A/N: So I've been in like a black hole as far as responding to reviews and PMs and things (and reading fic, too, omg! I'm so behind), and I feel kind of like a garbage person, so….sorry. Anyway, this little fic was inspired by a piece of fanart on tumblr by fluffyapplecat. It just gave me a lot of Mommy Hera feels. I took a small liberty with this, since we're not exactly sure when she got pregnant. Enjoy if you can.

Heartache

Hera cried when Jacen started walking. Not because she was overwhelmed by maternal pride and joy—although she was—but because a shadow of grief came stealing in, falling across her heart and eclipsing the tentative happiness she'd found. (Again.)

This was it, she realized. Her only child was an infant no longer. True that he'd started walking early; he'd been an early mover all around, actually, having obviously inherited her hatred of idleness and Kanan's love of mischief.

Hera longed for those first couple of months when she'd been able to keep him bound to her, held close and safe both by the wrap she'd fashioned and by the cradle of her arms.

Safe.

Now that he was walking, nothing and nowhere was safe. She couldn't take her eyes off of him for one tiny second-not that she wanted to anyway. But there was a vast difference between watching her sleeping infant in his crib and watching her pseudo-toddler make his way around the Ghost, trying to stick his chubby fingers in any and every slot, hole, and groove he could find. She didn't hover, but anxiety was evident in the way she sat in the floor, legs crossed and clenched fists resting on her knees, waiting for him to come back to her. He looked to her often, babbling happily, and Hera did her best to keep up the imaginary conversation they were having. (Silently, she begged him to slow down, stay little, stay my baby.)

And one day, she watched him toddle down the passageway, toward the crew cabins. She thought maybe he was heading to hers, searching for a toy or wanting to climb in her bed for a nap. But he stopped in front of Kanan's cabin instead. He pushed with all his might and swung his head toward Hera, brows up and eyes comically wide when he found the door wouldn't open. He gurgled his displeasure and smacked the door softly with his palm, frowning.

He looked at Hera and she couldn't deny him anything. She picked him up and opened the door, and they walked inside.

Hera had spent the last year actively avoiding Kanan's cabin, truth be told. There were still a few things too painful to face, and that was one. The room, though stuffy from disuse, still smelled like him. His sheets were still on the bunk, his clothes still neatly folded away. His few belongings still where he kept them. Hera knew she needed to repurpose the room someday, but someday was going to be a long time coming.

Jacen was still and silent as they walked into the cabin. He lunged for the light control, knowing exactly how to turn it on. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light and he looked around. His arms were around Hera's neck and he rested his cheek on hers, taking in this new sight. Hera could barely breathe.

"This was your daddy's room," she said thickly. She didn't know if he understood, but he echoed her, trying to imitate daddy. "That's right. Daddy." Setting Jacen down, she opened one of Kanan's drawers and pulled out a shirt. Her breath caught when she felt the fabric under her fingertips and she forced herself to exhale slowly, refusing to cry. But a hard sniff and welling tears betrayed her.

Noticing her distress, Jacen patted his hand on her knee. She scooped him up again, along with Kanan's shirt. She folded herself onto the bunk, crossing her legs as Jacen adjusted in her lap. Then she felt her face flush hot. The last time she'd been in this bunk at all, well—

She was pretty sure those events had resulted in the conception of their child.

She remembered that night very vividly, and she was sorry to say she'd been almost impatient with Kanan when she realized his touches were asking her for something. She'd been poring over reports, twisting herself into knots of anxiety over wondering when Thrawn would find them on Atollon. Kanan often touched her—a hand on her knee or something like that—when they were in bed together and she was reading or working. She hadn't thought anything of it when his fingers trailed up and down her spine. She barely registered the soft caresses on her lekku. She hadn't paid any attention to Kanan at all, really, until his hand grazed her inner thigh and she jumped nearly out of her skin. How could he think she'd want to—at a time like this? She opened her mouth to ask exactly that, but something in his face stopped her. He seemed worried, preoccupied in a way she didn't understand. She sighed and let her datapad slip the floor, stroking her thumb across his cheek. "What is it?"

He hadn't answered, opting instead to lay Hera down and kiss her deeply, again and again until the kisses led to more and she gave up on her irritation at the inopportune timing. Unrushed and unconcerned with anything else, they loved each other, neither of them knowing it would be the last time.

Hera squeezed her eyes shut at the memory and thanked the stars that she hadn't let her dedication to the Rebellion keep her from Kanan's arms that night. If she had, she wouldn't have Jacen now. Hera squeezed her baby son, still sitting in her lap. He cooed and burbled, fiddling with Kanan's old shirt in his hands.

Life was cruel, Hera thought-she wouldn't trade a single moment with Jacen to have Kanan back, yet how desperately she wished she could have them both.

And she wanted what they could have been: a family. She could imagine Kanan grinning at her, suggesting shyly, We have one cute kid already—why not have another?

That's why Hera cried when Jacen started walking. Her only baby was getting big, and she knew she'd never have another. It made her realize again, just how much had been taken from them when Kanan died. It made her realize how many years of single motherhood stretched in front of her.

Inexplicably, she felt a touch on her shoulder, like she had that night on Lothal. Her anxiety unwound and she buried her face in the top of Jacen's head, kissing him. He'd fallen asleep and she shifted him so that he was cradled in her arms. The time was coming soon when he'd be too big for this, but not quite yet. His breaths were light and fast, dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. One hand still clutched the sleeve of Kanan's shirt.

Hera closed her own eyes, breathing deeply. She didn't know if her heartache would ever go away, but if raising her sweet child came at the cost of bittersweet memories and might have beens, she decided she was alright with that.

And she decided not to worry—for now—about the day when her baby would no longer be her baby.