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Kanan doesn't join Hera in the cockpit as she makes the jump to hyperspace. He mutters something about checking on the Phantom, he makes little effort to focus on the maintenance calculations, and before he knows it Chopper is shooing him away, leaving him to wander back to the lounge.

He takes a seat by the Dejarik board, leaning forward and resting his palms on his knees. His mind goes, unbidden, to his old breathing exercises - the enveloping silence of space, his eyes set, unfocused, on the metal floor, and their cool, familiar voices rush back to him, even as he tries to push them away. Kanan feels like a thirsty man refusing a drink of water, a strange feeling, since for so long pushing it away, ignoring it, had come so easily. There had seemed to be a mutual apathy.

But it didn't feel so apathetic anymore.

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Enough time passes for Hera to make sure Chop has things well in hand, though he grumbles and blats as she leaves the pilot's seat and makes her way into the interior of the ship.

If Kanan were practicing his usual techniques of withdrawal and avoidance, he'd be --

Honestly the lounge is one of the last places she expected to find him.

"Kanan, there you are. Do you have a minute?"

It's not exactly a suggestion, because they really need to have a talk. Those Stormtroopers --

He glances up to her, then lets out a breath as he looks down again.

Reluctantly, Kanan answers, "All right."

"Don't sound so excited."

Her voice is wry, for a second, as is the curve at one corner of her mouth, but it fades.

Slowly.

"You have to know I wouldn't press if it weren't important."

He does know. But somehow this frustrates him. He can feel his desire to lash out, at Hera, at those lost voices, at the pull he feels like an incoming tide, all converging as though cornering him.

See your fears, and let them wash away.

Steadier, "Say what you need to say."

"Maybe it's something you need to hear."

This isn't going to be easy. No one talks about things like this, because it's dangerous. Because the Emperor is still looking for Jedi, and for Force-sensitives, and because --

Because if she doesn't do this right, something might break here. Hera really doesn't want it to.

"This can't go on. You're hiding part of yourself, and while I can guess the reasons for it, it's starting to damage our work. We almost didn't make it back today."

Edited 2017-04-07 13:49 (UTC)

He listens, leaning back in the seat and looking over to Hera.

"If I didn't hide it, we'd never make it back."

Right, so that's how it's going to play out. Shift the ground, shift the terms, don't let him retreat behind belligerence or a front of stolid incomprehension.

"You're hiding it from me."

She folds her arms, shifting all her weight to one hip.

"It's turning out to be mission critical, Kanan. If you hadn't managed what you did with the Stormtroopers, we would have been clapped in irons and interrogated for days."

It's only the truth. Even if part of her says they would have figured another way out. That part is the more prideful and stubborn piece of herself, and she tries not to let it rule her these days.

"And I saw you hesitate when we met with our contact. But you didn't say anything. It's happened before."

"I'm sorry, Hera."

Apologies were rare before Hera. Lengthy or honest conversation, even more so. And this -

"I spent half my life steeped in the Force, and in my training, and then... half running from it like my life depended on it."

Because it did, in every moment. Even if he knows Hera, even if he trusts her with his life. These are words you never think, let alone speak.

"And I don't know how to bring those together."

"You won't find out without trying."

It's work to keep much gentleness out of her voice -- she's afraid it would sound too much like pity to Kanan's ears -- but she can't manage to suppress it all.

"I'd like to help, if I can."

There is no try.

The phrase puzzles him now, as much as it did when he was young. Kanan knows it was meant as guidance, but now it echoes, hollow, in his mind. Try, or do - he doesn't know where to start.

Await orders. And if nothing comes -
Perhaps the answer will come to you in another form.

"Hold on," he murmurs. Kanan rises, and walks out of the room, his footsteps sounding down the hall, toward his quarters.

He doesn't take long. When he returns, he's holding what looks like a box, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Kanan watches it for a moment, and then it rises from his grasp, floating in the air between them, spinning gently. It looks as though it were made from gold, with blue stone inset, holding a light that flickers like a heartbeat.

Even knowing what she knows, and more of what she's guessed, Hera is a little taken aback by the floating.

(She was also more than slightly worried his 'hold on' presaged him walking out and coming back closed-off. That would be hard to take, and she'll think about what that means at a later time.)

"Is that -- ?"

No, she doesn't even have a guess for this.

