone, “We’re happy to have you here, Rex.”

“Time sure changes things, eh?”

“Maybe. But so does earning someone’s trust.”

The two of them share a friendly smile.

Overall, it’s a great day. The best day. And it isn’t even over yet. Though they know they’ll have the evening all to themselves, Kanan and Hera can’t stop stealing glances at each other.

Hera relishes seeing Kanan so free from stress and heaviness. He seems so light, and the emotional warmth that usually emanates from him seems to have been amplified by a hundred. She can’t get enough of the twinkle in his eye, either, which typically comes and goes, but is staying bright and constant today.

Kanan can’t get over the effervescence of Hera. He’d thought before that she could never get any more beautiful than she already was, but she looks stunning today. Literally. Every time he looks at her, his brain seems to short-circuit.

They often glance at each other at the same time, which leads to them beaming at each other. Both of them are fully aware that everyone else notices, but neither Kanan nor Hera minds. Today is their day, and they fully intend to enjoy every moment.

The Empire has other plans, though. Just as everyone is starting to clear out and Kanan and Hera are going to have the Ghost to themselves, a distress signal goes up. Two Star Destroyers and a horde of TIE fighters have appeared out of hyperspace in a nearby system—a secret Rebel base on a planet there has been discovered. They need as many pilots as possible to jump into battle and protect the evacuees, since the pilots within that base are severely limited. As soon as Hera hears the message, determination infuses into her expression.

Kanan can’t help a twinge of bitterness and frustration that this has to happen. Today. Of all the kriffing days.

Kanan doesn’t project any of these feelings onto Hera, though. She wouldn’t be Hera if she hadn’t volunteered, and Kanan doesn’t want her to be anything or anyone else. As they run to their stations, she catches him completely off-guard and pulls him into the hallway of cabins and into an embrace. “I love you, Kanan Jarrus,” she breathes. “I love you I love you I love you.”

Kanan’s heart starts pounding faster than it ever does when he’s firing at Imperials or deflecting blaster bolts with his lightsaber. Hera lifts her head, fierceness sparking in her eyes. “You’re the best husband I could have ever asked for.”

Kanan laughs breathlessly. “I've barely been your husband for three hours.”

Mischief fills Hera’s jade-green eyes. “That’s debatable, love,” she tells him.

The ship lifts off from the ground. Kanan looks around wildly. “What—“

“Sabine,” Hera explains gently. “Oh.” Kanan fidgets with his hands awkwardly, then reaches for Hera’s. She lets him take her hands in his, and he tells her in that intensely low tone she so enjoys,

“I love you, Hera Syndulla.”

She inhales sharply, then a smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “I’d hope so.” She twists her hands to turn her tattooed wrists into his view. “since we’re connected now. More than ever before.”

“Now you have to keep me around, General Hera.”

There’s the fully expected eyeroll. Kanan’s grin fades as he hesitates. “You don’t feel…tied down, do you?”

At that exact moment, the ship shoots into hyperspace. Hera and Kanan stumble slightly, causing him to instinctively reach out to her arms to stabilize her, but his arms sting violently when they make contact with hers. He winces. Hera doesn’t miss a beat, as always.

“Thank you for taking part in that tradition, Kanan,” Hera’s gratitude seems to spill out of her as she admires his arms in wonder.

“Anything for you. You like them?” He asks softly. Hera nods. “I do,” she tells him, smiling, her word choice clearly intentional. Her smile remains as she continues.

“And in answer to your other question—not at all, love. I feel freer than I ever did before.”

“That's amazing to hear, Hera,” Kanan replies, once he can hear over his thundering heartbeat. Then he takes her hand and pulls her closer until their faces are inches apart. “Because nothing’s ever getting between us again.”

“We’re agreed on that one.” Hera’s defiance rings out, daring the galaxy to just try and separate them.

“Hera!” Sabine calls frantically from the pilot’s seat. Hera and Kanan run into the cockpit, Hera throwing herself into the pilot’s seat; Kanan jumping into the copilot’s chair.

They both know that this mission will probably steal away their evening; maybe even longer. But they’ve got an entire brilliant future ahead of them, so they’re more than willing to make that sacrifice.

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spectres-fulcrum · 3 years ago

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I came up with a Kallus centric(but not entirely)Rebels timeline???

I HATE how vague the timeline for Rebels is. Like, I really needed to have at least an idea of a timeline of how Kallus's defection/Fulcrum days went so I could start fic writing. So I started working things out. Here are the *important* dates from it(My longer timeline is on an entirely different site lol)

The main dating system for this is CRC, which is an in universe dating system. I acted like it's the Galactic Standard Dating System, which is known to have 365 days a year and 24 hour days so 12 months in a year is likely. In my mind, Yavin takes place in Month 3(When BBY rolls over, but Rebels doesn't know about that yet) and Empire Day in Month 5). The year is 797x and the month is the 1-12 under the year)

Image 1: Is pretty much self explanatory. In my headcanon, more emphasis is put on the prophecy and in the early early morning on Bahryn, Zeb wakes to Kallus curled into his side and he thinks of warmth and home and My Warrior in his sleep brained mind before going to back to sleep. They both think of each other too often late at night after that day. Ahsoka "dying" signifies the start of the 6 month timeskip between S2 and S3, which was a cue to me that I had free reign.

Image 2: Where things get spicy. Zeb spends the months after Bahryn pushing Kal to ask questions when they meet. Kal rebukes him, of course. But they're quick to get each other away from their allies so they can show that they can treat each other with respect. So they can drop the hatred want to kill act. Eventually, after a pushy day, Kallus looks things up as a kriff you, Zeb, everything checks out. Everything does NOT check out. Zeb was right. About that time, coincidence and fate stops putting Zeb and Kallus on the same mission and so Kallus just stews alone. Horrified by what he helped. Eventually, he's sent on a mission to oversee the transfer of slaves, which the Spectres are also at. The two sides tangle, and eventually, the shipping container opens and the slaves? The oldest is younger that Ezra was when they all met him the first time. Kallus doesn't support child slavery and gets Zeb away to slip him info to help the Spectres save the children. It's his first act of rebellion.

Two nights later, they meet at a hotel, Kallus and Zeb. Kallus picks an argument, says he hates Zeb but Zeb knows that he's just frazzled and his entire life is falling apart and he's thankful the Specrtres saved the children. After that comes a conversation about where Kallus' mind is at, which leads to Zeb trusting him with the Fulcrum frequency. Kallus never has to use it, can only use it for major things, or can use it as a spy but his only request is that Kallus doesn't snitch. Kallus swears he’ll never use it but he’ll never let it get into the wrong hands. In some versions, they share a messy first kiss that night, emotional and not thinking. Kallus tries to forget about the frequency, but when the Empire asks him to oversee a mission that will lead to thousands of civilian casualities, he calls it. Becomes Fulcrum. And it feels good. For the first time, he recognizes the man in the mirror. And he’s proud of that man. That man saved lives. So quietly, he decides to become a spy. Sato tells him not to tell anyone, but he wants to tell Zeb so badly. See the pride in the lasat’s eyes.

Season 3 timing can be fudged with a bit except for the bookends. I haven’t thought about S3 much. Zeb definitely doesn’t let the Spectres know how deeply he and Kal are involved, that he’s how Kal knew about Fulcrum because that night in a hotel-that was just for them. Eventually they-or at least Sabine and Hera and Rex- might find out. After they’ve been dating for a while.

S4 is interesting. Because Mandalore/Yavin eps take place at the start of the year, not too long after Zero Hour. But the Liberation of Lothal is basically an episode a day and has the changing of the BBY year. So the biggest timeskip of the series takes place during season 4. It’s perfect, for Kallus to bond with Zeb, with the Spectres and Rex, for trust to build. Feelings definitely turn real for Zeb and for Alek. But Alek has baggage and healing isn’t a straight line and he doesn’t deserve Garazeb and Zeb doesn’t want to rush him. They’re not dating yet, but they’re getting close to it when Zeb returns to Lothal-the words of no extraction team heavy between them. Losing Kanan and Ezra is a step back.

Hera’s pregnancy is high emotions for all that remains. But in the end, it’s a shorter pregnancy than a human’s and in the days leading up to Jacen’s birth on Lothal, Zeb and Kallus finally get their shit together(Sabine’s words) and gets together. Jacen’s birth is sad but joyful. Hopeful. Missing spots on the bed. A second beginning for their family.

#Star wars rebels #swr #rebels timeline #garazeb orrelios #Defection timeline #Kalluzeb #I have image 2 super in depth #Like events super fleshed out and stuff #Everything else is falling into place #That's my canon following timeline #And now I have a timeline if I want to do some canon divergences #Or some fun stuff like secretly dating during the Fulcrum era #I LOVE reading stuff happening after Bahryn

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whatapunk · 4 years ago

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Chapter 3!!

I’m not sure how well I did it (as dialogue and I do NOT get along), but writing drunken Kanan/Rhia/Hera banter was a blast for me. I’d also like to point out that I mention the Gorse conflict several times in this chapter and I think most people in the kanera fandom are familiar with that story, but if you haven’t read A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller you should give it a go! Especially if your soul needs every scrap of kanera you can find. As always, thank you so much for any likes and reblogs! You guys are the freaking best.

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: m for the profanity, possibly for non-explicit intimacy later

Word Count: 3217

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

Chapter 3

“Force, Rhia, that was delicious.” Kanan placed his fork on his plate and pushed it away from him, feeling more full than he’d been in months. She smiled her thank you at his compliment.

