Chapter 14/Epilogue

Conversations.

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As it turned out, Kanan didn't get back to the ship for a while. He'd looked in on Zeb, and then decided to stay for a bit. Hera, Ezra and Sabine had all looked tired. And of course he knew why, because the same thing happened whenever any of them were injured, particularly if they were in safe territory. With two of them injured, he suspected the hovering rotas had been full on the heels of a stressful mission. If any of them looked in and saw he was there, then someone was with Zeb. And if he was meditating, even Hera wouldn't disturb him to throw him out. Probably. If he didn't push it too far.

He settled down on the floor near the wall, visible from the door but out of the way of medical droids and sought his connection to the Force that would help ground him so he could sort his mind and memories out.

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It was two or three hours later that Kanan got back to his cabin, Hera having popped her head in and then indeed thrown him out. He smiled slightly to himself as he padded through the Ghost's corridor. Actually, although the thought would have horrified the man he'd been before he met Hera on Gorse, he liked that they were all concerned enough about each other to hover now. He liked that he was part of a family that did care about each other. Okay, that lead to the potential of loss, which he'd fled when he left Kasmir and Kleeve all those years ago and hadn't really picked up again until he'd let himself get fond of an old miner on Gorse, which had ultimately ended up with his meeting Hera.

His cabin would be a welcome refuge. It had a bed in it, and more importantly, his bed in it. Very little else, but he'd never needed much. He'd arrived onto Ghost with his backpack and his belongings could still be packed into it, even if he had no plans of a sudden departure. But he appreciated having a space in the Ghost that was his own.

He entered without turning on the light and moved to a small built-in locker, crouching to unlock it and check his lightsaber hilt and holocron were there. They were, Ezra had returned them then. He took out the holocron, sitting back on his heels with it and focussing. It cast blue-toned shadows around him as it lit and started to open, the pieces of the intricate puzzle shifting. A few moments later, Master Obi-Wan appeared.

The stark warning addressed itself to the small cabin. Kanan watched the man speaking, lost in thought for a few minutes as he remembered seeing it for the first time on the Kasmiri, just before he dropped out of hyperspace into the Imperial trap. He wondered had Master Kenobi's desperate message saved any more Jedi. Was it worth it, if only one survived?, he wondered. He had no idea what it had ultimately cost the Jedi master to change the beacon. No-one had heard of him since the Fall and he didn't appear to be being actively hunted. Kanan had to assume he'd died there. He let the holocron close and then felt someone nearby.

Kanan started around tensely, his hand seeking the lightsaber hilt in the drawer, wary after the last few days. His eyes met two rather sleepy blue ones in the shadows and he blinked as he noted that, firstly, his bed was occupied and secondly, that it was Ezra curled up at the bottom of it, extremely well-disguised as a blanket. Although I must be tired if I didn't notice that bump on it, he told himself. He let the lightsaber hilt fall back into its drawer and released his tense breath.

"Sorry. I…uh…was returning your lightsaber. And I thought you'd be back in a few minutes. I guess I dozed off." Ezra slid off the bed, having some trouble untangling himself from a large brown thing. Kanan squinted at it in the half-darkness and then raised the lights a bit.

"Huh… I thought something was missing from the drawer, but I hadn't quite placed it." Great, another of those is it/isn't it things, he thought absently as he looked at the travelling wrap he'd eventually left Kaller with. It had been… Hera's, he thought, originally.

"Yeah. I didn't expect to see that there. You kept it then?" Kanan picked it up as Ezra finally managed to escape and held it up a moment.

"Yeah, it saw some adventures. Replaced it eventually. When it was no longer possible to make it look respectable. Probably not much point returning it to Hera in this state."

The two Jedi inspected it. While it had been originally of a heavy brown wool, treated against water, it was threadbare in places now and didn't look like it would keep off much of anything. It also had a number of patches and a couple of blaster holes in it. With the brighter light, the threadbare bits and the patches showed up noticeably, as did a number of stains.

"Don't think anyone's going to get any use out of it at this point," agreed Ezra after a moment. Although it had worked quite well as a blanket. He watched Kanan refold it and replace it in the drawer, noting that while it wasn't obviously a Jedi anything, he still placed it with his Jedi artifacts.

"So why are you skulking on my bed anyway?" asked Kanan. "'Cause I warn you, I'm planning to use it any moment."

"I wanted to talk to you about something. But it's kinda late now and you should sleep. Hera'd say as much."

