Ft. Kanan Jarrus - Blog Posts
sacreficied // Kanan Jarrus
balancing his life as a jedi and what he owed, what he wanted to owe, to ghost crew was not an easy task. there had been years where no attempt had been made –– something that had shifted when they had stumbled across ezra, that realization of what, exactly, he was missing in his life. kanan wanted better for himself now. he wanted better for all of them. he wanted to be a better man that he had been in the past.
“what isn’t?” kanan replied back with a slight chuckle, shoulders lifting in a slight shrug to reduce the weight of his own words. corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. “i’m grateful for the chance that we all have with this,” he begun, being mindful to choose his own words carefully. “still, i wonder what we’re all looking at with the bigger picture.”
If they hadn’t known better, Sabine would almost say she was concerned for Kanan. Something was obviously eating at him-- but it had always been harder to have these kind of talks with him than with Hera. Still, she nodded at his admission of thankfulness-- with the kind of life they lead, it was no small miracle they had even a handful of people left to care about.
“Bigger picture? What do you mean by that?” They asked, hoping that there was no hint of judgement evident in her voice. Was this about the Jedi, about Ezra? Or Hera and Jacen? In a galaxy that seemed to always require so much sacrifice, some days it took all of her energy just to survive. To see their family again. What could be bigger than that?
📜 – kanan
Sabine: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Kanan: Really? Name one law Sabine: Don't kill people? Kanan: That's on me. I set the bar too low.
(bonus!)
Sabine: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Kanan: You're like 15 years old Sabine: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!
@sacreficied
sacreficied // Kanan Jarrus
a huff of laughter pushed out of his nose and he nodded his head in agreement. no, something being hard had never discouraged them all from doing something –– it had only made them get a little more creative with how they had approached it. but he would give the others credit for that before himself, easily viewing them all as vastly superior to his own. he had his own strengths, that was just one that he saw being more advanced in the others.
“oh, absolutely,” kanan agreed with a deep chuckle escaping, giving a nod of his head as his arms folded across his broad chest. they would have all been lost without hera, not just him –– something that he was painfully aware of. “we’d all be lost without them.”
a beat passes, something heavier clearly laying on his mind from the crease between his brow. “if i had to choose between, i know the choice i’d make. i just hope i never have to make that choice.”
Their smile turned somber once again with his dire words of sacrifice and loss. He doesn’t have to tell her the choice he’d make because they’d already lived it. The aftermath of his decision to protect Hera, to protect all of the crew that Sabine called aliit-- it weighed on them both. Weighed on all of the Spectre crew, really, but it sat in between them in the here and now.
“Yeah, me, too.” The tone-shift was heavy and awkward to navigate, something she didn’t really want to adopt right now. With everything that had happened in the last few years, loss was always on the forefront of their mind-- often partnered with guilt. “Still, uh, we’ve always been lucky enough to have each other.” Almost always. “What’s on your mind, Kanan?”
sacreficied // Kanan Jarrus
there had been a long time when kanan did not have to concern him about attachment for others. in the period between the order falling and hera finding him, there had been no one for him to attach himself to. the order hadn’t cared about sex, and he’d never let anyone or anything be more than that. but as he had regained his connection with the force, began to incorporate that into his life again… attachment and connection was something that he had thought a lot about.
“kind of,” he paused for a moment before offering more information. “we’re not supposed to let it control us –– attachment, or love itself, or… the fear of losing it control or guide us. it’s easier said than done.” he tried to live by that, still. it was why years ago he’d told ezra to take over, well aware that his attempts to save hera would be affected by his love for her.
still, kanan did not regret a thing. if it came to a choice, he would choose hera and the rest of his family. he’d always been the ‘ do as i say, not as i do ’ type anyway. “well, no one ever said any of us were wise,” he quipped back with a grin of his own cracking across his features.
Sabine listened with a focused intent as he spoke, trying to make meaning of her friend’s words. For all of the jokes and bullshit banter, they did like hearing Kanan talk. Liked learning about his creed and the family he once belonged to.
“‘Easier said then done.’ That should be our crew’s tagline, huh?”
They paused on the notions of love and control and possession and guidance. She traced through their memories, wondering just how many actions had been driven by the desire to protect someone they cared about. More, it seemed, were inspired by the instinct than not. Whether it made them smart, or wise, she couldn’t say. Mandalorian or Jedi, everyone had to find a way to cope with the inevitability of feeling.
“Y’know, if I had to bet my money on the wisest of us, it’d probably be Hera. Sometimes I think they’re smarter then all of us combined.”
sacreficied // Kanan Jarrus
so much had happened over the course of their lives together as ghost crew that had been unpredictable, so many things to be grateful for –– and yet, nothing struck him quite the same as listening the others speak about the time that he was dead. kanan imagined that the other jedi he had spoken to must have felt in a similar way, the apprehension tightly wound with gratitude. he would not look at a gift like this with lack of appreciation, though there were things about it that he questioned.
