A/N: A bout of seasonal sickness sucked away all my creative, mental, and physical energy this last week. Safe to say I'm hopelessly behind on the Fictober Challenge, but believe it or not, I did jot down a premise for each day's prompt, so hopefully I'll be coming at you semi-regularly with some fics. The prompt for this one was "Look."

Bright Eyes

"Daddy, look!"

Kanan turned his head immediately and instinctively toward the bright little voice beckoning to him, and for just a split-second, he expected to see…something. But he didn't, of course, and his smile slipped. For the first time in her short life, his daughter was asking the impossible.

That was a new one.

She'd asked him to explain how a ship flies, she'd asked him to help put her shoes on, she'd asked him to take care of her doll, she'd asked him to hold on to her colored pencils so they'd stop rolling away, she'd asked him to help brush her teeth, she'd asked him why the sky was blue, she'd asked him why mommy keeps her blaster in her boot and not on her thigh. Kanan could think of a thousand things his daughter had asked him, but he couldn't think of a single time that she'd wanted him to specifically look at something. He didn't want to brush her off, and she was smart—she'd figure it out faster than fast and keep at him until she had some kind of answer. Kanan knew he had to tell her.

He had to explain to his three-year-old that he couldn't see anything ever. He didn't want to; it made him feel nauseous and afraid. Would she think of him differently? Would it scare her? It was the first time since her birth that he'd given a second thought to his blindness, and for a moment, he felt just as lost and inadequate as he had when Hera first told him they were going to be parents.

"Daddy, look," the small girl cried again, more insistently this time. She ran over to him as fast as she could. She smacked into his legs and started to fall before he caught her and scooped her up. She smacked a kiss on his nose before she repeated, "Look." She placed her hands on his cheeks, making sure his face was perfectly aligned with hers.

He swallowed, mind racing as he tried to figure out his best course of action. He could sense Hera nearby—not hovering, exactly—but listening intently and ready to jump in if he needed her to. He wanted to try not to need her for this one. "Can you use your words and tell me what it is, Depa?" Vocabulary was something Hera and Kanan had been working on with their daughter; she knew her way around words like nav-computer and hyperdrive like an expert, but sometimes had to dig a little deeper for the names of boring, mundane things.

Depa drew a deep breath. "Ummmm…a hat!"

"A hat!" He echoed the excitement in her voice. "Can you tell me what kind?"

She giggled. "Don't you know? Mommy's."

He felt her head and sure enough, she was wearing one of Hera's old flight caps. "Of course! I thought maybe it was one of Chopper's."

Depa giggled. "Chopper doesn't have hats, daddy," she explained patiently.

He feigned surprise. "No?"

"No."

"Oh, okay. Thank you for telling me." Still holding her, he walked over to the sofa in their living area and sat down. After some re-adjusting, Depa was perched on his knees, sitting cross-legged in his lap. It was a little precarious, but she didn't seem to mind. She'd never been afraid of anything as long as Kanan was with her.

"Does this hat make me look like mommy?"

The answer was yes, Kanan knew, because his daughter had inherited Hera's mannerisms, her nose and chin, the inflection of her speech. He knew that Depa's skin was green like her mother's, and that she had even managed to emulate Hera's walk. He'd gently felt the planes of her sleeping face, he'd listened to her move and talk, he knew that her eyes were his eyes, but he'd never seen any of it for himself. She was going to start noticing soon.

"Sit closer, Depa," he instructed. "Daddy wants to tell you something."

She scooted forward on his lap, bracing her hands on his shoulders. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "Do you see the mask over my eyes—I wear it sometimes?"

Her body bobbed as she nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"Take it off and tell me what you see."

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sensing that they were about to talk about something very serious. "Will it hurt?"

"No, it won't hurt. It's okay."

"Okay." She grasped the mask on either side and gently pulled it away from his face and it slipped from her fingers as she took notice of his eyes. She'd seen him both with and without the mask, but this was different. She was intentionally studying his face and, for the first time in her very short life, realizing something wasn't quite right. Her mouth formed a thoughtful oh as she looked at the scar spanning across his eyes and nose. The scar had faded with medical care and the passage of time, but it was still very prominently pink, contrasting starkly against his fair complexion and dark hair. Depa explored her father's face, tracing her fingertips over his scarred eyelids with a delicate touch. For a few moments, she alternated between feeling his scar and feeling the undamaged skin of his cheeks and forehead. Her fingers brushed his eyelids again. "Open," she said, and then she gasped softly when he did.

