Episode 4

Warnings: torture scenes, mentions of cutting/bruises/injuries, needles, canon-typical fighting, SO MUCH ANGST ahh the fluffy lovey dovey angst

Summary: Facing torture at the hands of the Grand Inquisitor, you make an unexpected Force connection and an accidental confession. Kanan, shocked by these events, races to save your life. (THIS ONE IS SO JUICY AND ANGSTY IT IS MY FAVORITE).

Word Count: 5.2k

You waited for the moments in between the shocks—the moments the pain left you for a minute, maybe two. It felt like sleep; it felt like bliss; you had endured the pain for so long it felt like you had always been hanging here, in these restraints, like you had always lived a life of pain, and brief moments of its absence.

"Again," you heard the Grand Inquisitor say, from somewhere behind you, and again you felt the electric pain shock through your whole body, your muscles tensing and your body convulsing around it. Would it never end? Would they never just let you die? The moment the shocking stopped, you felt yourself almost slip away, into sleep, or death, you didn't know, and at this point you didn't care. You had lost your fear. You had lost your hope. All you remembered was pain.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled, knowing the pain was beginning to wear down your defenses. He had started with a sharp blade, purely for his own enjoyment, the recreation of carving into your pretty skin, your arms, your face. A few cuts here and there surely weren't going to make you talk, but when you did break, and tell him where the rebels were, when he finally was able to dispose of you, he wanted your body to look as battered as possible. For the image. The message your corpse would send to the other rebels. He had moved on to the fingernails, those pesky unnecessary appendages that he had stormtroopers remove one by one, enjoying your screams. And yet, you still refused to talk. He was now heavily favoring the Scan Grid, the useful device that was administering the electric shocks. He knew from experience that it was best not to shock you unendingly—that it was best to give you a few moments of release, and to cause you pain only intermittently. He knew it was not your body he needed to wear down, but your mind. Still, he wanted you to look hurt. When you were terminated, he would of course be bringing your body to the rebels, to tell them who had betrayed them. He wanted to show the Jedi his work. He wanted Kanan Jarrus to suffer.

"Where are they?" The Grand Inquisitor asked in a deep, indulgent voice, signaling the stormtrooper to again administer the shocks. Your body jerked back and forth, rocked with the pain, taking in the electricity that was slowly killing you. When it ceased, you used all of your effort to open your eyes, to look directly into the yellow irises in front of you.

"You will never break me," you told him, forcing what you hoped was a snarky smile. As you had intended, this infuriated the Grand Inquisitor, and you felt his anger and rage through the Force as you were again shocked. I am one with the Force, you told yourself, the Force is with me. You would not break. You believed this to be true with your whole heart. You could never betray your family. You could never betray Kanan.

You pushed the thought of him from your mind. You knew you would never see him again. You knew you would die here, in this cell, the information of his whereabouts kept secret—your last act of bravery.

"Ah, feeling remorseful, are we?" The Grand Inquisitor asked gleefully, picking up on your sudden burst of feeling through the Force, but mistaking it for weakness. This was the problem with inquisitors, you'd come to find, these force-wielders who focused their energy only on hate: they often misread the currents, the life energy circling around them. "You will talk," he said, moving around you slowly, the way a lion might stalk his prey. "But perhaps you need a...kinder form of persuasion."

At this, two more stormtroopers entered the cell, carrying between them a black metal case.

"Here you are, Grand Inquisitor," one of the troopers said, and saluted. The Grand Inquisitor did not acknowledge the trooper, instead looking greedily down at the black case.

"Leave us," he told the troopers without looking up, and all three of them exited the cell. You watched as the Grand Inquisitor made a show of slowly opening the case. You tried to lean forward to see its contents, but your muscles were so badly damaged, even small movements made you feel as if you were going to tear open at the seams. You breathed deeply, dispelling fear. They will kill me, you told yourself. They have to kill me eventually. The pain would end. You would become one with the Force. You would become a true Jedi.

"I am not sure if you are familiar with this particular brand of...medicine," the Grand Inquisitor said, but you were barely listening, clinging to your last shreds of strength, readying yourself to part with this world, to move into the next. Through your stupor, you saw the outline of the Inquisitor bringing up in his hand a syringe. Your stomach dropped.

