"E-Ezra?" Kanan scratched his nails against the metal door frame. His body was screaming for him to stop. But all he could focus on was the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground, and the muffled orders of an angry general.

"Get that door open!"

"W-we can't. That intruder shot the control panel."

Kanan tried the door…put it wouldn't budge.

Damn it…

Kanan closed his eyes, and searched for Ezra through the Force. They had a bond right? Master and Padawan. Kanan felt his senses halt, he felt the world begin to slow. He mentally reached through the metal door, passed the hordes of Storm Troopers and felt for Ezra's presence.

But there was nothing to feel.

Kanan slammed his arms against the door, "Ezra!" he screamed. He slammed harder. "Ezra, answer me!" The sound of his broken arms against the metal door echoed through the control room. "That's an order Ezra!" He screamed louder. "Answer me damn it!"

Kanan's legs gave way, and his head slammed against the door, but he didn't feel it.

"Ezra."

There was no reply.

"Ezra…I can't lose you too…"

It was always the same. His Master from the Temple, his friends from Gorse, his Padawan from Lothal. No matter where he went, those who stood by him, always fell.

You promised me you wouldn't stop.

The control room smelled of old wires, complemented by the blood stains Kanan was leaving everywhere. There were monitors that showed every part of this base. Every inch and crack and detail, but Kanan didn't need them to know Ezra's body lay still and quiet.

"I-I promised you I wouldn't stop." Kanan stood, wiped as much blood from his face as he could, and turned to the control panel. He didn't have much time. The Troopers might have been stupid, but that weren't just going to leave an intruder in the control panel without trying to do something. He had to get rid of this entire facility.

Sabine had once told him that the Empire, in order to keep their secrets out of enemy hands, installed self-destruct switches in every control facility. Apparently, the Emperor didn't like when something could become more powerful than he was.

"Bust this door down!" Someone screamed from beyond the door. "I want that intruder dead…just like his partner there."

Kanan froze, and his senses began to dull. His mind flashing back and forth between the then and now. The scar on Ezra's cheek to the blood on his knee caps. His cocky smile, and his last breath.

Just keep moving…just keep moving.

With a loud thud, Kanan fell onto the control panel. He typed, his fingers leaving drops of blood on each key. Normally, he'd be worried. The Empire would have a way to ID him…but these circumstances were different. This place wouldn't be around for much longer. Kanan would make sure of that.

The Troopers rammed against the door harder and harder. It was beginning to give way.

"Just a little more."

One push after another. One key stroke at a time…until…

SELF-DESTRUCK ACTIVATED. ALL PERSONEL HAVE 30 SECONDS TO VACATE THE PREMESIS.

"Yes…" Kanan said.

Even now, he could hear the panicked screams of Storm Troopers. Boots pounded against the floor, and the sound of shoves and curses filled the air as the countdown began.

"We need to get out of here!"

"Get out of my way. I'm not about to get blown up because of some terrorist."

Maybe Kanan could go back, find Ezra's body. Take it with him…bury it. He deserved that at least. He deserved more than that…so much more than a pathetic burial.

But Kanan didn't have the time.

To his right stood a large bay window, overlooking the entire field. Kanan didn't have the energy to make it back down, not in his condition, and certainly not without being captured by any panicking Storm Troopers. There was just one way to do this.

He sprinted with whatever might he had left towards the window, and hurled himself through. The taste of glass burned his tongue and opened his wounds anew…and he plummeted. Down. Down. Down.

Kanan watched from afar as the Empire's base was set ablaze. He had just enough energy to left to use the Force to cushion his fall. Kind of. He still ached but he couldn't think of that now. His bones felt like that had been blasted more times than he could count.

A crowd began to gather to the west, onlookers thinking they could gather the remains. But there was nothing left forage for.

Ezra would have wanted it that way.

It was late when Kanan returned to The Ghost. He walked through the hull, and ran his fingers against the all too familiar hallways. He hoped Hera wouldn't mind that he had tracked in some mud. But it was late, and Hera was asleep. Just like the rest of the crew. Just like he should have been. Just like-

"Ezra?"

Ezra Bridger, his Padawan, short of stature and smooth of face, sat in the kitchen, a ratty blanket around his shoulders and lukewarm soup underneath his chin.

"Kanan?" Ezra's voice was congested and rough, but it still carried that small innocence that Kanan had missed. "W-what happened to you?" Ezra stood, his blanket falling to the ground, and searched the cupboards for a medpack. Hera had become too paranoid about injuries that she started to hide those things everywhere. At first, Kanan had thought she was overdoing it, but now, he was silently grateful.

Ezra pulled out bandage after bandage, and rubbing alcohol for Kanan's wounds, and an ice pack to tame the swelling. Hell, there was even a lollipop in there.

"Sit down." Kanan could tell Ezra was trying to sound in charge, and in a few years, he might actually manage to pull it off. But here, in this space, in this time, he was a boy. A boy with a cold who had no business being up this late.

