Saga - PT Beginnings |Kanan/Hera AU |FanFic Olympics pentathlon

Oh the realization came to Kanan too late! Her joy at seeing him again was undisguised and his puzzlement and needing to keep an alias intact plus the years since they last saw each other caused the pause before the memory of who and when he'd seen her.

 

WOW Kanan saw her but now she is gone again

 

Ah, well….since this is only the fourth of five parts, I’d say the chances are pretty good that they’ll still get back together. (And you know me, I love happy endings!)

Thank you so much; I am always glad to get comments from you, whenever they come. I have to say that one thing I was glad about young Hera’s appearance in The Bad Batch was that it proved her lekku markings are natural and not tattoos. I can see these patterns being unique to each Twi’lek, and hers are certainly striking enough for Kanan to remember them as belonging to the young girl who’d befriended him. It’s entirely possible that Hera is still mulling the possibility that Kanan and Caleb are the same person—as you say, it’s not impossible during this period of time for someone to need to disappear, especially a someone on the Empire’s list of “traitors”. And that do-over meeting…could be just around the corner.

I am always grateful for lovely comments like yours.

I loved how much Kanan chafed at being considered “the kid” in the comics. He’s still a kid, but he’s already been through a (literal) war and lost friends, just as Hera has lost loved ones to the war. I think their both at an age where they want to do something more, because they’re totes mature and all that. And yet at the same time, the beauty of their friendship is that it lets them be the kids that they really are.

Oh, yes….

Thank you :blush: I think Kanan’s curiosity here really does come from a sincere desire to understand, and even if this isn’t quite the Jedi way of looking at death, the kalikori represents a way to remember and celebrate a loved one’s life that isn’t inconsistent with Jedi philosophy.

Some of those bugs become features over the years.

It really is; in the turbulent times they live in, finding some to share those simple moments means so much.

I am woefully behind on TCW, and it’s only recently hit me that, yes, the clones look and mostly act like grown men, but chronologically, they’re in their early to mid teens. So you just know they were all in for teasing and pranks and other hijinks, much to Caleb’s occasional mortification because he totally is not a kid and Hera is totally not his girlfriend (yet…). She already means a great deal to him, though, and I couldn’t resist having his token to her be similar to the beads on the kalikori that means so much to her.

Caleb meant a great deal to her, too, and for him to meet such an ignominious death is a blow. Hera’s a smart cookie and can tell there’s something not right about the official line on the Jedi, and that makes it all the worse.

Thank you so much! I know it’s taken a long time to get here, but I hope you will enjoy the last installment of this story.

 

Thanks to @Findswoman for her invaluable encouragement and suggestions that have made this final chapter possible
———-
Part 5: Reunion

Hera.

She’d recognized him. It had been eight years since they’d last seen each other, and she’d still recognized him. How…?

Kanan knew that the smart thing to do would be to head straight back to the farm where he worked, pack up his meager belongings, and head as far across the Galaxy as he could, as quickly as possible. He couldn’t risk that she would mention this encounter to anyone. And it wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d packed up and run. He’d become accustomed to pulling up stakes whenever local politics got too hot or whenever he felt like he was becoming too attached to anyone or anyplace. He’d gotten very good at running away over the years.

So why did he want nothing more than to call out to her—he could still see the tops of her lekku bobbing through the crowd—to call her back and spend a moment with her, maybe even have a cup of caf or a meal together as friends? It was foolish and probably dangerous, but Kanan didn’t want to let the chance slip away.

A bitter laugh rose in his throat. What was he thinking? What could he possibly say to Hera? What kind of friendly conversation would that be? How those same clone troopers who rode blurrgs with them had turned on him and Master Billaba on Kaller? How they’d shot her down as she sacrificed herself so he could escape? How he’d become a con artist and thief to survive? How he drank himself from one odd job to another trying to forget? He could only imagine Hera’s face when he told her his sordid tale. No, it wouldn’t be right to burden her that way just so he could have a moment’s happiness. Let her hold on to whatever fond memories she had of her young friend Caleb, and not see the sad drifter he had become. Kanan turned to go.