"You rebels, criminals, and other galactic scum refer to this as 'truth serum,'" he told you, drawing nearer, holding the needle close to your neck. "But I would not give it a name so crude as that. It works quite well to gather secrets, though," he said, putting his face right up to yours, and looking into your eyes. "Even well-trained Jedi often crack under its influence." He stared at you, and you kept eye contact with him, barely breathing. "On a mousey vagrant like you? A child only yesterday? With a rudimentary understanding of the Force?" He plunged the needle into your neck, hard, and you couldn't help but gasp in pain. He pushed the fluid into your veins. "It should do the trick." The Grand Inquisitor finished his tirade, a nasty grin on his face. You watched as his outline started to swim in front of you, watched as the world faded into a cloud. Your eyelids drooped, and you had no power to stop them.

It was a wonderful sensation. Though you could still feel your fear, it sat on the surface; as if you were a vast ocean, and the waves of pain at the top of you were barely noticeable from the depths, where you were sinking, sinking, a heavy cold pushing your mind further into oblivion.

"WHERE IS KANAN JARRUS!?" The Grand Inquisitor shouted, hitting you across the face, and then holding your chin in his hand, pulling your head up to his.

Kanan. Kanan. You felt for him from your ocean, reaching out with the Force. Kanan. And the truth serum brought forth everything you'd buried—every feeling, every thought you had worked to keep out of your mind and body, out of your Force presence. All of the love you felt for Kanan, all of the desire, the want, the need. All of the admiration, the fear of losing him. The feeling of his hand brushing up against yours. The feeling of looking into his eyes. The serum brought up everything you had wished you didn't feel, every ounce of your love for him, and you had no more desire to bury it. You loved him. You must protect him.

"WHERE IS HE!?" The Grand Inquisitor shouted at you again, pushing the button himself to send electric shocks through your body. You couldn't help yourself.

"KANAN!" you screamed, your lips opening without your control. You couldn't stop yourself from screaming for him, reaching out for him with your arms, reaching out from within yourself for him. Kanan. Your love, Kanan.

And somehow, when you reached out, you felt him. Your eyes shocked open, but you couldn't see the cell you were in, or the Grand Inquisitor. You only saw Kanan. You felt him inside yourself, as if the two of you were one, one presence in two bodies. You saw him without your eyes, felt his fear, his confusion, his...agony. Somehow, through some mystery of the Force, he was there with you, in your mind, seeing through your eyes, feeling your thoughts. The Grand Inquisitor shocked you once more, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming Kanan's name again. How you had forged this connection, you didn't know. You couldn't explain it. You didn't understand. You felt Kanan watch you as your body convulsed. He shouldn't have to see this.

"You will," the Grand Inquisitor said through gritted teeth between shocks, "tell me where he is." Kanan. Kanan.

Once again the truth serum brought forth an ocean of feeling, every memory you'd had, every time Kanan had looked at you. How he had reached for his stolen lightsaber that fateful day and given you a choice. How he had patiently worked with you, teaching you the ways of the Jedi. How he smiled. How it felt when you laughed together. How it felt when he hugged you, as if a string from deep down inside yourself had been pulling you into his arms from the moment you'd been born. How he sounded when he said your name. How every time you looked at him, you'd been overwhelmed by the deepest of desires—for him, and him only. How your whole body tingled for him. How your cosmic presence desired his. All of the thoughts you had worked so hard to keep a secret burst once again to the surface, the truth serum no longer allowing you to lie to yourself. Or to Kanan. For he was there with you—you could feel him, taste his Force presence, feel his shock and emotion, his confusion and fear. You knew from the moment you'd connected that he had been with you for every thought, every memory you saw, every emotion you felt; he was there, feeling it with you, from within you. You saw yourself through his eyes, hanging limp in the all-too-familiar torture cell on Mustafar, your eyes swollen and lips bloody, your face cut.

Now there were no more secrets—he knew. He knew how you felt. He knew you had failed him, had failed to refrain from attachment, from base desires. He knew that you had feelings for him. He knew that you had been lying to him—that you were no Jedi.

The Grand Inquisitor shocked you again, and you saw only through the Force. You felt only through the Force. You felt the Grand Inquisitor's anger, rage at you. You felt Kanan, there next to you, watching you be tortured, experiencing your own love for him as if he were reading your emotions like a book. You felt Kanan's agony at watching this happen. You knew the time had come. You knew it was time for you to die.

