Chapter Text
They were in the usual mess, Kanan observed as he reflected yet another blast from his saber, trying to angle it up to avoid hitting the man who fired the shot. Turns out the seemingly abandoned facility they had planned to raid of its supplies had ended up being currently occupied by scavengers. Scavengers who at first were happy to make a peaceful deal with the Crew to evenly split up the supplies in exchange for information on certain Imperial whereabouts. Why did these scavengers need information on certain Imperial whereabouts? Kanan wasn’t sure, and felt that it wasn’t in his place to ask. As long as they fulfilled their supply quota for the Rebellion without having to unholster their blasters and unsheathe their lightsabers, Kanan was happy enough to oblige.
So after a quick comm with Hera for permission, Kanan, Ezra, and Zeb eagerly agreed. They passed over the information Hera sent to the scavengers and allowed the six men to glance over the documents before they would begin to figure out how to evenly split up the supplies between the two groups. But, apparently the information was not enough. Nothing ever seemed enough for scavengers and pirates and others like them.
So the whole diplomatic exchange turned quickly to a not-so-diplomatic exchange. Firstly beginning in an argument that eventually lead into a shouting match which then lead into a firefight. Kanan wasn't completely sure who fired the first shot, but he was quite positive it was one of the scavengers. It certainly wasn't himself, and he believed that he taught Ezra enough about diplomacy that he wouldn't be too gullible to do it, knowing it would only result in a lecture from Kanan later. And as for Zeb, well, it could have been Zeb, Kanan mused, but it still seemed unlikely.
But soon after the initial blast, a full scale fight erupted. Shots fired in every direction, about six scavengers against two Jedi and a Lasat.
That was about even, yeah?
So far, no one was dead from either groups. Kanan was refusing to kill the scavengers in order to make a point to his Padawan about how his problems could be solved without weapons or bloodshed. Ezra's trials with the Darkside still haunted Kanan to this day, plagued him with nightmares of what could have happened if Kanan didn’t catch onto it sooner. He couldn’t imagine how far Ezra could have fallen away from him - away from all of them - if a few more months slipped by in ignorance to the problem.
The very thought of it made Kanan shudder, made his concentration on the battle slip, something he used to chide Ezra for constantly.
Kanan quickly deflected a shot away from one of the scavengers to his left, then deflected another from his right, the bolt ricocheting into the durasteel wall. He still refused to resort to violence unless as a last resort, but now, he was beginning to think otherwise as three of the scavengers started focusing their fire on him all at once.
Ezra had only one of the scavengers focused on him, he noticed. Which was...odd, only a second ago there was two on him, where was the other? The same two were still on Zeb, one pushing a metal rod against Zeb's bo-rifle as the Lasat shoved back against it, using the brute of his strength, snarling between his clenched teeth. Ezra could tell Zeb was getting impatient with this diplomacy business about as much as he was. At this point the two of them were just waiting to see who would crack first and disobey Kanan’s command, silly as it was. There was no point in reasoning with these scavengers anymore at this point, in Ezra’s opinion. They weren’t going to compromise any further, evident by the sheer aggression the one scavenger was using as he shoved against Zeb’s rifle.
Ezra focused away from them before catching sight of Kanan across the room, reflecting away fire left and right, purposely missing each time. He had three of the scavengers ganging up on him and yet was continuing to refuse to fight back. Like he was just trying to buy time before someone thought of a better idea or the scavengers finally surrendered.
The latter seemed unlikely at the moment, however. Ezra grew up on the streets, he knew the pure animal instincts that took over when someone attempted to take something that he claimed as his. By the desperate gleam in the scavengers’ eyes, they didn’t seem much different; Ezra understood them. He knew times for vagabonds like the scavengers were becoming harsher and harsher each day with the war raging on. And if his suspicions were correct, these scavengers were probably fugitives, why else would they be interested in Imperial personnel locations of all things? They probably survived solely off stolen supplies like these, therefore they would continue fighting until they would be at peace with their goods, with Ezra, Zeb and Kanan long gone and never to bother them again.