A sudden flicker in the Force made him pause.

Even though he’d neglected his Jedi training for years, Kanan still felt occasional twinges of movement in the Force. Sometimes he paid attention to them, sometimes he drowned them with a shot of whatever alcoholic beverage was handy. Most of the time, they were no more than the buzzing of an insect or something tugging at his sleeve—insistent and annoying, but easy enough to ignore. This time, though… the Force was apparently taking pains to make sure he didn’t ignore it, because this disturbance was like being smacked upside the head.

There was a commotion behind and Kanan looked back to see stormtroopers shouldering their way through the crowd—not the usual patrol, but half a dozen bucket heads, E-11s out and ready, along with a pair of gray-uniformed officers. Kanan tensed, his hand going to his blaster, as he tried to calculate the best escape route among the throngs of shoppers in the crowded market.

But the Imperials stopped before they reached him. The taller of the two officers, a cadaverously thin man whose pinched features had all the warmth and charm of a rabid fyrnock, thrust a datapad in the face of a luckless Rodian shopkeeper, demanding “You! Have you seen this woman?!” From where he stood, Kanan could just make out the image on the datapad; it appeared to be a grainy still from a security camera of a slim figure in coveralls. Her face was partially obscured by her lekku, but Kanan knew instantly who it was.

Hera.

Kanan didn’t wait for the shopkeeper’s answer. He didn’t even stop to think; he just knew that he had to find Hera before the Imps did. He shoved his way through the crowd, earning a few dirty looks and muttered comments, but he didn’t care, because he spotted her a few blocks later at a small produce stand, looking at a display of meilooruns.

“Hera!”

She put down the piece of fruit she was holding and looked up, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. “Oh, hello again, Master…er, Jarvis…”

Kanan didn’t bother to correct her; there wasn’t time for that. “They’re looking for you! There’s six troopers and two officers coming, and they have your picture!”

“What?!” Hera took two quick steps backwards, her eyes darting from side to side. Kanan could sense her wariness vibrating in the Force. “Who are you? How do you know my name?!”

Of course…Kanan Jarrus wouldn’t have known her; he wouldn’t have any reason to care whether the Imperials apprehended her or not. Kanan cursed himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. “Look, I’d love to tell you everything, but we don’t have time. They’ll be here any—”

“There she is!” As if on cue, the cadaverous officer emerged from the crowd, jabbing one stick-like finger in Hera’s direction.

“Not that way!” Kanan grabbed her hand as she darted away from the fruit stand. He knew from experience what she couldn’t have: the street came to a dead end in another two blocks, with nowhere to go unless you wanted to climb the pile of broken crates and debris and scrabble up to the rooftops.

Hera gave an indignant cry and tried to tug her hand free from his. “I have a blaster!,” she warned, glaring at him like an angry nexu.

“Good!” Kanan said. “You can use it on the bucket heads! Come on!”

He pulled Hera into the closest alley, ignoring her spluttering protests, and led her a zig-zagging path through the labyrinth of the market’s side streets and alleyways until he came to a small, square house that had clearly once been a cheerful, tidy residence, but was now grimy, covered with signs and spray painted messages announcing that it had been seized and condemned by the Empire due to treasonous activities by its former occupants. Kanan had discovered it one night when he’d spent too much of his time and credits in the city’s dive bars and had needed a place to crash and avoid the Imperal patrols. He’d been back a couple times when he knew he wasn’t going to be able to make it back to the farm before curfew. “In here,” he told Hera, prying back the sign board covering the door.