Kanan swirled the contents of his drink around, examining them before taking a sip. He could already feel the alcohol, and he was only one and a half drinks in. He thought back to nights at the bar on Gorse and how many drinks he’d put away all while still being remarkably coherent. He also thought of all the nights he’d spent on the floor of that bar and decided he’d made a good trade-off in his adulthood.

Rhia stood and collected the plates and utensils, taking them over to the sink. Kanan watched her, his thoughts back on the lost memory of her cooking him breakfast that had suddenly made its home in his brain again. He smirked and let out a quick chuckle, realizing the image of her standing at the sink now matched the one in his memory like a mirror- just, with more clothing. She looked back at him.

“Something funny?”

“It doesn’t feel all that different,” he started. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Us, I mean,” he explained. “I had all these things I thought up to say to you but then you were just…” he trailed off, unsure of his next words.

“Just what?” she asked. He shrugged but smiled down into his glass as he drained it for the second time.

“I don’t know. Just you,” he said, his voice just beginning to be swallowed by alcohol-induced giddiness. “I kept thinking about what I should say to you earlier when I was meditating,” he said, ignoring or just not noticing the increase in the height of her already raised brow. “But then I got here and you were making dinner and suddenly we’re just shooting the shit like I’m 22 and you’re…” he paused, frowning. “How old are you again?” he asked, surprised he’d forgotten. He blamed it on the alcohol. She grimaced.

“I’m glad you’ve forgotten,” was all she offered up as an answer. He moved on.

“I’m just saying, you haven’t changed. At all,” he finished. He could hear his tone shifting, becoming lighter than it had been all day. Again, he gave credit to the alcohol. Rhia smirked but otherwise left the comment unacknowledged.

“Since when do you meditate?” she asked as she rinsed the dishes off.

“It’s new,” was all he added.

“Is that a jedi thing?” He looked at her, a little surprised. Rhia knew who Kanan was, but it was still somewhat new to him to hear people talk about it openly.

“It is. I’m sort of a jedi again,” he said and laughed at his own statement. He reached back and rubbed his neck. “It’s weird.”

Rhia finished washing the plates and walked back over to the table. On her way, she grabbed the glass bottle off the counter. She poured her own drink and didn’t bother to look at Kanan. She capped the bottle and set it near the center of the table.

“You know, I don’t really drink… at all anymore,” Kanan offered, eyeing the bottle.

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhia replied simply, quite relaxed. She’d meant it; she had no interest in trying to get Kanan drunk, especially if it was happening as quickly as it seemed to be. However, if he chose to get drunk, she certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

Kanan reached out slowly and grabbed the bottle, a peaceful look on his face. He poured another drink for himself and took a sip.

“You’ll never believe this, but-” and he laughed, caught off guard by how funny his next statement would sound to Rhia. “I have an apprentice- a padawan,” he said, slipping back into his chuckles. Rhia’s mouth all but fell open.

“You what?” she asked in disbelief. “You have a padawan?” Rhia was joking, but she was also very serious. Kanan finished laughing and looked up at her, nodding.

“Yep. And you know, I’m not a half bad teacher honestly,” he said, feeling prouder than he expected to. It was Rhia’s turn to laugh. “I’m serious!” he protested.

“Kanan,” she began. “Who put you in charge of their child?” she asked in the middle of another fit of laughter. Kanan’s face remained tranquil, but he did get a little more serious.

“Well… he doesn’t have parents- not anymore,” he said. Rhia stopped laughing and her expression softened.

“Well that’s… that’s good of you,” she said and took a drink. The more somber moment passing quickly, she looked back up at him with sudden realization. “Shit Kanan, you’re not just a master, you’re like a father aren’t you?” Kanan let out a short laugh that morphed into a sigh.

“Yeah I.... I kinda am. We’re kind of like parents,” he said, his grin turning huge.

“We?” Rhia asked, interested. Kanan looked quickly down at his drink for another sip.

“Yeah uh,” he began awkwardly. “Me and Hera we’re kind of… together.” Rhia smiled at him.

“She’s pretty impressive, Kanan,” she said and he smiled back at her, letting out a breath. “Way too good for you,” she added.

“You are not wrong.”

“Though, I assume she still fits your type,” she said and Kanan immediately rolled his eyes.

“Rhia, I don’t have a type,” he said adamantly, but she’d started giggling. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be people with ‘daddy issues,’” he said, making air quotes. Rhia’s laughter filled the room.

Back on Gorse one drunken night, Rhia had begun taking a long oral history of Kanan’s ex-partners. After around a dozen stories that all pretty much began and ended the same way, Rhia surmised that Kanan seemed to be attracted to lovers who tended to have some either spoken or unspoken issues with their fathers. Kanan protested adamantly and continuously, and this had only worked to confirm Rhia’s suspicions. Upon inquiring about Rhia’s father, Rhia gladly told him that he’d passed away when she was a child. Kanan then accused her of lying to prove her point, much to Rhia’s amusement.

“So,” Rhia began, fighting down a burst of laughter, “you’re saying Hera has a really great relationship with her dad then, yes?” Kanan didn’t look up and tried desperately to hide the fact that he was holding back laughter. He took a drink, hoping to hide his creeping smile behind his glass. In the silence, they both eventually burst into laughter.

Kanan was definitely feeling it. His head felt like it was suspended in a bacta tank and there was a permanently peaceful look on his face. Having been so tense for weeks, this was undoubtedly a welcome disposition. There was something to be said as well for Rhia and the conversation they were having. Not only had it felt so nice to tell her about his family now, she’d made it feel so natural and ok. Not that he’d done anything wrong, but many exes could easily have turned bitter or offered fake support. Rhia, however, had been warm and normal. Telling her about Hera and Ezra felt just as natural as any of their conversations had been seven years ago. Still, there was no doubt- as much as the thought of Hera right now made his heart swell, his reverence toward Rhia in this regard had begun to sow seeds of conflict in him.

Their laughter subsided. Rhia met his eyes from across the table and the seeds began to grow. Kanan downed the last of his drink and gave all the signs of being about to leave. Just before he stood up, however, a very special voice spoke to him from the doorway.

“I wondered where you were,” Hera said, causing Kanan to go from surprised to smiling like an idiot in record time.

“Hera!” he said, and noted the volume in his voice had risen for no reason. He really couldn’t hold his alcohol anymore. Hera’s eyes widened knowingly, going from him to the bottle, and she smirked.

“Captain Syndulla,” Rhia stood up welcomingly and offered her a hand. “I didn’t really get to introduce myself earlier. I’m Rhia Denley,” she said, not seeming at all three drinks deep. She took Hera’s hand gently and the twi’lek returned a smile.

“Hera,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely get to meet a friend of Kanan’s,” she added. Rhia turned back to him and they both looked at him as he grinned drunkenly.

“That’s not surprising,” Rhia said. “He never had many of those,” and both women laughed at his expense. “Please, sit,” Rhia insisted, offering her a chair. She then went to the cabinet and pulled out another glass. Placing it in front of Hera, she began pouring. Hera held up a hand at a half.

“Oh that’s plenty, thank you,” and Rhia stopped obligingly.

“We were just talking about you,” Rhia began and Kanan shot her a look, concerned about exactly which part of their conversation Rhia was about to share. Rhia pretended not to notice. “I can’t believe Kanan has a padawan. You should have known this man on Gorse!”

Hera looked at him with pride, but she also took note of the fact that Rhia knew he was a jedi. She then realized Rhia had said “Gorse.”

“I did know him on Gorse,” Hera started. “Or, well, I met him on Gorse.”

Rhia looked at Kanan subtly and for the first time all night, the warmth in her face faltered slightly.

“It was after you… left,” Kanan offered, jumping in. “Maybe like a month after you left. I ran into Hera and swept her off her feet of course.” Hera snorted and Rhia followed.

“I know there is no kriffing way she followed you anywhere,” Rhia said, taking a drink. She turned to Hera, all but pretending Kanan wasn’t in front of her. “He was in trouble wasn’t he?” she asked flatly. Hera laughed.

“Something like that.” Kanan threw out his hands in dramatic disbelief.

“What? You were in trouble- we all were!” Kanan griped. Hera nodded, appeasing him.

“That’s true. Gorse was a mess,” she said and took a drink.

“What happened there?” Rhia asked. Kanan looked at her and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“You remember that explosives guy, Skelly?” At the name, Rhia threw her head back in a resounding affirmative.

“Skelly! Man that guy was a fucking wack job,” she said and Hera laughed, clearly agreeing. “You met him?” Rhia asked.

“Oh yeah. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I have to agree. Skelly nearly got us killed a handful of times.” Rhia was definitely interested now.

Over the next hour or so (eventually none of them was really aware of the time), Hera and Kanan regaled Rhia with how they met on Gorse and the entirety of the disasters and successes of that highly unplanned mission. Eventually Hera emptied her glass and didn’t object to another, nor did Kanan.

Truthfully, the drunker Rhia got the more her insides were a battlefield of emotions. Here she was with two people whose company she was enjoying immensely. But she couldn’t deny that everything that had once attracted her to Kanan was still alive and well. In fact, he’d only seemed to change for the better since she’d last known him. Additionally, she was falling in love with Hera almost immediately. The twi’lek had come off as calm and quiet, and while she definitely embodied those traits to an extent, she was also assertive and commanded attention, even when she appeared meek. Rhia understood why Kanan was with her, and she could only imagine the luck he felt at having met her, let alone being her partner.