Kanan couldn't see the expression on his daughter's face as she looked into his eyes, milky-white where they had once been brilliant teal just like hers. He guessed that her brows were pulled together, wrinkling her forehead, and that her own eyes were wide and unblinking, brimming with tears. He could sense the confusion, empathy, concern, and sadness stirring her mind and threatening to overwhelm her.

"You got hurt," she whispered, voice wavering. He touched her hand, still laying on his cheek, and reached out with the Force to reassure her.

"It's alright, Depa," he said soothingly. "I did get hurt, but it's alright now. Like when you fell and scraped your knee and it hurt, but it got better."

She brightened. "A kiss will make it better." She sounded very hopeful; thus far in life, there had been no pain or problem not soothed by a kiss and hug from her mother or father.

"No, love," he said with a rueful smile. "I'm afraid not."

"Oh." She turned thoughtful as she considered her own experiences. "Well maybe mommy can try."

It was on his tongue to explain that if mommy's kisses were the magic solution, then he'd have been cured a long time ago, but he could feel Hera's warning glare on him from across the room. So this was the part where he had to explain something very difficult to his very small, very sensitive child. He shifted her so that her legs were across his lap and her head was resting on his chest. He locked his arms around her. "Sometimes, Depa," he began with a sigh, "there are things that can't be fixed, and owies that can't be made better—not by med droids, or kisses, or by mommy and daddy."

There was a brief silence as she digested this new and unhappy truth. "What happened, daddy?"

"It was—I had a bad accident," Kanan answered hesitantly. He supposed it was true enough; Maul hadn't intended to blind him, after all. "My eyes got hurt. That's why they look the way they do."

"Why do you cover them up? I can't see anything when I cover up my eyes." She pressed her palms over her eyes, demonstrating. "Like this. I can't see."

"I know," he said. He swallowed. "Daddy can't see anything, Depa. Not ever—with the mask or without it."

She sat up, looking at his ruined eyes again. "Not ever?"

"No. Not ever."

"You—you can't see me either?"

"No, love, I can't."

"Oh." She sounded near to tears and profoundly sad. "So, you—you don't know who I am."

Kanan's throat suddenly clogged. "I absolutely do, Depa." He turned her to face him. "If I was in a room with a thousand little girls, I would still be able to find you."

"How, if you can't see me?"

"The sound of your voice, for one," he said. "In a room full of grownups, can you always tell which voice is mine or mommy's, even if we aren't nearby?"

"Yes," she answered decisively.

"What about when one of us comes to check on you at night—if you don't open your eyes, how do you know if it's me or mommy?"

She mulled the question over for a moment. "By the way you smell," she said at last, "or by how your hands feel when you tuck me in. Sometimes mommy wears nice lotion before she goes to bed. And your hands aren't soft like hers."

"That's right," Kanan said with a smile. "What else?"

"Well, your kisses tickle," she added, rubbing his beard, "and mommy's don't. And she sits on the edge of the bed, and you kneel down."

"And you know all of that without looking."

Her eyebrows flew up in understanding. "Yeah."

"I had to learn to see things differently after my eyes got hurt," he explained. "I had to learn how listen and feel very carefully. It helped make up for not being able to see."

"Did mommy help?"

"Mommy helped a lot," he said with a nod.

"Do you know what she looks like?"

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Very." He could sense Depa's expectant gaze on him, so he continued. "Mommy is kind of tall for a lady, but still shorter than me, and she's a Twi'lek. Her skin is green and so are her eyes. She makes a face like this—" he stopped, dramatically arching an eyebrow and pursing his lips "—when she's not happy."

Depa shrieked with laughter. "You're good," she said as her giggles subsided. Then she sobered suddenly. "But you still don't know what I look like."

He gave a short sigh. "I haven't seen you, no," he agreed slowly. "But I do know what you look like."

"How?"

"Two ways," he said. "One, mommy tells me all about you. She always has. That's part of her helping me see things."

Depa beamed at that. "And two?"

"Two—I'll show you." He held up one finger. "Hera," he called, "want to help us with something?"

"Always," she called back. He could hear the smile in her voice. Moments later, she was seated beside Kanan on the sofa, Depa between them. "What are we doing?"

