OOC I have had the query as to what is going on with There is Passion, why the stories don't seem to match. I suppose, much like the show, this is more like continuing one shots. So there are grand adventures that will continue on. I had originally intended on ending this story on Chapter 8, but I got some lovely feedback from so many of you, so I decided to continue. I'm sorry if this has caused some confusion.
OOC 2 Apologies for the repost. Something went very wrong with an update and a different chapter reposted itself. I have had to delete Ch 10 and repost. Sorry!
Kanan trailed after Zeb and Ezra, watching them bump and shove each other on the way up the lowered ramp of the Ghost. He rubbed his fingers on his temple, trying to press away the pounding headache that had developed in the last hour.
Their bickering was stretching his last nerve. This time it was over who had left wet towels on the floor of the shared bathroom. Sabine had torn Ezra a new one apparently, and Ezra had sworn it wasn't him. As bunk mate, Zeb got the blame.
Kanan tucked the corner of his mouth in and sighed.
"Go stow the gear," he snapped, sharper than he intended, drawing curious glances from his crew. He closed his eyes and rubbed the ridge of his brow. "We need to get started on the supply run. Unless you want to eat that protein slop again."
"Ugh." Ezra wrinkled his nose.
Zeb's low rumble echoed the kid, and he laid a broad purple palm on Ezra's shoulder. "You got it, Kanan. Let's go, kid."
Kanan trailed up the ramp and into the ship. It was quiet. He hefted the heavy pack that dragged on his shoulders. He touched his comm.
"Hera? Sabine?"
No reply.
He frowned, pulling the pack from his back. He touched his comm again. "Zeb. Need you with me for a moment."
"Something wrong?" The lasat's reply was wary.
"Not sure. You seen Sabine or Hera?" Kanan touched a hand to the security console outside Sabine's room. The door slid open. The colourful graffiti assaulted his senses first, but no sign of the Mandalorian.
"Nope."
Kanan scowled. Hera and Sabine would have said something if they planned on leaving the ship.
"Kanan! The kid found Sabine."
Kanan dumped the pack, his heart leaping into his throat. "Where?"
"The mess. Smell of gas in here."
Kanan swallowed down the fear. "I will be right there."
The mess was a mess. Overturned tables and chairs, scorch marks on the kitchen cabinets from blaster fire. Sabine was under one of the tables that Zeb was carefully moving off her. Her eyes were closed, her face very pale. Ezra's eyes were wide and horrified, standing aside, his hands fidgeting, uncertain what to do.
"Zeb. I need to know if Hera is still on board. I can help Sabine, but I gotta know." Kanan rested his hand on Zeb's back.
Zeb nodded. "You got it." His expression and voice was strained.
Kanan knelt beside Sabine. She had taken a blaster bolt to the arm, the edges of the wound seared, but blood still dripping onto the metal floor making it slick.
"She's hurt," Ezra said in a small voice, pacing back and forth a few steps.
He closed his eyes, pushing aside his worry about Hera, about who had done this, and focussed. He shut aside Ezra's pacing, the waves of concern pouring from the boy. He drew on the Force and let it flow.
The testing wave teased through Sabine's unconscious body, finding the injuries not visible on the skin. It licked up against a broken ankle, then sought the blaster fire wounds - one on the shoulder, the second so frighteningly close to her spine.
Kanan soothed the anger that threatened to roil over him. Whoever it was, had shot her in the back. Later there would be time for rage. He took a calming breath and his force flared, knitting rent muscle and skin, healing the damage.
After many uncounted minutes he opened his eyes. His headache had worsened. Ezra sat on a chair righted back, his elbows leaning on his knees, his steady gaze fixed on Kanan.
"I want to learn that," he said.
"You will." Kanan promised and touched his fingertips to Sabine's brow. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed. "Sabine? I need you back. Just a little while. Then you can sleep. I'm sorry you hurt."
"Mrf…" She groaned, lifting a hand to hover briefly between them and falling to lie limply on her chest. Kanan folded it within his own.
"Come on, Sabine. Just a little bit."
Her eyes opened to half mast. "Ka…nan?"
"Yes, honey. I'm right here." His voice was low and soothing. She looked so young. Sometimes he forgot.
"They came … on board." She managed.
"Who? Who came on board?"
Zeb appeared in the doorway and mutely shook his head. Kanan closed his eyes briefly. Hera.
"Black…Sword." Sabine whispered, before her eyes closed and she fell back to unconsciousness.
Kanan's jaw clenched. Hell.
"Who, or what, is Black Sword?" Zeb asked, turning a table back on it's feet.
Kanan rubbed the back of his neck, his mind screaming at him to leap to action. Hera was in terrible, terrible danger. He glanced at Ezra. The kid was watching him with wide eyes, seemingly sensing his turmoil.
"Zeb, get Sabine to her room. Get some medigel on her scrapes. Ezra, with me."
"Kanan," Zeb's voice was soft, but there was a note in the rumbling voice that made Kanan pause. "Black Sword."
Kanan stared down at his hands, the fists clenched and whiteknuckled. "Mercenary unit we ran into a couple of years back. I guess they haven't forgotten."
"What's going on?" Ezra said, looking from Zeb to Kanan and back.
"Hera is in a lot of trouble." Kanan stared down at Sabine. "We need to get to her. Fast."
Zeb nodded mutely and bent down to lift the slender Sabine up easily.
Ezra stood in the charred and destroyed mess. "Zeb?"
Zeb looked down at the kid who had somehow managed to become a friend. He took pity Ezra.
"Don't worry. Kanan's got this. It's about Hera. Believe me, he will hunt down who has her to the ends of the galaxy."
Ezra nodded slowly and watched Zeb carry Sabine from the room. He frowned.
"Huh?"