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i. majority rules
Kanan has nightmares, sometimes, about the kid from Lothal. He sensed the Force in him, strong as any Jedi, and there might have been a connection between them, or the beginnings of one, from that alone. But one kid who was obviously more than capable of taking care of himself, against the safety of the entire crew?
Hera closed her eyes and said, “I understand, love.” And they left.
It wasn’t the right thing to do. But it was the smart thing, and Kanan believes—wants to believe—that the kid made it. That the Imperials let him off with a slap on the wrist and a warning about falling in with the wrong crowd.
The dreams, though. Kanan could go without the dreams.
(The Inquisitor is impressed with the boy’s resilience, while it lasts.)
o.O.o
ii. did it hurt when
Chopper throws the last carton. Ezra’s exhausted and shaken, his reflexes shot. He can’t dodge it. He stumbles. And then he falls once more, slipping through Zeb’s fingers.
Kanan reaches out for him, tries to entangle him in threads of Force once more, pull him to safety. It’s not enough. He’s too far away. Still close enough for Kanan to feel his terror. He shouts at Hera to turn them around. She tries to catch up to him. He tries to catch him at all. They all try.
There just isn’t enough time.
(Ezra screams all the way down.)
o.O.o
iii. the only thing to fear
He waits. Alone in the dark, next to the corpses of long-dead Masters, he waits, and meditates, and prays he hasn’t made a mistake in bringing Ezra here.
He gets flashes of what Ezra sees. Himself, dying. The crew, dying. The Inquisitor in relentless, inescapable pursuit. He wants to run to Ezra’s side, wants to tell him that none of it is real, fight back the nightmares at saberpoint.
He waits. He survived his test; Ezra will too. He has to.
(Kanan waits for a long, long time.)
o.O.o
end