Saga - PT SW: Rebels -- Scruffy -- COMPLETE --- Kanan, post-Malachor

SCRUFFY​

by A.R. Davenport

***< >*** Part 1***< >***


Kanan Jarrus remembered almost nothing of what had happened to him in the base med-center where Hera and Rex took him after returning with Ezra from Malachor.

They helped him onto the table, he told the droid what happened and what Ezra had done for him with the emergency kit on the Phantom. Then . . . . . . . . nothing.

Kanan did not even have any sense that any time had passed when he woke, Hera's hand touching his face. He had kept thinking that somehow her green face would resolve out of the darkness, but it never did.

"Please relax," the medical droid instructed as its devices whirred and clicked. Rigidly still on the examination table, one end elevated so he could sit up, his head immobilized in some metalloid frame while the droid worked, Kanan stayed only outwardly passive.

Except for his eyes, he had not been badly injured in the fight with the Inquistors and Maul. He had only needed to rest in the med-center for one night, but now someone needed to take him back each day for a progression of treatments to reconstruct his eyes. But not his sight.

The damage was too severe. A lightsaber blade across the face . . . . he had deflected the worst of Maul's slash, but not nearly enough. And the small Rebel base did not have the tech for visual cybernetics, which not only required sophisticated implants, but specially programmed droids, a large suite of surgical and rehabilitation equipment that came with even more droids and personnel to maintain it all . . . . Only the Empire had resources like that, on worlds well under their control, far out of reach.

The ends of the droid's digits sometimes pressed into his cheeks and forehead as it worked. He did not know why. Perhaps to anchor or position its instruments. The area around his injury was numbed for the procedure. Sometimes he felt a disturbing push right into his eye sockets, but nothing else. He really did not like the squishing noises. Sometimes there were slightly less disturbing hisses and metallic whines.

Nobody on the Ghost crew stayed to watch these treatments. His injury had been bad enough for others to see. Kanan had to talk Ezra through covering and wrapping his eyes in the shuttle on the way back from Malachor. When he asked, Hera had reluctantly told him the grim facts, speaking in words what a mirror would tell him if he still had his sight. In Humans or Twi'leks, the eyes were just sacks of fluid, and when burned through the gore and blood ran out of them; what was left was mostly empty sockets. And empty sockets were . . . . . disturbing for most people, like a death's head mask.

Sometimes he got a whiff of puss or something nearly like it under the anteseptics as the medical droid worked, especially when he heard a long hiss.

"Your orbital cavities have been healed with a minimum of scarring; this should enable you to accept cybernetic implants in the future, should they become available, though the more time that passes, the more difficult it will be for you to adapt to artificial sight."

"Fine." If their base ever acquired a fabulous wealth of medical technology. If Kanan Jarrus ever survived fighting with the Rebels against the Empire.

"I will now examine the reconstruction."

Without any more warning, the droid firmly grasped the skin under each eye socket and pressed on the regenerated eyeballs. They had no function other than to cosmetically fill his empty sockets with something. The droid had said that it could fabricate prostheses that looked like eyes, but Kanan did not see the point. He would still look blind with fake eyes staring at nothing and they would just be something he would have to maintain. There was more pressing and a few clicks, then a hiss at one temple. Kanan grimaced, but the feeling in his face re-emerged.

"Please blink."

"What?"

"Please blink. I have finished reconstructing folds around your eyes. They should be operational now."

Kanan twitched his face. It had been days, agony without pain, feeling like he was staring into total blackness and still unable to close his eyes.

He twitched again and this time he felt the tightening of skin and scar above his cheeks and below his forehead. Twitching again, the restored skin closed over the unseeing eyes. Sighing with relief, he scrunched his eyes shut over and over.

A medical instrument hummed near his temple. "That is sufficient."

He ignored the machine. He tried new things; closing them slowly and opening them quickly. Folds of skin were easy to restore, even for the Rebel base's meager medical resources. Poor compensation for his lost sight, but Kanan would take what he could get.

