Stop me
There is a game children play when they are young, they close their eyes and pretend they can't see. Giggling when they bump into things, and laughing when they knock stuff over, but always opening their eyes in the end.
Kanan remembered playing that game when he was young, when he was Caleb Dume. He had a distinct memory of running around the crèche room, eyes closed, with his fellow younglings, laughing as they ran into their crèche masters, walls, each other. Falling into fits of giggles as they ran around blindly. Later they used helmets that blocked their vision to deflect stun bolts from training droids. Caleb was never good at that, especially when a droid would hover behind him and send a stun bolt to his back. It wasn't very pleasant, to say the least.
But now, it wasn't a game.
Now, Kanan didn't have the satisfaction of knowing he could simply open his eyes and see again. Now, he could only remember what color was, only remember what the faces of the crew looked like. Only remember his way around the Ghost, around the base.
Now, he only had his memory.
And his most recent memory?
A terribly bright flash of red, flying toward him, unable to dodge in time, and it all being followed many nothing but pain. Pain, and darkness.
He still had his other senses, thank the force. He could still hear the sound of the Phantom taking flight after Malachor, the sound of Ezra's continued sobbing as it echoed around the small ship. He could still smell the scent of space -hot metal and wielding fumes- and when they landed, he could still smell the dry air of Atollon. When they came back to Hera and the others, he felt her hold his face in her hands. When Kanan offered her a weak smile, he felt arms wrap around his neck and her face leaning against his shoulder armor. He could feel Ezra gripping his arm too, showing no signs of letting go.
Later, he could taste cold water running down his throat. It felt amazing, when had he last had a drink of water? He could taste the bitter medicine he was given as it burned his tounge. He felt the stinging, burning pain as the medical droid cleaned his wound, and he felt Hera squeeze his hand reassuringly. That night after everyone else had gone to bed, he could taste the bile that rose within him when he felt sick to his stomach.
The next day he felt Hera gently tug his dirty sweater over his head, and helped him into a cleaner shirt so the former one could be washed. He felt tugging and pulling on his scalp as the Twi'lek ran a comb through his scraggly hair and pulled it into a fresh ponytail. Kanan felt a rush of happiness run through him when Hera pulled him into a warm embrace, and felt even happier when he felt her lips on his.