Author's Note: With apologies to my regular Chronicles of Narnia readers, who are anxiously awaiting an update, I found myself sucked into the emotional whirlpool that is the alleged children's show Star Wars: Rebels. The following Kanera one-shot contains Rebels season 4 spoilers and generally will not make sense unless you have watched all of the Rebels series. It proceeds from the premise that as a blind person who navigates using the Force, Kanan would be able to sense the presence of his and Hera's unborn child. What proceeds are a series of snippets from Kanan's point of view as he comes to grips with the meaning of fatherhood and ultimately chooses to sacrifice himself to save his family. Please note that the story contains brief references to torture, which was depicted in the pertinent episode of Rebels, an alleged children's show. I did not choose it and must include it for accuracy.

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement is intended.

The Stowaway

Kanan sighed, leaning back in the co-pilot's chair. The Ghost slipped smoothly through hyperspace on its way back to Yavin IV, a familiar low hum of the engines coursing through the ship. He worried about Ezra and Sabine, stuck with the unpredictable rebel leader Saw Guerrera since the last mission went sideways. The blind Jedi heard the door behind him open, and he felt Hera's presence as she returned from the refresher. Something wasn't quite right, though.

"Everything ok?" Kanan asked.

"I think one of the ration packs went bad," she answered as she settled back into the pilot's chair. "But I'm alright."

"I'm sorry you're feeling a little green around the gills," he remarked sympathetically. In response, she smacked him hard.

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm.

"Very funny."

"What?" Kanan protested.

"I'm always green," she glared at him.

"Sorry," he laughed. "The irony didn't occur to me."

In the comfortable silence that followed, the odd feeling persisted. Kanan's brow furrowed as he tried to pinpoint it. After a moment, he thought he felt another presence, but it was faint and unfamiliar.

"Did we pick up another passenger?" Kanan asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No," Hera answered, perplexed. "When would we have had the chance? It's just Zeb in the back. Why do you ask?"

"Just a feeling. If Ezra was here, I'd think he was skulking in the vents again."

"Nope, it's just us," Hera answered evenly.

"Well, I guess I won't complain about that," the Jedi smiled mischievously, resting his hands behind his head. He could feel Hera smiling in return.

A few days later, Hera watched with some amusement as Kanan prowled the perimeter of the cargo hold.

"He's been at it for a while now," Sabine whispered, concerned. "Do you know what's going on?"

The Twi'lek shook her head, then descended the ladder to the cargo level. He didn't appear to notice her and continued his anxious pacing.

"What's the matter, love?" Hera put a hand on Kanan's shoulder, and he flinched. "You seem jumpy lately."

"Something doesn't feel right," the Jedi growled, but he stopped pacing. "There's this…presence I can't identify." He paused before looking up at the ceiling. "Ezra, are you up in the vents again?" Kanan shouted exasperatedly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow as he poked his head into the cargo hold.

"I don't do that anymore, Kanan, so don't get any bright ideas," the Jedi's apprentice answered suspiciously, wary of being assigned an air-vent infiltration job in the next mission. "Besides, you know what I look like—so to speak."

"We checked the ship thoroughly for stowaways when you had this feeling yesterday. Maybe you're just a little tired," Hera suggested.

"We should check again," Kanan insisted.

"I don't feel anything different," Ezra retorted.

"Ezra, go find Chopper and tell him to start scanning," Kanan ordered, throwing his apprentice a cross look.

What's up with him?" Zeb turned to Ezra, both puzzled and amused.

"Don't look at me," Ezra threw his hands up and stalked off in search of the droid.

That night, Kanan tossed and turned. Chopper's scans turned up nothing, of course. But he couldn't shake the feeling of another presence aboard the Ghost. If anything, it was growing stronger. With a frustrated sigh, the Jedi turned over again and began to reach out in his mind to each person on board the ship in turn. He found Zeb, then Ezra, both asleep in their cabin. Sabine, ever the night owl, was busy painting part of the cargo hold wall. He could feel Chopper's mechanical energy in the cockpit. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then Kanan turned his thoughts to Hera. His brow furrowed; she felt a little differently than she usually did. He focused his mind, trying to discern the change. Gradually, he became aware of the unidentified presence, close to Hera. Come to think of it, the nagging presence always seemed to be close to Hera. He concentrated, and he could feel its energy almost blending with hers.