"She would." He sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall. "But since she just kicked me out of Zeb's room to take watch down there, it's safe enough. What is it?"

Ezra hesitated. "It's just… I had a vision. Two of them, I guess, although I didn't realise the first was."

Kanan tilted his head questioningly. It wasn't unusual for even quite young padawans to start having flashes of visions as well as foresight – it was more unusual when they kept up, or they were able to control them. But it was a sign that Ezra was becoming more attuned to the Force.

Ezra absently pulled up a bit of blanket, fiddling with it between his fingers with nervous movements. "The first was when we were asleep. I thought it was a bad dream. You know, mixing around all the stuff we'd seen. But I had it again just before we came back through the portal. I saw what was going on on the other side of the portal, and knew it was real that time."

Kanan considered this for a moment. "When did you see the vision first?", he asked.

"I guess it was about the middle of the day. We'd stopped due to the heat. Maybe early afternoon?"

Kanan nodded. "Stormtroopers arrived not long before you did. So you were seeing a vision of the future." He considered this again. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Ezra pulled at the blanket again. Kanan could tell something was particularly bothering his padawan, but not quite what it was.

"I thought they were going to shoot you, and we'd be too late," burst out Ezra after a moment. The vision had unsettled him, but not until after, when he'd had time to think about it and remember his dream from earlier. But given Master Jhesa, given the woman in the market, given Mira, that image of Kanan on the ground surrounded by stormtroopers had all too easily loaned itself to what could have happened next. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do to force the nightmares he'd been having from various points of the journey away now that the two injured were mending and no longer a convenient distraction from sleep.

Ah. Kanan thought about what had been happening at his side of the portal and, given he'd made all the same connections at the time, saw exactly what was upsetting the boy.

"Ye-eah. From the very start, they were pretty wary of what Jedi could do. The clones, well, they had seen what Jedi could do. I guess the stormtroopers carried it on. But they weren't going to shoot me." Not right then, anyway. "They needed me to keep the portal open too. If I hadn't heard from you soon, I'd have had to close it rather than let them get loose in the past as well." At that point, they might have shot me. He decided not to include that bit.

Ezra could put that together just as well anyway. He exhaled. "I didn't realise how much they hate us," he said quietly. "I mean, yeah, they try to kill us, but it's not like that."

Kanan shrugged. "It faded off over the years. The first few years were much like that. I think it was as the clones were faded out and replaced. The Empire was still brutal with the odd Jedi they caught after that though." Especially around Empire Day. Really added to the festivities, executing one. He looked at the kid, who looked troubled.

"You're right though, it's not like that anymore. There's so few of us for a start that there's no need for that sort of sweep. And now they do it as a job more than so..uh…vindictively. But that aside, there's a way out of that situation. Just those that got caught back then were mostly taken by complete surprise and cut down by friends. I'll show it to you tomorrow. It's what I would have done if I'd had to shut down the portal."

Ezra nodded relaxing a bit. He pushed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, thanks. It feels frelling helpless."

"Mhrm." It did, and it hadn't done his nerves any good either, caught up as he was between the events of fifteen years before still happening to him and the stormtroopers around him. Being pinned in a circular firing squad could easily have been now or then or both. "Force-push," he added, to ease the kid's mind more that that situation didn't inevitably lead to death.

"Huh?" Ezra looked over.

"Force-push. Is the way out of it. Circular firing squads are deeply impractical." He mimed a push outwards to either side of him.

Ezra blinked a few times. Now that he thought of it, it was obvious. "Oh. Uh…yeah, that does help."

He nodded. "Master Billaba was taken by surprise – and she was blocking Styles' shot on me when she fell. Master Jhesa was thrown from his speeder and they probably shot him where he fell. Master Kuso was lying injured in a medcentre bed. Mira…" He didn't even finish that. "And the woman in the marketplace wasn't a Jedi. You saw some of the worst of it, but they got lucky several times."

Kanan crossed his legs under himself, looking at the back of the kid's head. He could see Ezra was still troubled. He couldn't blame him, really. He'd was six months into training and had just gotten an eyeful of what the Empire thought of Jedi, far more brutally than the tag-ends that still continued now.

