Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The halls of the Ghost were quiet. 

That in itself wasn’t unusual, but where before it was due to the crew sleeping or taking some personal time, now it was because grief sat heavy in the air, cloying and uncomfortable and a permanent reminder of what they’d lost. 

Where there was once life and laughter, now there is nothing but agony and heartbreak. 

The oppressive atmosphere had driven Hera, Sabine, and Zeb to find accommodation with the locals on Lothal, but Ezra couldn’t bring himself to leave. Doing so felt like a betrayal, and he couldn’t face sleeping elsewhere when the Ghost was the only connection to Kanan he had left. 

He’d taken the top bunk in his master’s room in order to stay close to the man’s lingering echoes. There was a warmth still present within the walls, despite the usual coldness that could be found in ships; his scent – that of woodfire with a hint of ozone and electricity that often came with hyperspace and wielding his lightsaber – was as strong as it was the day he died.  

All those little things were reminders of his deceased master, and his heart ached all the more for it. Perhaps it was because he was older and knew what this loss meant more than he had at seven years old when his parents had been taken, or perhaps it was because he had a bond with Kanan that was stronger than the one he’d shared with them. 

Not only had he and Kanan been connected through the Force, but he’d accepted the man as his master which, in many ways, meant he’d also chosen him as his father. 

His parents had taught him his core values and how important it was to stand up for people, but Kanan had nurtured those beliefs, helped them grow. He’d guided him through his first shaky steps of adulthood, and had never lost faith in him, even when Ezra had given up on himself. He’d praised his accomplishments, guided him through his defeats, held him in his grief and confusion, and tolerated his harebrained schemes more than anyone else; usually right there alongside him to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. 

He loved his parents, and he would always grieve their deaths – but losing Kanan was like losing a part of himself. A loss that was infinitely worse. 

Kanan’s spacer jackets had become a part of his wardrobe, as had his blaster holsters. The jackets were slightly too big, but he knew he’d grow into them eventually; multiple complaints made by his master about his recent growth spurts and constantly needing to replace his clothes proof that it wouldn’t be too long until they fit him properly. 

They were a comfort, but out of respect for the rest of the crew he only wore them when he was on the ship or where they wouldn’t see him; like in his tower or the fields around it. He missed Kanan, but he wasn’t the only one, and he’d never be so cruel as to accidentally let the others see him in something they knew belonged to Specter-1. 

The one-month anniversary for Kanan’s death was marked by a constant bombardment of nightmares he just couldn’t shake; forced to watch again and again as his master was swallowed up by the explosion while he was stuck behind an invisible barrier that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past. 

After a particularly violent version where he had to listen to Kanan scream as his body was eaten alive by fire, a sob tore its way from his throat with a choked-off scream right behind it, and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Ezra threw himself out of his bunk and took off, running blindly in the dark with tears blurring his vision and streaming down his cheeks. The grass of the Lothal plains was coarse beneath his feet, and the rocks and other debris the grass hid sliced through the bare soles. He started trailing blood, but didn’t notice it because all he could focus on was getting as far away from those nightmares, those memories, as he could. 

The only reason he stopped was because his body gave out on him; blood loss mixed with his hyperventilating practically yanking his feet out from under him and dropping him at the base of a rock cluster. Face down in the grass, he didn’t see the white loth cat that trotted up to him, chirping curiously at his unexpected intrusion. He didn’t feel the loth cat rub against his face before settling on his back, purring loudly and kneading contentedly as though trying to relax him. 

He certainly didn’t notice the Loth Wolf the feline summoned, nor did he feel the great white beast gently pick him up with his teeth and carry him into the cave he’d passed out in front of. 

When he regained consciousness, he was lightheaded, his muscles trembling and sore from overexertion. It was the only explanation for why it took longer than it should have to realise he was no longer in the Ghost, but in a cave and with no memory of how he got there. He was also surrounded by three Loth Wolves, and he was even more confused than he was a second ago. Did he come to them? Or did they come to him? 

“Dume,” the white wolf called softly. That one word reminded him of how he got there, and why, and it broke his heart all over again. 

Fresh tears tumbled down his cheeks as he shook his head helplessly. The wolf was connected to his master, and he’d forgotten to tell it of Kanan’s passing. “He’s gone,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut and bowing his head, both in apology and confession of his failure. Because he had failed. If he’d been that little bit faster, he could’ve helped Kanan; or he could have at least protected him enough for the others to get him out. 

Instead, he got there when it was too late – forced to watch his master, his father, be consumed by the explosion; leaving him with little more than a split second of eye contact before he was gone forever. 

“He sacrificed himself to save us,” he whispered. “But he couldn’t get out.” 

“Caleb Dume was not meant to die!”  

He snapped his head up to find himself no longer in the cave, instead standing on Lothal’s grassy plains. The sky was a deep, dark indigo that reminded him of that strange in-between of dusk and night on his home planet; where the two moons and two suns were on opposite ends of the horizon, bathing the land with their glow. The sky was smudged with faint wisps of orange and pink and was studded with stars, while the grass beneath his feet, knee-high and lush, swayed silently in the soft breeze. 

It was beautiful, but not unfamiliar; he’d been here several times before when he’d dreamed of his parents – but they weren’t with him this time.  

Instead, he was standing before the three wolves, the creatures towering over him and making him feel infinitely small. There was the white wolf he’d come to know as Dume on the left, a grey wolf in the middle, and a pitch-black wolf on the right. They were each haloed by the light of the suns and moons; their fur glowing and giving them an ethereal appearance – fitting, given their ancient connection to the Force – and they were watching him intently. 