"I'm sorry!" You choked out, in a half sob, seeing only Kanan, without your eyes, as he reached out to you, with his arms and through the Force, from far far away. The Grand Inquisitor hit you hard over the head, and everything went black.

"Again," the Grand Inquisitor said calmly.

"Um, sir? She's unconscious," the stormtrooper said, unsure.

"An unconscious Jedi can still feel pain," the Inquisitor replied, his voice quiet, steady. "Remember, it is her mind we must break. Again."

Following orders, the trooper pressed the button, sending shocks through the girl, her body tensing up, her muscles moving on their own, before she fell once again, limp in her restraints, very much insensate.

Kanan fell forward out of his kneeled position, where he had been meditating. His vision had faded. He was shaking. He felt feverish, as if he'd just emerged from cold water; as if he himself had just been shocked. He had never strayed so far into the Force as this. He hadn't thought it possible. How had he connected with you, from so far away? How had you found him?

He couldn't feel his legs. They felt like jelly beneath him, and he closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his head. The image of you, beaten and bruised. The pain he had seen you enduring, all because of him. The things he had seen—and felt. The things he had felt. Through you. He couldn't believe it, couldn't make sense of the impressions you'd left on him, the deep dive he had taken into your feelings and memories. He didn't understand it, didn't understand your sadness, your longing, your—he couldn't bring himself to think the word. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about you that way; he had done all too much thinking about you. But the efforts he had gone to—the efforts you had both gone to, he realized, almost manic, shaking his head back and forth—to hide his true feelings. Only for your sake. For the sake of your training. Because he had thought that was what you'd wanted. He—he had never known how you'd felt. He hadn't thought it a possibility, that you might feel about him the way he felt about you. And now you were unconscious; close to death; and still in pain, still tormented. He pushed his hands into his eyes, making them burn. He couldn't stand it.

And your words to him—"I'm sorry," you had said—the memory of the sound of it broke Kanan apart, his agony threatening to incapacitate him. What had you meant? What could you possibly be apologizing for—for getting captured? It had been his fault, all his fault that the Inquisitor had taken you.

Kanan stood up quickly, pacing, sensing the incoming presence before she presented herself.

"Kanan—" Sabine said through the closed door, outside of Kanan's quarters on the Ghost. Kanan was already pressing the button to open the doorway and striding through it, to Sabine's surprise.

"We have to go for her. Now." Kanan said, looking at Sabine with an intensity and vulnerability uncommon for him.

"Kanan, wha—what's wrong? What's happened?" Sabine couldn't comprehend the look in Kanan's eye. It was a look she had never before seen in the eyes of her friend, the Jedi who had become her family. It was a look she had only seen once before—in the eyes of her father, as Mandalore burned.

"We need to go, now!" Kanan shouted, walking swiftly through the hallway and toward the cockpit.

"Okay, but we don't know where she is!" Sabine jogged to keep up with him. "Hera is contacting her sources, trying to find a lead, but—"

Kanan stopped. "I know where she is."

"Well, there's one benefit to all of this" Sabine said, clinging to the lava crawler as it moved through the flow, unaffected as it was by the heat due to its lava shield. "When we find her, you can tell her you literally swam through fire to save her."

Zeb laughed. "We. WE literally swam through fire. Personally, I would like credit where credit is due." He clung to the droid beneath his feet, looking down at the lava sea of Mustafar that raged below him with obvious unease.

"Shut up, you two," Kanan said, his jaw clenched. "Keep your mind on the mission." He perched on his crawler with one knee down, his fingertips on the droid's surface, concentrating with the Force. This mission could not fail.

Sabine and Zeb gave each other a look. Normally, they would crack back at Kanan, but this obvious show of fear was so shocking from their usually reckless compatriot that they let it slide, focusing in on their target.

"Hera," Sabine said into her comm unit. "We're almost in position. Now's the time."

"Copy that," Hera answered into her comm. She hovered in the Ghost with Chopper, their ship's presence camouflaged by the constant influx of energy expelling off of the volcano planet. This was the one and only thing they had going for them on Mustafar—in every other sense, the planet was impenetrable, its unstable and dangerous surface the perfect deterrent for any ships, for any ground forces, for life of any kind. Hera knew the stakes. She looked through her scope, analyzing the dark masses in front of her. Nests.