The door’s mechanism barely functioned and would only open to a slit. Kanan prodded Hera inside and squeezed through after her. Inside, the combination dining area and conversation circle was dusty and smelled stale. Kanan knocked down a few cobwebs and righted the dining chairs that must have been knocked over when the residents were arrested for their alleged treason. There was a small plush feline hidden underneath them. Kanan set it on the table next to a stack of bowls. He was glad now that he’d always slept off his hangovers on the semicircular couch instead of going upstairs. The child’s toy and the brightly painted dishes told him more about the family than he wanted to know.

Hera brushed some dust off her coveralls, straightened her flight cap, and fixed him with another nexu glare. “All right, now, tell me who you really are and why I should trust you.”

“I…” Kanan trailed off, on the verge of spouting one of his easy lies about his identity and he had a lot of them—but the Force nudged him again. He could protect himself and keep his secrets, but to have any hope of having a happy moment—or more—with Hera, he had to trust her. He had to choose to stop running for once. There were no guarantees, but there never had been.

He inhaled deeply. The words he said next didn’t come easily, not after nearly a decade of keeping them secret, years when keeping that secret could mean the difference between life and death, but it was time to say them. “It’s me, Caleb.”

If he had expected a joyous reunion at this revelation, Kanan was sorely disappointed. “Oh, I see,” Hera snorted, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “That explains why not half a standard hour ago, you told me you weren’t. Try again, Master Jarvis.”

Kanan sighed; he supposed he deserved that. “Jarrus. Kanan Jarrus. That’s the name I go by now. It’s been too dangerous to go by my real name with the Empire hunting for any surviving Jedi, but…I’m Caleb Dume. I met you when Master Billaba visited Ryloth eight years ago. You had a blurrg named Bril and an old astromech droid you called Chopper. And before I left I gave you a bead from my padawan braid…”

As he spoke, Hera’s rigid posture gradually softened, her skepticism dissolving into astonishment. She was silent for a moment, and then reached a finger beneath the high-necked collar of her shirt and drew out a leather cord with a single yellow bead on it. “…And you promised we’d see each other again.”

“You kept it.” Kanan’s voice was a husky whisper that barely escaped around the lump that rose in his throat. “All these years…”

“Of course I kept it!” Hera exclaimed, folding her hand around the tiny bit of painted oro wood as if it was a precious treasure. “I’ve worn it every day since we got the news that the Jedi had all been executed for treason. How did you—?”

“It’s…a long story.” And one he wasn’t sure he could tell her yet. Trust didn’t come easily for him, and just the fact that she knew his real name meant she knew more of his secrets than anyone except for his old mentor, Janus Kasimir. Right now, it was easier to pretend that they were nothing more than old friends who’d run into each other in the marketplace. Kanan forced back the painful memories and put a smile on his face. “But you…looks like you became a pilot just like you said you were going to,” Kanan said, gesturing to her goggles and flight cap. “Have you seen the entire Galaxy yet?”

“Not yet!” She laughed with such pure and unaffected delight that it brought Kanan back to those days they’d spent on Ryloth. Despite all the losses she’d faced, Hera had laughed often and easily, taking joy in ordinary little things. And when he’d been with her, it had been easier for Kanan to enjoy those things, too. “Chopper and I are working on it, but things have been a little complicated since I left Ryloth.”

“You still have Chopper?” Kanan would have thought the creaky, cranky droid had probably short-circuited by now.

Hera smiled again. “I wouldn’t go anywhere without him! He’s my best friend—and my co-pilot now. Though if you ask him, he’s the one taking care of me. I can just imagine what he’s going to say when he finds out I almost got caught by stormtroopers,” she said, her smile turning a bit wry for a moment. She took a step towards Kanan and laid a hand on his forearm, her expression warm and fond. “Thank you. I should have said it earlier, but…thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Her slender fingers hardly exerted any pressure on his arm; her touch was as light as if a lepidopteran had landed there, but Kanan was suddenly and acutely aware of it. And he was just as suddenly and acutely aware that Hera was no longer a little girl—and he was no longer a padawan. “No problem,” he answered, hoping that his voice wouldn’t betray the uncomfortable rush of feelings he felt. He needed to steer this conversation onto safer ground. “So…why were they looking for you, anyway?”