"You said about them hating us. You're right - it showed through the clones. Whatever made them act like that, there was real hatred behind it. But the Jedi were wiped out because we were the protectors of the Republic. We couldn't protect it from a military coup as it turned out. But the Emperor knew that the Jedi would never turn against the Republic in …whatever way he made the clones turn. I've often thought about how he ended up like he is now, that twisted face you saw in the holoimage. I suspect Jedi did know that the Grand Chancellor was going do this, to overthrow the Republic. I think they tried to stop him and failed, and that's why all of them had to die." He shrugged. "I have no evidence for it, just an idea. Doubt we'll ever know now."

"And now there's two Jedi but no Republic to protect anyway," said Ezra after a moment.

"Still a galaxy out there. And people that need help under the Empire. But that's what the history of the Jedi Order was, protection. Not sure I ever really explained that to you. It was a bit of a moot point since we found you. Or so I thought, anyway."

"Or since I was born. But… yeah. I follow. Although one thing I don't get."

Kanan gave his pillow a longing look from the corner of his eye. He wanted a closer relationship with it and soon. My dear young strategist, this is the Force repaying all your questions to me. An amused voice. He had just imagined it, of course. It wasn't really Depa Billaba talking to him. But he could feel the amusement she would have if she'd thought of her padawan being pestered with questions by his own student. Well, one thing he could do to honour his master was show the same patience with Ezra that she had shown him. He glanced over, nodding for him to continue.

"Why did the Grand Chancellor overthrow the Empire? He was the leader of the Republic, wasn't he? So couldn't he do as he liked anyway?"

Well, this was at least a fairly easy one. Kanan had known instantly what it meant back then. But then, he'd been trained in history, politics, diplomacy and warfare from as soon as he was old enough to understand. To Ezra, a galactic ruler was…well, what he'd known in a practical sense all his life. There had been his parents and he'd had better chance than most of being taught that this wasn't how it had always been, but he'd still been a kid when he'd lost them and had years on the street of it just not being relevant to him. It had stayed more relevant to Kanan, although he'd long ago lost track of exactly who was in charge of what and just how dangerous they were.

"Not as Grand Chancellor. The Republic didn't work the same way as the Empire. The Grand Chancellor was very powerful, but he was constrained by the Senate. Moderated his voice.

"So that's why he had to overthrow the Republic. He was turning it into a totalitarian, expansionist regime, completely dominated by his will in a way that the Republic could never have been. It was set up not to be run like that."

Ezra listened, although he raised his hand at the end. "Totalitarian?"

"Uh… totally dominant. The Empire answers to the Emperor and him alone. Oh, the Senate still exists, somehow, but it's toothless. He has the military and the Galactic economy, and that's really the important bits."

"Right..." Ezra looked a bit flattened by it all, which was about what he felt. He knew some of this, but he'd known it from the perspective of a small child, back when his parents sent secret messages of hope to the galaxy, hoping themselves that the right ears would hear it and the wrong ears wouldn't find them. Some of the connections he hadn't made. Then he'd had to run away and survive. Ancient history just wasn't important on the streets of Lothal. Possibly the older members of the crew wouldn't appreciate fifteen years being called "ancient history" he thought with a quirk of his lips which vanished again as he thought about it. He stood up.

"Thanks, Kanan. I should let you get some sleep though. It's late."

"No problem, kid. Meditate for a while before sleeping. It helps." He'd read between the lines that Ezra was having nightmares. It was hardly a new thing on the ship, and his padawan had gained a lot of fodder for them.

Ezra nodded. "Got it. G'night."

"'Night, Ezra." When the kid had gone, Kanan finally got to reclaim his bed and lay down with a groan. His back had just started aching again. The bacta had done its work, and his enhanced healing would do the rest, but it was a warning not to push his luck in the meantime.

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The Ghost sped through space, on its way back to Lothal. They all needed a break for a few days to recover physically and mentally. Zeb had been released, mostly compos mentis, although it had taken a while for the drugs to wear out of his system (the Perosians had had to make a bit of a guess with Lasan physiology and had been oddly wary of him with the bacta), and he was inclined to zone out on them. He'd spent much of the last day or so in his room, presumably sleeping them off.

Ezra was, rather unusually, sitting in Sabine's little cabin, leaning against one wall while she painted on another. He was holding the holocron absently, switching his attention between what she was working on and the little device. Ezra was finding his mere existence appeared to be annoying Zeb and he wasn't particularly sleepy anyway. It wasn't very often that Sabine let people into her space, especially when she was working, but right at the moment, they were finding a certain peaceful solidarity in each other's company. Neither was inclined to talk much, but they were able to be solitary together. Sabine had washed down where she wanted to paint something that expressed what she felt that words wouldn't. It was a bit out of the way, near the floor, as she suspected it wasn't going to be something she'd want to look at too often. Everything relating to the last few days was dark. She flicked away a hair that was falling over her forehead as she heard a clicking sound behind her. It broke her thought process and she glanced around, irritated. Her attention was caught by the holoimage of the elder in Jedi robes.