"Chopper," Hera said into her ship's comm, "let's give them a scare."

Chopper beeped back from the gunner, sending shots targeting the ashy hillside beneath the nests.

The resounding boom of the blasts hitting the hill was enough. Not enough to kill the Mustafarian dragons in the nests above, but enough to disturb them. Even through the metal and glass, in enough layers to hold out space, Hera could hear the cries of the beasts as they rose into the air, the nests ahead transforming into a cloud of flying fire lizards.

Chopper beeped again through the ship's comms. "Right," Hera said, pulling the ship upward, away from the incoming mass of creatures. "Spectre 5, the cats are out of the bag."

"That's our cue," Sabine told Kanan and Zeb, down below on the surface.

"It's just ahead," Kanan replied, jumping nimbly from his lava crawler onto the hill of charcoal and ash. The Force allowed him to rise higher in the air than any human should be allowed, and gracefully land on his toes. Sabine followed him, using her bascar jetpack to propel her jump, from which she too landed gracefully.

"Ughf" Zeb grunted, throwing his whole weight at the hillside. He landed hard, displacing a lot of ash, which clouded around the rebels.

"Zeb!" Kanan said quietly, but with urgency, looking at the floating ash around them. Sabine quickly used her arm canons to blow the ash away, and they watched as it dissipated. She assessed that it was unlikely to have been noticed by anyone on the imperial base looming on the hillside above them.

"What? I'm no space wizard." Zeb shrugged, unholstering his gun.

"Will you two please just focus?" Kanan asked, motioning with his fingers for them to follow him.

"Kanan," Sabine said, something in her tone causing Kanan to turn back to look at her. "We are focused. We are here with you, ready to fight with you. Ready to fight for Y/N. Don't crack up on us." Sabine put her hand on Kanan's shoulder, and his whole body drooped under her touch.

"I won't," he replied softly. Zeb, not being the most adept with emotions, gave Kanan a small, awkward smile, and the three of them ran quietly across the hillside away from the lava.

When they reached the edge of the base, they crouched behind rocks near a basement landing pad.

"Should be any moment now," Zeb whispered.

"Keep your eyes to the sky," said Kanan, looking up in anticipation.

"As if you can call this smoke plume 'sky'," Sabine joked, looking up toward the clouds of ash above them.

The three of them waited in silence. For a moment or two, nothing happened. Sabine looked at Zeb, who looked at Kanan. He held his finger up, in a gesture that meant wait.

Another moment of silence. And then—as if conjured out of nowhere—the Mustafarian dragons rose in numbers, large, loud, descending as one onto the upper decks of the base.
"Hey, what the—"

"These things again?"

"Blast them!"

"Aaaargh!"

From above them, the rebels could hear the sounds of the stormtroopers struggling to fend off the beasts.

"All units to the upper levels. Code orange," a stormtrooper sounded off, and at this, the troopers guarding the ground-level eastern entrance left their posts, running into the base.

"Hera with another perfect score," Zeb said, chuckling. He ran to the other side of Kanan as the three of them approached the deserted entrance: Sabine on one end, Zeb on the other, and Kanan in the middle, his robe's hood above his head, his face looking dangerous.

Kanan rose his fingers and swiped them deftly through the air, opening the door in front of them. Though Sabine and Zeb held their guns aloft, the hallway was empty.

"They really hate those raptor things," Zeb observed.

"Kanan, we don't have much time. Where is she?" Sabine asked.

Kanan felt it immediately, swallowing his fear as a lump descended in his stomach.

"Down," he replied, his face inscrutable.

Sabine and Zeb shared another look. They knew what that meant. They knew what happened in those soundproof rooms beneath Imperial bases, those rooms with walls so thick they could contain the screaming voices no one would ever hear again, buried deep into the ground.

They approached the lift, and as Kanan called it with his fingers they kept their guns up, but when the doors opened they again met no one. Kanan felt out through the Force, feeling the pain of this place, feeling Zeb and Sabine's dread at descending to the lower levels of the base. He knew the Grand Inquisitor couldn't be far away. Still, when reaching out, he only met the presences he knew intimately—those of his crewmates. His family. And yet, something was wrong. Kanan could feel your presence distinctly through the Force, could detect it growing ever closer as the lift descended, but your flicker was fuzzy, fading. It was as if Kanan were viewing you through opaque, translucent glass, or as if he were touching you through a hard and heavy fabric. Trying not to panic, Kanan steeled himself, knowing what would happen just moments before it occurred.