“it’s easy to get caught up in the things that we’ve lost. you weren’t around for it, but you know that i did for years.” the circumstances had been different, but after sixty-six, he’d never stopped to appreciate that he was alive, that he still had his wits about him. it had taken time to appreciate hera, too. “i’m… i’m doing well. seeing the order restored has given me hope that i didn’t know i needed. for ezra, and for jacen. i know that there will be some who don’t approve or understand of… all of this,” he gestured loosely with his hand at nothing in particular, meaning ghost crew as a whole. “but even with the order’s stance on attachment, i think it makes me a better jedi.”
.
Silence weighed between them as Sabine listened to their friend’s admittance of his past actions. He’d never spent much time talking about what had happened before he found Hera, and she didn’t blame him. She didn’t respond to his words, but nodded, just taking time to listen. Years of petty arguments and bickering made it easy to forget how alike the two could be.
“You know I don’t know much about the Jedi beyond what you and Ezra have shared with me--” she started, combing through words and phrases with caution. “But, it’s almost funny, right? I mean, the core beliefs of the mando’ade are all about family and connection. And the Jedi are supposed to distance themselves from that kind of emotion, right?”
They hesitated, offering a small, sad smile (though she knew he couldn’t see it). They bumped her boot against his, trying to keep the energy from sinking.
“It may be kinda unorthodox, but I think it works. I think we all make each other better...And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Rebuilding the Jedi and committing to the people you care about. Who care about you. Against our better judgement,” she teased.
sacreficied // Kanan Jarrus
“thank the force for that,” kanan agreed with an easy smile. it was overwhelming, the kind of pride that jacen brought him. it was also difficult to balance his drive and desire to protect both him and hera along with his commitment to the force, the rebuilding jedi order. it was a precarious balance, one that he was hesitant to speak to any of the older, more experienced masters about. ahsoka would understand, he was certain of that much, but she was not the only approval that he would have liked to have.
a deep breath pulled in through his nose, nodding his head. “it’s good to be back. i never thought i’d live to see a day like this. i mean, i guess i didn’t, but…” beyond his own sacrifice, the beginning of a new republic and new jedi order was monumental. “we’re lucky nonetheless.”
.
Two stood in quite repose as she listened to Kanan’s words soft-spoken. They nodded at his notion of gratitude. A few years ago, there was no way she could have hoped for any of this. There was a time when the pain felt like it would never subside, and it had driven them away from the people that cared about her most.
“We are. When I-- when we lost you, Kanan, and then Ezra...well, everyone took it pretty hard. Then when the Empire came for Mandalore? Fuck, I thought I’d lost everything. I lost sight of the fact that I still had Hera, Zeb, Kallus, Jacen, and Chopper. And now,” they sighed, uncomfortable with the wellspring of emotions in her chest. “You’re here. Ezra’s here. And that’s more than I could ever ask for.”
She settled back into silence, realizing that this was a lot to put on him. That wasn’t the intent, and they hoped Kanan knew he didn’t have to carry her grief and guilt.
“But, uh. That’s enough about me. How are you holding up?”
“That’s because he inherited Hera’s good sense,” they joked, with a gentle nudge at his ribs. She could tell there was a lot on his mind, but there was no need to pry. Their language had always been one of silence, of emotions unspoken. It was...well, they were beyond grateful to have him back. Sure, she was older and (hopefully) wiser than the last time they’d met, but it was still him. Still Kanan. They’d done nothing to deserve their family back, but goddamn if she was going to let anything happen to them again.
“Ka’ra, it’s good to have you back. I was starting to miss making fun of you. Even if I can’t exactly call you an old man anymore.” The flash of a smile, marked only with a small caliber of sadness. It was a gift to see him again, but something still stung with a phantom of guilt.
@call-me-spectre-five // sabine wren.
“jacen seems to be rather fond of you.” there was a warmth to his tone, even if his expression was somewhat contained. most of the results of the emperor’s rift would have been overwhelming to the average person, and it was to him, despite that he had been able to swallow much of it while maintaining his dignity. fatherhood, the restoration of the jedi order, what had happened to ezra… he was trying to follow his master’s teachings, controlling his emotions so that they did not control him. “you’ve been a good influence for him.”
xspectre-1 // kanan jarrus
it had taken kanan years to get here. to feel this comfortable with his emotions… with others. having children had never been the plan, even when sabine and ezra had joined. kanan had insisted they wouldn’t matter– they would be a crew, that was it.
oh how wrong he had been.
the family the six had created… it was the reason for their success. for their strength.
but watching them grow– seeing them now. he couldn’t have guessed how it would have made him feel. how proud he had become.
kanan smiled a bit, a small chuckle on the edge of his lips. they had always been okay in the end, hadn’t they? perhaps their collective number of loses keeping them from… much.
but as sabine continued, the small smile fell, perhaps sad to divert so quickly. to face reality. what he had missed– what he had caused even.
not that the words were expected.