And because of that, perhaps they needed the supplies more than the Rebellion did, Ezra didn't know. But, he had already gotten his orders, so he was going to fulfill them. Simple supplies or not, it was still a mission, still another way to repair his reputation after the Y-Wings incident a few months ago. The teasing and scolding had gone down considerably since then, but still persisted occasionally. His old lieutenant commander title hung over him like a hundred credits on a string.This mission needed to go off without a hitch, and since Kanan was in command of it, Ezra had to follow his orders, as much as he disagreed with them.
But as the blasts continued to fire all around him, each one getting closer and closer to striking him, Ezra was beginning to lose his nerve. As a shot fired dangerously close to his face, Ezra deflected the shot back to the scavenger, striking the man in the foot. He yelped and stumbled back a step, the rest of the scavengers faltering for only a moment before realizing what happened. With almost a collective shrug, they continued onto their own fights, leaving their friend to figure it out himself.
Kanan, on the other hand, seemed to pause for a moment too long as he tried to piece together what happened. A moment long enough for one of the scavengers to raise a blaster to him, aiming up right towards his head and wrapping a finger around his trigger.
Everything slowed.
Almost all at once, Ezra scanned his surroundings. Three scavengers seemed to be focused on Kanan, the one raising the blaster readying his shot as the other two watched in understanding. Another scavenger was on Ezra, but sitting on the ground, working frantically to dig the bolt from his own barrel out of his foot. The other two were focused on Zeb, pretty occupied and seemingly oblivious to the rest of the fight.
After getting a scan of the situation, Ezra shot out a hand, using a blast from the Force to knock the blaster trained on Kanan’s head from the scavenger's hand, two gunshots firing at that moment.
One fired from the flying blaster, striking durasteel right above Kanan's head, leaving him unharmed as the gun clattered to the ground, the scavenger turning around quickly to Ezra.
The other gunshot went off only seconds later, and left everyone in a deadly silence as the reality of the situation began to dawn on all nine of them.
For a moment, no one understood where the blast made its contact. That is until thick blood began to blossom on Ezra's chest, his entire body too consumed by the numb shock of the blow to understand exactly what happened, why everyone was staring at him.
And then, he fell back, gasping for air that was suddenly harder to get. He collapsed onto the ground, all his limbs numb to the impact. His hand fumbled around his own chest, trying to do something that was not in his power to do.
Kanan's body went cold as he felt the blow through his and Ezra's bond, the ice pushing through veins as if someone had stuck him.
And then everything just happened in a blur.
Kanan shouted something, Zeb roared, and in an unspoken command, diplomacy was abruptly no longer an option. Those scavengers needed to die now . They needed to die and Kanan had to get Ezra back to the Ghost. They had to save him, there was no other option available.
Ezra wasn’t sure what was going on after that moment, the searing pain in his chest and the lack of oxygen making everything around him muffled and clouded. It was like someone had pumped him with sedatives and stuck his head underwater. It was only just seconds later and he was already losing his grasp on consciousness, becoming less and less lucid by the second.
He was slipping, unable to do anything to stop himself. He stared up at the grey ceiling, the corners of his visions turning blurry and then going black gradually with every shallow breath. He was going to die here, he decided as he felt another sharp pain in his chest. His body was growing warmer and then began to go cold as the blood continued to flow freely out of the wounds, caking into his clothing and then spilling onto the floor in thick crimson rivulets.
There was a procedure for this, Ezra was sure of it. Something about a gauze maybe? He didn't know.
So instead of doing something, he laid quietly, shouts of pain and terror around him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
His Force bond with his master bled with fear and fury, becoming colder as it began to detach slowly the further Ezra faded.
Kanan lunged for Ezra as Zeb finished of the remaining scavengers, cold anger driving his motions, adrenaline making him almost invincible. Kanan got to his knees instantly beside his apprentice, reaching out and shaking him slightly, trying to reawaken their connection.
"Ezra? Ezra, you're gonna be fine, alright? Nothing's going to happen, I'll get Hera's signal and she’ll pick us up and we'll get to an emergency center. You need to stay awake, okay? Just stay with me."
Kanan grasped ahold of Ezra's already colder hand, giving it a squeeze and ripping off a piece of his own jacket with a small switchblade he kept in his pocket, making a gauze against the wound. His head was frantic, his heart and ribs crushing together in his chest. He knew his words were hollow, he knew the situation didn't look good. But he wasn't about to say it out loud.
