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Kanan lay awake staring at the ceiling. His eyes were tired but he didn’t want to close them. Because then he would see things he didn’t want to see. Memories he had successfully pushed away for many years. But tonight the ghosts were here, right behind his eyelids. She had brought them with her.
The moment Fulcrum had stepped down from that ladder and looked into his eyes, Kanan felt like the ground he was standing on had tilted and he hadn’t been able to regain his balance since. He remembered the last time he had seen her: it was in the refectory at the Temple. She had given him a hard time for taking the last fried nuna drumstick. Embarrassed, he’d tried to offer it to her, but she’d put up her hand and shook her head, her silka beads swinging behind her.
“You need it more than me, Caleb. I heard you were apprenticed to Master Billaba and I have a feeling she’ll keep you on your toes. You’d better eat up,” she’d teased before grabbing a denta bean bun and heading off to eat with her friends.
Kanan remembered how proud he’d felt at this small recognition. Ahsoka was always someone he’d looked up to as a youngling, only a few years older than him but so accomplished. Chosen by the chosen one. Commander of the 501st battalion. But now they were practically on equal footing; Caleb had begun his apprenticeship and would join the war effort. He could fight alongside Ahsoka and help save the Republic…
Kanan let out a bitter chuckle. Well, here they were fighting together again (Ahsoka had joined the crew of the Ghost on a their current mission to free some Rebel POWs on a remote moon), but the Republic was long gone, so far away in the collective galactic memory now that it seemed like a dream. Sometimes Kanan wasn’t sure what they were fighting for, if there really was hope for a peaceful existence, but it was better than standing still and doing nothing at all. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out again slowly, calming his body the way he’d learned in the creche before he could even speak. He reached out with the Force, sensing the presence of all the passengers of the Ghost, the familiar steady shape of Hera, the powerful presence of Zeb, the fierce stormcloud that was Sabine, the bright pulse that was his own padawan, and now another bright presence as well, like the beacon of a lighthouse, calling to a tossed ship in a storm. Kanan supposed he was the tossed ship in this scenario; he felt like he’d been bailing water all night, trying to keep away these feelings before they could engulf him.
Sighing, he stood from his bunk. There was no point lying there if he wasn’t going to sleep. There were plenty of tasks on the Ghost to keep him occupied. Hadn’t Hera mentioned there was an issue with the timer on the caf maker? Maybe he could sort that out before morning. Kanan activated the door control and the panel hissed open, allowing him passage into the hallway. He walked quietly towards the galley, smiling at the sound of Zeb’s snores, which could be heard even through the durasteel door. (Ezra had complained about the Lasat’s nightly racket at first, but Kanan had used the opportunity as a training exercise, showing Ezra how to use his mind to block it out. Of course, he’d come to regret it when Ezra subsequently used it against him, claiming he was “practicing” when Kanan had been lecturing him about proper lightsaber form.)
Kanan stepped into the galley, lit only by the blinking chrono on the nanowave stove. He was just about to open the conservator to see if there were any leftovers from dinner when he heard a voice behind him.
“I was wondering when you might join me.”
Kanan turned to see Ahsoka sitting in the booth where the crew took their meals. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see that she had her legs tucked under her and a cup of tea on the table in front of her. Given the lack of steam rising from it, she’d probably been there awhile.
“Hi,” Kanan said awkwardly. “I didn’t know you’d be up.”
“It’s been a long time since someone else’s thoughts kept me awake,” she said, taking a slow sip of her tea.
Kanan was grateful for the semi-darkness so Ahsoka couldn’t see the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not always careful about shielding anymore,” he said sheepishly.
“It’s okay. I can’t say my mind hasn’t been on the same things since I saw you.” Ahsoka looked down into her teacup as if looking for answers there.
“It’s just…” Kanan slid into the booth across from her. “I never thought I’d see any… anyone I knew again.”
“Me neither,” admitted Ahsoka. “But there are still a few of us out there, scattered across the galaxy. Apparently, there’s a Path, strangers who have helped with escape and relocation. It’s abandoned now, but I saw some markings on a old safehouse wall on Mapuzo. Phyllia left her initials.”