It wasn’t difficult to work out that it was the black wolf that had spoken. Unlike the other two, the creature’s ears were flat against its skull and its lips drawn back in a snarl, revealing glistening white, very sharp teeth. Its fur was rippling as it glared at him, and its amber eyes flashed dangerously. Ezra straightened unconsciously under the scrutiny. “How did this happen?” 

On this plane of existence, he could feel the three wolves in the back of his mind; three balls of energy that didn’t exactly hurt, but they weren’t a warm, peaceful sensation either. They were simply there, as though they were a part of him, and here in this twilight Otherworld they could speak to him freely, and he them. 

“There was an explosion. He held it back long enough for us to get out, but...” his eyes started to sting, and he furiously blinked back the tears he could feel that were threatening to fall. “He couldn’t hold it off for long.” 

The black wolf huffed angrily. “There was much he had left to do.” 

Ezra closed his eyes and dipped his head. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew sorry certainly didn’t cover it.  

“What’s done is done,” the grey one said. “You should not grieve him.” 

Head whipping back up, Ezra gaped at the creature, horror and hurt swirling in his gut. “How can you say that?! He was my master. My father! I... I’ve lost so much already. Why did I have to lose him too?” A lone tear escaped, but he didn’t wipe it away, his grief weighing heavily on his shoulders. “It’s not fair.” 

“Loss never is,” Dume replied. “Your pain has summoned us, Ezra Bridger. It is a raw, open wound that needs healing so you can move on; but how will you do this?” 

It was a good question, but not one he knew how to answer. Days after Kanan’s death, the overwhelming grief of Hera, Sabine, and Zeb had slammed into him like a tidal wave; the strength of their devastation slipping past his mental shields that had been left in tatters after his bond with his master was ripped from his mind. 

The damage had nearly drowned him, leaving him floundering helplessly with no idea how to reach the surface or break free. He’d been trapped in a rapidly spiraling feedback loop of despair that had only broken when he fled to his tower to get away from it all.  

It had taken days to recover, but he had, slowly yet surely, and eventually he’d been able to repair the holes the broken bond had left behind. Once those were repaired, the effects of his team’s grief weren’t as strong as they had been, although he could still feel it niggling at the back of his mind like an itch. It was part of the reason he’d been staying in the Ghost, rather than the village; the further away he was from them, the less it hurt. 

Sabine had lost the man who had taken her in under his wing, who had supported her more destructive ideas while offering a balanced counterpoint that ensured said ideas did the most damage whilst getting them all home alive. When they weren’t blowing things up, the pair were often found tinkering in the Ghost’s cargo hold, building new weapons, or stripping the tech they’d acquired for parts. In many ways, Kanan had filled the role of mentor, friend, and father; helping guide and protect her as her own family weren’t in any position to do so from halfway across the galaxy. 

In Kanan, Zeb had lost his brother in arms; someone who knew what it was like to lose the ones he loved, as well as his entire race, because of the Empire. Zeb had lost the man who had looked past the anger and self-loathing he’d wallowed in for so long after Lasan’s fall, and redirected those self-destructive tendencies into a more noble cause while also giving him the chance to lay his demons to rest. He’d also lost best friend; Zeb and Kanan lethal partners in sparring, sabacc, and dejarik. Ezra had always held his own against the lasat, but the mutual respect shared between the older warriors was vastly different to his and Zeb’s own friendship. 

And then there was Hera, who had lost the love of her life. Her partner in crime, and the one who had never stopped believing in her while cheering her on from the co-pilot chair on some of their more daring stunts. She’d lost the man who had wormed his way behind her hardened exterior and into her heart after years of battling to prove herself to her people, then the Rebellion, and even to the Empire. 

But the biggest loss of all for Hera was that she’d lost the father of her unborn children. 

It was still early days, and very possible that Hera had no idea that she was even pregnant, but he’d sensed the twin sparks growing a few days ago; two tiny pinpricks of joy amongst the muted grey that he knew without a doubt needed to be protected at all cost. 

That, and they needed their father there to raise them, just as their little family deserved. 

He loved Hera like a mother; she was warm, protective, and guided him when he stumbled. Hearing her grief in the Force was like a knife to the heart, and it was made even worse as she hadn’t looked at him since it happened. Not that he’d ever blame her for that, no matter how much it hurt; he knew he reminded her of what she lost, and what she would have to survive alone, and if staying away helped ease her pain then so be it. 

He’d leave the planet for her if he had to. 

His friends were all suffering because he’d been too slow to save Kanan, and if he could, he’d give anything to go back in time... to... 

Ezra stared at the white wolf, a small flicker of hope igniting in his chest. 

The wolves were ancient beings, powerful in the Force. If anyone knew how to reverse what was done, it would be them. 

“Can you do it?” he asked, almost breathless with hope. “You’re ancient Force users, so surely you know how to fix this. You could -” 

The black wolf growled, cutting off his rambling. He swallowed nervously, glancing at the creature as though expecting it to attack before his attention was taken by Dume when the wolf shifted closer. “Ask your question, Child of the Force,” he said, the gentle words as hard as durasteel, amber eyes glowing with the power Kanan had seen within them all those weeks ago. 

Ezra dropped to one knee, bowing his head submissively. He could feel the Force shifting around him, blanketing him; he knew that his next words had to be right, otherwise all hope was lost. Breathing deeply to calm his thundering heart, he asked, “Can you bring Kanan back?” 

It was silent for a long moment, then, “Yes.”  

Ezra felt his breath catch in his throat; but as soon as that hope exploded into a full-blown fire, it was doused with ice by the grey wolf. 

“But such a thing is not without its price.” 