Rhia poured another glass, attempting to drown her thoughts, at least until she could be alone with them. She’d lost count of how many drinks they’d each had, but the bottle was approaching its final drops, a sign that the number was quite large. Kanan’s eyes were drooping and she wondered how long he’d last before he’d try to sleep on the floor. Hera was feeling it too, but she’d paced herself and remained relatively composed. Her speech gave her away though; each drink she took seemed to chip away at her filter. It just made Rhia like her more.

“Did you know him when he was Caleb Dume?” Hera asked abruptly, looking at Rhia with an interested expression. Rhia was a bit caught off guard and looked to Kanan for a hint at how to proceed. He met her eyes but said nothing.

“I did,” Rhia started, “or at least I think he was between ‘Caleb Dume’ and ‘Kanan Jarrus,’” she offered. Hera seemed to be contemplating this.

“I didn’t go by ‘Kanan’ yet, but she outed me,” Kanan said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhia. Rhia rolled her eyes yet again.

“Hera,” she said, turning away from Kanan. “You should have seen this kid,” she started and a few drunken giggles made her pause. “You think he’s bad now? Everything annoying he does now, he did times a thousand when I met him,” and she slipped back into giggles with Hera. Kanan shook his head but smiled. Hera’s face lit up at a thought.

“You knew him when he was a kid?” Hera asked, excitedly.

“Well, not exactly. He was 17 but he was absolutely a kid that’s for sure,” she said grinning back at Kanan. “Though,” she went back to Hera, “if you told him he was a kid he’d get so offended,” she said and cackled with the twi’lek.

“He told me he hates that! Like, defensive much?” Hera said with a laugh. Kanan looked at both of them.

“I’m right here, guys,” he offered, but Rhia and Hera were still too busy laughing at the thought of young, defensive Kanan.

“Hera, do you know what this little teenager did nearly the moment he met me?” she asked. “Keep in mind, I’m quite a bit older than him and I was definitely too old for him when he was seventeen.” It was Hera’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh kriff, he tried to hit on you didn’t he?”

“Don’t tell me-” Rhia started, egging Hera on.

“He did the same thing to me!” Hera nearly shouted and the two women doubled over in laughter.

“Wow,” was all Kanan could say, returning to his glass. Eventually Rhia and Hera finished laughing and dabbed the tears from their eyes.

“So how did you figure out he was Caleb?” Hera asked.

“Well, at the time he was running with the smuggler Janus Kasmir,” Rhia started. Hera nodded.

“He’s told me about him.”

“So at the time I was part of a crew on a transport that he and Kasmir hired. Only,” she looked and spoke directly at Kanan, “they failed to tell us just how hot they were before we took off,” Rhia joked, as if she still held it against him. “I’d done some bounty hunter work before, so after even the slightest bit of research I found his goofy little face all over the holonet in an instant, and he hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself!” she all but yelled.

“I’d changed my look!” Kanan argued. “I’d started wearing a ponytail then,” he said with drunken confidence. Rhia and Hera shared a knowing look.

“He looked nearly identical,” Rhia continued. “So, I told our captain we needed to drop them, only-”

“He was a huge asshole,” Kanan cut her off. She snorted.

“Indeed. I didn’t tell him Kanan was a jedi, but he’d figured out that if I was so eager to get rid of them, he must be worth a lot. So, he intended to collect with the Empire. And do you know what this fucking maniac and Kasmir did to me?” she asked Hera, getting heated. Hera’s eyes were wide and she shook her head, invested.

“Look-” Kanan had started, but Rhia continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Those two idiots stunned me- even though I was going to help them! Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor of an escape pod with a crick in my neck!" she said, finishing her story with a drink. Hera frowned and looked at Kanan with goofy disapproval.

"Kanan!" she chastised him. He held his hands up in defense.

"We didn't know you were planning on helping us!" he spoke in a way that said this was not the first time he'd had to defend himself here. "The captain was your boyfriend. We assumed you'd just go along with him, so we took you hostage. And it worked!” he added. Rhia narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk.

“It did, but I hadn’t thought about turning either of you in until I woke up in that pod,” she said, laughing and lost in the memory for a moment. She drained her glass.

Hera watched the red-haired woman with great interest and warmth. She’d gleaned from their awkward meeting earlier that day that she and Kanan had some sort of history, and she’d felt the early pangs of jealousy when she’d found them here alone, drinking. But Rhia had a friendliness to her that seemed to quiet any other negative emotion in the room. There were still quiet thoughts in Hera’s mind relating to Rhia’s pleasing face and her tall, muscular frame that made her feel like competition. Not to mention, her vibrant hair, which seemed so deeply red at times and other times, when her movements caught the dim lighting just right, seemed almost reflective and chromatic. Regardless, Hera mostly felt like she’d formed a fast friend, and it was nice to be around another woman her own age. The alcohol didn’t hurt either.

“So what happened next?” Hera asked, interested in the end of the story.

“Well, we did a job or two together, just so I could get some cash now that I was crewless and shipless,” Rhia said, giving Kanan another quick look. “But it didn’t last much longer and I left him and Kasmir. Though, I did hear about some low-profile work on Gorse back then and I told him about it. I never thought he’d actually listen to me,” she finished, giving Kanan a small smile. There it was again, that competitive feeling inside of Hera.

“And then you ended up there at the same time, years later?” she asked, drawing Rhia’s attention back to her.

“Somehow, yes,” Kanan said, a little quieter than he’d been. A comfortable hush fell over the table. Three drunken adults sat, enveloped in warm intoxication and warmer memories. It hurt each one of them a bit to notice the emptiness of the bottle in front of them. The realization that the night was drawing to a close began descending on them, and Rhia, noticing the small bit left in each of their glasses, held up hers in a toast.

“To old and new friends,” she said, looking from Kanan to Hera. They both smiled back at Rhia and drained their glasses with her, adding the slightest bit of fog to their already foggy brains.

#i'm sorry this is so long #unless you like that #in which case you're welcome #star wars #star wars rebels #rebels #star wars fanfiction #rebels fanfiction #fanfiction #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #endings

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yomimio · 5 years ago

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Oh my God! pt 1 Mythology AU

A/N: This is an avenger x reader. English is not my native language so I apologize for any mistake. Italics mean that the character is thinking. The Marvel characters belong to Marvel, the gifs and images belong to their owners, I only own the plot.

Warnings: None

-Humans…- (Y/N) thought as she walked up the avenue of the city. -Always so noisy. I almost forget how rambunctious they can get…

She preferred the apparent tranquil of her domains, so full of life but so enormous that all the hubbub of it becomes an almost mute background harmony, yet it’s still there.

-Noisy and imaginative- looking up, the female stopped on her tracks as she came across one of the temples that these puny humans had erect on her honor. A big polished stone structure held up by many columns, and with a trident sculpted on the pediment.

She could only just hold her laugh as she caught a glimpse at her representation situated, on a little pool, inside of the temple. Cold, marble eyes stared right back at her, set above a frowning mouth covered by an abundant beard. Going down, the flat, pale, naked body rested upon a stone, coming out of the water, holding up in its hand a trident made of solid gold that shined under the orange light of the late afternoon. Don’t get her wrong, the statue was beautifully made, the artist was great, really, but, for her, it was a little too…well, male.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) continued her journey navigating through the sea of people that were out for walks, socializing, hearing the philosophers debate, or buy some goods on the stands of the market. Swimming through the busy agora at that hour was no easy feat, people were not always at their politest and the vast amount of white clothes could make someone lost their path.

-“Make way, γυναίκα!” (woman)- yelled a big and sweaty aristocrat while shoving her, and sending a dirty look in her general direction, not really acknowledging her. –“Damn these wandering fools, standing on the path of the higher ups! We better not arrive late for the elections at the Forum”

-“They should learn about social propriety, right μέλι?” (honey)- The jeweled woman on his arm spat, looking down on (Y/N).

The water on the cups and basins of nearby merchants started to ripple as (Y/N) stumbled and to an upright position after being thrown out of balance by the rude humans. The thought of following him and drowning him when he went to drink crossed briefly her mind, but was put off by the remembrance of the meeting she had to attend. He was probably already waiting for her…Leave it to him to be there at the agreed upon hour, not a minute early, not a second late. Calming down, she continued her upwards path towards the shinning temple on the top of the hill.

Overlooking the city, the temple was beautiful, but smaller than her own to her secret delight. Sleek columns and clean lines, supporting a red roof with an owl on the pediment, that gave protection to the sculpture of a woman in battle armor and with a round shield by her feet. In the shadow of the great marble woman was waiting, serious faced, her meeting for the evening.

-“Oh, Wise One! Do not look at me with that guise, Great Athena, for I might cower upon your immense grace!”- (Y/N) doubled at the waist on a mock bow.

-“You should’ve been here in time, I wouldn’t be upset at you. You are 6 minutes late, Poseidon”- said the figure, crossing their pale arms, the frown on their face deepening in an attempt to suppress the light smile threatening to show at her quirkiness.

-“C’mon!! Six minutes! That’s nothing compared to the span of our lives! Don’t be like that, Steve! I’ve been mauled over by unrespectful pedestrians, ignored and looked down by them too…not to mention that I’m out of the water! And all of this for you!! Why won’t you give me a good-heartened greeting and gift me with one of your beautiful smiles, Virgin Warrior? It’s the least you could give me…”- She dramatically complained, clinging to one of his big muscled arms, distracting her momentarily from her pained feet, not used to wearing any kind of foot-wear.

-These arms thou…- She thought, lightly squeezing.

