Kanan had the Ghost worked out, for the most part. It certainly helped that he'd lived on the ship for years and had navigated it in the dark of the ship's night cycle even before Malachor.

It was his home, after all, and the layout was ingrained into his feet as well as his brain. Six steps across his room to the door; turn left and six more steps would take him up to the cockpit; or turn right, and twelve steps down the hall, and from there it was two steps to the ladder up to the top turret or down to the loading bay, or five steps forward, skirting around the ladder to get to the common room.

It also helped greatly that there was little chance of unexpected obstacles like the stacked crates on the landing platform yesterday, as Hera had recently decreed to the whole crew that anyone who left things on the ground for him to trip on would be forced to deep clean the refresher. The threat had worked so far, as Kanan had only once tripped over a carelessly left object, and Zeb had taken the punishment without too much grumbling. He'd felt bad about it at the time.

Still, Kanan had taken a liking to walking through the Ghost with his hand outstretched and running across the metal walls, if not to make absolutely certain that he didn't miss a turn or fall down a ladder, then just for the sheer comfort of holding onto something. It was lonely in his new world of constant blackness, and sometimes Kanan needed a physical anchor to ground him to the bright world beyond it.

He'd barely let go of Ezra the entire drawn-out, painful trip back from Malachor; the principle there was the same.

Kanan had been walking back to his room from breakfast in the Ghost's galley, meaning to grab his lightsaber before heading out to the edge of the desert for the day. His anxieties over Ezra and the bothersome haircut had bled into Kanan's dreams the night before, half-formed and causing a fitful sleep. It didn't help that Kanan hardly remembered the dreams he'd had, even worse so because he had the feeling Maul had also been present in some of them, and the icing on the cake was that Kanan had woken at least once and panicked over not being able to see. That had been happened a lot less frequently lately, but it was still terrifying every time.

He fully intended to work some of those feelings out in the form of saber training. Even if Kanan never went on another mission for the rebellion in his life, it was almost a guarantee with his lifestyle of attracting trouble that he'd come across another combat situation sooner or later. Blind or not, he still needed to keep practising; as was always the case, someone's life could depend on him at any moment.

Kanan paused when his fingers ran over what he knew to be Ezra and Zeb's door. A tiny peek into the Force told him the kid was still in there, not still asleep but not quite moving to face the day yet. His fingers wavered over the control panel- Hera had said to talk, after all. Maybe it was time.

But Kanan also knew from the chatter he'd just heard in the galley that the crew was gearing up for an off-world mission in the next few days. Ezra would need to be focused for that, and not on whatever trivial worries Kanan had been having.

He took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his fingers, and then continued forward to his own door. Just as it hissed open he heard a similar hiss from where he'd just been, and he turned to listen to the footsteps as they stepped out. Light, with a slight drag.

"Good morning, Ezra," he said with a smile.

The footsteps clanged to a stop, and turned back towards him. "Morning Kanan, you already had breakfast?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Hera warmed up waffles, if you hurry you can still save some from Zeb."

"Cool, thanks," was Ezra's response.

The footfalls jerked off again, and Kanan could have kicked himself. It had happened again- talking but not talking.

"Ezra, wait," he called before he could stop himself.

The steps paused again.

"Yeah?"

Kanan wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say, but he had to say something. There was a heavy, awkward silence where he opened and closed his mouth several times.

"I, uh- I heard that you got a new haircut?"

Ezra rustled, and Kanan heard what he thought might have been a small sigh of relief, although he had no clue why.

"Oh yeah, I was getting kinda sick of it being long. Seemed kinda childish, you know?" Ezra said with a laugh. His tone then turned almost panicked. "Oh, karabast, Hera told me to tell you about it and I completely forgot! Who'd you find out from, Zeb or Sabine? Please tell me it wasn't Chopper, he hates it."

"It was Hera, actually," lied Kanan, with a nonchalant shrug and a chuckle. It was only most of a lie- the base personnel he'd overheard on the landing platform had told him indirectly, but Hera been the one to confirm it.

A bit of stored tension released in his mind at the admission that Ezra had just forgotten. Maybe things weren't as bad as his anxious thoughts had made them seem.

"Oh, right. She's not gonna be happy with me, is she?" Ezra said.

"No, I think not."

There was another awkward silence. Kanan took a step forward.

"So… can I feel it then?"

"Feel it?" asked Ezra, with a note of confusion.

"Your hair, can I feel it? Work with me here, kid, it's the only way I'll be able to work out what it's like now, unless you want to start explaining it to me in mind-numbing, excruciating detail," said Kanan in reply, trying to inject some humour into the conversation.

It sort of worked, because Ezra gave an amused huff. Kanan could only see the accompanying smile in mind.

"Of course, you can feel it, Kanan, you don't even need to ask," said Ezra softly. He took several eager-sounding steps forward and Kanan stretched out his hand in front of him. The kid took it, and Kanan couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time they'd touched since stepping off the Phantom all those weeks ago. He couldn't quite remember.

"Be warned though, Kanan, it's really, really short. It was annoying me, so I kinda just let Sabine keep going and going with the shaver until it was all gone," Ezra said.