The droid whirred, the frame clacked, released his head and pulled away. He lay back on the table while the droid listed symptoms that should prompt him to return immediately, but otherwise his presence was not required again for several days.

Sniff, sniff. A new odor penetrated the antiseptic air, strong like fur soaked in stale sweat.

"Zeb?"

"Uh, hi there, Kanan," the Lasat's gruff voice answered with a tone of hesitation, like he was interrupting something. Kanan swung his legs off the table, brushing past the droid as it smoothly withdrew.

"Where's Ezra?"

"Uh, he's getting ready for the mission. He uuuuh," Zeb paused. "He said you weren't going."

"No."

"Oh. Uh, I guess that's . . . that's OK."

It was not OK. But Kanan accepted it.

"Uuuuuh, you done here?" Zeb asked.

"Yeah. The droid's done with my eyes. How's it look?" He opened his new eyelids wide.

"Uuuuuuuh. Ummmmm."

"Yeah, I'll need to find something to cover it up with." The eyes felt better closed anyway. He felt on the side-table next to the examination table for the removable bandage that he had been using. His fingers closed on an earpiece and, after sorting out the two ends and the connecting strip of bandage, he put it on.

"Uuuuuuuh. Ummmm."

"What?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuuh, nothing. You want to go back to the Ghost?"

"Yeah. If I'm not going on the mission, I'm going to need to pick up a few things. Commander Sato said he assigned a room for me near the Ghost, but I don't know where it is yet."

Zeb lent him a big elbow to lead him with and they left the med-center.

"Uuuhhhh, tell me if it's not any of my business, but Ezra seemed a bit …. uuuh, upset that you weren't going on this mission."

"He'll get over it." He'll get used to it.

They turned around a corner and a couple people brushed past Kanan before he could turn his body to avoid them.

"I can't go, Zeb. What can I do?"

"You could back up Hera on the Ghost?"

"And do what? Tell Chopper what to do? Hera can do that without me distracting her."

"Well, I guess you got a point. But I kind of got the impression that Hera was sort hoping that you'd be going, too."

Kanan shook his head. His boot came down on a loose cable on the floor, but it did not cause him more than a momentary skip to catch his balance. He was stepping a lot more carefully since losing his sight.

"Oh, sorry about that, Kanan." Zeb turned toward him, which caused Kanan to lose contact with his lead. He held up both hands.

"It's fine, Zeb. No problem."

Zeb awkwardly offered his elbow again.

"Truth is, Kanan. I wish you were going, too. But . . . . . I understand why you're not. And . . . . I just wanted to say, you're doing a lot better than I would if I were in your place."

Doors whoosed open ahead of them; outside air touched Kanan's face and nose along with, dust and machinery lubricants. He knew where they were. The Ghost would be in sight, in the shaded landing area, bright midday sun on the pale rocky structures around their hidden base. All denied to him by his blindness.

When they reached the open ramp, Chopper rumbled down and blatted an offer of help.

"Thanks, Chop, but I can make it from here."

The Ghost's famously cranky astromech offered any help if Kanan commed for it and rolled back up the ramp.

"Hmmmph, I didn't think that droid was capable of being nice for any reason."

Kanan's hand shot out to Zeb's barrel-chest. "Shhhh! Don't spoil it."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." Zeb's voice lowered to an agreeing tone. "Well, I guess I need to get ready. Sabine's packing up a lot of explosives for this one."

Sabine packed up a lot of explosives for a supply run. Kanan reached out and patted what he thought was Zeb's arm. "I'll be fine, pal. Thanks for your help."

"Sure. Anytime."

Kanan listened to Zeb's retreating steps until they were lost amidst and large machine rumbles of the hangar area. He turned and walked up the ramp.

He could find his way inside the Ghost without eyes. Top of the ramp. A few steps forward. Left. Up the ladder to the lower deck, then to the upper deck.