He flicked on his comm. "Spectre Two, come in!"
"Spectre One, do you need a pick-up? What's going on?"
"Spectre Six is down, we need to go. Now ."
Hera's line went quiet for a moment at the urgency of Kanan's tone. He didn't lose composure too easily, he was always the one who came up with the plan, he was always the one who assured them that everything was going to be fine, that the damage wasn't as bad as it may seem.
But by the way he spoke, Hera knew just how dire Ezra's condition must be.
"I'm on my way now. Go to hangar five, I'll be there in a moment. Make a tourniquet. Over."
Kanan quickly deposited his comm back onto his belt and turned his attention back to his apprentice who seemed to be slipping more and more by the second.
"Ezra, did you get that? Hey." Kanan reached out and lightly tapped Ezra's cheek, trying to get him to focus. Ezra groaned and turned his head away from Kanan's hand. Kanan decided that was better than nothing.
"Zeb's going to carry you now. It may hurt a bit, okay? But I need to focus on that pain to hold on, focus on everything you can. You have to stay conscious."
Knowing his command even though it wasn’t spoken directly to him, Zeb stepped over once his work with the scavengers was finished, kneeling down and scooping Ezra up as gently as he could into his arms. Zeb cringed noticeably at the sounds of agony Ezra released at the sudden movement, pressing his own hand against his chest to try to stop the pain. Zeb's ears went back as his expression became stricken, his heart aching in sympathy to Ezra's pain. Warm blood flooded over the Lasat's fur, making him recoil at the sticky feeling.
Zeb didn't know how the kid was still conscious, even alive at that with all the blood he was losing so quickly. Even now Ezra was beginning to look deathly, the blood running thick from the chest wound, the usual gold from his skin fading to a white pallor, his eyes dimming, unfocused.
Zeb's heart lurched at the sight.
They began to move as fast as they could through the place, keeping an eye out for any more scavengers. A couple had slipped away from Zeb once Kanan’s attention was solely on Ezra, leaving Zeb alone to fight off the rest who weren’t quite as fortunate. The ones who managed to get away escaped with the supplies. Zeb let them, Ezra was his top priority, not the damn supplies. They could get supplies anywhere, there was only one Ezra. Zeb couldn't imagine losing the kid on his watch, he couldn't deal with any more guilt.
Soon enough they barreled through the hangar doors after finding the correct one, Ezra falling even more limp in his arms by the moment, struggling to keep his eyes open to appease Kanan. If not for the pained expression, Zeb would honestly think that he was dead.
The kid was just too pale, his chest bleeding far too much, their makeshift tourniquet already beginning to loosen from all the blood that ran out. The kid’s eyes were too far away, trying desperately to find the strength to focus on to something. Zeb could already tell he was falling in and out of consciousness.
There was just too much blood.
The Ghost 's ramp began to lower as the two of them sprinted, climbing on and falling to the floor in the cargo hold. The ramp closed as the ship lifted off, unsteady and in a hurry. Hera knew the gravity of the situation without actually seeing it, Kanan could tell.
Not long after they made a quick and hasty jump into hyperspace, Hera hurried down the ladder.
"Kanan, what's going on? What happ-"
She suddenly stopped and Kanan heard her slap a hand to her mouth at the sight of Ezra bleeding out, Zeb still gently holding onto him.
Kanan looked towards her, trying to keep a strong position. He wasn't about to make it seem like Ezra had no hope, that his signature was already beginning to slip through the cracks of this world.
"Hera, get gauze and oxygen, now. If we stop the bleeding as soon as possible, he'll make it in enough time to the medical center. Zeb, keep the Ghost on track with Chopper, tell the med center what's going on so they can prepare. I'll start undoing the tourniquet, go!"
Zeb laid Ezra down gently on the durasteel, the Lasat’s eyes in a panic as he got to his feet and hurried to the cockpit. Hera took no time and went up the ladder quickly, wasting not a second on sentimentality.
Kanan held Ezra up in a half sitting position and embraced him tightly now that he was alone. He firmly grasped Ezra’s hand.
