#also able to feel ezra's presence and he HATES that he's connected to this jedi brat

[sagechan]

i’ve never written any fanfic for Star Wars before (which is wild considering it’s like. one of my longest running obsessions) but ever since finishing Rebels i have been itching to write for it, and @tobytost​ was saying something the other day about Ezra coming back wrong, like juuust a little fucked up, and I gotta say, I really really like that idea. so idk my current draft is like 1300 words that I’ve just vommed all over the page, maybe I’ll figure out a nice cohesive little “Ezra comes back wrong! Really really wrong!” story for yall lol

[followtheowls]

For a fic prompt, could you possibly write something about Ezra being injured and the medbay and Kanan and Hera are waiting for him to wake up/are worrying. Thank you so much :)

Thanks for this prompt <3 I also used it as a part of my ficlet series on ao3! I hope you like it

tw: medical talk (nothing to gory or graphic though), non graphic mention of injury

fandom: star wars rebels

characters: Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger

Words: 1.7k

The Medbay was not a quiet place, Kanan decided. He took in his surroundings from his place in his chair, in the corner of the small Medbay that was designated for waiting. He could hear the medics bustle around chatting and moving from one patient to another, the medical droids zooming around looking for their next task or procedure, and the medical equipment and machinery hum and creak while they carried out their functions. He could hear the beeping and chattering of binary from the droids, and the medics’ attempt at a hushed conversation. To Kanan, it seemed ironic that a place for healing and resting would be so incredibly noisy, but then again, he was probably more sensitive to it than most. He found that the loss of his vision had forced his other senses to adapt and subsequently become more sensitive to compensate for the loss of his eyesight.

The scent of bacta was thick in the air. So thick, in fact, Kanan could feel it burn his nostrils as he breathed in. The scent provided almost an instant headache, and his stomach churned as it reminded him of agonizing memories, in this very Medbay, from his recovery after returning from Malachor. Nothing eased the effect of the smell, it was something that was burned into his memory unchangeable. Even breathing through his mouth was only a half solution, the odor was so saturated and overwhelmed the air that he could almost taste it. Kanan wondered how the medics were able to work here all day. They probably become desensitized to it, he thought, too much time spent alongside it to let it bother them anymore. Kanan hoped he wouldn’t have to spend enough time in this overwhelming environment to even get near the point of getting used to it.

Kanan felt like a raw nerve, exposed and vulnerable. There was a lot to try to keep track of through the Force, and though he had grown accustomed to using the Force to guide himself through life, right now it was taking extra concentration to center himself. He was feeling everything too keenly. He jumped as he felt someone brush his side accidentally, sitting down in the seat next to him. Hera, he thought. He felt her hand slip into his and squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing back with equal pressure. He waited for her to speak first. 

“The medical droid says if all has gone well in surgery that they should be finished soon. He’ll probably be put in a bacta tank for a day or two, depending on how well the surgery goes. They didn’t have any other information to give us.” She stated quietly. Kanan just nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Kanan once again became ambushed by the chaos of the medbay.

He prided himself on his ability to remain calm in stressful situations, something that had been hammered into him during his upbringing at the Jedi Temple, but, at the moment, he could feel himself begin to drift from those teachings. Somewhere in Medbay, his padawan, his son in everything but blood, was lying broken and exposed on a table in an operating room, with several surgeons working hard to save his life. He needed to find his balance and his center, but he didn’t know how to do that when he was teetering on the edge of losing everything. 

He should’ve been on the mission, Kanan scolded himself. He should have been there to look out for Ezra, to protect him from what he hadn’t learned yet or from the hate of the Empire. Force knows no one ever did that for Ezra before Kanan was around. Kanan could even fathom imaging the possibility of losing Ezra now. That’s not how it was supposed to go, children were not supposed to go before their parents, it’s against the natural laws of the universe. 

Hera spoke up suddenly. “Stop,” she said sharply. “I know you. Don’t do that.”

“What?” Kanan responded, genuinely confused.

“You’re blaming yourself. I can see it all over your face. This is not your fault or my fault. The Empire. They did this,” she hissed, her anger a white hot presence in the Force. He just hummed in agreement and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

Several more minutes passed, it was hard to tell how long they sat there not speaking, just waiting. It could’ve been five minutes or an hour. Kanan really couldn’t tell. He felt Hera stiffen next to him and sit up straighter, and through the noise of the Medbay, he could hear footsteps getting louder and moving towards them. Together they both stood to greet the medic.