"Kanan?"

The door to the cockpit must be open. Hera had spotted him running his hand along the wall to his cabin. She came to him.

"I'm just picking up some things from my cabin while you're gone."

"Oh." The disappointment was obvious in her voice. She wanted him to go on the mission, too. Kanan cringed at the thought of her trying to find something useful for him to do while Imperial TIE fighters were shooting at them.

He opened the door to his cabin and went inside. Crossing the small room, he knelt, his hand finding the stowage on the right.

"Are you . . . . moving out?"

"No." Surprised, he half turned to her. "I just need a few things." His hand went back into the drawer and his fingers landed on a small cylindrical device. He had not touched it since coming back from Malachor. "I'm not going to be able to trim my beard without this." He held it up. He knew it was white with silver knobs and slides, with a removable reservoir that could be emptied.

Footsteps came toward him. "Oh. I suppose you are looking a little shaggy, luv, now that you mention it."

"Shaggy, eh?" He stood and rubbed his hand over the thick stubble on one cheek. "You might want to get used to it; I was thinking of letting it all grow out." His hand went to the not-so-neatly-trimmed-anymore beard on his chin. He had started wearing it when he was younger to make himself look older, but he got used to the style. It was easy enough to maintain . . . . for a person who was sighted. He was sure he would never get it trimmed evenly by feel. But he could shave it all off and let the beard grow in evenly.

"Yeah, that's what I need. More hair in the air filters on the Ghost."

Twi'leks did not have body hair and Hera ribbed him about the extra maintenance not long after he came on board years ago. But they had both kept their shared amusement to themselves after Zeb came aboard and the air filters acquired a distinct purple hue.

"Do you need any help?"

Kanan straightened in surprise. "With this?" He held up the cylinder with one hand and touched his hairy cheek with the other.

"No," she shot back. "With collecting your things. Ask Ezra to help you with that. I already; know more than I want to about hair."

"No," he answered back, just as definite. "Ezra's the one who brought it up. Said I was looking 'scruffy' when he took to the med-center."

"So? You are."

"Sabine was with us when he said it. She offered to help and give it a little 'creative touch'."

"So?"

"So? If she gets into it, I'll have green hair. Or purple with yellow stripes! And Ezra will let her do it to impress her. And I won't know, because I can't see!" His voice rose louder than he meant it to be.

"No, she wouldn't . . . . . uuuuuh, you're right. She would."

"Yeah. She would."

"Speaking of which . . . . you didn't ask her to decorate your covering, did you?"

"What?"

He felt Hera's slender fingers lightly touch the bandage covering his eyes. Raising his hands to his face, he followed hers. The bandage was soft and textured so it stayed in place . . . . except there were some areas that were definitely smoother than they should have been. His fingertips probed wide lines and curves.

"Oh, what did she do?!"

"Calm down. It doesn't look too bad."

"Hera, what did she do?" he demanded.

"She sort drew . . . . eyes. They're not bad, though they kind of look a bit more like her eyes than yours."

"She what?!"

"They do give people something to look at."

"Hera!" he shouted shaking his fists in completely impotent rage. He was trapped in a box. A Big. Black. Box. And now Sabine was painting on the outside of it. Her irritating habit of 'beautifying' every surface within reach had just gone too far.

"Calm down. It's not that bad."

"Yes, Hera, it is that bad!" He tore off the painted bandage and threw it to his right, but the double thunk on the bulkhead gave him no relief at all. "If she wants eyes, she can look at these!"

"Hhhuuhh."

Hera's tiny little gasp filled the room, replacing his anger with regret. He had sunk to yelling at the one person who least deserved it.

"Hera . . . " He extended a questing hand, but she had backed up out of reach.



***< >*** End Part 1***< >***

 

Interesting! It must be so hard for Kanan to accept that he will never see again. It's not just his adjustment, the entire crew has to adjust too. Maybe Sabine meant well but she really overstepped the bounds by touching his stuff, especially when he can't see what she did.