"Keep trying to breathe as deep as you can,” he said in a gentle voice, forcing the words out of himself. “Soon enough we'll be at the medical center, and then we'll get this all dealt with. Everything is going to be okay. I got you. I'm not letting go, so you don't try to slip away, got it?"
"K-K'nan, I-I c-can't-"
"Shh, I know, I know. But you have to try."
Ezra released a pained wheeze as Kanan undid the tourniquet, his hands sticky with his student's blood.
At that moment, for perhaps the first time ever, Kanan was happy he didn't have his sight. If he did, he was sure he would get sick or lose his already cracking composure.
Moments later, Hera came down with a breathalyzer and mask, a wad of gauze clenched in her shaking hands. She quickly slid down to her knees and placed the mask over Ezra's nose and mouth, starting it up as Kanan began to slowly let him down onto the floor.
Kanan knelt at Ezra’s other side, grasping onto his limp hand, knowing it was the only thing he could do. Hera worked with the gauze to soak up the blood frantically, unable to speak to ask what happened, to ask how things got so wrong . As she worked, Ezra's eyes began to flicker, his already weakening grip on Kanan's hand beginning to go limp.
"Ezra, I need you to stay awake for me,” Kanan said, still forcing his voice to sound gentle, encouraging. “Squeeze my hand even just a little bit if you understand."
A long pause, and then a weak squeeze. Kanan released a breath in relief.
Ezra struggled to breathe even with the mask, his breaths shallow, beginning to slow down. Hera watched him closely as she pressed on the gauze against the wound harder, waiting for Ezra to cry out in pain from the pressure. He didn't react a bit, his eyes growing dimmer, falling closed.
This isn't good. This really, really isn't good, she realized. Tears built up in her eyes and threatened to fall down.
Kanan felt the situation take a turn and squeezed Ezra's hand again.
"Ezra, you can't go under, you have to stay awake, got it? Focus on something, just like I said. Squeeze my hand if you understand."
There was a long pause, and no squeeze.
Kanan shifted on his knees, his composed exterior beginning to crumble.
"Ezra, kid, I need you stay with me, okay, I am begging you."
There was still no motion from Ezra, his eyes growing empty, falling completely closed, his breaths occurring slower, and slower, and slower.
And then nothing.
Kanan froze.
He grasped onto Ezra's shoulders.
"Ezra?" he breathed and gave the body a shake. There was no response, his body was completely limp, eyes still shut, face deathly pale and slack under the oxygen mask.
Kanan frantically placed a hand on Ezra's chest, waiting for that little rise and fall.
Nothing came. Only silence.
"Ezra, come on, you're still there, I can still feel you. Just come back, just for a little longer, please."
Silence. Hera's heart began to crack at his words, the desperation in his voice, the quiver of fear in it. Her tears fell as the ventilator continued to be silent.
"Kanan…" she started, but he was too far away for listening.
"Ezra." Kanan's voice was somewhere between a whisper and a plea as he doubled over Ezra's still motionless chest, blood spreading all over his clothes. "Can you hear me? Ezra, please talk to me. Please talk to me. Please."
He reached a hand out to his apprentice's cheek and then down to the side of his neck, pressing down with a shaking hand for a pulse. It was completely still and shockingly cold already. Kanan placed the other hand over his mouth, stifling a sob, his ruined eyes burning, trying to develop tears.
"Hera, oh gods," he said in agony. Hera wiped her tears quickly and managed to stand, looking over her poor boy laying on the floor, still bleeding from an internal wound, likely suffering from a punctured lung and who knows what else, dead.
No. He couldn't be dead. He wasn't going to be.
Chopper beeped on the ship's intercom, stating that they were coming out of hyperspace and he was going to connect to the med-center.
Soon enough they did, attaching onto the rebel ship. A group of nurses and doctors were already coming towards them from the end of the hall, a stretcher between them. Hera helped lift her boy onto the stretcher and watched in terror as they ran away with him, one of the doctor's barking orders into a comm, listing the terms of Ezra's prognosis and demanding a surgery room to be prepped.
Hera was getting ready to chase after them, she had to see Ezra breathe again, she couldn't wait here not knowing if his heart would start, if his lungs would ever work again. But Kanan reached out a blood slicked hand and stopped her, shaking his head and holding her back. She turned and embraced him, crying out her fear into his arms.