"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret... but be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you - always."

For a moment, Ezra felt himself back on Kaller, his mind easily able to see it as if for the first time during the crisis, as the Order fell and Master Kenobi gave a desperate warning to any Jedi that might still live that the beacon guiding them home was a trap. He blinked once or twice, looking around and reassuring himself that he was safely on Ghost. Then he looked over at what Sabine was working on.

Sabine had started painting soon after Obi-Wan had started speaking. Ezra saw an outline of the exploded holocron start to form under her fine brush and shifted his legs under himself to meditate on the real one. It seemed a good time anyway, and it would keep it open for her if she needed the reference. It took him a little while to settle as always, but once he did, he felt the Force connection as strongly as he had in any of the training sessions, and considerably more than in some of them when he'd been impatient; too full of energy or the need to speak.

.

When he opened his eyes, he felt an odd combination of physically tired but mentally more refreshed. Sabine had been working while he was not watching and he saw her thoughts reflected in her work.

The image of the holocron she had been starting was now fully-formed in its exploded state, the space between the separate pieces a soft blue. Around and behind the holocron was her favoured phoenix, the Ghost's symbol, only the wings were dipped, curving around and sheltering the device. She had settled herself to paint the intricate designs threading the holocron's surfaces and was thoroughly absorbed in it. She certainly hadn't noticed he was watching her work yet.

Ezra leaned back against the wall with a slight smile forming. It was comforting that even when really weird Jedi stuff happened, and even though the Empire apparently wanted him and Kanan dead in a way that he'd not entirely understood before now, the Ghost was still with them. Ezra had spent a long time alone, and had been used to relying on himself. Turned out it was much the same for Kanan. But they were no longer alone. The Empire might hate them, but didn't mean that the galaxy did.

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Bad dreams weren't uncommon. They all had plenty of fodder for nightmares, whether from their time before the Ghost or from various of their rougher missions. Kanan had meditated when sitting with Zeb, but the conversation had disturbed his mind again and along with his body's natural sleep cycle being all over the place, he'd had one bad dream after another until he'd finally woken with a start and a tangle of blanket.

He lay still as his mind caught on to his body being awake, not really sure when or where he was for a moment. He figured out the where fairly rapidly at least, although when took longer. He confirmed the where anyway by reaching up and brushing his fingers along where the bunk above was folded against the wall. Right. Timewise, he was okay down to the year at least, but he had no idea of the hour and he was still a bit hazy on the day. Kanan rubbed at his face, feeling wide awake enough to decide it was probably the day part of the Ghost's cycle and got up, defeating the entangling blanket after a short struggle and pulling on enough loose clothing to be respectable at least.

Outside, the feel of the ship made him realise rapidly that he'd entirely misjudged the time. He made a face, but headed to the common room anyway, mulling something to drink. There were teas anyway. And maybe it would relax him enough to go back to bed. He padded down to the main room, and was surprised to see a low light emitting from it.

Zeb was sitting at the table with mug of tea in front of him. He didn't seem to think much of it, but was drinking it anyway. The Lasat glanced up with a glower as he felt someone at the door but focussed it elsewhere on seeing who it was. He grunted a general acknowledgement of Kanan's existence that wasn't entirely unwelcoming.

"Thought you were the kid," he rumbled after a moment.

"Ezra bothering you?" Kanan headed over to put water on to heat.

Zeb shrugged. "Eh. Nah, not really. Just wanted to be on my own for a bit. Kid's …there, you know? All orange energy and noise." Well, that wasn't absolutely true at the moment, but given Zeb was in full solitary mode, Ezra breathing was enough to get on his nerves.

Kanan nodded. He knew Zeb well at this stage and could see the Lasat was withdrawn into himself. The drugs in his system had been about fifty per cent excuse to keep to himself for a bit. Kanan didn't blame him. He was much the same himself at times. And as fond as he was of Ezra, he suspected that he and Ezra sharing a cabin would place a strain on their relationship.

They had an easy silence as Kanan made his tea. Neither felt the need to talk just for the sake of it. Kanan was also letting Zeb decide if he wanted another person there or not for himself. He glanced around with his mug, feeling eyes on his back. Zeb was watching him.

