The Unchronicled Adventures Of Ahsoka Tano, Book Ten

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Thoughts On A Certain Togruta

KANAN JARRUS

The first thing Kanan was conscious of upon awakening that morning was a profound sense of relief.

Where it came from, he had no idea. It felt almost like some secret part of him that knew things he didn't had found something to take comfort in. And the fact that he didn't know what it was bothered him.

And so, it was half an hour later that he found himself sitting in the Ghost's kitchen, aimlessly stirring his kwhyen oat gruel and mulling the whole thing over.

Kanan glanced up as Hera walked into the room, studying the way she moved. Although he knew she wasn't totally awake yet – and wouldn't be until she had at least one cup of caf – there was something almost... ethereal to her every gesture. Everything she did was imbued with a specific sort of gracefulness Kanan had only ever seen in her.

He could honestly watch it all day.

Hera turned on the caf machine on her way towards the conservator, where she grabbed her bowl of gruel that had been made, like Kanan's, the night before. She waited patiently for it to heat up in the microwave, but once she had tasted the finished product, she made a face, and turned back towards him.

"I think you took mine," she said.

"Huh. I was wondering why it tasted so sweet." Upon realizing what he had said, Kanan considered smiling at her and making a flirtatious remark, but soon decided against it. He didn't think he had the energy to make a good show out of it.

"I don't know how you can take anything so bland," Hera said.

"It's how they served things back at the Temple. It's just what I got used to." Kanan reached out to take her bowl, passing her the one she had prepared for herself the night before. It wasn't like he had eaten much of it, anyways. "Oh, and I've been meaning to ask – any news on that pilot Ahsoka was going after? Last I saw of her she was all... worked up."

"Who, Janira? She's okay, as far as I know. Ahsoka's been keeping watch. She's been out for a few hours now – carbon monoxide poisoning from a malfunction in her helmet – but her injuries are healing up nicely with all the time she's already spent in the bacta tank." Hera chuckled. "Her fellow pilots will talk of nothing else."

"She'd talk to me a lot," Kanan said, speaking more to himself than to Hera.

"Yeah. I think she has a crush on you, or something."

Although Hera's face remained carefully neutral, Kanan still picked up on the slight twinge of jealousy in her tone. "Not from what I sensed through the Force."

Hera chuckled. "Kanan, you may know the Force, but you don't know women."

"I know you," he said, and leaned across the table to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Where's she from, again?"

"Onderon, I think. She fought with Saw Gerrera in the Japrael sector for a few years before being reassigned to Phoenix Squadron. There are rumors that she has family highly placed in Rebel command... but it could be that they're just that: rumors. Why so many questions?"

"I don't know." Kanan stood up and walked back towards the door. "I'm going to meditate for a while before Ezra wakes up. Comm me if you need me."

Hera waggled a finger in his direction. "Don't spill your food."

Kanan offered her a smirk, and faked losing his balance and dropping the bowl. But as soon as he had turned off onto the hallway, his smile slid off his face like water off durasteel.