“Anything,” he blurted. “I’ll pay anything.” The wolves remained unmoving, and he paused; realisation hitting him like a blaster bolt. Ezra rolled his shoulders back and held his head high. “I will take his place,” he vowed. “Kanan is a Child of the Force, as am I. A life for a life; a fair trade.” 

The three wolves started circling him, their piercing gold eyes unblinking as they stared at him as though they were looking deep into his soul. He could feel the Force shift around them, through them, as though they were reading its currents for an answer. 

“It is a selfless act; noble, even,” Dume eventually rumbled, “but not as simple as you think.” 

His heart sank. “Why not?” 

“The Force is in all things,” Dume told him, the three wolves’ footsteps silent in the in-between. “It is what binds the past, present, and future together. To change the past is to change the future. Every decision made since your master’s passing could be unwritten; every good decision could become bad – every bad decision could become worse. Should your master walk away from the blast, should you die in his place, your different influences on past decisions will create outcomes we cannot control.” 

“Caleb Dume is not just a Child of the Force, but a Jedi Knight. He is powerful, young one. Far more powerful than you.” The grey wolf’s words were sympathetic, but no less heartbreaking. “Taking his place will leave a catastrophic imbalance in the Force. Your sacrifice is not enough.” 

Face crumpling, Ezra bit back the sob that was desperately trying to escape. He hadn’t been enough to save Kanan when he died. He wasn’t enough to bring him back now. 

He was nothing. Useless. 

“You are a powerful Jedi in your own right, Ezra Bridger,” Dume said, moving closer and nudging him with his snout. “But you are not your master. One day you would have been, and you could still be if you allow nature to take its course.” 

“You know that’s not what I want,” he argued around a clogged throat. “I’m nothing. My life makes no difference to the Specters, believe me. Yes, I’ve helped them win battles, but I’m just another cog in the machine that won’t be missed. But Kanan? His death has ripped us apart. I will do whatever you ask of me; I will pay whatever price you ask if you would just make this work.” He fell silent, mind working frantically as he tried to come up with a solution that would allow Kanan to survive the blast without impacting everything that had come after, as Dume said it would.  

Grief had driven so many of their decisions since his master’s passing, as had anger and denial. Loathe as he was to admit it, those emotions had to remain until after Kanan rejoined them, almost as though the others were grieving his injuries until he - “a coma!” he blurted, eyes going wide with hope. “If you save him from the blast, he could be in a coma from then until now.” 

The wolves stopped circling.  

“You’re concerned about him surviving the blast and making decisions that could change ones everyone has already made, right? So, save him from the blast; shield him, but make it so that he’s in a coma and wakes today. His sacrifice still happens, our grief is still real, but he lives to fight another day.” 

“Hmm,” Dume rumbled, looking at the other two. “An interesting solution.” 

“The Force must remain balanced,” the black wolf countered, lips curling in a snarl. “To save a life, one must take its place. Such is the way.” 

Ezra grunted irritably. “I already said I’d take his place!” 

The black wolf’s eyes glinted dangerously. “But you cannot die in the blast; a loss of your influences will have just as much of an effect on the past as your master’s resurrection will!” 

“Then I won’t take his place in the blast, but it doesn’t mean I won’t die. I can do so now if that is your wish.” Even if his own wish was to see Kanan one last time; know that he was alive and well and would look after their family, but he wouldn’t go against the wolves. Not over this. 

The grey wolf hummed thoughtfully. “A sound choice, young one. But not one your master will agree with.” 

He blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“If your master learns the truth, he will ask to swap places with you; such is the nature of a parent protecting its cub. Back and forth your sacrifices would go as you try to save the other; this cannot happen.” 

Ezra bit back a groan of frustration. The wolf wasn’t wrong. Kanan would demand to sacrifice himself for Ezra, even if it went against his wishes. Then he’d demand to have Kanan brought back, and it would spiral into a vicious cycle that would undoubtedly end in both their deaths. 

The only way to stop that and the others was if Kanan didn’t know he existed at all. 

“Can you make them forget me?” he asked softly, ignoring the way his heart twisted painfully at the thought of his family forgetting who he was. “If they don’t remember me, they won’t try get me back.” 

Dume cocked his head. “You would erase yourself from existence?” 

“If it meant saving Kanan? Without hesitation.” 

The Force surged around him, but despite the violent nature of it, it was comforting in its embrace. There were many things he feared in life – but this wasn’t one of them. 

“Very well,” the black wolf said, dipping its head once. “The price is your life, and all memory of you. The Force will remove all traces of you from this galaxy; purge you from the memories of those you love, and from every archive of your enemy. In the minds of all, it will be as though you never existed.” The gold eyes cut deep into his soul. “Do you agree?” 

It wasn’t even a question that needed to be asked. Ezra held his head high, the decision bringing a peace that settled around him like a thick cloak.  ”I do.” 

The three wolves nodded, although Ezra couldn’t help but notice Dume was a fraction slower than the other two. “Very well.” 

It was like a great weight had left him. In his eyes, his life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was but a speck amongst a vast galaxy; his existence having no impact on what happened anywhere else. But his master? His master was the embodiment of the Jedi; brave, loyal, steadfast, fierce, selfless. By the Gods, was he selfless – it was that trait that had killed him in the first place, after all; but now Kanan’s pure heart and determination to bring peace to the galaxy would continue for years to come.  

More importantly, Hera and Kanan’s children would grow up with both their parents, just as they deserved. As an orphan, he knew what it was like to have a parents’ love, only to lose it. Just like he knew Kanan’s regret for not having known his own family, who had surrendered him to the Jedi when he was a few months old.  

Giving those twin sparks the chance grow up with their father was the greatest gift he could hope to give them, and giving his master the chance to be a parent, to be there with his children and see them grow into fine people was his way of saying thank you for the love and care he’d been given ever since he’d been taken under then man’s wing. 