I sense that Hera is concerned that he is backing out of his role on the Ghost, and in doing so backing out on her.

 

Thanks for reading! Yes, part of the problem is Kanan leaving Hera, even if he isn't actually going anyway -- very disturbing for her and the Ghost crew.

 

SCRUFFY​

by A.R. Davenport

***< >*** Part 2***< >***


Kanan dropped his arm, hung his head and closed his restored eyelids over his cosmetically useless eyes. Closed or open, it made no difference to the blackness he was wrapped in. Even though he knew it was impossible, he had been stalked for days by the feeling that there was something he could do, some door to walk through, some shield to uncover, some switch that he could flip to bring the light back.

Reaching behind him, he found the bunk with his hands and heels and sat down, bowing his head in his hands. He had not meditated in days. He was a lot worse off than he'd thought.

"Kanan." Hera's flight suit rustled as she came to him, sat down, her arms encircling him. He sighed and relaxed into her embrace, his cheek resting on the soft skin of her lekku. Hera was a calm and strength that he was quiet sure that Jedi would be discouraged from taking comfort from. But everything was different now.

Hera inhaled with an unmistakable trace of a sob. He turned, his arms going around her, reversing their positions so he now held her. He did not need eyes for that. She held him equally tight in return.

"I can't go on the mission, Hera. I'm going to get somebody killed if I do."

"I know." She sniffled. She had been hoping; he could tell in her voice. But now that hope was gone, crushed.

After Hera became completely still in his arms, they slowly pulled apart; he raised a hand, touched her face. It was cool and smooth and still wet in places. He knew this was the only way he would ever 'see' her again. Her hand touched the back of his.

"I'll be fine, Hera. I just need some time." His lips curled in a sad smile. "I can't even cry about what happened. You shouldn't."

Her fingers lightly touched his face; the scars. "Kanan, you can cry, or whatever you need to do to get through this."

He sat silent for a moment. "Uh, no. I mean, I don't have regular tear ducts anymore."

He heard nothing. Then, "Oh."

He half smiled. He felt quite pathetic, but it seemed much less of a burden than it had for the past few days. She hugged him again, her head pressed to his chest and he heard a low chuckle.

"I just need a little time," he said again.

"Take as much time as you need, luv.

Kanan wished he knew how long that would be. What would he do? What would he be? A Jedi Knight? Always. But no matter what assurances Hera or Commander Sato gave him, Kanan knew that it was a matter of time before they found something 'useful' for him to do. The Rebels could not afford to carry someone who wasn't working for too long. Could he even still train Ezra?

Hera sat back. "Well, I can at least help you get your things together." She got up off the bunk.

Kanan did not need much. A nightshirt, sundry hygene items. He heard her open the drawer under his bunk.

"Do you want your lightsaber?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. He was still a Jedi. "The medical droid started complaining about me coming to the med-center armed. I'll take the blaster, too." The droid complained about his side armor as well and it seemed pointless to wear it now; he doubted he would be getting into many fights, now. He left it.

"You know you make everybody nervous wearing those." Hera commented as he strapped the blaster on and clipped the saber to his belt.

"I was training with a lightsaber with my eyes covered since I was a youngling in the Temple."

"So you've said . . . . You can't use that to . . . help?"

"Hunh?" He paused to sort out what she politely did not want to ask out loud. He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way." The Force was strength, a guide for action and reaction, a focus for his thoughts and discipline; it was hardly a tool to be used to keep him from dropping food in his lap at dinner. Or washing himself. Or even 'seeing' Sabine's sneak art attacks. No. But he did need to meditate; if there was any answer to what he would become, it would be in the Force.

"All right." Hera answered with unconcealed disappointment. "Do you want the holocron?"

He had not thought of that at all. He shook his head.