"Couldn't sleep?" the Lasat asked after a moment.

"Not sure my body remembers what night-time is," he replied ruefully. "Woke up and thought it was morning. Turned out it's - what, middle of night-shift?"

"Yeah, 'bout that." He regarded the tea mournfully. "Frelling stewed leaves," he said gloomily. He really looked like he wanted a drink, and after the last few days, Kanan was right there with him. He made a "mrh" noise as he recalled something and set his tea down.

Zeb gave his back a questioning look as Kanan vanished and scratched at his ear. Either there was a prospect of a proper drink or Kanan had left his meditation on. He drained the last dregs of his tea and then eyed up the Jedi's abandoned cup thoughtfully.

Kanan returned as Zeb snatched his hand back from where he'd just started to reach for his cup. Zeb casually scratched his head, arm raised for totally innocent and non-larcenous reasons. Kanan was unbothered by this anyway as he picked up a couple of glasses and sat down, sliding a short, stout stoppered bottle across the table to him. Zeb arrested its slide with both hands, picking it up reverently.

"Lasan whiskey? Where did you pick this beauty up?" He sounded wondering, which well he might.

Kanan chuckled. "Remember Gryrwook on Nar Shadaa, about two months back? When he was flinging the contents of the bar at us, I had the choice of catching the Corellian Reserve or this. Or an Aldaraan white, but that didn't factor in."

"Jat'u had some good stuff behind that bar." He looked pained at the loss of the rare brandy. "Couldn't catch both?"

"Not without putting down my lightsaber, and his blaster was still a problem."

"Lost in good cause to save this. Saving it for a special occasion?" He broke the seal and unstoppered it, taking a sniff of one of many lost smells he'd taken for granted back when Lasan still lived.

Kanan shrugged. "Probably for Empire Day if we couldn't get to the city." He didn't elaborate. Zeb was hardly blind to that his friend tended to vanish on Empire Day and stay away if circumstances allowed. Hera had been disapproving and (oddly, he thought in the early days, before he'd joined the very short list of people who knew what Kanan had once been) concerned about the disappearances. It was also safe to say that Zeb hadn't been a particularly moderating influence once he'd started joining him. While Zeb had no personal links to Empire Day as a recurring point of the year, the Empire was still the malevolent force that had destroyed his world. The festivities of Empire Day celebrated the day the shadow rose that would swiftly engulf Lasan.

"Tried it once a long time ago, in a cantina somewhere in the Rim." Kanan added. "'Least, I might have. He wasn't above switching labels on his bottles."

"Bet it wasn't the real thing. Never is. Some cantina sleaze figures no-one's gonna know what it tastes like anyway, and pulls any drek from the shelf. This is the real stuff. I'd say it'd put hair on your chest, but in your case, that'd be a little pointless." He smirked.

Kanan snorted. "I don't need a Lasat amount of hair anyway," he replied as Zeb poured a measure into his glass. As is traditional in these situations, both of them regarded the colour as if it particularly meant something (given the range of brewing techniques across the galaxy, it didn't particularly. But it was familiar to Zeb and Kanan was at least willing to appreciate it.).

"You've made me feel a lot better about being parsecs from the nearest cantina," said Zeb, tasting it. He closed his eyes contently, ears flattening at the rush of memories. Too many for any individual one to crystallise; just a blur of tastes and smells and sounds buried with Lasan. Even the sound of Lasat drinking, talking, laughing and just being alive in some watering hole in the capital. The galaxy would never hear it again, but for a moment he could.

Kanan tasted it curiously, letting Zeb enjoy it as he obviously was. Not as smoky as he'd expected. He was cautious with it, since he'd long ago learned that what humans considered enjoyable and what Deveronians or Twi'leks did could drastically diverge. As could what they considered "whiskey". No, this was definitely a whiskey, and one of those he preferred; neither too sweet nor smokey nor of the raft of planets that used various native grains he wasn't keen on. Galaxy lost a good whiskey, he thought, right before a fireball lit up his tongue. Argh, wait, what? Kanan swallowed the last of the deceptive stuff quickly, followed by half his cup of tea with rather too much speed for dignity, his eyes watering as whatever that stuff was scorched its way down.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it does that." Zeb showed no reaction to it, but looked like he was belatedly remembering why it should be easy to tell fake Lasan whiskey around the galaxy – the real thing had a kick like an angry nerf for unsuspecting humans.