Well, he wouldn’t quite see them grow, unless... 

“I have one last thing to ask, before we do this.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When you bring Kanan back, will he still be able to see?” 

“Caleb Dume can see just as well without his eyes as he can with them,” the grey wolf said. “His lack of sight has not slowed him down, but strengthened him. His sight was returned to him briefly, but not with the intention of being permanent.” 

While Kanan had never admitted out loud what the loss of his vision had cost him, Ezra had occasionally felt it echo down their bond in the dead of night. There was regret for not being able to see his family when they laughed or found something new that was of interest to them all. There was fear of flying into a battle with only a sliver of the overall picture, because things were happening too quickly and over vast distances that the Force couldn’t accurately translate into the pictures his eyes would otherwise do for him within a fraction of a second. There was sadness of not getting to see him and Sabine grow up, or Hera in quiet, peaceful contemplation, or Zeb’s impressive acrobatic feats. 

The Force showed Kanan much, but there was still plenty he missed out on, and not being able to see his children was the worst kind of cruelty that he wanted to spare his master. 

One final gift to him, as it were. 

“What is the price of giving him back his vision, as though it were brand new? And full mobility, as well?” Just in case the blast left him with disabilities that couldn’t be fixed. He doubted the wolves would do that, but he had to make sure he covered all his bases. “He deserves to see his children grow up, and they deserve to have their father uninjured from the explosion so he can be as hands on with their upbringing as he can be.”

The Force shifted once more, growing with immense power as the three wolves started circling him, their steps in perfect harmony with each other. Their eyes started to glow, growing so bright he was almost blinded, yet there was something different about them, almost as though it was no longer them he was talking to, but someone, something, else. 

Dume was the first to speak, the white wolf’s gaze boring into his. “Ezra Bridger, Child of the Force, the tapestry of the universe foretells of one final journey for you; one that is destined to be yours, and yours alone.” 

The grey wolf spoke next as he passed his line of vision. “The time for this journey will soon be at hand. You ask for your master to reawaken without injury or disability; yet your price cannot immediately be paid.” 

The wolves stopped, the black one in front of him this time. “Therefore, the price of waking your master and returning him to full health will be the cost of your vision, and your voice.”  

Ezra flinched. He’d be without his eyes and his voice for... who knew how long. Helpless and completely cut off from everything around him. Was that something he could do? 

“You will keep your hearing,” Dume whispered, the gentle rumbles warming the ice that had settled in his veins. “And your will have your connection to the Force. You will not be entirely without.” 

Kanan. He was doing all this for Kanan. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. So what if his final days were spent in the dark? If it meant Kanan was healed, it was worth it. “I accept your price.” 

As one, the wolves started to glow; their fur growing brighter and brighter, flooding the Lothali plains with incredible, blinding light. 

The Force crashed into him, cradling him in its power even as it twisted and folded in on itself; vibrant, beautiful colours exploding across his vision like fireworks. It was as though the Force was thanking him for his sacrifice, and for a final view, it wasn’t a bad one. 

Ezra tilted his head back as he was swept away, and smiled.

Chapter Text

In the heart of Lothal’s rebel base, Kanan Jarrus sat up with a gasp.  

Chest heaving, nerve endings tingling with the residual sensation of fire, he looked around the medical ward wildly; desperately trying to work out how he had survived an attack that should have been fatal.  

The helplessness, the fear; he’d felt those emotions tenfold as the torpedoes bore down on him, but those emotions had been nothing compared to the relief of knowing his family was safe and sound, and would continue on without him.  

But... now he was here. Alive.  

How?  

A glass shattered, and he whipped his head towards the sound only to find Hera standing in the doorway, three shades paler and gaping wordlessly at him.  

“Hera?” 

“Kanan,” his beloved breathed, ignoring the glass she’d dropped as she hurried to his side; throwing herself at him the second she was in reach. “Kanan! I don’t believe it, you’re awake!” 

He gathered the twi’lek in his arms and pressed their foreheads together, reveling in her presence. The last he’d seen her, she’d been watching in horror as the light swallowed him whole. “I’m here, I’m okay.” How, he had no idea, but he wasn’t going to waste it. Nor was he going to question the return of his eyesight; the Force had returned it before the blast and seemed happy for him to keep it, for which he was infinitely grateful. “I’m okay, my love.” 

Hera was trembling in his arms, crying silently, and he held her through it all. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her temple, hugging her as tight as his weak muscles allowed. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was struggling to keep himself upright – but he’d do it for her, no questions asked. “I never thought...” 

“Kanan,” Hera groaned, drawing back enough that he could see her face wet with tears. “Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid Jedi.” 

Well. He couldn’t say no to that, could he?  

“As my lady commands.” 

Kanan would have happily continued kissing Hera until he either ran out of air, or energy, but he had no such say in the matter as Chopper came rolling in; asking Hera what was taking her so long, then hurling accusations and insults galore at him when the droid realised he was awake.  

“Good to see you too, Chop,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at a particularly colourful invective as to his uselessness that had Hera chuckling into his shoulder, curled up as she was beside him.  

Chopper blatted at him.  

“Chop, can you go get the doctor?” Hera asked, raising her voice slightly so she could be heard over her droid’s continued insults. “Sabine and Zeb, too. They’ll want to know Kanan’s awake.” 

The droid blatted another insult before rolling out the room, his support struts waving wildly as he left. Kanan shook his head and settled back against the pillows Hera had slid behind him, all traces of strength gone despite his best efforts to cling to them. “I swear that droid has a screw loose.” 

“One or two,” Hera agreed with a small laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s just his way of showing he cares.” 

“I thought he electrocuted the people he cared about?” 

