The sun beat down hard onto the desert-like surface of Atollon. Ezra stood alone in a shaded area. All around him, the base continued to take shape. In the short time that they had been there, structures had begun to spring up around them, and claims were being staked on various areas within the protective barrier of beacons that held the krykna at bay.
He didn't care right now. There were more important things on his mind.
Despite standing as still and quiet as he could, attempting to blend into the shadow cast by a rock formation, Hera saw him. She acknowledged his presence with a quick glance, making eye contact for just long enough to tell him that he had been noticed, before she turned her full attention back to Kanan.
Kanan walked behind her and a little to her side. His left hand gripped her right arm just above the elbow as she led him from the newly constructed medical center back to the Ghost. His free right hand reached out ahead of him, hovering around waist-height with fingers splayed, searching for any obstacles that might be in his way.
Most of the upper part of Kanan's face was covered by a thick bandage, a heavier duty one than Ezra had used to cover the wound during the journey home.
It seemed too soon for Kanan to be going home. Ezra hadn't expected it. He had gone outside for a change of scenery, needing to look at something other than the walls of his quarters for a while, but this hadn't been what he had in mind. He didn't want to watch, but moving would only draw attention to himself, and for some reason he couldn't make himself look away.
He didn't know whether it was a good sign that Kanan was going home, or a bad one. Had the med droid treated him, then sent him away because he would be fine once the bandages came off, or was he being released because there was nothing more that could be done? There had been no news, nothing beyond platitudes and vague assurances.
There was still a chance that Kanan would be okay. Ezra hadn't asked, and he wasn't going to ask. Until someone told him differently, there was still a chance.
He found his gaze focussing on Kanan's hand as it searched the air ahead of him like he thought he might walk into something. Ezra swallowed hard. He did the same thing himself, both in training with Kanan and when practicing alone. Kanan had picked him up on it once or twice; told him that he needed to focus on what he could learn through the Force rather than feeling for obstacles with his hands.
Kanan wouldn't walk into anything of course. Hera wouldn't allow it. But it wasn't that easy to trust, whether it was trusting the Force, his own memory of the layout of a room, or even another person. No matter how hard he tried not to, Ezra hadn't been able to stop himself from reaching out uncertainly into the unknown.
He had never tried to walk around outside without sight. There hadn't been many opportunities before they had founded the base, and even if there had, he wouldn't have been ready. He knew that one day he would have no choice, but until now, he hadn't even considered the idea. Now, watching Kanan, he couldn't stop. There were no walls to ground himself, no familiar objects that he could use as landmarks. There was nothing but open space, the ground beneath his feet, and the Force. Even being led as Kanan was — especially being led — the thought was frightening.
Hera looked exhausted, as though she was carrying the weight of the world. She walked slowly enough for Kanan to take his time, turning her head to check on him every few steps, whispering quiet words of encouragement that Ezra couldn't catch.
As Ezra continued to watch, Kanan stumbled on an unexpected dip in the ground that Hera hadn't noticed. Ezra tensed, caught between the urge to run to him and help, and the equally strong desire for Kanan not to know that he was there. Cowardice won out. He winced in sympathy and stayed where he was.
Kanan and Hera both stopped while Kanan took a moment to right himself, brushing off Hera's attempt to help. Ezra watched his chest expand as he took a deep breath, reaching for calm. It was impossible to tell whether he managed to find it before he nodded and muttered some assurance to Hera. The two of them set off again, making their slow, careful way onto the Ghost, Hera's eyes now firmly on the ground directly in front of Kanan's feet.
Ezra suppressed a stab of anger and hopelessness. Kanan might still recover, but he might not. He… probably wouldn't. This hadn't been supposed to happen. This was supposed to be Ezra's future, not Kanan's.
Had he done this?
The thought had plagued him since their return, starting as a stray thread of doubt, growing and expanding until it filled his mind with guilt and shame. In moments of weakness, Ezra had wished that he wasn't alone. He had wished that someone else could understand what he was going through.
He hadn't meant this.
He hadn't meant anything, not really.
He wasn't naive enough to genuinely believe that a stray thought could do this — if he could control the universe with a thought, he would have healed Kanan a hundred times over by now — but he hated that he had thought it. Worse, he hated that when the idea had drifted into his mind, he hadn't instantly pushed it aside in disgust. Sometimes, he had followed it; imagined what it might be like.
It didn't matter anyway, because he had done this. Maybe not with a thought, but his actions on Malachor had caused it. No matter which way he looked at it, Kanan was blind because of him.
On the entry ramp, just before he and Hera entered the Ghost, Kanan stopped abruptly. Ezra watched Hera turn to him, ask him what was wrong. Kanan shook his head, then turned to face Ezra. If his eyes had not been bandaged — if he had been able to see — Ezra was certain that he would have been looking directly at him.
Ezra froze, unable to decide what to do; whether to say something or remain silent, whether to go over to Kanan or whether to flee.
The decision was taken away from him a moment later, when Kanan turned back to Hera, and they continued on their way.