-“So what was so important that you called upon this goddess to rise from the sea? Has some pitiful quarrel taken place between you and Hephaestus? Fighting for the love of Ares again? Should Hermes run with the notice for the gods to assemble again, ready for battle? Maybe Aeolus should still the winds for war? Or Angelos warn her brother of the incoming mass of dead mortals that are to swarm their realm when this is over? Should I rise the waters again to drown the souls of- mphmm!”- he put one of his big hands over her mouth stopping the rambling.

-“Would you just let me speak? By the Titans (Y/N)! Stop!”- He laughed at the frown on her face. Huffing she released his biceps and took a step back from his body.

-“Well when you only have sea-life to talk to, you become a little bored. They only have just about enough themes to engage in small talk, never anything too deep. And then, the nymphs are just the worst. Real gossipers. The only good thing is that I get to know what happens out of my oceans…”- (Y/N) pouted, admiring how the fading light of the day created lovely shadows on the very female representation of her friend in the center of his temple.

-“You know that you’re always welcome at Olympus, you’re always very welcomed at my house, (Y/N)”- his sapphire eyes softened, looking at the young goddess, his family love for her shinning through. Love reflected with the same intensity by her own eyes when they locked with his.

With an audible sigh, she said- “I know, Steve. But you know how I feel out of the waters…”.

-“Like a fish out of the water?”- he joked lightly, making her smile, and both laugh a little.

-“Very funny, Pallas Athena. But, now, really, what happened? Another fight with Tony?”

-“No, he’s good. Pestering Hera, as always…”

-Poor Pepper- She thought.

-“Is Hecate why I called you. We’ve been planning a party for his nameday. I thought that Circe and you could arrange a distraction for him while we prepare the feast and Persephone does the decorations.”- He hummed with a low voice, knowing that you weren’t exactly Stephen’s biggest fan.

-“Really? You called me out of my home to play a fair monkey for that man-witch?”- (Y/N) held a little grudge towards Strange since he turned her pet dolphin on a grabby octopus that wanted no other thing than constantly cling to her face, shooting her clean white robes with his black ink. It was her favorite chiton, and the stain lasted for weeks!! How dare he!!- “You know what he did to me!”

-“(Y/N), please, Circe can’t do it alone. And you know that if you are there, his attention will be on you only. We’ll be free to do our part”- he pleaded- “it’s only for a few hours, and it’ll be worth it. Almost all of our schedules meet for the first time in a long time. We’ll be able to be together for other thing that is not war. We all need it.”

-“All of us will be there? Even Zeus?”

-“Yes, Thor too”

-“Bia? Asclepio? Dolos? Dike? Apoll-”

-“Apollo, Nike, Artemis, Hera, Hades, probably Macaria and Menoetes, Tique, Dionysus, Nyx, Aeolus,… and yes, Ares too”- he said with a knowing smile.

She shifted in the temple shadow to try –and fail- to hide her light blush from the blonde.

-“Okay… but just because I don’t want to leave Wanda alone to distract Stephen. The Titans know what could await us if those two decide to have a go to see whose powers are the best…”- she conceded avoiding the god’s amused eyes.

-“Of course. That’s very kind of you Poseidon. The party will be due in a fortnight, come to Tony’s at the Olympus. We will be there to start the plan.”- he explained, giving her an hug and turning to leave.

-“M’kay. ‘til then”

-“Until then, yes… Oh! And dress up nice, he’s coming back from war!”

And with that he turned into an owl and disappeared on the already dark sky, leaving (Y/N) behind, trailing to the ocean in hopes for it to help cool down the warmth that surged in her cheeks and ears at his insinuation, and to slow down a little her racing heart at the prospect of getting to see the God of War’s breathtaking azure orbs.

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veritascara · 7 years ago

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Clarity/Sight

Part 2 - Sight

Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Teen/2.4k words (this part) Separate, they’ve both been blind. But together, they can truly see. A fix-it fic in two parts for Jedi Night and Dume. Now completed.

A/N: Thanks again to @uhura-ismylastname for betaing this!

This portion focuses on the episode Dume. Spoilers apply through the series finale. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Read on AO3

Kanan rolled over on the sleeping mat, and reached his arm towards the other side. His hand met only cold stone. A brief moment of panic tore through him before he stretched out his senses, and found the object of his anxiety just a few feet away. She knelt in front of the small stone table, where just the day before he’d set aside his mask and cut his hair. Preparing for the mission.

Preparing, he’d thought, for his death.

The mask had been unceremoniously tossed aside, and Hera’s kalikori stood in its place. The hair was nowhere to be found. Her hands worked with a small, unfamiliar wooden object, and her being radiated a level of peace and joy he wasn’t accustomed to.

“You’re finally awake,” Hera said, without turning. “Ezra came looking for you hours ago, said he needed to go meet someone. He also said you stayed awake the entire day and most of the night watching me sleep.”

Kanan sat up and ran his hands through his hair, still surprised by the shortness. “Uh, yeah, about that . . . What do you remember about what happened yesterday?”

Hera turned at his question and sighed. “A lot of it is a blur. Images and flashes of things. But a few things are very clear.” She paused a moment, and her voice turned accusatory, “You didn’t think I’d forget that you almost jumped out of that gunship to go fight back the fire alone, did you?”

“Maybe that wasn’t one of my brighter ideas.” Kanan chuckled. “Ezra was right. We were stronger together.”

“I also remember what I said,” Hera’s voice softened, “and I meant it—every word.”

“Hera, you don’t have to—“

“No, Kanan, it needs saying. I had a lot of time to think about this in Pryce’s office. I know I’m not always very good at it. It’s hard for me, but I will work to be better,” her last words were barely above a whisper, “for you.”

The mere mention of Pryce’s office and the state he’d found Hera in the night before made his blood begin to boil. Something of it must have shown on his face because Hera laughed a bit and held out her hand to him. “Come here.”

Kanan crawled the couple meters over to the low table and knelt, mirroring her position—their knees mere millimeters from touching. Hera’s hand grasped his own, the softness of her own ungloved fingers sliding across his callouses. She turned it palm up, and deposited the small object she’d been working on into it, wrapping his fingers around it.

He rotated the pyramid in his hands, his fingers dancing over the smooth surface to feel the delicate, etched lines marking its edges and faces, the slick bands of freshly dried paint. “What is this?” he asked, though a tiny part of him knew the answer. It was almost too much.

Hera released a deep breath she must have been holding. “It’s you.” Her gaze drifted from his face to the kalikori on her left, his right, and he followed with his own eyes, tracing the various shapes on it with the Force and feeling the weight of its history, of the many hands that had held it in the past, that had carved it and assembled it together, piece by piece, with love.

Kanan’s heart leapt at the confirmation.

“I don’t know how to ask this. There are words I’m supposed to say, things I’m supposed to do, but it’s been so long that I . . . I don’t really remember them, just a vague idea of what they are supposed to be.” She faced him again fully, and grasped both his hands in her own. “I spent years running away from both my past and my future. It’s hard to believe that your own future even exists when you’ve seen it torn apart before—when you’re afraid it might be torn away again.”

Her focus drifted back to the kalikori and trailed over two pieces in particular, one after the other, reminding Kanan that in all their years together there were still many things about her past she’d never told him.

And many things he’d never told her.

“Hera . . .”

“But then you almost lost me. And I almost lost you,” she continued hurriedly, tripping over her words. A surge of anxiety pulsed across their joined hands as she spoke, betraying just how difficult it was for her to get these words out.

“I can’t know how much more time we’ll have together. But you have always been there for me. And you—you are my family, Kanan. And I . . . I want us to always be family. Not just like we are, but . . . officially.” She nearly choked on the last word, and Kanan felt slightly guilty for relishing it.

I thought you’d never ask. You said some of that last night, you know—glad it wasn’t just the drugs talking. Are you sure they aren’t still in your system now? A half dozen sarcastic remarks to lighten the mood flitted through Kanan’s mind, and before his mind could catch up, the most brazen one slipped out. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were asking if I’d marry you.”

Hera gaped for a moment, and then laughed. The tension that had surrounded them like a heavy curtain shattered into a thousand motes of dust and dissipated into the air.

“Yes, love. I guess I am.”

“Well, you’re not the first, but you’ll definitely be the last,” he joked.

“I can only imagine,” Hera replied, unamused.

“So, uh, what do we need to do?”

“There really isn’t . . . much. We attach your piece to mine together, then say a couple lines. But are you sure?” She paused and took a deep breath, her hand tightening around his own. “On Ryloth, when the pieces are joined, they can never be taken apart again.”

“Hera—” He sobered, and his tone became serious. “I knew I would follow you anywhere from almost the moment I met you.”

Almost. Minus maybe a rotation or two.

Hera nodded. Not for the first time, Kanan wished he could truly see Hera’s eyes again, to delve into their depths and read everything there she’d left unsaid, everything her fears still held her back from saying with her lips. But he would content himself with the feelings radiating from her, with all the words she had managed to get out that had lain bottled up inside for years on end.

When she found her voice again, she continued, this time their hands moving in unison to the kalikori to follow her direction, “Together we attach the charm to mine.” She matched the small pyramid to a rectangular piece on the left side with an unused link below it.

The piece snapped into place, their hands joined around it.

Something in the Force rippled, and he could almost hear a new future snap itself into place as a result.

“Then you say, ‘I join myself to you to be your family—”

“I join myself to you to be your family,” he echoed.

“As long as the world stands—”

“As long as the world stands.”

“May we never be broken.”

“May we never be broken,” he finished.

“Then I reply.” Her eyes bore into his own, the nervousness in her bearing fading quickly, replaced again with calm certainty. “I join you to myself to be my family. As long as the world stands, may we never be broken.”