“what- no, i mean. no more than anyone,” he continued, hands returning to them, worried they might slip away. “i mean, that’s what the rebellion is, isn’t it?”
.
Seeing his smile again...it was like a sunbath after a year of winters, a remnant from a time when her family-- not just one, but both-- had been whole. Years ago, they couldn’t have considered this a possibility. Couldn’t have imagined she’d be standing here on the shining plains of Lothal (a place that held so much shared history for the Spectres). Yet, there she was: in the arms of their parent, now returned to them at last. It was a gentle reminder: in the here and now, the Mandalorian was truly safe. And that was enough.
They almost had to concede a chuckle at his disbelief. She’d seen him perform feats they’d never be able to dream of, had seen him walk through blaster fire alone and blind-- yet return home unscathed. And still he tried to play humble.
“I know it’s hard to believe, right? Who would have thought a knucklehead like you could ever be a war hero?”
She looked up at the mask that adorned his face, the eyes of the jai’galaar still in tact. It had been years since they had painted them on, but for him, it was only a matter of weeks. Months, maybe. Despite the time, she remembered well enough. Those first few nights after Malachor, in the cabin of the Ghost (when words were seldom spoken, but the pain and grief were a shared). Shared by those that loved each other most--
“Dank farrik, Kanan! Have you met with anyone else? Zeb, Hera?”
Therein was hidden the silent question only she knew was being asked of him: did Kanan know about Jacen? Did he know he was a father not only by bond, but also by blood? By the Ka’ra, he needed to know they were safe. He needed to see them healthy, and alive.
xspectre-1 // Kanan Jarrus
.
“sabine you don’t… have to tell me. i’m not going to make you– relive anything…”he said, blinking as she continued, keeping his attention focused on her. his grip remained firm until– people coming back? could the force do that? thoughts briefly strayed– why he had been brought back but so many hadn’t– why only some had been chosen.
he interrupted, feeling sabine’s movement. her greif. hands moved to carefully take her shoulders, “hey… hey we don’t have to talk about that, not now,” he assured her, sighing as he pulled her bac k into a hug. his confusion didn’t matter, not as much as her comfort… or at least, ability to calm down. he could catch up in his own time… with a small smile, he tightened his grip some, “i’m just glad you’re okay–”
.
She breathed deeply into his side, the familiar scent of leather and ash filling her senses. A torrent of emotions fought in their chest. Anger. Grief. Joy. Exhaustion. And something they couldn’t speak into existence, the feeling of finally being home.
“Kanan, I’m so- I’m sorry. I’m--”
Sorry I can’t explain it better--
Sorry I couldn’t stop the fire before it--
Sorry I couldn’t get the ship out of there fast enough--
Sorry I disappointed you.
But he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember because he didn’t live it, and thank the Force for that. Or the Manda. Whatever had brought him back, she would raise a glass to it, now and forever. Their buir was back, and nothing would take him away from her again. Fuck the rules, this was their father.
“I’m glad you’re okay, too.” They could tell Kanan was confused, was lost and trying his best to hold it together for her sake. They sighed, then used the back of her hand to push away the tears falling shamelessly across her cheeks. It was her turn to comfort him, despite the ache in their own chest. (Because that’s what children do for their parents.)
“It’s been about two years since the Empire fell. The New Republic is starting to reinstate some form of government and peace in the galaxy. And--” they hesitated, unsure of the specifics regarding his religion and people. What she did know, though, she would share. “The Jedi aren’t hunted anymore. No more Vader. No more Inquisitors. As far as the Rebellion is concerned, Kanan... you’re a hero.” You’re my hero.
xspectre-1 // Kanan Jarrus
as she warmed to his embrace he sighed some, holding her close. it had taken sometime for them to connect like this, but having her accept his comfort, having this relationship with her? he hadn’t realized how much he wanted sabine to feel like a part of his family until she finally had– he hadn’t expected to ever fill a father role– but how grateful he was of the opportunity.
but unfortunately, that wasn’t at the front of his mind. it was hard to ignore the amount of confusion he was still feeling, despite his want to be able to be there for them. “it’s me sabine, it’s me, i’m here for you,” but he needed answers, and her response wasn’t the easiest to process.
seven years. the thought of that loss of time– it hadn’t helped his jumbled mind. he blinked under his mask, having no words as they pulled his hand closer. until– “we won?” he questioned softly, as if not believing it. it was hard to– knowing how much they had lost. his hand met hers, squeezing it in his own, “kriff– we did?”