He guided Kanan's hand upwards. The first thing he noted was that the kid's head was a few centimetres higher than expected.

So he is having a growth spurt.

Kanan grinned widely at that thought. Ezra would be growing facial hair and listening to the latest galactic angsty teenage music trend any day now, that was, if he wasn't already doing all that. Who knew what he did all day in his room, or maybe it was just that Kanan hadn't stuck around lately to notice.

His hand landed on Ezra's scalp, and he almost pulled back in surprise, half-grown eyebrows arching- the hair between his fingers was rough and bristly, barely long enough for him to pinch between his fingertips.

"Wow, you really meant it when you said short, didn't you?" Kanan huffed.

He brought his other hand up and began running both of them across Ezra's head, feeling out the whole surface from his temples right down the back to the base of his skull. Kanan smoothed his fingers across the natural divots in the bone and then along the neat lines between hair and skin that Sabine must have skilfully shaved. He pulled Ezra's ears forward to scope out behind them as well (they seemed larger and floppier than he remembered), and all the while Ezra complied by ducking his head and letting Kanan's fingerss roam where they pleased.

"It's stupid, but I keep forgetting I cut it and going to run a hand through it and then being surprised. And the first time I got in the shower I used way too much shampoo, and it was kinda awkward," gushed Ezra. He chuckled. "I suppose I'll get used to it eventually, just not quite yet."

"You can get used to anything, with time," Kanan mused absently, as he ran his fingers back and forth over a bump he presumed to be a scar.

He was trying very hard to create a picture of the haircut in his head, but nothing seemed to shake the image of the short, floppy-haired Ezra Bridger he'd known before he'd lost his eyes.

That kid was gone now. Malachor had taken a lot of things from them both.

Finally, he lowered his hands and settled them on Ezra's shoulders. He noted that the scruffy brown vest Ezra usually wore was not there, instead replaced with what could have been the fabric of a jacket with firm shoulder pads. Kanan wasn't sure when Ezra had gotten the jacket, it must have been a recent addition.

He decided against asking about it- growth equalled change, after all, and that ratty old jumpsuit had to be left behind eventually. Children grew up, and a lot of things became obsolete and left behind in their wake.

"Do you like it?" Ezra asked, tentatively.

"Of course I do," Kanan nodded, and he felt relief ooze out of the kid's shoulders. "It seems very… practical and mature, which can only be a reflection of the great man you're becoming."

Kanan had said those words in a quietly proud voice. It was the truth- he'd always seen something more in Ezra, beyond the power of the Force that flowed through him or whatever usefulness he had to the rebellion's cause. There was an inherent goodness and strength to Ezra that the hardships of his life hadn't been able to strip from him. Kanan looked on his own past with a kind of shame, but he often thought that if he'd had even half of Ezra's kindness and resolve after Order 66, he would have been a better person today for it.

He'd said those words intending to make Ezra beam with pride or even blush with modesty, already imagining the expression in his mind. What he wasn't expecting was the kid suddenly taking a step back, almost wrenching himself from Kanan's grip.

"So anyway, I better get to the galley before Zeb eats all the waffles. Force knows he doesn't need it, uh…" Ezra said quickly, and Kanan heard a scratching sound, as though he was rubbing awkwardly at his nearly bare head. "Sorry for not telling you about the haircut, I know Hera told me to. But hey, you know now so I'll see- er, talk to you later. I guess. Bye Kanan."

"Wait, I-" began Kanan, reaching out his hand again.

There were still too many words left unspoken between them, but Ezra's footsteps had already echoed up the corridor, and with a hiss of a door sliding aside, disappeared entirely from earshot.

Kanan was left reaching for air with a heaviness in his heart. The main thought that swirled around in the tempest of his mindwas that this was, in the end, all his fault.

You're the one pulling away from him, from all of them.

Why are you so surprised?

He doesn't need you anymore.

Kanan shook his head, trying to clear it. A tightness was welling behind his eye sockets, but he would never cry again. Maul had made sure of that.

Instead, he turned for his room, magnetically drawn to where he kept his lightsaber. There was no point sulking around or trying to talk to Ezra again

He would make for the sensor border of Chopper Base. It was a lot easier to think out there. His fingers itched with anxious energy and emotions coiled up so tight they were fit to burst. He would train and meditate and find a way to make sure he was never caught off guard by unexpected obstacles around the base ever again.

After all, Kanan wasn't completely useless, but he would be damned is he let himself be more of a burden to his family than was necessary.


It's really a bit strange writing blind!Kanan before he meets the Bendu. It's all about sounds, touch and smell completely instead of sight, which is kinda different to write, but interesting.

If it wasn't obvious in the story, Ezra's acting a bit strange because, while Kanan's focussed on the haircut, Ezra's got guilt over the sith holocron, maul AND kanan's blindness. Poor bbys.

The song I associate with Kanan between s2 and s3 time period is 'Obsolete' by Regina Spektor, because it's beautiful and Kanan absolutely felt useless and obsolete then. Ahhhhh go listen to Regina Spektor in general, I love her so much.

Final note, I slightly lied. I wrote a very short epilogue to this, so there is one more chapter. Will have it up tomorrow for the sake of maintaining a pattern.

G out.