Their fingers interlaced around the piece. A rich silence surrounded them, their own breathing the only sound in the cave, only the ancient glyphs on the walls as their witnesses. Wolves and loth cats and people of long ages past. How many years—millennia even—had they stood here watching? The permanence of stone in an impermanent world of burning grass.

Tentatively, Kanan reached his other hand up to Hera’s cheek, cradling it in his palm. She leaned into his touch and smiled against his hand. “I have one other thing I need to give you.”

He froze for a second, but then relaxed again as he remembered there was simply no way she could know—not yet.

“What now? A loth cat? A hot cup of caf? Or have you got something more energetic in mind?” he drawled.

Hera rolled her eyes. “Definitely better than a cat. You know how I feel about those. A cup of caf does sound heavenly, but we’re low on supplies. And as much as you might like something much more energetic, we’re in an open cave, so all I’ve got for you is this.”

In one fluid motion, Hera leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, the force of her passion slamming into him like a tidal wave. He had no choice but to surrender, to let himself be carried away by the current. For she herself was a force of nature, and years of experience had taught her well how to bring him to his knees.

At the moment quite literally.

Her kiss was as bold as her confessions had been tentative. No shred of hesitation remained in her actions, and he followed her lead, kissing her back with fervor and wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer—the need to feel her pressed against him, to absorb her into his very being, as innate as needing oxygen in his lungs. He sighed with relief at the feel of her warmth flush against him as they rose up on their knees together, their lips and tongues continuing their exquisite, choreographed dance.

Rapidly, the world around him dissipated, his usual awareness contracting with each passing moment. The rolling grasslands, the towering mountains, the distant voices, even the cave itself ceased to exist in his mind, until all that remained of the galaxy was Hera and himself.

Hera, kissing him.

Hera, running her fingers through his shorn hair.

Hera, joy and hope and desperation rolling off her in such turbulent waves that he didn’t need the Force to feel the maelstrom of her emotions.

Instinctively, he poured his own back in response—anguish at her potential loss, adoration for everything she was and everything he knew she would be, and most of all love—deep, abiding love for the woman who had believed in him when he had long lost any belief in himself.

She always had believed. She always had loved. He could see that now.

He could see. Images blazed through his mind, sharper and more vibrantly colored than any memory he could conjure, and dizzying in their array. Glimpses of the past.

A woman in a cloak on a darkened street with a voice that surpassed any music he had ever heard before.

“Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”

Hera running ahead of him, hand intertwined with his as she dragged him along, the bright green of her lekku flying behind her as he dashed to keep up.

Their small, but growing, chosen family, struggling to survive in the midst of war.

“I have you.”

Glimpses of possible futures.

A spark of something new and unique in all the galaxy.

“He has hair! And it’s green!”

The face of a small boy who has filled all his recent meditations. Blue eyes always turned towards the stars.

Hands clasped together across the cockpit of the Ghost as something enormous blazes in the sky.

“The war is over, love. We've won,” she says. He wraps his arms around her.

“She’s beautiful.”

Tiny, soft green lekku with rich, brown braids woven carefully around them. A mind and heart connected to the universe.

"No, little one, reach out with your feelings not your hands. Like this, see?”

“I see, Daddy.”

Three small stones, suspended in the air.

“Ow!” Hera’s sudden exclamation, punctuated with a burst of pain, yanked him out of the Force and back into the present, and he broke the kiss and jerked his hand away, realizing too late that he’d pressed it tight to the back of her head to pull her closer without thinking.

Her own hand flew up to the angry bruise he knew lay concealed under her cap, and she winced.

“Sorry about that. I got carried away,” he said sheepishly. “You all right?”

Hera nodded, taking a minute to collect herself. Her breathing was ragged and heavy, cheeks flushed and warm. She pressed one more quick kiss to his lips, then let her forehead rest against his. “Guess we’d better find ourselves a private location again soon. After I’ve fully recovered from my concussion.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he teased.

“You’d better.”

“Hey, enough of that. Time to go.” Ezra’s voice and approach startled both of them.

“Ezra, you’re back!” Hera exclaimed.

“Yep, and you’ll never believe what I’ve brought. Come on, I want to show you.” He jerked his thumb towards the cave entrance behind him. He stood tall and radiated confidence, something of the boy he’d been before replaced overnight with the man he was rapidly becoming. A leader in his own right.

“Guess I’d better get everyone’s recon reports.” Hera sprang up, and Kanan followed suit. With one quick glance back at him and a small smile, she surrendered his hand and walked out of the cave. His own ached at the loss, but he could no sooner slow her down, concussion or no, than he could stop the wind itself. She held her head high, any weariness she must have still felt from the prior day’s events concealed, her indefatigable strength and hope carrying her onwards.

“Ezra.” Kanan placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder before he could exit likewise. “Thank you.”

Ezra nodded, his eyes acknowledging the wordless depths underlying his master’s thanks. Then he strode away.

For a moment, Kanan remained behind, letting the history of the place and the promise of the future, carved in wood and standing alone but not forgotten in the center of the space, permeate his being. The images he’d seen now floated just beyond his grasp, but the feelings they’d left remained, one burning brighter than all the rest—the feeling of something safely nestled away, a star in its nebula, minuscule, but exponentially dividing.

And that future was his to live.

Then Kanan walked out of the cave and into the breaking light of dawn.

#kanera #kanera fic #star wars rebels #swr fic #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanan x hera #ezra bridger #clarity/sight #my fic #kanan lives #everybody lives #pure and unadulterated wish fulfillment #(this is where that tag REALLY applies)#swr spoilers #star wars #rebels

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bedlamsbard · 7 years ago

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Last December I posted several scenes from the Backbone ‘verse, set during the Felucia operation that’s mentioned several times in Backbone. Here’s another one, set about a month after the previous one; this is six or seven months after Kanan came back fro the Crucible the first time and three and a half years before Backbone.

Previous: 1 | 2

About 5K below the break. Note that there’s sex in these scenes!

Kanan woke up clear-headed for the first time in what felt like months.

He stayed where he was, his eyes closed, trying not to lose that clarity. He could feel the sheets against his bare skin, the place where the pillow had wrinkled beneath his cheek, the ache in his bad shoulder that sometimes came with wet weather. Somewhere in the distance Chopper roamed the otherwise empty corridors of the ship, grumbling to himself, and the Ghost’s air circulation clicked softly. The room still smelled a little of wet wool and mud, omnipresent in this season on Felucia and impossible to eradicate as long as they remained on the planet.

He was achingly aware of Hera in bed beside him, the way the mattress dipped under her slighter weight, the familiar scent of her skin, the warmth of her body even through the space between them, the steady sound of her breath. Kanan traced the image of her in his mind, the way he had done thousands of times at the Crucible or in the field, then turned his head and opened his eyes, because this time she would be there.

She was. She was lying on her side facing him, her features made soft by sleep. Kanan put his hand out but didn’t touch her, letting his fingers follow the empty air a bare inch over her shoulder, down the line of her arm. He was achingly aware of exactly how it would feel, but drew his hand back anyway, not wanting to wake her.

He shifted over onto his back instead. He could sense the encampment around them in the Force, could have picked out each stormtrooper and Imperial officer in the Force if need be, but he didn’t need to now, nor did he want to. He had been made to before in training, but there was no one here now who would think to give him that order.

It was early yet, dawn not yet pricking the horizon – he could feel that in the Force too, this part of the planet still largely in slumber. Largely. Not entirely.

Kanan turned his head to see Hera blinking sleepily at him. She smiled when she saw him looking at her and he returned it, then leaned in to kiss her, soft and closed-mouthed.

“Hi,” she murmured against his lips.

“Hi yourself,” he whispered back. “Sleep well?”

She nodded, reaching out to touch his arm, her fingers light and a little wary. This time Kanan leaned into her hand, feeling her smile against his mouth before he kissed her again. He didn’t touch her otherwise, but he was achingly aware of the warmth of her body, of the space between them – how easy it would be to breach that space.

“Good morning,” Hera said as they drew back for breath.

Kanan tipped his forehead down against hers, unable to keep from smiling and unwilling to try. Hera trailed her fingers down his arm, her smile growing as he didn’t pull away, and wriggled just a little – enough to make him aware of the curve of breast and hip and lekku, if he hadn’t been already.

He touched her for the first time, sliding a hand over her hip, stroking his thumb over the stretch of bare skin between her tank top and her underwear. Hera drew in her breath and then exhaled; they were so close together he could feel it.

“Can I?” she whispered, waiting for him to nod before she touched him. She put an arm around his shoulders to pull him close and slid her other hand up beneath his shirt, her fingers skating over his scars without lingering.

Her hands. Her breath. Her body. Her bed.

Kanan kissed her again, deeper this time, Hera opening her mouth to the kiss. He felt her shift to press her bare foot against his ankle and when he didn’t protest slid it up until she hook it over his calf, drawing him even closer to her.

“I love you,” she said against his mouth.

“I love you too,” Kanan murmured back. He moved his lips lower, skating along the delicate line of her jaw and then, as she let her head fall back, the curve of her throat. He could feel the delicate flutter of her pulse, knew for an instant how easy it would be to snuff out, and shoved the thought aside with an act of will that left him shuddering, face pressed against her shoulder as he got his breath back.

“Love?” Hera asked, her voice low. She touched his hair, her touch light and soothing. “Do you need to stop?”

“No,” Kanan said, but it took him a moment. He kissed her collarbone against to make up for it, concentrating on her, on the warmth of her body and smooth silk of her skin, on the way her breath hitched as he worked his way downwards with his mouth.