"No. I don't need that for now. Ezra can use it."

He heard her put it back and slide the drawer closed. "Are you sure it's safe for him to keep that holocron you got from the Sith temple? It's not exactly another one of his helmets in his collection."

"It's as safe with him as anywhere else. He can't open it. And I'm not willing leave it anywhere. Things like that have a way of getting into trouble."

"You could destroy it. Sabine did offer. Or a quick trip in the Phantom to the sun should do it."

Kanan half smiled. "I doubt that even Sabine has enough explosives. A Sith holocron as old as that one is going to be tough. And there are bound to be booby-traps. Sith are like that."

"All right. Suit yourself." She went silent for a moment. He heard her moving around.

She took his hand and pressed something into it. "Here, you might still need this. I'll have a little talk with Sabine."

"No, don't" he told her as he took back the covering for his eyes. "Here," he handed her the cylinder while he sorted out the earpieces and put the bandage back over his scarred face.

"I'm just going to talk her."

"No. Don't. I'm the one who told everyone to treat me like they always have. She was just doing what I asked. Let her just . . . do what she'll do."

"Well, all right."

"Hera, I mean it."

"All right." She said it a little more convincingly.

"Besides," he put a hand on her small shoulder, "you know how Sabine likes to have people applaud her work. It'll drive her crazy if we don't say anything about it at all."

"Hmmmmmm," she hummed with satisfaction, "that's more like it. Mum it is." She touched his arm before stepping away. "I'm going to get something for you to put these in." She pressed the cylinder back into his hand.

She left, the door closing behind her before he realized she meant something to carry his things in. Still holding the cylinder, he sat down on the bunk again. He felt the controls carefully, turning it on and off, adjusting the settings. It had safety features that would prevent him from cutting his own throat with it, but it was frustrating to grasp for something that he so recently took for granted. It had been part of his daily routine for years, but now he had to think carefully about what the sounds meant, which way to slide the adjustments. It was still buzzing when Hera came back.

"Maybe you could get Zeb to help you with that?"

Kanan frowned. "I don't think Zeb has ever used one of these. I think he trims his beard with his claws."

"Oh." She sighed before her tone perked up. "I know who could help you with that." He heard her com activate. "Rex, this is Hera. I've got something here on the Ghost that I think you could help us with. Are you doing anything right now?"

"I'm on my way." Hera's com clicked off.

"Not Rex," Kanan complained, straightening, but avoiding hitting his head on the upper bunk behind him.

"He knows a lot more about beards than I do. Come on, Kanan." It was true; the older clone had a full, broad white beard that he kept neatly and evenly trimmed. "I thought you got along fine with him now."

"Yeah, he's a friend." It had taken a while for Kanan to accept the clone without intense suspicion - - - given that he had personally witnessed clone troopers with Rex's face and voice betraying his own Master while their brothers massacred their Jedi generals all over the galaxy - - - but Rex had proven his loyalty many times since they first met. "I just don't want him for a barber."

"Well, if not Rex, maybe I could ask Chopper to do it."

"No!"

He was sure he could hear her smile. Head lowered, he forced himself to relax his shoulders. "You're enjoying this."

"No, I'm not," she denied.

"You know I can tell when you're lying."

He was rewarded with a short laugh.

Very soon, they heard Rex on the upper deck.

"In here!" Hera shouted.

Rex thumped up the corridor and the door swished open for him. Hera greeted him and when he asked, she told him what they needed.

"Oh, we can handle that." Rex sounded far too happy. Hera surprised him by stepping forward and snatching the cylinder from his hand.

"Oh, yeah. This is a nice one. It'll do the job," Rex approved. "I've got one like it, except it's a little nicer, but this will do.

Kanan clinched his teeth. Anything he said now would just make his situation worse. The pedestal he used for mediation scraped on the deck as Rex pulled it toward them.

"Now let's see . . . " Rex and his speculation was far too close in front of him. "You want to grow it all out, right?"

