So, this is inspired by the fanart pic "Hidden Treasure" by Lorna-Ka on DeviantArt. I can't put the link on here because FF is stupid in the way that it won't let me post the full link. I'm sure you'll find the pic if you google it, though.

I Love Your Scar

Kanan walked out, away, from Chopper Base, using the Force as his sight, thankful his mask hid the tears that spilled from his sightless eyes. The pain, the pain was immense, burning with heat that grew in intensity as the days passed. Painkillers didn't work; they never did. He couldn't ease the pains with the Force; his mind was too jumbled with messed-up thoughts. The days dragged on, seeming like they wanted to make Kanan suffer as long as possible.

Or at least that's what Kanan thought. He felt angry even though he knew he shouldn't. He knew he should release his anger to the Force like a good Jedi would. But, truth was, Kanan wasn't feeling like a good Jedi right now. His emotions were a swirling mess of jumbled thoughts and feelings. Pain, anger, sadness, helplessness.

Kanan pushed everything away for the present moment, continuing his trek through the Atollan wastes, towards a secluded coral ledge where he often went to be alone. He arrived and sat down, allowing his feet and legs to dangle over the edge. Then, he let loose his emotions.

First, the pain. He screamed and cried out over the burning heat that haunted his life and seared his dreams. His anger was next. Kanan shouted "why?" over and over again whilst punching the air with his fists, his cries only heard by the wind.

Finally, drained of energy and unable to speak, he let out the sadness and helplessness that he felt every day. His shoulders shook, tears pooled under his mask before seeping out from under the bottom lip of it, trickling down his cheeks. His nose ran, the snot mixing with his tears, making a salty, sticky mess that dried into a crust on his face when his tears died down. He cried until his sobs were nothing but hoarse, heaving breaths and his nose felt red and raw. His jaw and shoulders ached.

He pulled his legs up, away from the edge, tucking them so he could wrap his arms around them and rest his chin on his knees. Kanan felt tired, but his questions and thoughts kept him awake. How will I go on with life now that I'm blind? Will my friends accept me? How can I be helpful to the Rebellion? Am I worthless? He would never Ezra Bridger, his Padawan, ever again. He would never see Sabine Wren again, with her brightly-dyed hair that seemed to change weekly and those eyes that always held that defiant spark. He would never see Zeb Orrelios again, with his bo-rifle always at the ready. He would never see Chopper again, the droid with the ornery temper and the orange paint job.

He would never see the Ghost or the Phantom II again. That ship had become his home, and the shuttle had saved his life on more than one occasion. He would never see Chopper Base again, the one he had helped build and grow after the temperamental droid belonging to Hera had found it. Most importantly, he would never see Hera again.

Hera, sweet, sweet Hera. He would never see those bright, sparkling green eyes again, or those patterned head-tails that bounced when she walked or turned her head. He would never see those hands again, those soft, warm, strong hands that were always so eager to help. He would never see that mischevious glint that came to her green eyes when she was flying the Ghost in battle. He would never-

His thoughts of Hera dissipated when he slumped over, asleep. Tiredness had finally won. He slept peacefully as dusk fell, his slumber uninterrupted by the nightmares that normally plagued him. His chest rose slowly with even breaths. For the first time in weeks, Kanan Jarrus slept right.

Back at the base, Hera paced just outside of the hangar doors, her chin in her hand and her lekku swaying gently as she walked. She had seen Kanan go out a couple hours ago and had not had the heart to follow him. She was regretting this now; the base was beginning its nightly lockdown and Kanan still hadn't returned. She couldn't even see his shadow on the horizon.

Hera finally decided to go out after him, throwing all care of protocol and curfew to the wind. Making sure her blaster was charged and ready, she strapped it to her boot and headed out in the general direction she had seen him go. She had an idea of where he had gone; there was a coral ledge that he or Ezra often went to be alone, and she had found Kanan there many times before.

Sure enough, there he was, but he didn't look normal. He was lying on his side, legs askew, folded at the knees. His fingers were curled into loose fists. He looked like he had fainted or something. Hera began to panic as she advanced closer. Kneeling down beside him, she saw he was still breathing, though his mask covered his eyes. He looked peaceful enough, but Hera was skeptical. She gently raised his mask up onto his forehead. And there it was. The scar. The scar that Kanan was so ashamed of that he felt he needed to hide it.

His eyes were closed, and he didn't stir when Hera ran gentle fingers slowly over the scar.

"Kanan," she breathed quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Kanan jerked awake and sat up quickly.

"Hera?"

"Yes, I'm here."

Kanan shook his head to clear the dizziness that came from sitting up to fast. His mask shook slightly from where it rested on his forehead. His hands flew to his face and touched his scar.

"Did you... did you... take it off?" Kanan rapidly repositioned his mask over his eyes. Hera nodded, forgetting he couldn't see. "Hera?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, don't."

"Hey, don't get demanding with me. It's not like I haven't seen your scar before." This was true. Hera had seen the scar many times before, like when she helped him put his shirt on in the mornings, or comb out his hair, or to spread healing ointment on the wound.

"Well, I still don't like it."

"Don't act like a stubborn child, Kanan. It's not you. That's," should she say it? "...Ezra's thing. Not yours."

Kanan ignored the remark about his Padawan.

"It hurts, Hera."

"I know, luv. I know."

"I don't like it."

I know that, too." Hera stood, inviting Kanan to do so as well by slipping a hand into one of his own. "I love your scar." She fingered the jaig eyes that Sabine had painted on the mask. "It's what makes you, you." She slid the mask up to his forehead.

"Hera-," Kanan started to object.

"Ah, no-no," Hera said, placing her forefinger to his lips in a shushing motion. She placed one of her hands on the side of his head, her fingers resting against his mask. The other remained in his hand, down at their sides. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and planted a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Kanan smiled the tiniest bit and dipped his head.

"I love your scar," Hera breathed again, pulling away and smiling.

"Thanks, Hera," Kanan said sincerely, putting the mask back down over his eyes, "But the mask stays."

Hera sighed. Well, if he was going to be stubborn, let him be stubborn. She couldn't stop it.

"It's getting dark. Let's go home. Walk with me?"

Kanan nodded and squeezed her hand, an invitation telling Hera to stay hand-in-hand.

"Alright," he agreed. Hera rested her head on his shoulder and they walked back towards the base.

...

I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think?