(A/N)- Done for Spectre Week 2024 on Tumblr, this year's theme: "Tales of the Spectres" (in the vein of the "Tales of" animated shorts). On each day highlighting a member of the Ghost crew, we tell a tale from before they were Spectres, before they were all officially together.
I'm a bit late getting this out but I will still endeavor my best to complete the week.
Warnings for this chapter: Underage drinking, vomiting.
Disclaimer: *grumbles about Tales of the Empire and Morgan's backstory* Makes no sense, shoulda just kept her an Imperial to begin with...
Tales of the Spectres: Kanan
The gray facade of the building was nondescript, but Caleb—Kanan, Kanan, he had to keep reminding himself that Caleb Dume was an artifact of his past, it wasn't who he was anymore—could already smell the smoke and alcohol wafting from the wide open door.
Once upon a time, he would have steered clear of such an establishment. Given it a wide berth, dismissed it without a second thought as just another dive, just another dingy, less-than-accredited place where the dregs of society could come to gamble and drink and get into fights.
Those days were long gone.
Kanan pushed his way in through the crowd. The credits in his money pouched clinked as he set them on the counter.
"Whatever's on tap, no ice," he muttered.
The bartender gave him a long look up and down, raising a scaly eyebrow.
"Ain't you a little young to be drinkin', kid?" she asked him.
Mood soured even more by the moniker—Don't think of Gray and Styles, don't think about Kasmir, don't think of them.—Kanan scowled, glowering at the faded woodwork.
"Aren't you a little nosy towards someone who was planning on giving you credits?" he grumbled, picking up the money bag and shaking it a little for emphasis.
The bartender chuckled. "Fine, fine. Fair point," she backed down, sweeping away to fetch an empty glass and begin wiping it down, then shoving it under the spigot. "Got Devaronian fire ale today, that poison okay with you?" she checked.
Kanan's mouth puckered slightly, but he nodded.
"S'fine."
She filled the glass and then set it down in front of him. Kanan looked into the sloshing amber depths. The pretty color hid a nasty sharp aftertaste. If he drank more than half the glass, he would have a rotten headache the next morning, he knew.
...He screwed his mouth and tipped the glass back anyway.
-SWR-
He staggered out of the bar. It was after sundown now, and the orb-like streetlights were all lit with a muddy yellow haze. Senses dulled, just enough warmth flowing through him to numb everything else and help him focus on the task, Kanan pulled out the scrap of cloth with the scrawled address on it and squinted at the mangled Aurebesh letters.
Dammit, he couldn't read anything like this.
Blinking about, he swiveled his head and spied a couple Zeltrons on the corner, leaning on one of the light poles.
He wandered over.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "Can one of you two ladies read this for me?" he asked.
"Ladies!" snorted one. "Ain't been called that in years."
The other leaned up off the pole with an amused smile. "You lost, sugar?" she asked in a syrupy sweet voice.
Kanan tried to subtly straighten his shoulders. He winked at the woman and drawled, "Could get un-lost if you helped me.", with more bold confidence and charm than he actually possessed at the tender fresh age of sixteen.
It made the Zeltron laugh, though. She moved to Kanan's shoulder to look at his scribbled address.
"Oh that's just right up the street here," she told him. Her long bare arm pointed off down the darkened street. "Three more junctions and a hard right. Landing pad's right there."
"Thanks," he said, crumpling up the scrap and stuffing it back into his pocket.
"You lookin' to get outta town in a hurry or somethin'?" the other woman guessed. "That pad's only used by black market pilots, spice smugglers, service-dodgers, that ilk, you know?"
Kanan was focused on keeping his feet steady beneath him. "I know," he said lightly.
"Jeez, what could a youngun' like you have ever done to piss off the Empire so much?" the woman wondered aloud.
Shadows darkened over Kanan's face, and his mouth firmed into a grim, sad line. The ale moving through him was hot scaffolding holding him up, keeping the memories from flooding in, keeping him from dissolving into grief, the numb heat of it blocking off and muddying his connection to the Force... and his own emotions.
"Lady, you have no idea," he said.
-SWR-
Despite the alcohol, there was a tinny ring scratching at the back of his mind, a warning, that grew louder and louder the closer he got to his destination.
It wasn't coming from the clandestine landing pad, though, it was behind him. Heavy like a hand on his shoulder urging him forward.
"Go away," he muttered at it, tripping a little bit, toes catching in the dirt and pavement. "What d'you want?"
The Force nudged again, loud through the self-induced protective haze of his drunkenness, urgent and demanding.
"All right, all right, I'm going!" Kanan grumbled, picking his feet up double-time.
He made it to the pad, paid for passage offworld—Always had to keep moving, could never stay in one place for long, couldn't let it all catch up.—and sat miserably in a cargo seat as the beat-up junker clacked and rattled and whined its way into warm engines.
The alcohol buzz was already wearing off. He'd have to drink something stronger next time.
His chest hitched up with a sudden well of emotion. The presence of the Force, alive like energy pulsing around him, was replacing the artificial, chemical warmth of the cheap booze.
Leave me alone, he thought, and even inside his own head it was a weak, pitiful whisper. I just want to forget. Why won't you let me forget?
There was no response from the Force-there never was-but the sludge in his stomach shifted, lightened, as if forced to move by an emetic medicine.
Kanan gripped a hand to his collar, squeezing his eyes closed against the tears and grief, leaned over, and was violently sick.
...Definitely needed something stronger next time.
(A/N)- Yeah, so this one was a bit heavy to start out with, but I promise they're not all gonna be like that.