"Yes."

Kanan's harsh tone fell flat on Rex's cheerfulness with no effect on it at all.

"I know what we should do. If you just trim off the beard in front to the same length as the rest of it, you won't have to start over from the beginning to regrow the whole thing."

"Fine."

Rex's hand brushed under his chin and his fingers closed on his beard, tugging him forward.

"Hey!"

"I need you to lean forward a little. Hera, can you turn that light up?"

Kanan clinched his teeth harder.

"Aaaah, that's better."

Rex touched and poked his cheeks with the cylinder, apparently making some measurements. He snapped on the cutter with no warning and firmly clasped his chin.

"Now hold still."

The whirring came at him with a familiar feather touch on his skin, except this time it quickly skimmed over his chin in swift strokes. It was over more quickly than he expected and Rex released him.

"There. That's a good start."

"Really?" Hera's voice expressed disapproval, but when Kanan raised his hand to his face, he found his beard remarkably even. He could not even feel any boundary between the old beard and new stubble.

"How is that better?" Hera moved closer.

"How do I look?" Kanan asked.

"Ready for anything," Rex assured him.

"Scruffy," Hera pronounced.

"Oh, they always look like that in the beginning. You just need to give it a little time. This beard's going to come in nice and thick, the mustache, too. I can tell.

Hera 'hmmm-ed' doubtfully; Kanan felt along his upper lip.

"Rex!" Hera suddenly objected, startling him. "You got hair all over him."

"Huh?" There was a tapping noise. "Oh, I guess this little thing couldn't take all that. Mine's definitely bigger."

Kanan touched his chest and found it littered with bits of his former beard, a condition compounded by both Hera and Rex trying to help brush it off.

"It's fine, it's fine." They withdrew and he felt his chin again. "I've got to admit, you did a good job, Rex. It feels right."

"Anytime." Rex pushed his seat back and Kanan stood as well. It was time to go. Hera handed him the strap of a bag with his things in it and he shouldered it.

"What's going on here?" Kanan backed up away from the door and Sabine's inquiry. Ezra was behind her; Kanan could tell. Chopper blatted an inquiry from the corridor.

"Oh, just a little tidying up. Trying out a new look, "Rex answered cheerfully, clapping a hand on Kanan's shoulder. He was surprised that he had not really comprehended how relentlessly positive Rex could be.

"New look, eh, Kanan?" Sabine asked in a leading way. He rubbed his chin and his budding beard.

"Yeah, Rex did a pretty good job."

He let the awkward silence drag on. Hera must have covertly cued Rex not to say anything about Sabine's eye-artwork staring back at its creator.

"Well, . . . okay." Sabine's stumbling reply inspired a return smile from him. She could not actually ask him, the recipient, how he liked her artwork, without being colossally insensitive. And if nobody else said anything, she would just have to wonder about it on her own. Kanan was satisfied with that.

"So, you're just going?" Ezra finally spoke while Sabine stepped aside.

"No, you're the ones going. I'm actually staying."

"I can't believe you're just giving up."

They now faced each other in the corridor. "I don't have anything to contribute to this mission, Ezra. There's no point in me going. I'll just be in the way."

"Not the mission!" His words rushed out, built up over the days since Malachor. "About trying to get you new eyes! Rex's friend, Wolf, had one! It can't be that hard!"

"Ezra," Rex stepped forward, "Wolf got that eye at a dedicated Republic med-center on Kamino. It took a team of droids to fabricate it, another team hours of surgery to attach it and another team to teach him out to use it. You can't get those kinds of resources on a snatch and grab attack."

"So, we don't do it with just one mission - - -"

"Ezra." Kanan cut him off, raising his voice. "You heard Commander Sato. The Rebels don't have the resources to spare for it. We're barely keeping this base supplied as it is. And I won't have people risking their lives for it. It's not worth it."

