Chapter Text
The grief was palpable in the Force. Not that he was surprised. There was so much lost today, he would have been surprised not to have felt it; it hung like a weight, palpable, oppressive. It emanated from every corner of the Ghost, humming, a sad chord comprised of notes of pain, loss, relief, and guilt.
A more quotidian hum came from the med droid in the hallway, attending to the injured. They were, he knew, packed into every spare nook and cranny of the ship. Hera would take them back to Yavin IV now. He sighed, took a deep breath and moved toward the warm spark in the Force that indicated his padawan, who shared in this grief, this guilt, and needed the reassurance and support of his master. Despite the grief, despite the losses, Kanan could at least provide that.
But Ezra’s was not the only individual presence that stood out on the ship, not the only person whose Force signature burned brightly to him. Hera, of course; his bond with her meant that she too was a bright spark. But here, in the hallway, he could sense another who had been visible to him with especial clarity, even before his blindness, even before he had become especially sensitive to the Force as a way of seeing. First, as a spark of determination and animosity that shone even brighter than the usual determined Force signature of the warrior. But then, even once that deep antagonism was dimmed on Lothal, replaced by a different, more ambivalent tone, he could still sense it more strongly than that of other beings. He had long since ceased to puzzle at its demanding presence.
He walked toward that beacon first, even before he heard the tentative call.
“Kanan. Thank you….for taking me in.”
The deep voice now lacked the certainty it had always carried, even in the awkward moment it revealed that the bane of their existence had become a Fulcrum agent. But Kanan could sense more in the Force than uncertainty: a crushing feeling, emanating from the man in waves. Shame.
His heart hurt to sense it. For all the evil Kallus had done, he knew full well that Kallus had accepted the full burden of his own guilt. He had seen the error of his ways, somehow, thank the Force (and Zeb), and had chosen a path that made it a wonder, frankly, that he was alive before him. Alive, and perhaps overwhelmed with the feeling of having survived when he had no expectation of doing so and now being among his former enemies.
Feeling lost, he could understand. This shame, now, was harder to make sense of.
He placed his hand firmly on Kallus’s shoulder.
“Thank you. For risking everything.”
He could feel a miniscule lightening of the other man’s burden for just a moment. It would have to do for now.