Suddenly, the weary Jedi sat bolt upright, striking his head on the upper bunk.

"No, no, no," he muttered, rubbing his head ruefully. "That can't be right, can it?" He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind once more. "Oh, it is right," he breathed, his heart racing. "Some stowaway."

He eased himself back down, stiff from the shock, and stared blankly at the top of the bunk as his emotions swung wildly between joy and terror.

"I'm a father." He whispered to himself incredulously.

Kanan hadn't connected with the baby since the night he realized what it was. Guilt and concern warred within him. Hera hadn't said anything, and it was still early on. He supposed she hadn't realized yet that she was pregnant. He couldn't bring himself to tell her. Every day he meant to, but the right words didn't come.

The team would soon be on its way back to Lothal. Going into occupied territory hadn't given him pause before, but it was different now. For all their efforts, the rebellion was small and hard-pressed to challenge the Empire's strength. Kanan had tried to sit on the sidelines before, to pretend he didn't care. But he did care. He did want to make a difference. But the rebellion could be a lifetime's work, and he couldn't imagine raising a child in the middle of a war.

The Jedi temple had many dedicated caretakers for the younglings, but that wasn't the same as the care of a parent. It was a pleasant childhood, until the war darkened everything. He remembered being so eager to fight. But, looking back, he realized how very young he had been. No child should have to fight a war.

At the same time, guilt at breaking the Jedi order's cardinal rule weighed on him. Jedi weren't allowed to form any attachments, let alone to marry and to raise children. It was a hard rule, but one produced by thousands of years of wisdom that this was an easy path to the Dark Side. Would he fall down that path too? What would become of Hera and their child if he succumbed to evil? Ultimately, Kanan had no idea what being a father meant. More than anything, the thought that he might be a bad father terrified him.

"Master? You in there?" Ezra broke his reverie. They were sitting in the common room of the Ghost, which was still their home even when parked at the base on Yavin.

"Ezra, mind if I ask you a personal question?" Kanan asked.

"Sure," his apprentice leaned back, crossing his arms.

"What was your father like when you were little?"

The younger Jedi thought a moment, recalling the memories.

"He was kind and funny. He could always make me laugh. The happiest part of the day was when he came home and scooped me up in his arms."

Kanan smiled, waiting patiently for his padawan to continue.

"I remember him always making time to spend time with me, even if what I wanted to do was insignificant. I also remember that he loved mother very much."

"Was it hard growing up with parents who were in a dangerous line of work?" Kanan asked.

"As I got older, I could tell that he and mother were stressed. He wanted to protect me, but he also wanted me to know why he and mother worked against the Empire. He tried to explain. I didn't understand very much at the time, but I understood enough. It was hard when the Empire took them away, but I am proud of what they did," Ezra answered, his voice taking on a melancholy note. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," his mentor answered with a shrug. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, master."

Kanan returned to his room and stretched out on his bunk to sleep. He let his mind drift, mulling over Ezra's words. The relationship between father and son was foreign to Kanan's experience, but he loved the sound of it. Even though Ezra lost that relationship, the memory lived on to strengthen him. That loss hadn't led him to the Dark Side.

After a moment, Kanan reached out with his mind. He could feel Hera asleep in her room, and her familiar feeling brought a fond smile to his bearded face. Tentatively, he reached his mind toward the other presence in her room. With a thrill of happiness, he realized that he could feel the baby distinctly. It was nestled contentedly within Hera, but somehow he felt that the baby was connected to him too. The closeness of their minds felt natural, like it was a part of him. Kanan found himself melting with joy in the glow of the little life.

Surely a Sith could never know the overwhelming goodness of such love or the depths of selflessness that it inspired. He wanted with all his heart to keep them safe and happy, no matter what difficulty or sacrifice it required of him. The love he felt for Hera and their child reflected all that was good in the galaxy, he decided, and at last he let go of the fear and guilt that had nagged at him these past weeks. Rolling over on his side, Kanan settled into his pillow and sighed contentedly. His thoughts lingered with his child a moment more.

"Goodnight, little one," he murmured as he fell asleep. "I love you. And your mama too."