"Yes it is! I mean, why bother even coming back from Malachor if you're just going to sit around like a Loth beggar? This is worse than if you just let Maul kill you - - - "

"EZRA BRIDGER."

Kanan inwardly cringed even though Hera's ire was not aimed at him. Rex nudged him, but Kanan could not just leave. He raised his hand to touch Ezra's shoulder, but his apprentice was now silent and out of reach.

"Be safe. See you when you get back."

They left. Kanan heard Hera shout at Chopper to 'clean that up!' as they climbed down to the lower deck.

"The kid didn't mean it," Rex assured him as they walked down the ramp.

"I know."

"Thing is, he feels responsible, because he trusted Maul, for what happened to you. To Ahsoka."

"It wasn't his fault, Rex. And if Ahsoka was still here, she'd tell him that, too." They stopped at the foot of the ramp. Kanan reached out to the clone, touching his arm. "Sorry. You knew Ahsoka longer than any of us."

"That's all right," he answered with the voice of a soldier who had lost many comrades to past battles. "She knew the risks just like the rest of us. I'm just glad we got the chance to fight together again. After the Republic, that is."

Rex changed the subject. "Do you know where you're staying?"

Kanan shook his head. "I have no idea. Sato said he assigned me a room near the Ghost, but I don't know where it is."

"I do. Here I'll show you."

Rex led him deeper into the hangar, where the smells and echoes of technology were stronger, the air a little cooler, away from the sunlight. Straight out from the Ghost's usual landing place, to the wall and to the left. Zeb grunted a greeting to them as he passed on his way back to the ship. They arrived at a spare room that the hangar crew sometimes used when they were on all-night shifts. There was a bunk and a plain table. Nothing else. Kanan dropped his bag of belongings on the table. To the right and along the wall, the next door was the facilities and two doors past that was the entry to the corridor that led to core of the base.

Returning to the door of the room, Kanan rubbed his stubbled chin.

"You're going on the mission with the Ghost."

"Uuuuh, they thought they might need an extra hand," Rex admitted, embarrassed.

Kanan smiled, genuinely glad that someone knew where they were going. "Bring them back safe, Rex."

He returned the gesture. "You got it."

Kanan listened to him move off. He stood for a long time, waiting. Jedi were renowned for their patience. He supposed he had enough time to perfect that. He had no idea what would become of him otherwise. His future was black.

He heard the Ghost's engines start up. Standing by the wall, he knew he would be visible from the cockpit. He managed a wan smile and a wave. The engine sound ascended, increased and then rapidly fled away. When it was completely gone, he tapped the door control and went into his room and the door slid shut behind him. There were controls by the doorframe, but he had no idea if Rex had left the lights on or off. He supposed it didn't matter, but he tapped it a couple times anyway. The blackness remained unchanged.

Two small steps to the bunk and he knelt down on the floor next to it. Taking off his temporary bandage, he blinked. Then he closed his eyelids and cleared his mind. He let go of thoughts and memories so that only the Force remained and its connection with him and the world around him. Expecting nothing, looking for everything.

He saw only a black, starless void, inside himself and . . . outside . . . .

Kanan Jarrus gasped, jolted backwards, his back to the pre-fabricated wall of his new room.

He had seen nothing, but he had felt . . . . himself, in a smaller box than his cabin on the Ghost.

A. Small. Black. Box.



>><< o >><< o >><< END >><< o >><< o >><<


Disclaimer: All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to Disney/Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.

 

Wonderful look into Kanan's mindset after what happened.

 

What a strange place Kanan finds himself in. A clone, just like the ones that killed his Jedi compatriots, has to help him to shave and then pretty much takes his place on the Ghost. He is unsure where he stands now with Sabine and Ezra, and especially with Hera. I liked how Ezra tries to convince Kanan that they can do something for him, that they can find him new eyes, and how Kanan has to tell him that it just isn't feasible.

This is a great exploration of Kanan's new life.