"No wonder you were fine with the Kalleran firecheese! What do you put in it, fireworks?" Kanan, perhaps with more curiosity than sense, took another even more cautious sip. Either he was getting used to it or whatever local spice or lichen the Lasat had used to brew their form of whiskey had scorched all the nerves from his tongue, one or the other, but the second fireball was far more subdued.

Zeb picked up the bottle again and looked at the label. "Kadarak's Claws – Kadarak is the kick. Sort've lichen I think. Don't think it grew off Lasan."

They sat in companionable silence for a bit. Maybe it was because he was a bit suspicious of the stuff still, or maybe because he didn't want to risk even appearing inebriated if Ezra suddenly appeared or maybe because he no longer felt as much need to drown the Force-sense, but Kanan was several drinks behind Zeb, taking it slowly. Actually, apart from anything else, he'd been in a medcentre for three days and he rather needed his Force-sense to help keep up the passive healing that was clearing the last of the infection from his system. Kanan was lost in his own thoughts when Zeb spoke first.

"Before we left, you said not to interfere. What was that about? What were you expecting would happen?"

Kanan would have to be a lot less perceptive than he was to not see that Zeb was pushing towards whatever had pulled him out to the commissary in the middle of the night. As for the question…

"I wasn't exactly going off hard data or anything," he said after a moment. "Really just stories, since I didn't even know that this was possible. But the logical consequences of, say, your going back and changing something that killed me back then seemed really bad for getting you all back again."

"Plus all the stuff with what happened to the Ghost crew if you hadn't joined the ship, or you and Hera hadn't met, yeah. Was that all of it?"

Kanan hesitated. "I don't… know," he said uneasily. "Yes, insofar as I can put words to it. But time travel just always goes wrong. And my instincts were saying to stay out of it. Too easy to set consequences in motion that can't be controlled." Like Sabine accidentally saving Maarje. He hadn't said that to upset her, but it had been the logical conclusion he'd reached. He wouldn't have been able to protect the kid – he hadn't been able to protect her. In all likelihood, even without the Inquisitor's interference, they would both have died, whether on Kaller or on the next planet.

"Don't know that the consequences could have been any worse for Lasan," grunted Zeb. "Hard to get much worse than annihilated."

"Yeah." Thing was, he really couldn't argue with that. His instincts had told him that messing around with what had already happened was going to end badly. He wasn't quite sure if they were his own human instincts or the Force. And maybe he'd been wrong about it. But mostly he felt relief that things hadn't ended much worse, even if "much worse" was something he couldn't really define. But it was hard to get much worse than annihilated.

Zeb eyed him suspiciously. "You were mad with Sabine for what she did. Why aren't you mad with me?" he asked bluntly. Normally, the Lasat would have been absolutely fine not taking heat and certainly wouldn't have raised the topic, so the question startled the Jedi.

"..First of all, I'm not mad with Sabine. Alright, I was, but we sorted it by the end of the conversation. Secondly… mh, I don't know." He scratched his forehead. Yep, he'd dodged that incredibly clumsily and pretty much on reflex. Man up, Kanan. You know, so admit it.

"If I'd been back there in the middle of it, despite my best intentions, I couldn't have stood back and watch Master Billaba die in front of me again. So yeah, it'd be hypocritical of me to be too mad about your attacking the man that annihilated your planet. Sabine… was a bit different."

Zeb grunted. The two survivors of different genocides regarded their glasses and drank the contents in silence for a bit.

"…Still don't know if I wish I hadn't done it or not."

Kanan looked over as the Lasat spoke, working the negatives in the sentence out as his thoughts returned to the present. Zeb shrugged, pouring more whiskey into their glasses.

"Hells, I don't know. On the one hand, why didn't I kill him? I'd gone that far, killed his mate, humiliated his troops. Maybe the next one wouldn't be so eager to use those damned weapons."

Zeb's pupils dilated as he referred obliquely to the ion disrupters that had caused such nightmarish carnage throughout his world.

"…And the thought that keeps coming to mind is what if killing his sergeant is what set him off this time 'round. Turns out I killed his brother or something." Zeb's ears flattened back as he rubbed at his face, keeping his expression hidden. "I'd even kriffin' said it was for Lasan."

Kanan stayed quiet for a bit, weighing up his reply.