When the lift doors opened, the stormtroopers pointed their guns, but Kanan's lightsaber was already lit, and the troopers were incapacitated before they'd even had a chance to fire.

"How does he DO that," Sabine marveled as the three of them ran forward through the halls, weapons at the ready.

"This way," Kanan told them, turning left and running through a dark hallway lined with doors illuminated in red. The blue glow of his lightsaber lit their path through the quiet dread etched into the energy of this place.

Kanan's breath caught in his throat as he stopped abruptly. It took Sabine and Zeb a moment to skid to a stop, looking back to the Jedi for guidance.

"In here," Kanan said, trying still to calm himself with the Force, to dispel his fear. "Zeb, stand guard." Lasat stood, facing out with his gun cocked. Kanan holstered his lightsaber and raised two, shaking fingers, waving the cell door open.

Part of Kanan had a hard time moving his limbs as he exhaled swiftly and beheld the view into the room in front of him; part of him was ignited into lightspeed as he ran forward and knelt in front of you, your body limp on the floor of the cell, your face, head, and hands bleeding onto the stone beneath you.

Kanan's entire body was rocked by grief. The way he had felt during your shared Force vision couldn't compare to this—the real feeling of you in his arms, of holding you in front of him, your lifeless form covered in your own blood, your face black with bruises and cuts.

"She's alive," Sabine said, kneeling next to Kanan, her voice clipped as if she too were having trouble breathing. "My suit is reading her pulse."

"I know," Kanan replied, shocked at the sound of his own voice, part of him still immobile at the sight of you. "I can feel her Force presence. But it's so...faint." The last word that escaped his lips came out weakly, almost as a whisper. He couldn't lose you. Not like this. Not at all. He knew it was not the time, knew they were still in danger, but part of him wanted so very badly to give into his fear, to let it control him, to allow the hopelessness to invade every crack and crevice of his mind. Another more prominent part of him spoke in his mind, loudly. The Jedi inside spoke to Kanan, and he felt the tiniest spark. It was enough to bring him to his feet, holding you in his arms. He stood tall, fighting off the darkness and winning, breathing in the light side of the Force—the goodness, the light, the hope.

"We need to go," he said quickly, commanding Zeb and Sabine into flank position. The three of them swept from the cell, hurrying back toward the lifts. Their fight power significantly diminished, with Kanan's arms full of your unconscious figure, Zeb and Sabine held their weapons at the ready, circling the Jedi.

The lift ascended. You stirred, but only a little, as if you'd felt a change in the Force. Kanan held you tight.

The lift doors opened and, as all three had expected, stormtroopers were waiting for them, their weapons drawn. Zeb jumped high into the air, shooting down in an arc, landing behind the stormtroopers. Their forces divided and distracted, Sabine fired shot after shot, covering Kanan as he ran with you in his arms back toward the entrance.

"Hera, we need a pick up NOW!" Sabine shouted into her comm, as Zeb fought skillfully and loudly against the remaining stormtroopers, banging their helmets against the wall.

"Copy that," Hera replied through the comm. They had no choice but to trust she would be waiting for them. They had no choice but to trust each other.

The group ran through the hall, hearing shots firing behind them. Kanan ran only with the Force, the light beaming through his body the only explanation for how his feet were still moving, how he was still running, still fighting for you. He slammed the doors open with his mind as Zeb and Sabine fired shots behind them, running to keep up. As he emerged from the base, the Jedi's hood was blown off as he faced a landing ship. His beard and ponytail glistening as he looked up to the sky, and he saw Hera's face smiling down at them from the cockpit, the ship's ramp opening though it was still hovering above the ground.

"Jump!" Sabine yelled, and she tumbled up and into the ship. Just then, a larger blast echoed behind them. Kanan turned around and looked up—troopers on the upper floors had spotted them, and were firing the base's canons in their direction.

"Zeb!" Kanan yelled, looking back and seeing the crowd of stormtroopers converging on the Lasat.

"Go!" Zeb yelled, firing frantic shots at the troopers. "I'll cover you!"

