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Heat flashed across Ezra’s skin as flames and flying metal burst into the air. But all he cared about, all he could focus on, was the effort of pulling through the Force, dragging Kanan toward him as he was thrown back by the blast.
The transport banked hard to the right just as Kanan’s limp form slammed into Ezra. They collapsed to the floor together, only Ezra’s tight grip on Kanan’s arm stopping him from slipping away. As the ship leveled off, Ezra righted himself and grabbed Kanan’s shoulders, turning the man onto his back. With one shaking hand, he pressed his fingers against the side of Kanan’s neck, only to be met with an eerie, terrifying stillness.
“Come on,” Ezra mumbled, moving his fingers along the side of his Master’s throat. He had the wrong spot. That was all. He’d find it. He would.
But his other hand, resting on Kanan’s chest, was just as still as the pulse points on his neck.
No pulse.
No breath.
No.
His body snapped into action, seeming like it was on autopilot as his hands found the center of Kanan’s chest and pushed. He pressed down over and over, keeping a frantic pace as he fought to force Kanan’s heart to beat again.
“Sabine!” he shouted. “Hurry!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!” she called back. She didn’t know what was happening. And Ezra couldn’t tell her. They needed her focused completely on what she was doing.
He kept pressing down on Kanan’s chest in a steady rhythm, counting silently in his head to make sure he was going fast enough. He spared a glance back at Hera, who was slumped against the hull of the transport, her eyes glassy as she slipped closer to the verge of passing out.
Kriff, what did they do to her?
But Ezra didn’t have time to dwell on it. Hera at least was still breathing. Still keeping up the steady pace of compressions on Kanan’s chest, he shifted his weight and kicked backwards, catching Hera’s shin and startling her back into something closer to full consciousness. It was all he could do for now. If he stopped trying to revive Kanan, he’d be lost forever.
“Just stay with me,” Ezra whispered desperately as he continued pressing down on Kanan’s chest over and over and over again. His own chest ached as he stared intently at his Master’s face, watching for any trace of movement. Any sign that Kanan was going to be okay. “Don’t go. I’ve got you. Just stay with me. Please.”
He didn’t even notice when the transport finally landed. Not until he heard Sabine’s horrified gasp and her voice shouting for Zeb.
“Get Hera out of here,” she said. “She’s been drugged. Just make sure she’s not left alone.”
Suddenly, Sabine was kneeling beside him, her hands covering his.
“Ezra –”
“No,” Ezra said, his voice breaking. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“You’ve been doing this too long,” Sabine said quickly. “You’re wearing out. Let me take over.”
He didn’t want to. A part of him was certain that if he left Kanan’s side, if he took his hands off his Master’s chest, he would be gone forever.
“Ezra, please!”
It was the frantic urgency in Sabine’s voice that convinced him. Deep down, he knew she was right. He forced himself to pull his hands away, to switch off the autopilot in his head and stop. Sabine placed her hands right where his had been, seamlessly continuing the compressions on Kanan’s chest. Ezra could only stare at her, his throat drawing so tight he couldn’t speak. He inched back until he felt the metal wall of the transport behind him and pulled his knees up to his chest. He stayed there, frozen, unable to move or look away as he watched Sabine keep pressing on Kanan’s chest.
He can’t die. He can’t. Please, Kanan, don’t go. Don’t leave me here. Please.
He couldn’t breathe. As he watched Kanan’s chest being shoved violently down in an imitation of a heartbeat, he was seven years old all over again, sobbing as he realized he was alone for good. But he couldn’t cry now. His body wouldn’t let him. Everything was frozen, like he was holding onto a ledge and one wrong move would send him toppling over.
He couldn’t do this again.
He couldn’t lose another father.
He didn’t think he’d survive it this time.
Heavy footsteps rattled the transport, but Ezra couldn’t make himself look away to see who it was. Zeb quickly crossed into his field of vision, kneeling next to Sabine. She sat back on her heels, letting him take over the compressions. Her fingers wrapped around Kanan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Ezra wished he could just move so he could do the same thing. Hold Kanan’s hand, call him back somehow, even if he couldn’t continue keeping his heart moving.
The ship was silent as Zeb kept pushing down on Kanan’s chest. None of them dared to speak. They barely even dared to breathe. Ezra could feel Zeb and Sabine’s fear coiling in the air, stabbing at him like white hot needles. And he could feel nothing from Kanan.
No. Ezra refused to believe it. He was distracted. Terrified. He wasn’t thinking straight. He was wrong. Kanan was going to be okay. He wasn’t gone. Not yet. He couldn’t be.
Time passed at a snail’s pace, one agonizing fraction of a second at a time. Ezra’s eyes stayed fixed on Zeb’s arms, waiting for any sign that his friend was wearing out. The second he saw it, he wrenched his hand from Sabine’s and scrambled forward. Zeb pulled his hands back and Ezra took over compressions again. Once more, he watched Kanan’s face as he pressed rapidly on the man’s chest, silently begging him to open his eyes, twitch his muscles, anything to show that his Master was going to make it.
“Kanan, please,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”
He’s gone.
Ezra shook his head as the thought flitted across the surface of his mind. Kanan wasn’t gone. Not yet. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t do this without Kanan.
Let go.
Kanan had said those words to him so often that even inside his own head, Ezra heard them in his voice.
Let go.
“I can’t,” Ezra mumbled, as if that memory of Kanan was real. Could hear him and reassure him. “I can’t do this alone. I can’t.”
It wasn’t fair. Kanan didn’t deserve this. Ezra didn’t deserve this.
Let. Go.
Ezra’s eyes stung as tears began to form. Kanan was gone. Had been gone from the moment he was caught in the blast. He knew that. And he had to accept it.
He didn’t want to. He needed Kanan. And Kanan was gone.
He’s gone.
I’m so sorry, Kanan.
He glanced over his shoulder, first meeting Zeb’s eyes, then Sabine’s. On some level, they had to know it too, even if they didn’t want it to be true.
Ezra’s hands went still. And this time, no one made any move to take over.
A heavy sob wracked Ezra’s whole body as he grabbed Kanan’s hand. His chest hurt like someone had taken a rock and bashed it open. He wanted to scream, but the sound was locked up inside him.
He didn’t know how he would ever be okay again.
“Kanan?”
Ezra’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of Hera’s voice from behind him. Bitter shame rose up like bile in his throat as Hera dropped to her knees beside him, a hand hovering uncertainly over Kanan’s shoulder. Afraid to touch him. Afraid to confirm that what she saw was real.
“I’m sorry,” Ezra said, his voice ragged and broken. “I’m sorry, Hera.”
Her eyes, still glassy and wide from the drugs, glistened with tears as she looked down at Kanan. Her jaw began to shake and she quickly looked away. She gathered Ezra up into her arms, holding him tight as he cried into her shoulder.
“I tried,” he gasped, his hands clinging tightly to her, halfway afraid that she would disappear too.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I know you did.”
Ezra pressed his face into her shoulder, shaking as his grief and pain poured out of him in waves. All he could say to her were two words, repeated over and over in frantic gasps.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.