"What is it? "

Edited 2017-04-09 18:40 (UTC)

"It's called a holocron."

It takes little effort to make the holocron move. With the voices, the knowledge of its many contributors breathing within it, it was something that, like the Force, seemed to have a life of its own.

"The - we used them to store information. But I haven't used this one since..."

He trails off, but the holocron seems to follow his thoughts. Its corners detach, floating out and orbiting in slow circles, and the flickering light at the center growing to a bright white. Above the central piece, a hologram blinks into life, showing a man in Jedi robes.

"- with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning -"

Bathed in blue light, Hera watches the Jedi Master -- because that's what he calls himself -- wondering in an absent corner of her mind if Kanan knew him, what he was like, what they were all like --

And what it felt like to have that all ripped away, gone beyond recalling.

"- not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. We will each -"

"This is what saved you?"

Hera keeps her voice quiet, something about the holocron, the message from the probably-dead Jedi, Kanan's own obvious lack of comfort, calls for it.

Something changes in his face; his eyes are on the hologram, but he seems to be look through it.

"- we must persevere. And in time, I believe -"

"A lot of things saved me."

The message ends, the hologram flickering out, the corners of the holocron drawing back into it. The light within it fades, and it floats down, landing with a soft thud on the Dejarik board.

"Those were the last instructions I received from the Order." His eyes are still down, toward the empty space where the holocron had been, but then he closes them, and shakes his head. "I wasn't like you, Hera."

Not like me?

"No, I know. A lot of things saved all of us, at one time or another."

It seems important to get that out there, to make it clear that she knows history is complicated. But what still isn't clear --

"But I don't understand, Kanan, what you mean when you say you weren't like me. Of course you weren't. And aren't. We're different people, with different histories and talents. Just like everyone."

"No, no, I mean -"

He lowers his head, pressing the bridge of his nose for a moment.

"I had always followed instructions, or orders. Even when I questioned them, I never doubted them. I responded to situations, but I -"

Kanan lowers his hand, opening his eyes and looking back to her.

"- I never took initiative, the way you do."

"Oh."

Well, then.

She smiles a little, just the softest quirk of one corner of her mouth.

"Can I say you've been a quick study, then? You just need to trust yourself more. And -- "

Well.

" -- trust me, too, not to hurt you with what you tell me. Trust doesn't really come from the head so much as the -- "

This has really gotten awkward suddenly, and her tongue feels like its tripping over itself even as her brain fails to pull in any other word but this one.

" -- heart."

Kanan folds his arms. It's probably a better idea than reaching out to her, which was his first thought. He does return her small smile, but before he answers, his eyes are drawn back to the now quiet holocron.

"I do trust you."

He knows he can't say the same about himself. His mind flashes back, far back, to the shadows crisscrossing the room, the cool air of the temple, his master's voice. Am I damaged goods?

Maybe he couldn't resolve his self-doubt. But he could still take steps forward. He lets out a breath.

"We need to talk about how we're gonna do this."

"We do," Hera affirms quietly.

She moves up to position herself more at Kanan's side than in front of him. Hopefully that makes it feel less like a confrontation.

"Doesn't have to be now, though. It seems like you've just started really thinking about this again, and we have a little time. If you need to take it."

He shakes his head.

"We don't know how much time we have."

"Maybe until lunch?"

She raises one eyebrow, folding her arms again and settling her weight on her heels.

"Though I make no promises."

But seriously.

"You plan to start practicing your skills, I hope? Because as it stands now I'm not sure you know what's rusty and what's not. Or how rusty any of it is."

"Doesn't sound like I get until lunch."

He gives her a brief, sideways grin, though it fades quickly.

"Then if I do this, how will we use it? You can't fly with a known Jedi, Hera."

"I can fly with a charismatic man of the people that has good instincts, though."

Her smile is less faint, this time.

"I sort of already do."

"Okay, I'm gonna remember that you said that."

And in another moment, he would have lingered on that a little more. But -

"But I'm serious.

"I am, too. I'm not kicking you off this ship, Kanan, which means for some I'm already flying with a known Jedi. There's no need to do any of the really fancy tricks, but -- "

She exhales.

"You need to stop hesitating to tell me, or to react, when you get a feeling about something. And -- the thing with the Stormtroopers today -- if you could do that faster when we're deep in bantha droppings -- "