Hera shifted onto her back, tugging him along with her to settle between her thighs. Kanan let his breath out, then kissed the slope of her breast, just above the line of her top. He mouthed at her through the thin fabric, scraping his teeth over her nipple to make her gasp, her fingers clutching at hair that was still too short to grasp. Kanan grinned and repeated it on her other breast, then pressed a kiss to the space between them and continued kissing his way down her belly, pushing her shirt up as he did.

Hera was breathing hard, her hands still on his head – not holding him in place, but there, a pressure Kanan found comforting rather than oppressive. As he touched his lips to the skin just over the band of her underwear he looked up at her.

“Yes,” Hera said, raising her head so that she could see him. “Yes, Kanan, yes.” She reached down so that she could help him pull her underwear off, wriggling out of it and nearly kicking him in the head as she did so.

Kanan huffed out laughter against the curve of her hip and she shoved gently at his head, then caught her breath as he bit her. It was light, his teeth barely catching on her skin, but she shuddered, her delight a flurry in the Force. Kanan nuzzled his way lower, breathing in the familiar scent of her, smiling as she slung one leg over his shoulders.

Her hips bucked up as he mouthed at her, gasping, “Kanan –” into the still air of her cabin. He rubbed his thumbs over her hips, not holding her in place, just letting her know that he was listening, and did it again.

Hera cried out, her heel digging into his back as she fisted her hands in the sheets. Kanan felt her pleasure reverberate through the Force, utterly unexpected; he hadn’t slept with anyone he cared for since he had been dragged kicking and screaming back into the Force. It was easy to concentrate on that, on her – the taste of her, the way she felt, the sounds she was making, the way she kept trying to grab at his hair, her fingers skating off the short brush that had grown back.

“Love you,” she was saying, “love you, Kanan, I love you, Kanan, Kanan –”

Her thighs clamped down on either side of his head as she came, her back arching up off the bed as she clawed at the sheets. Kanan caught his breath as it flooded the Force, dizzy with her, with her delight; it was more intoxicating than any liquor. As Hera relaxed and released him he rested his head against her thigh, listening to her pulse as he breathed in the scent of her.

She touched his hair lightly, smoothing over the curve of his skull. “Come here,” she whispered. “Kanan, please – come up here.”

He raised his head to smile at her, but her expression was serious. It was an easy request to acquiesce to, and when he reached her, Hera wrapped her arms around him, pressing a hungry kiss to his mouth.

“I love you,” she said between kisses. “So much –”

She moved one hand; distracted by her mouth, Kanan couldn’t think where until he felt her long fingers pressing against him through his underwear. He drew in a sharp breath.

Hera met his gaze, her expression a little uncertain.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Kanan said hesitantly.

“Neither have I,” Hera said. She smiled, shifting a little to press the inside of one thigh against his hip. They were so close together that he could feel the heat of her, but she didn’t move her hand, waiting for him to respond. “I think we can figure it out.”

Kanan huffed out laughter that made her grin back at him. “If we can’t we might have a problem.”

“More than one.” Hera leaned up to kiss him again, tugging insistently at the back of his shirt. Kanan helped her pull it off over his head, unable to help the way he tensed as her gaze went to the scars on his chest and stomach.

He sat back on his heels as Hera pushed herself upright, watching her warily. But she smiled at him again, leaning forward to kiss the lightsaber scar on the edge of his collarbone, her fingers tracing the claw marks that tore across his ribcage.

“That must have hurt,” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

She followed the scars down to where they vanished beneath the band of his underwear, then glanced up at him. He nodded, and Hera hooked her fingers into his underwear, pulling it down. She faltered for an instant when she saw the scar on his thigh, but didn’t say anything, just kept going. Kanan kicked it aside when he could, trying to calm his quick, nervous breath.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Hera murmured.

“It’s all right,” Kanan said. He reached for her, then hesitated, feeling absurdly shy.

Hera smiled at him, then reached down and pulled her shirt off over her head, taking a moment to free her lekku when they got caught in the collar. She set it aside and turned back to him, heat flushing her cheeks.

“You’re beautiful,” Kanan said quietly.

“So are you.” She looked up at him through her lashes, then took his hand. She guided it to her breast, her gaze fixed on his.

Kanan leaned in to kiss her again. She put an arm around his neck, drawing him close, and he rested his other hand on the curve of her waist.

He had dreamed about this, in the black pit of the Crucible and in the field with the Hunter, on narrow bunks on starships or sleeping out beneath the open sky. He had dreamed about Hera in his arms, in his bed, about the sweetness of her mouth and the warmth of her body, of the sounds she made when he was inside her and her sheer delight when she took him. More than half the time he had woken from those dreams gasping, possessed of the cold terror that the Hunter had seen them, that he knew where Kanan fled in the prison of his own mind.

Not here, he thought. Not again. There was no one else in their bed except the two of them.

He drew Hera into his lap, her smooth skin warm under his hands. She came eagerly, her lips curved into a smile against his mouth before he kissed her. Kanan could feel the heat of her, could smell her arousal – could sense her eagerness and her desire and her hope in the Force, as well as a thread of fear that something would go wrong. So many things had.

“I love you,” he told her, and felt her smile widen.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

Kanan laid himself open to the moment, to this moment. Whatever had happened or would happen in the future was irrelevant; he was here now – they were here now – and that was what mattered.

“All right?” Hera murmured; she must have felt him hesitate.

“Yeah,” Kanan said, and kissed her again. “All right. Better than all right.”

Hera walked into the tent for the morning briefing hoping that it wasn’t blindingly obvious that she had spent the past few hours having sex for the first time in a year and a half. A lot of sex. The fact that she was on her feet at all felt like a minor miracle at the moment; her legs were like jelly.

She accepted a cup of caf from a protocol droid, then found a chair on the end of a row near the back and collapsed gratefully into the one next to it; she left the end chair for Kanan, who had stayed behind on the Ghost to do his daily check-in with the Crucible. He always liked having a clear line of escape and it wasn’t like anyone except her wanted to sit next to him anyway.

She was early; the other officers and ISB agents were still filtering into the big tent, along with a scattering of astromech and protocol droids, Chopper not among them since he had, as he liked to put it, “better things to do.” That and he had been banned from the briefings unless specially requested because Commander Betzios had had a run-in with him back on Naboo.

Hera tuned them all out, which wasn’t difficult; all she could think about was Kanan’s mouth and Kanan’s hands and Kanan’s body –

She truly hadn’t been certain that he would ever be able to touch her again.

She was sitting there replaying the morning’s events and ignoring her cooling cup of caf when someone dropped into the empty chair beside her. Hera glanced up, starting to smile, then realized it was Markus Anjali instead of Kanan and just stared at him.

Oblivious, he said, “Hey, Hera.”

“Hello, Markus,” she said, because some response seemed to be expected.

“You seem…different,” he observed. “Happier. Did something happen?”

“What?”

“You keep smiling.” He looked at her hopefully. “And your headtails are, uh, bouncier than usual.”

Hera’s hand flew to her lekku, which she had as usual wrapped up in crisscrossing strips of gray leather. Damn her lekku; she knew Markus couldn’t read them the way another Twi’lek could, but evidently he didn’t have to.

“I’m fine,” she said. Movement near the entrance caught her attention, the flare of black leather rather than the more conservative motion of ISB field grays or stormtrooper armor, and Hera looked up to see Kanan come in. His gaze went directly to Hera without having to scan over the rest of the crowded tent; he didn’t smile, but there was the suggestion of it around his mouth before he turned towards the command staff. They looked a little alarmed at his approach; none of them actually enjoyed interacting with him and preferred to use Hera as an intermediary instead.

Markus grabbed her arm. “Mother of Moons, Hera,” he said. “You actually fucked him?”

“Excuse me?” Hera snapped, trying to pull her arm free, but Markus was holding on too tightly for that.

“That thing is barely human!”

Hera slapped him.

The crack of her palm hitting his face cut cleanly through the murmur of conversation in the tent. Hera wrenched herself free and jerked to her feet, knocking over both her chair and her mug of caf. Markus was on his feet too, reaching for her again and saying, “Hera –”

He stopped abruptly.

There was a sudden sense of restrained violence in the air, an overt threat so strong that Hera’s lekku tightened and her fingers twitched for her blaster. Markus had gone absolutely still, his whole body tensed like a tandreed caught in the headlamps of a speeder; he was staring over Hera’s shoulder with the expression of a man seeing the angel of death approaching.

Hera turned and saw Kanan.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even reached for his lightsaber, but he was watching them both with the dark, unreadable eyes of a predator. Commander Betzios, beside him, had her attention on him, not on them. Her hand was on her blaster.

His voice only a little higher pitched than usual, Agent Das said, “Everything all right, Agent Syndulla, Agent Anjali?”

“Everything is fine,” Hera bit off. “We were just talking about the results of the latest smashball game.”

“Perhaps keep your sport discussions somewhat less heated in the future,” Agent Das said. From his expression, he knew that whatever they had been talking about hadn’t been sports.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Hera said. She expected the tension in the tent to dissipate after that, but instead it just got worse, everyone still staring alternately between her and the front of the room.

Kanan was still watching her, his attention steady. Waiting, Hera realized, for her cue either to stand down and return to whatever he had been doing before, or to murder Markus Anjali out of hand and then return to whatever he had been doing before. And everyone in the tent knew it.

Hera knew suddenly that if she told him to, by word or gesture, Kanan would kill Markus without so much as an instant’s hesitation and sleep soundly through the night – or at least as soundly as he ever did.