A boy who was alive. No nightmares that haunted his dreams. No blood stench that followed him everywhere. No fear that lingered in his heart, even before the sun had set.

You promised me you'd keep going…

Ezra pulled at Kanan's arm, and sat him down.

Without even thinking, Kanan placed his hand to Ezra's forehead. His temperature hadn't dropped at all.

"You should be in bed," Kanan said.

"Couldn't sleep." Ezra didn't even look up from the Medpack. He fiddled and fumbled through every last part of it, and grabbed hold of the antiseptic. He reached up to clean Kanan's blood soaked cheek. "Hold still."

"I can take care of that," Kanan said as he gently removed the bottle from Ezra's hand. "Finish your soup."

"But Kanan-"

"Please Ezra…" Kanan didn't want to see Ezra fuss over him. He wanted to see Ezra eat his meal. He wanted to see Ezra slurp his soup in that annoying way that drove everyone crazy. He wanted to see Ezra grow excited over some stupid, insignificant thing, and talk about it for half an hour. He wanted some confirmation that Ezra was still with him…even though Kanan knew, in some small form, he wasn't. "Please kid…" Kanan's voice was haggard and dry, "Just do this for me."

Ezra slowly back away, he wanted to question. But, something deep inside of him told him not to. He didn't know if it was the Force, or…just a part of himself he had yet to meet. But he grabbed his spoon, and slurped.

And Kanan's body loosened…and a small grin graced his face.

"You're still here…" he whispered. His shoulders heaved and his eyes began to bludgeon his face. Hadn't he been through enough without his body warring against itself? "Thank the Force…you're still here."

Had they done it? Had they really changed the future, and if so, how could Kanan be sure?

"Kanan?" Ezra asked. "I'll make you a deal. If you promise to get those wounds taken care of…I-I'll promise to eat this soup as quietly as I can. I know you hate it when I slurp."

Kanan shook his head, and placed the bottle down. He stood, he towered over Ezra. Something Kanan had missed. He missed Ezra's great height difference. He missed Ezra's energy, and cautious optimism. He closed his eyes, and reached out into the Force, feeling Ezra's presence. This was his Padawan. This was his Ezra….

And then, out of nowhere, Kanan's arms wrapped around Ezra's small frame. He was bloody, and he smelled of Lothal flies and cheap beer. He shook when he stood, and at any moment, he could topple onto Ezra and spill every bandage, bottle, and bowl that stood atop the kitchen table. But he didn't care.

And neither did Ezra.

"It must have been one tough mission, huh?" Ezra asked.

But Kanan didn't respond.

"Glad to be home I take it?"

And Kanan only nodded. He held on tighter, clasped his bruised hands together and squeezed. This was Ezra. Here he was. Safe and sound. He had to keep reminding himself…and he would. He'd never stop. Ezra is safe. Everyone is safe. The future has been changed. I'm living proof. We're still here.

"Kanan," Ezra whispered, "You're shaking."

Kanan filled his aching lungs with air. "Yeah. I know."

Ezra coughed, but he didn't move. He sneezed, but he never flinched. Kanan needed something, but he wasn't sure what. He could ask…but he was almost too afraid to. Perhaps it was the Force, or maybe something more substantial, but he needed to ease some grand ache that Kanan had carried with him. It pained the both of them. "You're a great guy Kanan. You're the best Master I could ask for. You're kind, and patient, even when I know I'm being difficult." Ezra stammered, trying to find the right words to say. Was any of this getting through? Did any of it even make sense? Karabast, it barely made sense to him! "Just…just keep going okay?"

Just keep moving…

"And," Ezra continued, "Promise me you won't stop. And I'll promise you to do everything I can to be the Jedi you see in me…okay?"

You promised me you'd keep going…

"Alright kid." Kanan's grip loosened, just a little, "Anything for you."

"Well," Ezra said as he gently pushed away, "You look like you could use a little dinner." Ezra stood, and brought over a second bowl of soup and placed it in front of Kanan. It was hardly warm, and must have been sitting out for hours. "Just about everyone onboard was making me soup," Ezra said in between sniffles, "There was so much of it, and I hardly know what to do with it all." Ezra smiled and returned to his seat. "Now we can slurp together, right?"

Kanan smiled, and pulled his bowl closer. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

"You know, when Hera sees you, she's gonna go berserk. You look like you were used for target practice." Ezra took another big slurp of his soup.

Kanan smiled. Ezra was still here, and Kanan knew that once his cold was all gone, he'd do everything he could to get out of Jedi practice. He'd try, and fail, to flirt with Sabine. He'd pull stupid pranks on Zeb with Chopper. He'd beg Hera to teach him how to fly the Ghost, and she'd refuse with a stern look. And then, he'd pass by Kanan's room, his chest heaved and his hair a mess. Tomorrow belonged to him. It belonged to all of them, malleable and ever-changing. Wide and empty, as open as the sky before sunset.