"I've been thinking a bit about how things ended up. Things…ended up much the same. Tix still died, just at the hands of the Inquisitor instead. Maarje still died, just in Plateau City instead of the camp. Despite leaving a week early, I still met Kasmir, and things still roughly worked out the same. Except you're not too sure about that, are you? There's an anomaly later on, after things had… resumed their normal course. And you keep trying not to think about it. Kanan cleared his throat, shaking the thought off. "…The Empire destroyed Lasan the first time around, when you couldn't have affected Kallus beforehand. Kallus decided to do it for his own reasons. The same thing happened the second time around. If Kallus decided it this time because you killed his sergeant, it's only because it was going to happen anyway." The more he thought about all this, the more it creeped him the hell out. He was going to very determinedly forget all this ever happened as soon as he was reasonably sure they were all okay.

Zeb started to answer, but then frowned. "Is this some Jedi thing? Predetermined path and all that?"

Kanan blinked, having not actually extrapolated out of the period they'd affected. "Uh, no. Nah, I don't think much of the idea of predestination – it's not a Jedi thing anyway. But that had already happened. It's not like us changing things now for the future."

"…So we got dicked over by the timeline because it wanted to get as close back to itself as possible?" Zeb summarised.

Kanan shrugged. "In the absence of any better theories, it sure feels like it. I …frell, given what we do, I believe we can make a difference here and now. But my gut's saying there's nothing we could have done to significantly change what happened to the Jedi or Lasan. I don't really have any better than my gut though. But there's a …weird disconnect in some of my memories, like people were making decisions…so that things ended up as they are now rather than something else entirely." He shrugged again rather helplessly. It was a very peculiar feeling and difficult to put into words.

Zeb gave him a long look at that. "That's creepy, mate," he said finally and downed the drink. It was. And he was a bit concerned as to how much this was going to ultimately freak Kanan out. It was his head after all. They were all paying close attention to things having changed, but Zeb at least had no particular set of double memories. He had his own memories, and was conscious that some of them – like the Phantom in hyperspace – no longer reflected reality. He could live with that – although whether he could live with reality being that he had indirectly sparked Kallus into using the ion disrupters was still another matter. If that was the case. Kanan's argument that while they were in a period that had already happened, certain key things were still going to happen to keep the timeline on track, was …sort of reassuring. And also really creepy.

"Yeah. You know, Kallus must have been really confused by it," said Kanan after a few moments. Hopefully not too soon…

Zeb snorted, not without some grim amusement. "…Yeah. An eight foot Lasat leaping onto a hoverbus and trying to kill him for something he hadn't done yet. He did look pretty surprised." He snorted again at the thought.

"Hey, in the city, was that you that shot out the holocaster?"

Kanan grinned. "Guilty. Although I didn't stick around to see what happened." He frowned. "Actually, it sounded like it was turning into a riot."

"Yeah, kinda did. The stormtroopers fired into the air to calm down the crowd and that worked as well as you'd expect. Don't think anyone was particularly injured though. Ezra nearly got carried off."

"And so my last act as a soldier of the Republic was inciting a riot," said Kanan sardonically.

Zeb smirked. "Damn right. And right as he was saying about spreading the Empire across the galaxy. I could feel the Kallerans weren't liking that at all even without knowing the lingo. Let's just say not everyone in the crowd disapproved of the message the holes in the wall and the broken holocaster sent."

"You know, there was a riot in the city that day. I think it started further north though." Kanan shrugged. "To be honest, I'm just not going to think about it too much. It's …" He hunted for the word as he poured himself a top-up.

"Creepy. Glad we got the kriffin' Inquisitors. Bastards." It really did take a special sort of bastard to create a mess like this.

"Yeah. And two of them." Here was hoping that had weeded down their stock a bit. Although he'd mostly gotten beaten around and then pinned to the gate, so he hadn't exactly been a stellar contributor to that.

"Good thing you kept them busy long enough for us to have some fun. That was a hell of a shot Hera pulled on the pillar."

Kanan gave him a briefly sceptical did you just read my mind look, but let it go. He smiled and if his smile had a fondness reserved only for the Twi'lek, Zeb wasn't going to comment. That there was something between the ship captain and the Specter leader was the worst-kept secret on the ship. Even Ezra would probably notice at some point. Zeb, insofar as he was going to have any opinion at all, wished they'd just get on with it. (It was possible that there was some hopeful thoughts of Kanan moving into Hera's cabin and Zeb escaping into one of his own factoring into it.) But he respected that Hera had her captain/crew thing and it was possible Kanan had some Jedi thing. Although he suspected that Kanan would be quite happy to have something more than the current unspoken something with Hera. He had the feeling that Hera was the braking factor. The furthest he'd go into the subject, and even then, only to himself, was that he hoped if they did love each other, they wouldn't leave it too late and one or other regret it. Life was cheap in the Empire's galaxy and there weren't many outlaw elders. He realised his thoughts were meandering and came back to reconstruct Kanan's answer. Agreeing about the shot. Oh, and her gloating.