"We are sitting perfectly still. Depa is doing an experiment," he said.

"What's an experiment?" Depa asked.

"It's a test that answers a question," Hera said.

"And the question," Kanan explained, "was how do I know what Depa looks like? Now, Depa, close your eyes."

"Okay," she said. "Closed."

"Good. Now, feel your nose, especially the top of it. Feel the shape."

"My nose?" She was clearly skeptical.

"Your nose," he affirmed. He waited several seconds, giving her time to do it. "Now feel mine, and then mommy's."

With soft touches, she felt along the bridge of her father's nose and then gasped when she moved to her mother's. "Mine and mommy's feel the same!" She cried exultantly. "That's how you know. You can feel."

"Yes. Between what mommy tells me, and what I hear and feel, I can see you like a picture in my mind."

"I like that," she said softly.

"Me, too."

Depa hummed contentedly as she nestled in tighter between her parents, holding one of each of their hands. "I'll be your eyes, daddy," she said after a while. Her tone of voice and the lift of her chin were decisive. "Mommy can teach me how." She tilted her head back to peer into her mother's face. "Can't you?"

"Of course, love," Hera said fondly.

"Okay, good." Depa scooted forward and hopped off the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Kanan asked. He couldn't see the look of determination on her face, but he could sense her thoughts swirling. She huffed lightly and threw a hand on her hip, as if he ought to know the answer to his own question.

"I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to be a good helper. I have to get started right away."

"Oh, okay."

Kanan and Hera exchanged amused smiles as their daughter ran off to her room, calling for Chopper, who'd been left in charge of making sure her dolls didn't misbehave while she was away. The rise and fall of her excited chatter was almost musical.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Hera's voice was wry, but Kanan heard unmistakable maternal pride. "She will never stop talking. Not for one tiny instant."

"This can only work to our tactical advantage," he said, grinning. "We'll always know where to find her and we'll know that if she's too quiet, there's trouble afoot."

"Mm." Hera leaned close, kissing his jaw. "You know I always melt when you talk tactics to me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She wound her fingers around the collar of his shirt and brushed their lips together before she kissed him tenderly. "I am so proud of you, Kanan Jarrus," she whispered as they parted. "I know you've been dreading having that talk with her."

"I should have known better," he said ruefully, voice raw. "She's…remarkable."

"Of course she is. She's ours."

Kanan paused a beat. "And she's quiet."

Hera sighed. "That didn't take long. Come on."

They crept to Depa's doorway and stood there for quite some time, watching this:

Depa was in the middle of her bed. Her eyes were closed and her face was a mask of concentration. She held her hands out and Chopper wheeled over, a plush toy held in one of his manipulators. He dropped it in her lap and she picked it up. Her delicate fingers skimmed over every stitch, every seam, every inch of fabric. Her lips moved as she talked to herself, detailing what she felt as she tried to identify the object in her hand. Then she opened her eyes to see whether she was right or wrong. If she guessed incorrectly, she frowned and closed her eyes again and repeated the process, committing the different shapes, sizes, and textures to memory. If she was right, she smiled radiantly and told Chopper, "Bring another one."

She was wrapped up in her task, determined to understand how her father navigated the world and how she could share that with him. Her mind was centered on seeing without seeing as her hands worked over every object Chopper gave her. She was unaware of her parents watching her in awe, unaware of the tears of pride standing in her mother's eyes and the smile pulling at her father's mouth. Her focus was complete and so was Kanan's as he gently reached through the Force to touch her mind. He wanted to sense her consciousness without intruding there, and it was a fine line to walk. She was vibrant, buzzing with energy, completely open and unguarded, implicitly trusting of the people around her. The very core of her being thrummed with empathy and compassion as her subconscious self was still trying to understand what it meant that her father couldn't see and—

For a flicker of a second, he saw what she saw, as clearly as if he had his physical sight.

Depa's head shot up and she opened her eyes, their connection now broken. She looked at her parents in bewilderment. "That tickled," she said. Then she grinned. "Do it again."

A/N: After proofreading, I really don't like this. It's too long and…blah and I feel like Kanan and Hera are completely, nauseatingly out of character. Nothing about this was organic. But I wrote two thousand words, dang it, and that's too much work to leave unpublished. Sorry if it sucked, y'all.