“He’s alive and he made it through the surgery. It was touch and go for a while, and his heart arrested once on the table, but we were able to successfully revive him and repair his internal injuries,” explained the medic. Kanan let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding, and slid back into his seat, nauseated and tortured by the knowledge that his padawan’s heart had stopped. 

Hera’s voice shook as she found the strength to speak. “Thank you so much. Will there be any long term effects? Any lasting issues we need to know about? And can we see him?”

“He will, hopefully, make a full recovery,” responded the medic. “There is a very small possibility that there could be some neurological deficits caused by lack of oxygen to his brain during the time that his heart stopped. But, in my professional opinion, I think that possibility is extremely low due to how quick we were able to restart his heart, but we won’t know until he wakes up. Otherwise, he is young and strong, and it is expected that he should recover just fine. though he will need to take it easy and rest for a few weeks. Right now, we have him immersed in a bacta tank to ensure a speedy recovery. I can take you both to see him if you like.”

Hera let out a cry of relief and happiness and she bent down to tackle Kanan in a desperate embrace. He returned it with equal ferocity, almost numb with relief. If the situation wasn’t so dire and serious, Kanan maybe might have made a joke and pointed out just how mom Hera was being. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so, just, not funny. The tears were evident in Hera’s voice when she responded that yes, they would like to go be with him, but Kanan was not one to judge. He knew if he had functioning tear ducts, he would’ve been bawling minutes ago.

The medic led them out the door and into a big open room adjacent to where they just waited. Kanan could sense a few medical technicians and droids fluttering around doing their jobs, but his focus immediately snapped to the muted-but-thankfully-still-there presence of Ezra that was emitting from what was presumably inside the bacta tank in the center of the room. While Kanan was his usual brand of stoic and silent, next to him Hera let out a half-suppressed, choked gasp. The medic respectfully excused himself to give them space, telling them he would be in his office if they needed anything.

Beside him, Kanan heard Hera let out another water breath, and he felt her struggle in the Force to contain herself and her emotions. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side, prompting her to lean into him. It was just as much for his support as it was for hers. It would be okay, they could be unbalanced together. 

Hera shook under his arm, and he felt her lose a bit of the emotional battle she had been fighting. He heard the small plops of tears as they slipped off her chin and made contact with their clothing. He squeezed her a little tighter and whispered reassurances that Ezra would be okay, trying his best to be comforting, but certainly feeling like he was failing. Kanan was hovering between a mix of not knowing what to say and navigating his own residual numbness, shock, and terror from the terrifying moments when he hadn’t known if he still had a living son or not.

After a minute or two of silence between them, Hera, always the most verbal with her emotions, spoke up. “Kanan, he - he,” she was cut off involuntarily by a forceful sob. She attempted to gather herself and start again. “He - just - he looks s-so young,” she whispered, her words choppily cut apart by sobs. “And so f-fragile, in there. The tank is so b-big and - and he just looks so small.” She finished her sentence, and abandoned any premise of maintaining her composure by dissolving into quiet, but powerful tears. She turned away from the sight of their kid in the tank and leaned into him fully, pressing her wet face into his sweater. 

Kanan couldn’t or didn’t have the capacity to imagine what she was looking at. He couldn’t bring his mind to produce that image for him. But, for the very first time in the eight months since becoming blind, he didn’t actively wish for his sight back. At this point, Kanan had mostly accepted his blindness, and had learned to lead his life without sight. But, typically the most emotional moments with his family were the moments he truly wished for his vision. But not right now. He knew that the scene in front of them would be seared into Hera’s memory for life, but something deep inside him, he realized guiltily, was relieved he couldn’t see it. Relieved, because, maybe, he hoped, this way the image wouldn't haunt him. That he wouldn’t go to sleep at night and dream of it, or freeze in the midst of a firefight for fear of seeing it again. Just in that fleeting moment, he felt grateful. Grateful that he didn’t have to see what Hera was seeing, Ezra hurt and broken, and suspended in bacta while connected to a million wires. Grateful that Ezra was going to recover. Grateful for more moments with his family.