Kanan didn't make the choice—it was as if the universe told him what to do. Closing his eyes, Kanan lifted you out of his arms through the Force. As if someone had hit pause on the fight, the stormtroopers, Zeb, Sabine, and Hera all stopped to watch as your body floated through the air, your hair dangling beneath you, your head tipping back. And then it was over—you fell into Sabine's arms on the ramp of the Ghost, the ship pulling higher to avoid the canons.

"Zeb!" Kanan yelled again, seeing his friend inside a circle of troopers, his hands up. Drawing his saber as fast as lightning, Kanan jumped into the center of the circle with Zeb. It was all a blur. The blue blade of the lightsaber swished around, contrasting with the red and orange of the fiery lava.

Just then, the troopers were scattered by a blast. Zeb and Kanan put their arms up to cover their faces, and then looked up to see Chopper's metal face in the window of the Ghost's gunner. The blast had given the ship the cover it needed to lower to them.

"Since when is Chop allowed to fire missiles?" Zeb asked, genuinely shrugging with his gun in one hand.

"Run!" Kanan replied, making a break for the ramp of the ship, lowering again for them a few meters away. As shots fired at them, both Kanan and Zeb tumbled onto the Ghost.

"Go!" Sabine yelled into her comm, smashing the button to raise the ramp as Hera pulled the ship up and off the surface.

'They'll send ties," Hera said through the comms, as Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb sat panting in the hull next to your unconscious form. Chopper rolled up to you all, spraying you with cooling bacta spray to treat the slight burn on all of your skin from the surface of Mustafar. "Sabine, I need you in a gunner position," Hera continued. "Zeb, get to the cockpit..." Kanan heard it all, felt the motion around him, but only could focus his eyes on you.

"Chopper, I need a medikit to read her vitals!" Kanan pleaded, and Chopper rolled away to get one out of storage. Kanan felt in him a muddled scream, coming from elsewhere, a ripple in the Force, someone's anger, a deep fury. He pushed it aside easily. Kanan had no interest in the Grand Inquisitor at this moment, not when you were splayed in front of him, barely breathing.

Kanan lifted you and laid your body on the flight couch in the main hull, sitting down and holding your head in his lap. He felt the ship shake as it took incoming fire.

"It's going to be okay," he told you, feeling your Force presence fading even more. Chopper rolled back into the room, and Kanan clumsily struggled to attach the vitals pack to your arm. You couldn't fade like this. He wouldn't let you. The ship shook once again as the Ghost fought off the tie-fighters pursuing them.

"Hera," Kanan said into his comm, begging. "We need to get her to a medical base immediately."

"We're almost clear!" Hera replied, as the ship once again rocked and tumbled.

Kanan tried to position your body so that he could hold your figure steady. He didn't know the extent of your injuries, didn't know whether there was any lasting damage to your internal organs, and he was terrified of jostling you. As he felt the ship finally plunge into hyperspace, he put a hand up to gently touch the unbruised parts of your face, your head cradled against him.

"Kanan," you said softly, still unconscious, but breathing more steadily.

"Yes, I'm here." Kanan's heart leapt as he heard your voice, speaking to you with as much Force calm as he could muster, his arms shaking from his joy and fear. She's going to be okay, Kanan thought. She's here with me.

"You're safe," he told you, still cradling your head, making sure he didn't touch the wounds between his fingers. "It's over."

You were swimming. It was dark here, and deep, and cold, but somehow, you felt comfortable down in the depths. You swam along, looking for something. What? You couldn't remember what you were looking for. It was only then that you realized you were going to drown. You started to panic, looking around you, seeing only darkness encircling you, having no idea which way was up, which way was the way out.

You're a Jedi, a voice told you through the water. You're a Jedi. Rise. You remembered. You were a Jedi. You reached out with the Force, connecting to the water, to the darkness, the fuzzy feeling enclosing you, connecting to all of the ways up and down and around. As you reached out with your Force presence, you felt something—something familiar. You breathed deeply. It felt like home.

"Kanan," someone spoke, somewhere. You could even feel the lips moving, the person speaking with such love and affection.

"Yes, I'm here," you heard Kanan say, and suddenly you realized you weren't drowning. You weren't underwater. You were in space. You were safe.

"You're safe," you heard Kanan tell you. "It's over."