She caught his eye and shook her head a little. His only response was to blink once in acknowledgment, but Hera felt the air of tension in the tent dissipate somewhat; Markus let out an audible sigh of relief. His voice barely more than a whisper, he said, “You see what I mean?”

Hera snorted, retrieved her fallen caf cup, and left the row. She passed the mug off to a protocol droid and found another seat on the opposite side of the tent; the handful of officers already in the vicinity got up and moved away, leaving Hera sitting alone with a circle of empty chairs around her. She folded her hands in her lap, shaking with fury; she wasn’t certain if she was angrier at herself or Markus or even Kanan, for making her stand out like that.

Kanan eventually finished what he was saying to the commanders and came over to her, though he hesitated for an instant before Hera gestured at the seat beside her. He sat down, smoothing his tabards out with careful, nervous motions, and slid a glance sideways at her.

Hera relented enough to say, low-voiced, “I’m all right. I overreacted.” So did you, she thought, but didn’t say it – and the truth was that Kanan hadn’t done anything except stand there. He hadn’t threatened Markus, not really, even if everyone in the tent was aware that that was had happened. There was nothing anyone could prove.

He nodded solemnly, his eyes still worried. Hera glanced around to make sure that no one was watching them and reached for his hand, touching her fingers briefly to his. “I can handle myself,” she said.

Kanan nodded again, his head tilting in something that Hera had learned meant “apology.”

“Would you have done it?” she had to ask him, even though she wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer. Even though she was fairly certain she did know the answer.

He nodded.

“He’s an Imperial officer!” Hera hissed. “In a room full of Imperial officers!”

His voice soft, Kanan said, “It wouldn’t be my first time.”

Hera stared at him, appalled. Kanan glanced aside.

She was saved from having to come up with a response by the beginning of the briefing. It turned out that the information Kanan had relayed to the commanders had come from another Inquisitor on their own assignment, revealing that Count Ghoshal’s conspiracy went deeper than they had previously believed. That meant complications and reassignments and some strategic upbraiding of the people who hadn’t found this out earlier. It was the sort of detail that should have been uncovered by the ISB, not the Inquisition.

When they had finished, Kanan went to speak to the commanders again. Hera hesitated, but Agent Das made a gesture of dismissal in her direction and she followed the rest of the officers outside into the thin pale light that broke through the cloud cover. Kanan would come find her when he was done.

“Hera –”

It was Markus, which as far as Hera was concerned showed that his survival instinct wasn’t good enough for fieldwork. His skin was too dark to show whether Hera’s hand had left a mark on his face, but as she turned towards him he held his hands up and said, “I just want to talk.”

“I don’t,” Hera said. She made to walk away, but Markus stepped quickly in front of her. He didn’t try to grab her this time, she noticed. “What?”

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “We all are – Leshan and me and Cado, whenever he gets back from the capital. You –”

“Why?” Hera demanded, baffled.

He looked surprised. “We’re your friends.”

Hera stared at him. “What?”

Markus squinted at her, apparently uncertain whether or not she was serious, then decided to ignore her outburst. “Listen, Hera,” he said. “I know you and Jarrus used to have a thing –”

“‘A thing’?” Hera repeated disbelievingly.

“– but that was a long time ago.”

“It was last year.”

He looked at her earnestly. “Cado’s worked with this Inquisitor before, and he says –”

“Cado’s what?”

Since they had arrived, Hera had only seen Cado San Mara briefly; he had almost immediately been sent back out on assignment to Felucia’s capital, where he was lurking around Count Ghoshal’s residence and pretending to romance the Countess. As far as Hera knew, he hadn’t even seen Kanan in the short time he had been in the Imperial camp.

“Remember when Cado went on that op last year, the one he didn’t like?”

“No.” Hera didn’t remember most of the year she had spent at HQ, presumably due to the fact that it had been mindnumbingly boring and she had been so miserable she had barely been aware of that, let alone anything else around her. She wasn’t about to admit that to Markus, though.

“Well, there were Inquisitors on that op – two of them, a human and an alien, one of those big gray ones with the lines –”

“A Pau’an.” Hera looked away, wondering if he was getting at something; there were sure to be other humans in the Inquisition besides Kanan. Then she blinked and looked back at Markus, remembering who it was that had taken Kanan away on Naboo. “A Pau’an?”

After this morning, Hera was intimately aware of all Kanan’s new scars, some of which were – very characteristic of certain species. She wasn’t about to ask how he had acquired them.

Markus lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You know all these aliens, who can tell.”

“It isn’t actually that difficult.”

He ignored her. “Cado won’t talk about it much, but he said it was bad. Unnatural.”

“Cado thinks that everything without a rational scientific explanation unilaterally accepted by the faculties of at least three universities is unnatural,” Hera said wearily. She liked Cado a great deal – for one thing, he had never propositioned her, since he preferred men – but he did have his blind spots. They usually involved a lack of empirical data and double-blind reviews.

“That’s not the kind of unnatural he meant.” Markus glanced back in the direction of the tent they had just left, adding grimly, “And I can’t say I disagree with him.”

Hera crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not exactly being convincing, Markus, even if I wanted to be convinced. Which I don’t.”

“Hera –”

“Even if Cado did work with Kanan, why wouldn’t he have told me about it? There are a lot of Inquisitors. Cado’s never met Kanan. It’s not like he would recognize.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’d tell me anything if you think it would work,” Hera said. She took her head. “Markus…I don’t care. Whatever you think – about him, about me for wanting to be with him – I don’t care. I love him. I’ve loved him since I was eighteen. I don’t care what you or Cado or Leshan or anyone else here thinks about that.”

Markus’s brow knit. “Hera, you don’t have to – you have options, you know.”

“I don’t want options,” Hera said. “I want him.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. He put his hand out, fingers tracing up the line of Hera’s arm from elbow to shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve you. Whatever is left of him that is a he, and not an it –”

“Take your hand off me right now,” Hera said, low-voiced. “Or you’re going to get slapped again, and I don’t care if I go up on charges for it.”

Markus hesitated, then let his hand drop. “Hera –��

She saw Kanan emerge from the tent, already looking around for her. He frowned when he saw Markus with her, but didn’t come over, just stepped to the side so that he didn’t block the entrance and waited for her.

“What I do or don’t do is none of your business, Markus,” Hera said. “Not now, not ever.” She clenched her jaw, then added, “And before you say someone’s not human as an insult, you should probably remember who you’re talking to.”

He looked startled. “What?”

Hera stripped one of her gloves off and held her bare palm up to him so that he could see the green skin.

“I – that’s completely different! I mean, you’re practically human, you’re not like other aliens.”

“I’m practically human?” Hera spat. “That’s your idea of a compliment?”

“It is a compliment!”

Hera stared at him, open-mouthed, then, because she couldn’t think of any response to that, turned and walked away.

“Hera!” Markus called after her, but she didn’t look back.

Kanan stepped towards her as she approached, his eyebrows arching. Hera tipped her head in the direction of the Ghost and he fell into step beside her, automatically pacing his long legs to her shorter ones.

“Please tell me we have an assignment that’s going to take us out of here for a few days,” Hera said. Her fingers were shaking as she pulled her glove back on and did up the snap on the wrist.

He shook his head, expression apologetic.

“A few hours?”

This time he nodded, and Hera felt some of the tension release from her shoulders. “I’m all right,” she added to the question in his eyes. “I’m just angry. And I love you.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“I’m not angry about that,” Hera said. She looked up with gratitude as they approached the Ghost and the ramp came down, Chopper perched in the entrance screeching angrily about how they had been gone forever and it was boring in here.

“You could socialize, you know,” Hera told him, which got her a stream of angry invective in response. He rolled away without waiting for her reply.

Hera hit the control to raise the ramp; as soon as it closed, she put her arms around Kanan’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. A moment later she realized that that might not have been the wisest thing to do, but he was already kissing her back, his hands bracing her waist.

“I love you,” Hera repeated when she drew back to catch her breath.

He dipped his head to kiss her again, soft; Hera felt him mouth the words I love you too against her lips. She had the feeling that having to have an extended conversation with the commanders had probably exhausted his ability to speak for the foreseeable future. He was normally all right when it came to the field, or at least Hera hadn’t seen him trip up yet, but it told on him afterwards.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if what Markus had said about Cado’s assignment last year was true, but she wasn’t sure that she really wanted the answer. And – she didn’t want him to backslide, which she knew was a possibility when it came to talking about his time at the Crucible.

She kissed him again, quick, then held out her datapad to him. “Where are we going? Can you give me the coordinates?”

He nodded and took the datapad from her, punching the numbers in before following her up the ladder to the cockpit. As Hera dropped into the pilot’s seat and checked the coordinates against the ship’s maps of the planet, she said, “Do you think I’m practically human?”

Kanan blinked. His voice rusty and a little pained-sounding, he said, “What does that even mean?”

“According to Markus Anjali, it’s a compliment.” She punched the coordinates in with more vigor than necessary. What she didn’t want to say was that a few years ago, it would have been a compliment.

“Hera,” Kanan said carefully. He was hesitating around the words, but Hera could tell it was because it hurt for him to speak, not anything else. “I have never wanted you to be anything but what you are, and what you are is perfect. You’re not practically anything. You’re wholly yourself.”

Hera smiled. “You’re just trying to get into my pants.”

His mouth twitched. “Is it working?”

She snuck a glance out the viewport to see if anyone was watching them, then leaned over to kiss him quickly, curving her palm against his cheek. “We’ll find out tonight, love.”

He grinned, and kissed her again, quick.

Hera sat back in her chair, warming up the Ghost’s engines. “For now,” she said, “let’s get out of here.”