Hera shrugged as she smoothed out his blankets. “He does that too.” 

Chopper must’ve screamed down the base because his room was quickly flooded with doctors, nurses, a few of the Rebels leaders – both in the flesh and holo form – and Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper; all of them asking him questions about what he remembered or how he was feeling, and all of them one almighty tantrum away from being sent from the room indefinitely.  

He was tired, he was sore, and he felt so incredibly weak it was a miracle he was conscious at all - and how none of them could see that, he had no idea.   

Kanan looked at Hera, silently begging her for help – and bless his former master and whoever else was watching over him for bringing Hera into his life because his love nodded and shooed all but his family from the room – years of living together meaning he didn’t have to say a word to get his plea for some peace and quiet across.  

“Alright, everyone except for the Ghost Crew – out you go. Kanan’s had enough for now, he’ll answer your other questions later.” 

“But -” 

“Now.” 

“You are such a mom,” Sabine chuckled as everyone else left, her and Chopper waving at the doctor that was the last to leave, shutting the door behind her. “Honestly, they’re writing songs of ‘The Wrath of Hera’ as we speak, mark my words.” 

Chopper warbled an agreement, while Zeb sniggered none too quietly.  

Kanan sighed and leaned further back into his pillows, grateful that the people he didn’t know had finally left.  

The relentless questions had left him dazed, there was a persistent throbbing in his head that was making it hard to think, and the small burst of adrenaline he’d had when he first woke had faded; the simple act of trying to keep himself upright sapping the rest of his strength and leaving him trembling and weak.  

From what he’d gathered from various comments made during his medical interrogation, he’d definitely been caught in the explosion, but he’d apparently shielded himself with the Force. When they’d found him, he’d been in a coma; completely unresponsive and covered in burns that while serious, weren’t life threatening.  

Given they’d had no indication if he’d ever wake, most had acted like he’d died. Even his family had been left feeling helpless without answers, and they’d suffered through that strong possibility they’d never get him back. He felt bad for what he’d put them through, but he’d had no control over the matter. The fact he’d managed to survive was a miracle in itself.  

“Kanan.” 

He looked up into emerald green eyes, and his heart stuttered a beat or two at the utter love that was pouring into the Force from the woman beside him. By the Gods, what had he done to deserve Hera? Deserve his family?  

“Get some sleep, love.” Hera smoothed a hand across his forehead, sweeping his bangs back from his eyes. “We’ll be here when you wake.” 

He nodded, taking one last long look at his little family – at Hera, Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper – and he was beyond grateful they were all together still. That the Empire hadn’t torn them apart like they’d tried so many times before.  

Closing his eyes, Kanan knew tomorrow would come soon enough and with it more questions and tests; but right then, he had his family, and that was all that mattered.  

His recovery was far shorter than it had any right to be, in his opinion. Even the doctors were amazed by how quickly he’d recovered, and in no time at all he was walking out of the medical suite and into the house – specifically, into Hera’s room – his family had decided to move into while waiting for news of his recovery.  

Kanan knew that bacta and jedi healing had a huge part to play in him being scar-free, but even he was surprised by how good he felt. It was almost like he’d never been injured at all; that he’d simply passed out from Force exhaustion for a few weeks and now he was fully recovered.  

The only pain that lingered, if it could be called that, was a persistent niggling in the back of his head. It didn’t hurt as such, but it was always there in the background – a dull ache that made itself known no matter how many painkillers he took or healing trances he dropped into to get rid of it.  

It was one of those pains that if he ignored it, then he’d forget about it – but if he thought about it; there it was.  

During one of his meditations where he tried to examine the injury and find a way to fully heal it, he discovered that it felt a lot like his broken training bond with his former master. Even years after her death, touching that empty space in his mind was a lot like brushing a raw nerve ending; tender to the touch and eliciting a spike of pain strong enough to make him wince.  

It was an unusual comparison to make, but it was the only one he could think of.   

A few more attempts at healing the pain made no difference, and he sighed as he withdrew from his mediation. At the end of the day if that was the only side effect of his coma he’d take it – especially once he found out that Hera was pregnant with his children, because he was going to need every bit of his health and then some that he could get.  

The thoughts of dad, dad, you’re going to be a dad! Holy kriff-balls! kept bouncing around his head from the moment Hera came to him with the results clutched in her shaking hands, to when he held his son, Jacen, and daughter, Eleni, in his arms for the first time, and even long after the fact.  

“They’re perfect,” Sabine sighed, standing over his shoulder, smiling down at the sleeping bundles that glowed so brightly in the Force, Kanan felt like he was going blind all over again. “How does it feel to be a dad?” 

“Yeah,” Zeb added, ruffling his hair and smirking when Kanan glared at him, unable to fend him off. “It’s a big responsibility for you. Are you sure you can handle it?” 

“I’ve done alright so far,” he retorted slyly. “A week raising you two and anyone would be set for life.” Chopper blatted at him from his spot beside Hera’s bed where she was sleeping after a long labour, a small smile on her lips even in her dreams. “There was never any hope raising you, Chop,” he said. “You were a lost cause from the get go.” 

The droid retorted something less than complimentary, making the rest of them chuckle.  

“I’ve always felt like our family wasn’t quite complete,” he said softly, eyes on his children and oblivious – just like the rest of them – to the shadow that was lingering outside the private medical room door. “But I never knew why I felt like that. Now I do, because it finally is.” 

The shadow moved on, unseen and unheard. Kanan looked up when he thought he felt a soft wave of warmth and love in the Force wash over him; soothing him with its touch. When he found no one else there he brushed it off as a trick of his imagination, although a small part of him wondered if it was his master and grandmaster watching over him, congratulating him the only way they could.  

