1 | Star Wars Rebels: Beginning Of The End (completed)

Part 2

Rebel Fleet, aboard the Ghost, 2123, 3278 LY

     ''Ezra!'' Kanan whisper-yelled, punching in the code to open the door. He had sensed fear and guilt, and instantly knew that it was Ezra. Climbing to his feet, he ran out the door and headed to his Padawan's room. Now he ran in, going by memory of the ship to maneuver his way around the room. When he got to the bunks, he grabbed Ezra's arms.

     There came rustling noises; Ezra was probably tossing and turning. Indeed the emotion of fear emanated from him, and beneath it, guilt. Kanan felt a pinprick of sadness because this boy had been through a lot of things, but the worst one was Malachor. He realized now that this scar is even worse and even more prominent than the one on his cheek from the battle with the Grand Inquisitor before Ahsoka had appeared. 

     Kanan dimly recalled Ahsoka from his days with Master Billaba. At the time, she was Anakin Skywalker's Padawan who had been framed for the bombing of the Jedi Temple, but she was innocent. That's why when she showed up after Mustafar, he was shocked in a good way. She had survived after all those years. 

     Ezra shot up, yelling, ''Ahsoka!'' Kanan held him steady, and felt his eyes trained on him. Remorse, fear, recognition, and a little anger swept through his Force aura. Kanan felt him relax, and heard him sigh. ''Kanan-''

     ''I know,'' Kanan interjected. He sighed in defeat. He felt the darkness that surrounded Ezra, that never left him. The holocron. He opened it, and it was changing him. ''I know. When my Master died, I was alone. I know how it feels, and I don't want you to be alone in this.''

     To Kanan, it seemed as a little bit of the old Ezra, the one before Malachor, came back, just for a split second. He seemed relieved and grateful for his Master's support, and seemed as if he would lean on it. ''Thank you, Kanan. I'm so sorry. About everything.'' Now he was his new self, the one who felt so guilty about what happened, the one Kanan tried so desperately time and time again to save, to make him feel less guilty.

     He'd keep trying. It was all he could do. Kanan had to rely on Ezra to keep what he learned, to not enter the darkness. All he could do is what he had done; train him the best he could. ''Come on,'' he urged. ''Let's go to my room, so we don't wake Zeb up.'' 

     Ezra seemed to agree, jumping silently from the top bunk, then grabbing Kanan's hand to guide him to his own room which he could get to on his own if he needed to. He let Ezra guide him, punching in the open code. The door swished open, revealing a bunk bed and the sort of stuff, but for the most part, it was empty. Ezra led him to his bed, then leaped onto the second bunk. 

     Lying down, Kanan stared up at the top bunk for a while, even as he heard Ezra's breathing steady out in sleep. Around his Padawan, he felt a sliver of peace, one that he held onto. There was hope, even if it was only a shimmer, a spark. Kanan reminded himself that a spark could become a flame if kindled. He would be the one to kindle it.