Work Text:
Sometimes, Kanan dreamed.
It differed each time. Mostly, it was nightmares, typically involving the darker options for his position—the ones often threatened by Maul and his former masters. Sometimes, he imagined new punishments, or pre-existing ones that he would rather have died than gone through again.
Other times, he simply dreamed of dying.
But occasionally, very occasionally, Kanan would dream of being free. Or more free, at least.
In these rare instances, he mostly dreamed of running. Running errands and packages and drugs and deliveries as a courier, slipping by unnoticed by most in crowded city streets and maybe pilfering a credit or two if he felt lucky. Running through crowded spaceports, trying to leave behind the slavery that was almost all he’d ever known and yet running straight back into one of his masters or an enforcer. Running by and through air vents and airlocks and open space without a suit as he tried to outrun everyone and everything.
The monster always caught him, however.
Sometimes, he made it past. Made it all the way to a pair of soft hands and a warm voice murmuring a name he didn’t remember.
He always woke up in a cold sweat after that.