Four months after the twins’ arrival, Kanan was standing on Lothal’s grassy plains, his arm curled around Hera’s shoulders as they stared up at the smoke-filled afternoon sky where Thrawn’s ship had been only minutes before. Just as he’d thought that the end was upon them and they’d all be wiped out, a pod of purrgils arrived from out of nowhere; wrapping their tentacles around the enemy ship before vanishing again, leaving nothing more than a void and a trail of debris in their wake.  

“It’s done,” Sabine breathed from his other side, cradling Eleni close to her chest. Jacen was in Hera’s arms, Zeb just behind them, and Chopper guarding their front. All of them battered and bruised, but very much alive. “I can’t believe it’s over.” 

“Neither can I,” Zeb agreed, ears flat against his head as they watched the debris burn in the upper atmosphere; visible despite the afternoon suns that were slowly dropping towards the horizon. “Who attacked Thrawn?” 

“No one knows,” Hera murmured, her free hand pressed against her radio earpiece as she listened to the rapid-fire calls of pilots returning to the planet. “None of our pilots are reported missing, but it was definitely one of our ships that intercepted Thrawn before he could reach us. Whoever it was, they sacrificed themselves to get us our victory.” 

Kanan grimaced at the sudden pressure in his head. It was so sharp that he clutched it, gasping as the Force flooded his mind with glimpses of what had happened on the command deck. He saw the purrgils follow the tugging of the Force that had summoned them; saw Thrawn’s panicked yet furious expression when he realised he’d been thwarted; saw the Force swirl bright and overwhelming around whoever it was that faced down the Admiral before they were dragged out of Lothal’s atmosphere to parts unknown.  

But there was more to it, than that. Something else the Force felt was important for them to know...  

“The purrgils have taken them far beyond Wild Space,” he breathed, unaware of the way his voice deepened, or that his eyes were glowing as the Force guided his words. “You will not see them again for many years.” 

The twins started fussing, the excessive channeling of the Force making them squirm and whine in discomfort. It was the sound of his children’s distress that drew him out of the trance he’d unintentionally dropped into, while Hera turned to face him. “Love, what was that?” 

“I’m... not sure.” He massaged his temples, the pressure vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Just as it faded there was a long, mournful chime that echoed through the Force, the sound continuing to resonate within him long after it ended. “A Force vision, I think, but it’s gone now.” 

“Something tells me we’ll never know who it was that saved us,” Hera sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, her words filled with sadness at the unknown person they’d lost. “I just wish we had the chance to say thank you. That mystery person... I don’t think they’ll ever truly understand what they did for us today.” 

No, he realised with a sinking heart. They wouldn’t. Kanan sent a quiet thank you through the Force, hoping that his gratefulness would reach the person wherever they ended up.  

A mournful howl echoed over the plains, low and piercing and filled with a grief so vast that it made his breath catch in his throat. In the distance, standing on the top of a hill was a pack of Loth-Wolves, the creatures framed in shadow, their heads tilted towards the sky. The lead wolf howled again, dipping its head once before turning and disappearing over the crest of the hill.  

Troubled, Kanan watched the creatures leave; unable to shake the feeling that whoever it was they’d lost, it wasn’t just the Rebellion that would be mourning their sacrifice.  

The settlement around him came to life; happy chatter and laughter bouncing amongst the buildings, and talks of a party starting now that the Empire had left their system. Kanan knew he should be pleased; that he should be celebrating their win with the others, but the loss of this unknown individual sat heavy on his shoulders.  

In his eyes, it didn’t feel much like a victory at all.  

In the early hours of the following morning, long after the bonfires had died down to embers, Kanan sat upright with a gasp; sweat clinging to his bare skin, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest, and his breathing coming in quick, shallow pants as if he’d run a marathon.  

He wasn’t sure what it was that had woken him; whether it was his usual nightmare of Order 66, or if it was the memory of watching his death racing towards him from the sky, ready to swallow him whole, or if it was watching Thrawn’s ship powering up, ready to blast Lothal into oblivion just before the purrgils arrived.  

All of those options were as terrifying as the next, and they were top contenders for what had disturbed his sleep this time around.  

Kanan closed his eyes and focused on bringing his breathing back under control, using the technique his master had taught him within their first week together when things got to be too much.  

Breathe in. Hold. Hold. Breathe out.  

Breathe in. Hold. Hold. Breathe out.  

He could already feel his heartbeat returning to its regular pace, the terror of his dreams fading back into the background, although not quite completely gone.  

As he went for his third inhale, a quiet, almost distant howl broke the evening air.  

His eyes snapped open and turned automatically towards the window, finding nothing but moonlight spilling through the glass and onto the bed. Another howl replied to the first, just as sad as the one he’d heard the previous afternoon. He knew without a doubt that that was what had woken him.  

Moving carefully so as not to wake Hera who was curled up beside him, her fingers tangled with the corner of his pillow in her sleep, Kanan slipped out from beneath the sheet and padded on silent feet across the room. He stopped by the crib to check on the twins, taking a moment to bask in their Force presence that was so light and pure as they slept, before continuing down the hall; drawn to the wolves and unable to explain why.  

He made it to the cloak room and pulled on his jacket and boots, slipping silently out the door. Across the moonlit planes there was a lone Loth-wolf in the far distance. It was hard to tell, but it looked like it was staring right at him. Waiting for him to join it.  

Before he had a chance to second guess himself, Kanan left the safety of his house and crossed the road, ducking under a fence and climbing over another; never deviating from his straight line as he went beyond the outskirts of the village and entered the fields.  

The wolf only moved once he was just within reach, the creature turning and padding across the field, moving slowly towards... he dragged his attention away from the white fur and to his surroundings, and noticed an old communications tower in the distance.  

