Notes, Drabbles, and Oneshots: A Star Wars Rebels Oneshot Request Book [CLOSED]

Scars

    Hey peoples! Here's the chapter I promised! This takes place during Fire Across The Galaxy, just so you know =D. Comments are VERY appreciated! Don't forget you can request if you want! =D! And here's the story!

        Kanan's eyes burned with tears, obscuring his vision and fading the vapid prisoner cell into a blur of grey. It hurt, his whole body felt as if it was afire, though the pain in his heart it surpassed it effortlessly."What were her last words to you, do you remember her very final breath?" The Inquisitor's menacing words cut deep, chips of ice coating his veins. Kanan trembled, straining against the harsh clamps binding him to the interrogator chair. He'd rather face an army, rather be dunked mercilessly in the acid that Count Vidian had owned than face his past. Anything, anything than this. It pained him far worse than any truth serum, hurt worse than the electricity that had racked his body mercilessly moments ago. "Tell me Jedi, what were her last words?" His chest tightened, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Couldn't shake the image hovering before his eyes. "Caleb, run!" They were all there, turning on him and his master. They moved in and he ran, like a coward, like he hadn't know her, like he hadn't known the code. It disappeared in a blur of red, his master was gone, again. The image of her looking at him, blue eyes wide with panic, long, dark hair flying, and lips framing the word. It remained, it was true, he saw it when he closed his eyes, saw it in his dreams, heard her voice echoing around him. He couldn't resist, couldn't run. There was nowhere  o run. And so he said it, said the very thing he had been doing his whole adult life. Said the one word that defined his existence. "Run."  The Inquisitor's eyes glinted yellow with malice, his face contorted into a villainous, sharped tooth smile. He had said it, spoke the one thing he had been running from into existence. He had relived that pain, fury, self guilt. He couldn't run, not this time. And so he: Kanan, Caleb, knew. Scars like his never healed, they only scabbed, waiting to be sliced open to let blood flow. Right now, he didn't care what happened to him. All he saw was his master, lying dead. He couldn't shake the image away, couldn't run, couldn't hold back the tears. So he cried.