Kanan sat on his knees in the grass near the rebels' camp in the Lothal wilderness. Breathing steadily, he tried desperately to focus his meditation. But his mind refused to be quiet. Instead, it lingered on the night before, as he watched Hera's X-wing fall from the sky with the rest of the squadron. He could sense her panic as she tried to escape the imperial dragnet, and it called so clearly to him that he could not help but return to the city in a headlong rush to help. He recalled feeling her dread and defiance when the stormtroopers trapped her, and he had panicked too. The lothwolves were probably the only reason he wasn't captured with her.

Kanan growled with frustration, then attempted to refocus his mind. Slow, steady breaths. His mind wandered now to the several times over the past few weeks that he had almost told her about the baby. It was hard enough just to find a private moment. Then again he never managed to bring the subject up well. All his attempts to sound cool and casual made him sound upset with her, or they frustrated her by sounding like he was second-guessing their choice to join the rebellion. That choice, admittedly, hadn't been his first one, and she knew it. But he never managed to get past the preliminary part of the conversation and to the life-changing point that they were about to be parents. Something always interrupted that all-important conversation. And now, he might never have another chance at it.

"Ow," he winced as a shooting pain flashed through his head and brought him back to the present. The headache passed, and the Jedi tried to clear his head once more. He took a deep breath, but it strangled in his throat with the sudden realization that what he was feeling was a shadow of pain Hera presently experienced.

"No, Hera," Kanan moaned as sharp pain shot through his head again. When he reached his mind out to her more deliberately, he gasped with shock, his sightless eyes wide.

He hadn't realized babies could feel pain this early. But he could sense it clearly. Their child shared his mother's fear; he was suffering now even as she was. The persistent knot in Kanan's stomach deepened into nausea, and he shuddered with frustration and panic. It was bad enough that the merciless imperials were torturing the woman he loved, but they were torturing a helpless child too—his child. Kanan couldn't bear to think what the searing electric shocks would do to an unborn baby. He had to help them if it was the last thing he did. But how? How could he help when he couldn't even think?

Kanan finally understood why the Jedi prohibited attachment. He couldn't deny that he feared to lose Hera and the baby and that the fear clouded his judgment.

Suddenly, he felt the lothwolf staring at him. Its presence with the Force resonated powerfully within him, and its intensity helped to quiet his mind. He reached out to the wolf and received the strange but clear conviction that rescuing Hera would cost his life. If the choice was between Hera's life and his own, then that choice was easy. But he didn't want to risk anyone else's with his clouded judgment. The thought steeled him to his duty and helped him understand what was wrong with the Order's ascetic philosophy. Fearing to lose those we love is inevitable, but where it leads depends on what you do about it. Do you love for your own benefit, or for theirs?

Kanan felt his padawan approach and came to a conclusion.

"I need you to do something for me," he spoke.

"Anything," Ezra responded.

"Take the lead in getting Hera back," he asked. If he couldn't trust himself to lead, he'd have to trust himself to follow.

"Shouldn't you be the one to do that?" Ezra responded, surprised.

"I would," Kanan fought to keep his voice steady, "But I can't think clearly because of the way I feel about her. I might make a mistake; one that could cost us."

"We can do this together," his apprentice sounded concerned.

"No. I'll be with you, but this has to be your plan. You lead," Kanan stood and turned to face him.

"If that's what you want," Ezra agreed.

"It's what we need if we're to save Hera," he hesitated, thinking of the baby, "and everyone else."

His apprentice left him alone, and Kanan waited a moment before following. He reached out in his mind once more, searching for Hera. He could feel that she was in pain, but he could also feel her defiance and her strength, and it encouraged him. He turned his thoughts toward the baby, and for an anxious moment he could not find it.

"Please don't be dead," he whispered, his heart caught in his throat.

But his mind found the baby's at last and relief flooded through him. Kanan could not help but smile at what he felt. The little one was strong too, like his mother.

"Stay strong, Hera," he whispered. "We're coming."

A split second before the cannon fire hit, Kanan felt it coming. His reaction came naturally, without any thought or hesitation, and he fought with all his strength to hold back the explosion that would have killed them all. As he struggled to contain the spreading fire, he could feel Hera rush towards him, and, focusing intensely, he extended his other hand and held her back. Concentrating on the depth of love and care he felt for her, and for Ezra and Sabine too, he let the Force flow freely though him.

