A/N: A couple of days ago, I posted on tumblr about how I haven't written in a while and probably still won't, and then I got this wild idea: write a fic about Hera as she waits the agonizing three minutes for her pregnancy test result. And here we are! Felt a bit rusty, but man, did I miss writing Space Mom.

3 Minutes

Hera sat on the closed sani lid as she put the cap on the absorbent end of the pregnancy test. She had to look down to actually do it, a testament to how rattled she was. She saw her blood quickly soaking the pad. Her finger still throbbed from the needle stick. She set the little unit on the countertop and it beeped, indicating it had begun its testing sequence.

She fought nausea; in three minutes, she'd know.

She rubbed her palms on her thighs, fabric wicking away the moisture on her skin and the last of the blood on her fingertip. The last time she had sweaty palms, she was eleven and getting ready for her mother's funeral. She'd felt a special kind of fear that day, the dark, gnawing kind that wouldn't let her forget that her entire life had been upended. It was the kind of fear born from not being in control.

She felt like she hadn't been in control of anything since Kanan died. Not her grief, not her place in the Rebellion, not her crew. Nothing. It was all spiraling out of her grasp. She wasn't even in control of her own body, which was especially discouraging. At first, she'd been able to shrug it off as stress, but now the changes were too marked to be mistaken: nausea, mood swings, a heightened sense of smell, sore breasts, bone-crushing fatigue, missing cycle.

Hera stared at the pregnancy test. Why bother with this? She asked herself numbly. She'd done it on autopilot, like she did so many things these days. She took the test because that's what you do if you think you're pregnant. You take a test and go from there.

But go where?

Ryloth, which was still under siege? Lothal where her lover had died? A world like Alderaan where she'd be safe but restless forever?

Unconsciously, her hands moved over her abdomen. We can stay here.

Her breath hitched. We? When had she made up her mind about anything?

Could she raise a baby on a ship? Could she be a mother at all? She didn't know anything about children; she'd been trained for war. Not since the days of playing with hand-sewn dolls had motherhood crossed her mind.

But she thought of Kanan and she thought about his face and voice and his eyes—oh, those eyes. What if their child had those eyes?

"Would you want this?" She whispered to no one, rubbing her temples. She sat listening to the silence, hoping that maybe she'd hear…anything.

Another electronic beep made her jump.

The three minutes were up.

Shaking fingers reached for the test, ready to turn it around and read the result. She held her breath, afraid she was pregnant and afraid she wasn't.

Hera read the display and then read it three more times before she was able to process the result.

She burst into tears of relief; it was positive.