Kanan’s eyes widened. Phyllia had been a padawan at the same time as them, a Twi’lek girl with kind eyes and a cheery personality. She’d been training with a master in the Halls of Healing.
“She was always resourceful,” Kanan said. “Once splinted my finger with an ice-pop stick when I broke it rock climbing on a field trip.”
“Well, if she could do that, she could do anything.” Ahsoka smiled, but the unspoken worry hung between them. The chances their friend had survived would be slim.
Kanan sighed. “Maybe I should just go ahead and make some caf since I guess I won’t be sleeping.”
“Or maybe we should do what we were taught.” Ahsoka looked into Kanan’s eyes and he fidgeted under the intensity of her gaze, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “These feelings won’t go away on their own,” she prompted.
After a moment, Kanan nodded. “You’re right.”
Ahsoka stood from the table and knelt down in the middle of the floor, placing her hands on her knees. Kanan followed suit, kneeling beside her. Even though he meditated daily with Ezra, this still felt different somehow. With Ezra, Kanan was always teaching, guiding Ezra in how to reach out to the Force, modifying techniques to be helpful to someone who wasn’t familiar with the practice. But Ahsoka was Temple-raised like him. She had been taught in the same halls by the same masters. As soon as Kanan was beside her, she sank easily into a meditative state and Kanan was pulled along with her, following her Force signature like a beacon.
When Kanan meditated alone or with Ezra, he usually felt himself in a kind of liminal space, aware of the world around him and yet apart from it, tethered to it by the little tendrils that connected everything, making him acutely conscious of the space between all living things. But now he found himself completely removed from the galley of the Ghost, transported far away in space and time, landing somewhere heartbreakingly familiar: the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Kanan could feel the stone floors beneath his feet, see the bright silk tapestries on the wall adorned with the Jedi symbol, smell the cornucopia of scents that mingled in the air: a whiff of newly-bloomed poola blossoms drifting on the breeze from the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the sweet smell of quinberry cake baking in the refectory kitchen, the tang of sweat from teenage padawans chasing each other through the halls on the way back from sparring in the salles, the sharp spice of the incense Master Yoda burned in his private meditation chamber.
All around him were familiar faces: Master Windu, striding down the hall with purpose, his expression stern and serious until a pair of laughing younglings scrambled beneath his robe in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek and his face split into a grin; Cal Kestis, ginger hair sweaty and tousled, hurrying through the courtyard after his long-legged master, babbling on about the new kata he’d just learned - these were memories buried deep, like pebbles collected and left forgotten in a jacket pocket, now returned to the palm of their collector, rolled gently between calloused fingers, their story brought to life once more. Kanan suddenly heard the sound of lightsabers colliding and turned his head to see he was now in one of the salles in the lower levels of the Temple. On the mat was the legendary duo of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, gliding through their saber forms effortlessly, their movements so seamlessly matched it was like a dance. These weren’t all Caleb’s memories then, Kanan realized. A flash of light and then he was standing in the creche, watching Master Plo read a story to a group of eager younglings, his voice a deep growl as he he spoke the threatening words of the swamp monster, then rising in tone as he imitated the beleaguered prince’s cry.
The memories began to come in quicker flashes then: a sparring competition, a tumble into the water in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, standing in the holo of the Galaxy as it shone in the darkness of the creche, tea with Master Kenobi, an illicit swim in the pool after curfew, Master Windu and Master Billaba laughing in the courtyard, Anakin jumping to the top of the garden wall to retrieve a stray tooka stuck in a tree.
Then suddenly they were no longer in the Temple. Kanan could smell burning metal - and worse burning flesh - could hear the sounds of blaster fire hitting a lightsaber hilt, see the black smoke curling up into the atmosphere of an unfamiliar planet. War. They had both known it so young, their impressionable eyes taking in horrors no one at the Temple had prepared them for. They flashed before Kanan’s eyes now: the body of a Clone twisted beneath a collapsed building; a young Jedi with a hand over her eye, blood seeping from between her fingers; massacred villagers lying in the street, innocents who had simply been born in the wrong time and place. Kanan held his breath as the images raced past, knowing that, as terrible as these were, what was coming was even worse. Just as he predicted, they began to come into focus now: Clones with blasters pointed, shouting about “traitorous Jedi;” the panicked face of his master pleading with him to “Run! Caleb, run!;” a menacing battalion of Clones gathered in a hangar with the single-minded purpose of murder; a panicked run through a forest, branches scratching every part of him as voices shouted behind him; a row of painted Clone helmets sticking up from the snow, marking the dead… so many dead.
