Work Text:
In that moment, everything crystalized. Kanan knew what he had to do, and what it would cost.
It was worth it.
To save Hera, the woman he loved.
To save Ezra, the child of his heart.
To save Sabine, his fierce warrior.
Kanan knew what he had to do, but oh did it hurt. He didn’t want it to end this way, but it was him, or all of them, and a galaxy without them was a bleak and empty place.
He could feel the impossible heat of the leashed explosion down to his bones, his hands burning even through the Force shield holding it at bay. He didn’t want to set it free, but his family were too close to the blast radius, and he wasn’t strong enough to both hold back the fires of hell, and save them from it.
Turning his useless eyes to where Hera had stopped, as gently as he could, Kanan reached out to her and extended the last of his hold on the Force, pushing Hera, his beloved Hera, back into the safety of the shuttle, and Ezra’s hold. They deserved so much more time than they received, so very much more.
He didn’t want to do this, oh Force Within and Without, he didn’t. Kanan would have traded anything not to have to do this, but life was not kind, and rarely gave one what they wanted, much less what they deserved.
It would all be worth it, if he could but see them one last time.
Oh Force please, just once more!
Kanan felt the Force well up, acting without his direction, and then he could see, and oh was she beautiful! Even more so than he remembered; and Ezra, brave and fearless Ezra, how he’d grown. Kanan thought his heart would burst from such overwhelming love and pride for them.
Releasing the Force holding back the flames, he turned his back on death itself, and shoved the shuttle away into the air, helping his brave Sabine save all that he held most dear.
Without the Force holding it back, the unrelenting heat of the explosion engulfed him, but Kanan did not close his eyes against the flame, savoring the last sight he’d ever see.
It was bright, but pure, and warm arms were wrapped around his shoulders, the familiar feel of smooth-spun wool, the soft texture of braided hair against his cheek.
He knew these arms.
“Master Depa”