Kanan didn't get to hold his son when he was born.
He didn't get to hold his hand as he took his first steps. He couldn't hug him like he wanted to when he discovered he could use the force. He didn't get to comfort him when he had nightmares or laugh with him when he ran through a field.
All he could do was watch.
Watch from afar as his son grew up without him, as Hera mourned him and Ezra and still found the strength to carry on.
He watched as Jacen learned to fly, as he grew each day.
He hovered near when he was injured or hurt and stood by him when he succeeded.
It helped, he knew not every parent got this chance, to see their child grow after they were gone, but it still hurt.
"I'm here" he wanted to say whenever things got to be too much and Hera broke down crying
"I'm here," When Sabine spent hour after hour on the firing range trying to distract herself from her past.
"I'm here" When Jacen stood before the painting of family members he never got to know.
"I'm here," When Ezra finally returned from the unknown regions and the family was mostly reunited.
There were times when he thought they could hear him. Hera would look at him and he would be filled with joy only for her to be looking at a person behind him. Sabine would whirl around at his voice but it was just her reacting to an approaching airship.
They could never see him, and so he waited. Jacen was strong in the Force, because of course he was. Kanan had wanted to be there, to train him, but instead, he watched as Ezra and Ahsoka tried to fill that role. As the years went by, Jacen grew up. He became a Jedi in his own right, saving people and fighting off the darkness just like his father.
Then one day, Ahsoka showed up bringing news of an ancient force technique that gave Jedi the ability to speak to those long gone.
Jacen sat in the garden, meditating. He was fully grown now, looking more and more like his father each day, or at least, that's what everyone told him.
To Jacen, his father had always felt more like a fairytale. Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight, who escaped Order 66 and went on to become one of the founding members of the rebellion on Lothal. Who saved countless lives. Who defeated the inquisitor. Who trained the great hero Ezra Bridger. Who gave his life so that his love and unborn child could live.
Jacen breathed in and out, letting the Force fill him. His mom and Ezra had been careful to make sure Jacen saw his father as human. They told him stories of Kanan's failures and darkest moments as well as his great deeds, but it still didn't feel real. It felt like that's all they were, stories. Not accounts of things that really happened. He supposed that was just what it was like to have a family that was talked about in history books.
He shook his head, trying to clear all thoughts from his mind. Ezra and Ahsoka had perfected the technique weeks ago. They said he shouldn't feel bad, they'd been Jedi for a lot longer after all, but Jacen was still determined to get this right. If he did that meant a chance. A chance to see his father. To talk to him.
The sun was setting, and with it came the sounds of the night. Loth cats rustling in the grasses, the distant howls of wolves. A glow bug flew by and landed on his arm. Sighing he opened his eyes. Nothing. He would have to try again tomorrow.
He got up and started rolling up his blanket when he saw it, a flickering light. "Hello?"
The figure solidified, forming into a face that Jacen knew immediately, from paintings and murals and seeing his own in the mirror.
"Father?"
Kanan Jarrus stepped towards him, "I'm here."