“Kanan, I-- I’m not sure how to ex-explain. I,” their breath caught in her throat, something in her lungs hitching and spiking. Pressure mounted in their chest and her hands trembled in anxiety. “Okay, uh,” her voice cracked. She didn’t have enough strength to do this...But the warmth of their father’s hand in her own was something to focus on. Something real.
“I-in my time, the Empire fell a few years ago, and...and something happened in the Force. I don’t--I don’t know how, exactly, but time got messed up. Some people were brought f-forward from the past, and some. Some back from the future. Some people that had died--” They shook their head violently, remembering every nightmare and flashback of--no! That wasn’t him! He was here. This wasn’t a dream. “Kanan, I thought you were... Hera, Zeb, Ezra, we...we thought you were gone.”
@xspectre-1 // Kanan Jarrus
as soon as kanan heard her voice, it was clear that questioning wasn’t necessary. a little older– more hardened, perhaps, but it was sabine. he wouldn’t even question the fact that his hand had to be raised higher than he remembered. instead, arms moved to wrap around her, her own distress clear enough.
as if she hadn’t seen him in years.
regardless, as she spoke he slowly pulled away, desperate for some sort of answer. an explanation for what the hell had just happened.
lothal, that he knew it was… why, why he wasn’t on the same lothal. “i, i know that– last i remember you, ezra and zeb had just left– i was going after hera,” he blinked under his mask, trying to make sense of all of this himself.
His arms engulfed them in a warm embrace, and she stiffened, then melted into his side. They didn’t worry about the tears staining his shirt, didn’t care that their face was buried into his neck. He was real. He was back, and he was real. She knew so many people the Rift had brought through time (for better or worse), but this? This was nothing short of a miracle.
“Kanan,” she muttered, breaking away, but still drinking in his image. He was the same as they remembered. Messy hair, hand-painted mask, dirt-crusted boots. Here she was now, holding onto his hand, still on her cheek, like a lost child. “I can’t believe it’s you. I-- I mean. I.” They paused, taking in a breath. How do you explain that you’ve missed your parent for years, while he’s only missed a beat? “Kanan, that was...over seven years ago.” She let his fingers cup her cheek, smiling through tears. “We won. Our family, the whole Rebellion. Buir, we won.”
@xspectre-1 // Kanan Jarrus
closed starter // @call-me-spectre-five // sabine wren
finding himself on lothal wasn’t the surprise, flashes of memories would have brought him there regardless. the surprise was rooted in something far more confusing. things were different from what kanan last remembered, he couldn’t place it but– well, he was certainly lost here.
not that it was much of a concern to the blind knight. his focus was on hera– knowing she had been captured, knowing she had been captured and that he wasn’t on that lothal– the distress associated was perhaps somewhat overwhelming.
but with, admittedly directionless, wandering, he had been surprised to sense– sabine??
it was enough to pull his attention, and enough of a feeling to drag the jedi aimlessly in a new direction, further from the city but perhaps closer to an answer.
as he neared, he could feel she had noticed him– not that the force was needed for as much, their relationship based in more than that– “sabine?” he questioned, a hand reaching to feel at her head as if it wasn’t the young mandalorian he was acutely familiar with, “what’s– what’s happening?”
The rotations had been unforgiving of late. Lothal’s single sun burned bright, with little precipitation to relieve the plains near Capital City. It had been a short stay, but long enough for silent reflection. Ezra’s tower had been restored after Imperial presence was wiped out, and the Mandalorian often found themself returning for a few days at a time, watching over the small planet from above. It was secluded, out of the way, and by all means, a perfect resting spot for someone who wanted to be alone. But today, as a dark cloud rolled over the city, Sabine spotted something-- someone-- walking the field toward her makeshift encampment.
Could that be--?
The turbolift couldn’t take her to ground level fast enough, but when it did, she could do little but gasp in surprise. Removing their helmet in a hurry, Sabine met his hand with her own, then raised it a few inches to their cheek, where tears were starting to blossom in her eyes.
“Kanan?”
It had been years, but here he was, the man who had for so long acted like a buir to them. Here he was, back where it had all changed, but this time, she had found him.
“I-it’s me, Sabine.” They longed to reassure him that everything was okay, that he was okay, but neither would have believed it. She wanted to wrap their arms around him in an embrace, to never let go, but stopped in an attempt to avoid overwhelming the already flummoxed man. “I’m here, Kanan. You’re on Lothal. What do you remember?”