Kanan felt Hera’s fingers twitch against his arm and wariness flickered in her Force presence, a feeling that she was weighing her words carefully before she spoke. It was a feeling Kanan recognized all too well.

She shrugged just a little too casually. “I was delivering a shipment to the factory on the edge of the city, and I wandered outside the designated loading area. They seem to have taken exception to that.”

“I see.” And he did, probably more than she meant for him to; even the most uptight Imperial officer wouldn’t send half a squad of troopers after a delivery girl who simply made a wrong turn on her way to the ’fresher. She had to have wandered into someplace restricted, and not accidentally, from her reluctance to say more. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one who was keeping secrets. “You deliver cargo now?”

Another tiny, equivocal shrug. “Among other things. And you…?”

At least he wasn’t the only one changing the subject from uncomfortable topics. Well, his current occupation was mundane enough. “I’m a farmhand. I work at a jogan fruit orchard out in the Westhills harvesting fruit, fixing machinery, whatever needs done… It’s honest work,” Kanan said at her faintly quizzical look. Hardly glamorous, but far more honest than some of the things he’d done in the recent past. “And I have to do something to earn a few credits; the demand for half-trained Jedi knights is pretty low at the moment.”

Hera regarded him for a long moment, lips pursed and head tipped slightly to the side, as if she was trying to come to a decision. The weight of her gaze, the weight of the moment, hung heavy in the air. “What if you had the chance to do more?” she asked at last.

“What?”

She half-turned away from Kanan, tracing a finger through the thick layer of dust on the dining table. “Those other things I mentioned…I do haul cargo, but not all of it is strictly official. I help deliver needed supplies and medicines to communities the Empire has ignored whenever I can. Along the way, I find out what the Empire’s doing here on the Outer Rim, away from the notice of the Senate. And I pass the information on to…interested parties.”

“You’re a Rebel?!” It surprised him, and yet it didn’t when he remembered the zeal with which Cham Syndulla had defended Ryloth from the Separatists. Hera seemed to have inherited her father’s passion and idealism.

Her left lek twitched slightly as she rearranged the empty dishes that sat there, left over from a meal the long-gone family had never eaten.. “I suppose you could say that; I prefer to think of myself as someone who is working to restore freedom to the Galaxy.” Hera paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “I could use some help. There’s only so much one woman and her trusty droid can do to fight the Empire.”

Kanan knew why she was asking him to join her, but she didn’t understand what she was asking of him. She didn’t understand why it was impossible. “I’m not a Jedi, you know. Whatever I could have been once, that’s not who I am now.” He turned away from Hera so he wouldn’t have to see her face when he spoke the next words. “I’m not Caleb anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. ”

He heard the quick step of her boots against the floor, felt the touch of her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to be a Jedi to make a difference,” she said softly, and when he turned towards her, she was holding up a small object—the plush cat Kanan had found abandoned underneath the jumble of overturned chairs, lost in the scuffle when the Empire came. “I know we can’t stop the Empire single-handedly, but if we can make things better in some way, no matter how small, shouldn’t we try?”

Something in her voice stirred something deep inside Kanan, and it took him a moment to identify what it was: hope. Trust. She still believed in him, still had faith that he was the same good person she remembered from their childhood. He’d been drifting around the Outer Rim for so long, avoiding all connections and doing whatever it took to get by, that it was hard for Kanan to believe that Padawan Caleb Dume could still be part of him.

He looked up, turning back towards Hera, and saw the hope written in her eyes. Being on his own had kept him safe, but was safety all he wanted out of life? What would it be like to matter to someone again? What would it be like to run towards something for a change? This feeling was so strange and new; he needed more time to think. “I…I don’t know,” Kanan faltered. “I… I have obligations here. It’s the middle of the jogan harvest. I can’t leave Master Ollett short-handed…”

“Mmm…I understand.” The light in Hera’s eyes dimmed a little, and she sighed. She set the small toy cat carefully back on the table where she’d found it. “I should probably be getting back to my ship. Knowing Chopper, he’ll do something rash if I’m not back soon.”