“Are we going there?” he asked quietly, feeling a bit stupid for asking the creature a question in the first place, but not sure what else to do.  

The wolf snorted softly. That was as much of a confirmation as he was likely to get from an animal.  

“Okay then.” 

The pace they set was a brisk walk, Kanan three steps behind and to the right, and the wolf never once stopped to see if he was following – although he knew the creature didn’t need to turn to know where he was. All wolf species had heightened senses, and he doubted this one was any different.  

As they walked, his eyes drifted to the night sky; the inky blackness studded with seemingly unending stars, the dark occasionally sliced open by a shooting star – but what was a true meteor, and what was lingering debris, it was hard to say.  

“Did you feel the purrgils arrive?” he wondered aloud, more to fill the silence that surrounded him than anything else. There was the slight rustling of grass, and chirping of nocturnal insects, but other than that it was utterly silent. “There was a shift in the Force when they did, and I can sense the Force is strong in you.” He frowned and tilted his head thoughtfully. “You’re... really strong in the Force, actually,” he added, more than a little surprised by what he was sensing.  

Now that he was looking for it, the Force was swirling around the wolf, layer upon layer upon layer that seemed to go on forever. He’d never felt anything like it from anyone other than Bendu. ”You’re an ancient Force-user.” Kanan bit his lip thoughtfully; that didn’t sound quite right, either. But then again...  

The wolf stopped, and he looked up; blinking in surprise when he found they’d arrived at the tower. There was a button beside the door that the wolf nudged with its nose, and the door slid open silently.  

Kanan watched, intrigued, as the wolf padded inside and started up the winding staircase. He gave himself a mental shake and followed, his right hand trailing along the metal wall as they climbed.  

As they headed up, Kanan tilted his head as the metal went from smooth to rough to smooth again. He paused, trailing his fingers along the metal until he found another rough patch, then lightly ran his fingertips over the surface as he tried to work out what it was that he was feeling.  

It was slightly crumbly; flecks sticking to his fingers and coming away almost... tacky. “Paint?” he said, only to realise that was exactly what it was. The walls were covered in paint.  

Intrigued, he ran his fingers over the surface, falling back to the skills he’d picked up when he was blind when he wanted to understand something and no one else was around to describe it to him. His fingers traced the lines carefully, moving up, across, down, then back up again; slowly building a picture in his head as to what he was looking at. It was, “Chopper?” 

It was a crude painting; not quite accurate, but not so terrible that it could be mistaken for another droid.  

There was another painting just a little way up; this time slightly better, and clearly of Zeb. There was another that was much more improved of Sabine. Then Hera, then... “Who lives here?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to the creature that was waiting patiently for him. All he could see of it in the darkened stairwell was its glowing gold eyes, but that didn’t matter. Someone was spying on his family, and he wanted to know who. “Who’s been watching me and my team?” 

The wolf exhaled heavily and continued upwards. Kanan gave the dark wall one last look before running after his companion, who always managed to stay ahead of him no matter how quickly he moved.  

Just as he thought he was going to have to use the Force to try close the distance between them, Kanan skidded through an open doorway into the observation room. There was a bed pressed up against one wall, a small kitchen alongside the other, and a door further ahead that, upon a quick inspection, led to a simple bathroom.  

But what caught his attention was the paint that decorated the walls and floors; small murals no larger than his hand, and intricately detailed. He drifted forwards, enchanted by what he was seeing; the art depicting scenes of battle, triumph, loss, and other mundane activities that despite their simplicity, had been created with great love and care.  

The wolf moved to the center of the room, and Kanan shifted around it, side stepping the tail and following the sparse furniture that was pressed against the wall as though...  

He froze, then looked around slower this time; eyes tracking his surroundings properly.  

“The person who lives here,” he breathed, heart missing a beat at the familiarity of the placements. “Are they... blind?” 

The wolf looked at him and blinked.  

To see the life of another blind person laid out before him was almost painful to look at, given it was so familiar to his own situation nearly two years ago. There was an order to the setup of the small house; a system which ensured its owner wouldn’t get lost when they looked for something, or wouldn’t be hurt by anything accidentally left out of place.  

But what bothered him more than the layout was the fact the Force was strong here; bright and powerful and good – something that was so out of place for anyone that wasn’t a Force user, unless...  

“Is the person who lives here a Jedi?” 

The golden eyes started glowing again, the light growing brighter and slicing through the oppressive shadows that filled the room. Kanan blinked quickly, forcing his eyes to readjust, and once they’d refocused he found himself not in the communications tower, but somewhere else entirely.  

He was surrounded by stars. It was almost as though he were floating in the middle of space; pinpricks of light trailing as far as the eye could see – close, yet out of reach. There were beams of light that bounced from one star to the next, zipping in and out in random patterns along different paths, but always travelling in a straight line.  

He looked down to find the black space rippling and glistening around the bottom of his boots, as though he were standing in water. There was a star-studded circle that surrounded him, and another that surrounded the wolf. Both were connected by a line that flickered whenever one of them moved.  

“Where am I?” 

“You are in the World between Worlds, Caleb Dume.” 

Kanan took a step back as he stared at the creature that had spoken. “You... you know my name.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” he breathed, trying to catch his thoughts that had seemingly scattered themselves amongst the stars. “What.... is your name, then?” 

“Dume.” 

He shook his head, ignoring the way the Force reverberated in his bones, hinting that the wolf was telling the truth. “That’s impossible.” 

“The World between Worlds is a door between the past, present, and future. All things are possible in this infinite space,” the wolf replied. “As you told our Padawan, many times before.” 

Kanan blinked. “Our Padawan?” 