Kanan was aware of his body in the real world now, could feel tears snaking their way down his cheeks and dripping from his chin, could hear his own shuddering breaths. He felt Ahsoka’s hand in his - how long had it been there?- her fingers gripping his tightly. Her voice was quiet but sure as she spoke:
“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I feel my sadness. It reminds me that I am compassionate. I feel my sadness… and I let it go…”
Kanan knew these words well. Had been taught them by Master Yoda himself during a meditation session in the creche. “Hold onto the darkness a Jedi must not,” the little master had lectured.
“So a Jedi shouldn’t be sad or mad?” little Caleb had asked, earning him a head shake from his creche master, who had warned him multiple times not to interrupt without raising his hand.
But Yoda waved her off before she could intervene. He turned to Caleb and laid his calloused green hand on the child’s shoulder.
“Feel these emotions more than anyone a Jedi does, for a Jedi has love for all living things. But feelings do not make one weak - only if you cling to them can they truly hurt you. The Force is your friend. Give these feelings to the Force you must. This is what gives a Jedi strength.”
Kanan inhaled deeply, controlling his breathing. He could feel the grief in every part of his body, the way it made his chest tight and his eyes hurt and his hands want to curl into fists. It had been there for so long, a dull ache that never went away, springing to life unexpectedly at the slightest reminder, shoving its sharp claws into his heart, making it bleed again and again. Kanan released his breath, pushing the feelings outward, giving them to the Force, to the thing that had never abandoned him, even when he had tried to abandon It.
“There is no emotion, there is peace,” he intoned, his voice still slightly shaky with tears, but growing stronger with each determined breath.
“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” Ahsoka said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Together they spoke the rest of the Code, ending with “There is no death, there is the Force.”
Kanan opened his eyes and turned to Ahsoka. Her cheeks were wet as well. Even though Kanan felt calmer and comforted by the ritual they had just performed, he couldn’t help but wonder about something, something that had plagued him since he had taken on Ezra as an apprentice.
“What are we now?” The question fell from his lips unbidden. “What are we now that everything is gone?”
“We are what we choose to be,” Ahsoka said, taking her hand from his and patting his shoulder gently before getting to her feet. She collected her teacup and put it in the sink then turned back to Kanan with a smile. “And now I think we should get some much needed sleep.”
Kanan nodded and watched Ahsoka walk off down the hallway to Hera’s cabin where they’d made a makeshift bunk for her. He looked back at the caf machine - it could wait for morning he supposed. Ahsoka was probably right - they should get rest while they could. But, as he made his way back to his own cabin, Kanan was startled by a door hissing open. A sleepy Ezra emerged, his spiky black hair sticking out in all directions.
“What are you doing up?” Kanan asked.
“I don’t know. I was having some weird dreams,” Ezra mumbled with a yawn.
“Sorry about that, kid,” Kanan chuckled, putting an arm around the boy. “Seems like my thoughts tonight are louder than Zeb’s snores.”
“Huh?” Ezra looked up at his master, confused.
“Never mind. Let’s get you back to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“I want to see Ahsoka use both her lightsabers,” Ezra said, suddenly sounding more awake. “Can I learn how to do that?”
“Why don’t you work on using the one you have first?” Kanan said, as he herded the teenager back into his room.
“Fine,” Ezra sighed. “G’night, Kanan” and with that he disappeared behind the door as it hissed shut, leaving Kanan alone once again in the empty hallway.
Kanan smiled to himself as he headed back to his bunk, slightly more confident in his ability to find sleep. He still had fears about what was to come tomorrow, but maybe he could face the future better without the painful wounds of the past. He would never be without scars, but maybe he could start to let them heal.