“I can walk you back to the spaceport—just in case the troopers are still there,” Kanan offered. He might not be ready to give up his solitary ways just yet, but he wasn’t in a hurry to see Hera go, either.

Hera’s ship was a beautiful VCX-100 freighter which she explained was called the Ghost for the way it could slip past Imperial sensors. Between the ship and the warm hug she gave him in farewell, Kanan was half tempted to sign up for her rebellion then and there.

“I’m so glad we found each other again, Caleb,” Hera said.

“Me too.” Kanan had the mad urge to pull her back into his arms; he contented himself with clasping her hands instead. “I don’t suppose you’ll be back this way any time soon?” he asked, even though it was a fool’s hope to think she would when the local authorities were looking for her.

“Oh, yes. I’ll be back as soon as the Imperials have had a chance to forget about me. I hope you’ll think about my offer in the meantime.”

“I will,” he promised.

Hera touched her fingers to her flight cap in salute, and ascended the Ghost’s ramp, pausing at the top. “May the Force be with you, Caleb,” she called down, smiling a smile that sent Kanan’s heart pounding.

“And with you, Hera.” He lingered for a moment after she disappeared inside, wondering if he was crazy to even consider joining her. Maybe he was, but he felt like he was making the right choice for a change. For once, he wasn’t going to cut ties and run on to the next job without worrying about who and what he left behind. Master Ollett was a fair employer and a good man, who’d been generous enough to give a drifter a job and a place to stay. Kanan would finish out the harvest before he moved on. That would give Master Ollett time to find more help—and it would give Kanan time to think and meditate, to discover the part of himself that was still Caleb.

Hera would return, and perhaps by then Kanan would be ready to make a new beginning.
++++

Note: You may have noticed that Hera and Kanan aren’t on the planet Gorse, where they met in A New Dawn. Can you guess where they are? (Kanan’s job is a hint…) It’s

Spoiler

Lothal, of course! That cadaverous Imperial officer is Commander Aresko, and Kanan’s employer, Master Ollett, is a farmer whose son, Beck, is mentioned in the Servant of the Empire books. The abandoned house where Kanan and Hera hide is the former Bridger residence.

 

A great ending with hope for Kanan meeting Hera again

 

A lovely conclusion full of hope and trust and potential for joining up later.

 

Nobody writes Hera and Kanan like you. I loved seeing their friendship develop in "Blocks and Beads", and how Caleb gave Hera the bead!

"Close to Her Heart": Aww, poor Hera! What a lovely way for her to honor Caleb's memory though.

"An Old Friend": I love how Hera recognizes him, and how Kanan finally remembers her. So beautifully written!

"Reunion": A perfect finish!

Oh, poor Kanan! I found the lines about him drinking to forget and to drown out the Force are especially poignant because it seems like a very realistic response, and I really feel for him.

I loved the entire escape scene!

Such a powerful moment, and so well-written.

This reminds me of Garth Brooks' song "The Change". And - it's just so true. It can be so difficult in practice, but it really is such a powerful idea.

An absolutely perfect ending!

As much as I love the 'running off into the sunset together' type of happy ending and shipping and all things romantic in fiction, I really like that this fic focused more on their friendship and their personal growth. It's wonderful to see Kanan thinking of Master Ollett, and taking the time to reconnect with himself and who he really is. And just - the security and the trust for both of them knowing that they can take the time, and don't have to rush into anything, because they'll both be there when they're ready, is really beautiful to read.

Also, knowing they get to their romantic happy-ever-after (along with the friendship and all the other good stuff) in your stories doesn't hurt either.

This was a really beautiful story and I enjoyed it so much. Thank you for sharing, and congratulations on finishing it and reaching your WIPtober goal!