“Yes. Our Padawan that we found and trained, raised and loved like our own child. Our Padawan that we sacrificed ourselves to save, and found a way through the Force to return to and protect, even when our physical body was no more.” 

“I don’t understand,” he admitted quietly. He must truly love the person he was destined to take under his wing if he’d found a way to defy every teaching the Jedi had about the Force to come back to them. ”When will I find this Padawan?” While the Jedi taught that death was just another path of the Force, being faced with his mortality – knowing that at some point in the future he would die, and to save his padawan, no less – was off-putting. But if he could at least know when his death might happen...  

“You already did.” 

What? How could he have already found a Padawan? Ahsoka was the only other Force-wielder he’d come across in the last few years, and there was no way it was her because she’d known a lot more about the Force than he had; in fact, he would have happily dedicated his time to learning from her if he could’ve gotten away with it.  

So who else would it be?  

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve come across no other Force-users in years. Certainly not any children.” 

Dume stared at him, unblinking. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” He was damn certain he’d remember finding a Force sensitive kid; furthermore, he knew that that kid would’ve been plastered to his side the moment he did find them, because there was no way he’d let them out of his sight with Vader and the Emperor slaughtering any children they couldn’t turn to the Dark Side.  

There was a twinge in his head; sharp and painful. It was a pain he’d managed to forget about months ago, but now here he was, wondering if it was something more as he’d once suspected. Just like it had when he’d first investigated it, the pain reminded him of his broken bond with his master; the link in their minds severed abruptly rather than unraveled gently like many pairs did at the padawan’s knighting ceremony.  

Was it possible that it hadn’t been a phantom pain at all, but a broken training bond that he’d had with someone else?  

“Who is that kid?” 

Kanan startled at the sound of his own voice echoing around the emptiness, and he spun on the spot searching for it. It was like he was looking at a forgotten memory – he was on a speeder, watching another bike disappear; and from this strange space he could feel the curiosity behind his counterpart’s question.  

Another image appeared to his left this time, this one of Lothal’s grassy plains. It was as though he were sitting on the ramp of the Ghost, staring out across the land. “I’m not going to try to teach you anymore,” he was telling someone that he couldn’t see. ”If all I do is try, that means I don’t truly think I can succeed. So from now on, I will train you.” 

A new image shimmered into existence to his right; this time the Grand Inquisitor was sneering down at him. This memory he remembered clearly, but the words...  

“Do you really think you can save the boy? For his sake, surrender!” 

“I’m not making deals with you!” 

“Hmm. Then we’ll let him make one, shall we?” There was a groan of pain that slipped out from his own lips, and a delighted laugh at his misery. “Your master cannot save you, boy. He is unfocused, and undisciplined.” 

“Then we’re perfect for each other!” 

The words were different to how he remembered them, and that voice... something shifted inside him. He knew that voice; he recognised it... but why?!  

“Who is he?” he asked – demanded, really, but the abruptness of his question didn’t seem to faze Dume in the slightest. More images appeared; the person he was talking to always out of sight, yet he could feel the emotions that were attached to the memories as strongly as if he was experiencing them for the first time. Curiosity, pride, excitement, relief, worry, annoyance, grief, love, pride again – karabast, there was so much pride and love filling his chest, it was hard to understand how he’d forgotten his padawan at all.  

“Where is my Padawan?” 

“Gone.” 

Kanan swallowed against the lump that caught in his throat, fear coursing through his veins despite the fact he still didn’t know who it was that he was missing. “What do you mean, gone?” he asked hoarsely. “Where did he go?” 

“Caleb Dume, you were supposed to die that day at the Empire’s hand,” the wolf said, padding forward until there was barely a hand’s width between them. The creature towered over him, the golden eyes peering into his soul, and he was unable to look away. “We sacrificed ourselves to save our crew. We became one with the Force, and returned to our Padawan until his own sacrifice.” 

“But I’m not dead.” 

The wolf’s breath ruffled the loose strands of his hair. “No, you are not. Your Padawan made a deal with the Force; to save your life in exchange for his own, and all memory of him.” 

Kanan shook his head in denial. “No. No, why would he do that?” But even as he asked the question, he knew. Just as he’d felt his own emotions, he’d felt the emotions of the padawan he’d lost.  

The boy wasn’t just his student, he was family. His son in every way but blood, and just as his master had sacrificed herself to save him, his student had done the same. Because the boy loved him, and couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.  

He dropped to his knees, eyes stinging as tears rolled down his cheeks. Another loss suffered; another crack to his already broken heart. “What was his name?” he asked, breath hitching at the end. He needed to know. “Who is he?” 

The wolf’s snout brushed through his hair, the touch filling him with a warmth that trickled down to his soul. “You know.” 

Kanan closed his eyes. Memories started to fracture and change, the emotions filling the cracks and rewriting what had been forgotten. He saw blue eyes and dark hair. Tan skin and an orange jacket. He saw a smile, heard a laugh. Felt a hug.  

There was love, and pride. So much of it, he thought his heart would burst.  

“What was his name?” Dume asked, the words rumbling and echoing strongly around this place between worlds. “Remember him. Who was he?” 

“Ezra.”   

I’m going to find you, Ezra. I’m going to bring you home. And I am never letting you go again.  

In the heart of Wild Space, locked in the prison cell he’d been thrown into after they’d jumped into hyperspace, Ezra Bridger looked up; the walls of his room fuzzy, but becoming clearer as the seconds ticked by.  

His sight was returning, and his master’s words echoed around him; filling the space with their conviction and love, the promise of finding him filling him with hope.  

In the heart of Wild Space, millions of miles away from home, Ezra Bridger closed his eyes, and smiled.