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“Kanan. Kanan. ”
Kanan ignored Hera’s oh-so-familiar voice, and pointedly didn’t turn his head in her direction.
He was counting his breaths, trying to reach out with his feelings through the Force, to sense it around him. But just like one of his senses, it was as if it was gone. He could still feel it, but it was like a stranger to him now, like everything was.
He’d sequestered himself from the crew after being blinded by Maul, and though they didn’t treat him differently, only helped him when he expressly requested it of them, he couldn’t stand to be around them. Couldn’t stand to not see the people he cared about so much. Couldn’t stand to feel the pain in his eyes and know what he’d known was over.
To know he could no longer look at Hera and see the light green of her skin, the white tattoos on her lekku that she’d let him caress late into the night, the vivid sea-foam green of her eyes that were blue in certain lighting.
He couldn’t see Ezra, the boy he’d taken in. Or see Sabine and all her artwork. Couldn’t see Zeb or Chopper. Or the Ghost, his home.
Now there was just a vast emptiness, and he wanted it filled with solitude and silence. Why couldn’t they understand that?
“Kanan, you have to talk to me sometime,” Hera pressed.
He pursed his lips, and purposefully deepened his breathing.
But the Force wasn’t on his mind anymore. It wasn’t truly with him.
Instead there was the panic he’d felt during the fight on Malachor, the bite of betrayal he’d felt from Ezra, and now the unfamiliarity of everything around him.
And pain. Burning pain that he sometimes thought he’d gone insane from.
“Caleb.”
The stiffness of his spine relaxed at that, and he almost gave in right then and there.
But why should he talk to her? It wasn’t as if she was going to understand. Besides, what use was he to the rebellion now? And Hera had her own problems. To burden her with more… No, he couldn’t do it.
Hera’s boots grated against the dry ground as she approached him. Part of Kanan wanted to retreat, but with Hera, he wasn’t sure he knew how. Not truly.
Her breaths were rough, and when he did dare to touch the Force around her, it was swirling with trepidation. Finally, she reached out her hand and took hold of his right one.
“Hey, I know you’re in there,” she said, settling down next to him. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, or what this is even like. I… I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but when you’re ready, we’re here for you. All of us. And between you and me, I can’t wait for you to start annoying me again, love. I miss your bantering.
“But it’s been a month. Just… just let me know my Kanan is in there.”
Wrapping cold around himself, Kanan removed his hand from her touch.
“Fine!” she snapped, suddenly getting to her feet. “Treat me like that if you want, but I hope you remember Ezra—you know, the boy you chose to train—needs you.”
She left, and Kanan could breathe easier, even as hurt welled around him, nearly enough to drown him.
It seemed like they all needed him, and he couldn’t even be there for himself. If he couldn’t help himself then how…? What good was he, to any of them?
He missed them, but everything was so different. He hated it.
Even now he wanted to follow Hera, apologize, hold her like he used to, but… No, it would be easier not to.
Kanan had gotten through hurt once before while all alone. He would do it again. It wasn’t his job to drag the others down.
They’ll see, he thought. They’re better without me.