Every fear and every worry fell away from him; his mind was not clouded now. Power stronger than any he had ever wielded coursed through him, strengthening him to stand. Even though he could not see Hera, he turned his face toward her. He could feel her anguish and her desire to save him.

"No, love," he thought affectionately as he pushed her back to the ship with Ezra. "That job's mine today."

In that moment, the Force healed his ruined eyes, and at long last he could see the woman he loved. He drank in the sight of her and of Ezra as well. He was so proud of the young man his apprentice had become. Complete peace and steadiness filled him as he beheld them, keeping the flames at bay. He could feel the baby too, and it filled him with joy. With the power of the Force surging through him, he saw a vision of a young boy with dark green hair running eagerly beside Chopper while Hera looked fondly after him. His family would survive. He would make sure of it.

A few moments ago, Hera told him that she loved him. Now he would show her that he loved her. The Jedi knight summoned all the power at his fingertips and turned it to push his family out of harm's way. The feeling that they were safe was the last thing he knew.

At the rebels' camp the next day, Chopper shuffled into the painted cavern where Hera had retreated to mourn. The droid found her weeping and clutching the kalikori tightly. Chopper drew near, warbling sympathetically. After a little while, the droid reached one of his arms out and offered her a holodisk.

"What is that, Chopper?" Hera asked, her voice rough and wet from crying.

The droid buzzed an explanation, his tone unusually kind.

"What do you mean Kanan left it for me?"

Chopper's grouchier retort didn't explain much, but she took the holodisk. Hera's hands trembled as she held it. She longed to see Kanan and to hear his voice again, but the pain of his death was still so near. Beside her, Chopper buzzed impatiently.

"Ok, Chopper, ok," she chuckled despite the persistent tears in her eyes. The grumpy little droid was a faithful friend. Taking a deep breath, she placed the holodisk on the stone table beside Kanan's mask and pressed the button. The tears fell as the hologram of her fallen friend appeared.

"Hera," Kanan's hologram began, "I hope you aren't listening to this message, but I have a strange feeling that I need to record it. Maybe I'm wrong. My mind hasn't exactly been clear since you crashed," he chuckled ruefully, and Hera smiled a little. "Anyway. The kids are busy rigging up some ludicrous contraption as part of the rescue mission, so in the meantime I figured I might as well take the chance to tell you some things, just in case."

The hologram paused and looked down before continuing. Hera gratefully noted that he had recorded this before giving himself that awful haircut.

"To start off, Hera, I love you," Kanan looked up, his sightless eyes staring into hers. "And I know that you love me too. I can feel it, even if you do not often say it," he smiled, and Hera sniffled. "I know you aren't happy that I've been talking about leaving the rebellion, but you need to know why. I don't doubt you or the value of fighting for what is right. You helped me to understand that I could still make a difference, even though all I wanted was to run from who I am. You gave me hope and encouraged me to find purpose again. I still believe in that cause, and I am a better person for it, but things have changed since Yavin." Kanan's hologram looked down again, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Hera's brow furrowed, puzzled, as he continued.

"I grew up fighting in a war; I took lives before I could grow a beard. You grew up in war too, you know how difficult it is. But," he hesitated, "but I don't want that life for our child. I want our child to have a chance to know peace."

Hera's heart skipped a beat.

"I've felt the baby's presence for a while," a gentle smile lingered on the hologram's face now, and she knew his eyes would be twinkling but for their injury. "Turns out that's the elusive stowaway I thought I felt on the Ghost," he laughed, and she did too. The Jedi's expression turned dreamy. "He's beautiful, Hera (I think it's a boy, anyway). I love the feel of him. He already has your strength and determination, and I think he will have my curiosity."

Kanan paused thoughtfully, and Hera's hand wandered, trembling, to rest on her stomach.

"I never knew my father, as the Jedi code forbade attachments of that kind. I've struggled to understand what fatherhood means, but I think I know now. With all my heart, I want to be a good father to our child and a good husband to you."

Tears began to roll down Hera's cheeks again.

"But if my feelings are right that I am not coming back from this rescue mission," Kanan continued fervently, "then I want you to know that I will gladly make that sacrifice to protect my family. I will only regret that I cannot tell our child how much I love him, so tell him for me. Tell him that I loved him before he knew the world, and that I love his mother more than I can express."

Kanan smiled one last time. "Goodbye, Hera. The Force will be with you—and our son—always."

Fin