#kanera agents of the empire tag #cut scenes and concept writing #backbone behind the scenes #on the edge of the devil's backbone #as always comments are appreciated

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gkingoffez · 8 years ago

Text

The Sun Comes Shining In My Eyes

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Words: 1,858

Summary: Kanan asks Ezra to describe the sunset to him. It doesn’t quite work out that way.

AO3 | FFN.Net

The sun was setting over Chopper Base. Kanan knew this not because he could see it, but because a dusk chill was starting to creep under his clothes and he could feel the long warm dying fingers of the sun sliding down his mask-less face. He also knew it because Ezra was standing at his shoulder, trying and failing horribly to describe it to him.

“Well really, it’s all just a whole lot of orange,” Ezra was saying, and Kanan could sense his arms flailing about as if to punctuate his words, the effect, of course, entirely lost on Kanan. “Well, orange and yellows and pinks, but there’s also a bit of blue and purpley stuff in there as well. And it’s all kind of… smushed in together, really, bluer colours on top and orangey ones on the bottom. What’s that word? When more than one colour all blends in together in a line?”

“An ombré?” Kanan supplied helpfully, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s all an omber thing. Ombré? Ombré’s everywhere you look, but the colours are all soft and making everything else like the sand and the rocks look like they’re glowing. It’s putting all those big plant things in shadow and makes them look bigger and darker and more ominous than they actually are. And that other planet’s up there as well, in the blue bit. All blue and shadowy and… big? Is this any good at all?”

“I would say no, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Kanan replied, turning to grin and bump his shoulder playfully against Ezra’s.

Kanan expected a snarky reply, but instead Ezra sighed, long, frustrated and tired. His next words were slightly muffled, as though he’d scrubbed a hand down his face and kept it there.

“I’m terrible at this. You should have asked Sabine to do it, she’s the artist. She could probably use all those fancy art words and describe it so good you’d get the perfect image of it all in your head. I’m useless.”

There was a note of bitterness in Ezra’s voice that Kanan recognised immediately. How often over the years had he felt like he wasn’t enough, not strong or talented enough to help someone he cared about, even for the smaller things like making Hera the perfect cup of caff on a rough day or describing a simple sunset to someone who couldn’t see it.

Ezra sighed again. “It’s just so beautiful, Kanan, all the colours are amazing. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” Ezra said with such longing in his voice it made Kanan’s heart ache.

Besides the shining light of the holocrons, Kanan hadn’t seen anything other than impenetrable darkness since he’d lost his sight. He’d made peace with it some time ago and had even found a new and different sight in the Force, but there were occasionally moments he wished he could experience through his own eyes.

Today, the sunset had become one of those moments- he’d found himself earlier that day wistfully regretting the many setting suns that had gone by without proper appreciation in his life before Malachor. That was why he’d dragged Ezra along with him to Zeb’s hangout spot (apparently the best place to watch it on the base, or so Zeb bragged), and why they now stood side-by-side in the dying light. Perhaps he could have asked Sabine to accompany him, and maybe he would do just that another day to get her more artistic perspective, but for that evening he had wanted nothing more than to hear Ezra’s view.

Kanan reached out and gripped onto his padawan’s shoulder. “Okay. How about we come at this from a different angle- forget how it looks. How about you tell me how it feels.”

Ezra shifted under his hand, confused.

“Feels?”

“How does the sunset make you feel? When you look at it, what emotions does it evoke?” asked Kanan. “Tell me what you feel… I want to know,” he added softly.

He felt Ezra’s gaze on him for an extended moment, before it shifted back frontwards. Kanan kept his own sightless stare firmly on where he knew Ezra’s face to be.

“It feels… um. Warm? Comforting? But also a little cold, like the warm is being taken away? I mean, it is, but... no, that’s stupid.”

Ezra paused there, clearing his throat, and Kanan knew he was frowning from the tension in his shoulders. The kid stayed silent for long while, long enough that Kanan started to feel the need to try and break the awkwardness that had settled between them.

However, Ezra beat him to the punch.

“It feels different than on Lothal. The sun is warmer here, and there are probably different things in the atmosphere, and obviously there’s so much less green in the landscape. But it’s still mostly the same, the same colours, anyway. A lot of things are different here, but the oxygen is breathable and I have you guys here with me so it’s not bad-different. The sunset feels… well, it does feel comforting to watch. It’s soft and bright and hopeful, and- I feel hopeful when I look at it.”

Ezra drew in a deep breath and noisily released it before continuing.

“It’s like- Kanan, there are so many terrible things out there in the galaxy that want to kill us, but here we are now watching the sun go down and it’s so beautiful. It makes me feel peaceful, it reminds me that beautiful things still exist in the galaxy, natural things that the Empire can never destroy because it’s impossible. That’s a good thing to know, that not even the Emperor himself can stop a sunset being beautiful.”

Kanan found himself smiling, a swell of pride burgeoning in his chest.

Ezra broke out his reverie with a shake of his head, and barked out a laugh. “Or maybe I’m looking too deep into it. I mean, it is just a sunset. They happen every day on nearly every planet in the galaxy.”

Kanan knitted his eyebrows together and turned his head away. Behind his eyes, there was nothing but blackness. The sun could be dancing a cantina dance and drunkenly sauntering towards the horizon for all he knew. It was a big galaxy, who’s to say that couldn’t happen.

“Not for me,” he whispered.

There was a heavy silence. He couldn’t tell what Ezra was thinking, but he knew his words had upset him.

Ezra’s next words were tentative.

“Do… do you want me to show you how it makes me feel? Might be better than me trying to explain it with words, anyway. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.” He laughed awkwardly. “Actually, you know what, forget I said anything, never mind. It’s stupid.”

Kanan considered the offer, reaching up to stroke at his beard. It was a kind proposition to be sure. Immediately, he thought of turning it down. There was no point in an exercise where he would only feel envious that he couldn’t experience a feeling for himself, and besides, it wasn’t fair for him to try and live vicariously through Ezra.

But that other part of Kanan, the part that wistfully missed sunsets, rainbows and Hera Syndulla (also known as The Most Beautiful Sights In The Entire Galaxy) ached for it with all the fierceness of an exploding supernova.

The second part won out, and he sighed, nodding. “Actually, I’d like that very much, Ezra. But only as a one-time deal, there’s no point in making it a habit. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

Kanan felt a hand touch his shoulder and then an arm reach around his back and grip onto his waist. He obliged by lifting his own arm up and completely wrapping it around Ezra’s shoulders, locking their sides together, before allowing his padawan to direct both their attentions to the space in front of them.

“Open yourself to the Force,” Kanan instructed. ”We are all connected by it, you and I most especially. Find me in the waves of energy that surrounds us, and forge the connection so I can see what you feel. You’re good at connection, Ezra, I know you can do it.” Kanan wasn’t exactly sure when this had turned into a lesson.

The warmth was starting to fade with earnest from the air, the sunset probably fading with it. Ezra nodded in understanding and began slowing down his breaths to a meditative pattern. Kanan mirrored him, closing his eyelids out of habit more than anything else.

They stood there breathing in unison for a short while.

At first the feeling was slight, approaching timidly through the ebb and flow of the Force, and Kanan opened himself up to its embrace eagerly. Suddenly, he was swept up in a tide of feeling; it was warm and tingly, and safe. Hopeful, like Ezra had said, and awash with the feelings of soft bright colours- blues and oranges, pinks and purples. Kanan felt almost overwhelmed by how beautiful the feeling was. He missed sunsets like a long lost old friend. He missed a lot of things he’d never be able to see again.

As quickly as it had come, Ezra’s sunset receded back into the folds of the Force, and Kanan was almost surprised to find himself back on Atollon, Ezra on his side and Zeb’s hideout of stacked crates and chairs behind him.

“Kanan? Kanan, is that okay, was that too much?” Ezra asked, voice thick and concerned.

Kanan chuckled, feeling warm all over despite the bite of cold in the air. “No, it’s fine,” he said breathily, “Ezra, thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ezra sniffled quietly, and Kanan felt him furtively try to reach for his face. He probably thought he was being sneaky about it, but Kanan knew without needing to see that Ezra was crying. He gave the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay. You’re right, you know. The Empire will never be able to take things like this from us. They can’t take our hope, no matter what they do.”

Kanan turned towards and reached around with his spare hand to ruffle at Ezra’s short, slicked back hair, before gently cupping the boy’s cheek. He used his thumb to wipe a tear away. Ezra ducked his head, probably in embarrassment, but didn’t push away Kanan’s hand by any means.

They both turned back frontwards and stood there for a few minutes, until Kanan could feel the last rays of sunlight travelling down his legs towards his toes. The approaching night time had most likely already dulled the bright hues of the sunset, so Kanan shifted his attention to merely enjoying half-hug that neither Ezra nor he had yet broken off from.

The sun must have been gone completely over the horizon by the time Ezra suggested they head back. Kanan didn’t see it, but he felt it in the chill in the air and heard it in the chattering of Ezra’s teeth.

“Thank you,” he said again as they headed back. He imagined Ezra grinning in response.

So this was intended as both a soothing balm for that last fic I published and as something nice because I don’t know about ya’ll but I’m really sad Rebels is ending.

This started with just wanting to have Kanan wipe away Ezra’s tears, and for some reason it became beautiful fluff instead of angst like all the others????

(An alternate title for this fic is ‘Fucking Nerds Watch The Sunset And Cry Like Losers And It’s Really Cliché’.)

#star wars rebels #swr #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #swr fanfic #my writing #im just *tears up* so into this show and these idiots

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