"Yeah. They always have to have the last word, don't they? All've them. Never just shoot you, it's always with the gloating." Zeb rolled his eyes.

"And long may it last, it gives us the chance to escape." Kanan grinned and tipped his glass towards Zeb. Zeb snorted but raised his glass in return.

"Yeah, to stupid bad guys."

Kanan paused. "Actually, seems a waste of the whiskey to toast Inquisitors. To Lasan."

Zeb nodded agreement. That was worth remembering. And the whiskey had helped him to remember things he'd forgotten, the more elusive things like sounds and smells. He raised his glass.

"To the Republic," he responded. And the time before the Empire. The Republic had had its problems, but it was mostly a neighbour that let them alone. People seemed mostly reasonably happy. And it had been his friend's home.

Kanan smiled and drank to that.

.

The Ghost moved silently through space, slipping under radar and off screens unnoticed as its own sensors picked up the odd personal or trade vessel. Hera was in the pilot's seat, relaxing and watching the stars. Zeb and Kanan might think they were prenaturally alert (and in fairness, they usually were), but neither had seen Hera pass. Although despite their wariness of her, she wasn't going to interrupt. She'd known as well as Kanan had that Zeb was bothered and if they were sorting things out she wasn't going to interfere.

Hera feared there would be fallout as they stumbled over small changes – hopefully no large ones – as Kanan sorted his head out and decided how he was going to deal with what must undoubtedly be an incredibly weird and unsettling situation, and she was concerned about Zeb and possibly Ezra too. (At which point she may as well also be concerned about Sabine and have a full set.) But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, the whole family was home on her ship and the Ghost had a full fuel tank, heading for Lothal where they could all relax for a bit. Hera was still doing some processing of events and repercussions herself, but for now, she was content just with the knowledge that all her crew were safe.

Hera decided eventually that she really should take the opportunity to have a couple hours sleep. As she passed the common room she noticed it was empty again; presumably either they or their still-healing bodies had decided to be sensible and go to bed too. She entered her cabin without turning on the light and headed for the bed, although was surprised in the dark to touch paper and cloth where she was fairly sure there shouldn't be any such thing. The cloth felt familiar somehow. She did the logical thing and turned on the light.

There was a folded mass of brown material on the bed, although she couldn't immediately see the paper she'd touched. She picked up the bundle and shook it out, confused at it for a moment before it snapped into place as her wrap. It had obviously seen a lot of use after he'd left the planet. Huh, he kept it. It was long since past salvaging into anything that the Kanan she'd known for years would wear, but he'd kept it. There was the piece of paper, it had slipped off the wool. She picked it up, read it and laughed quietly. The note said simply;

Thanks. Canan Lind.

Well, and that's done! Thanks for the reviews, especially you guys that kept coming back! :D

I had another notion, but it ended up fitting rather better into this set up than being a completely new story. Having said that, I'm having severe writer's block on chapter 6 (which got eaten by my laptop's imploding, after being a complete nightmare to get through anyway. So not sure what will happen about that. I left the opening to continue into the sequel in the end of this story anyway, so we'll see!

I meant to respond to some of the points raised in reviews but forgot to do so on the last chapter!

CalmSheJaguar - Thanks! Wasn't sure if I was making him tooo evuls but ah, he was a dick! With some very odd notions.

ruby throne - Zeb staying back would have caused all sorts of chaos, I think. He got all awkward once they got Canan away and started pointing out that he had no reason to go back and his planet was about to be destroyed, which was very difficult of him! I had to admit he had a point though.. Regarding Lasan, yeah, that was going to be a thing for him to regret. But overall, due to the ambiguity of what actually happened by the end, *probably* wasn't his fault. I blame him for the segue into whiskey making this chapter so long too :P

Ithilwen: :D Glad to have helped inspire a happy dance! Always good for one's day. Not so long for the end of this one at least, it was basically written, just needed cleaning up for posting. Sorry for keeping it hanging so long, my laptop apparently really does not like me writing again :P