Author's Note: Hi readers! This fic was inspired by a tumblr post made by literally-the-president discussing how tragic it'd be if Kanan accidentally deflected a laser blast off his laser at Ezra's spine, paralyzing him for life. The idea wouldn't leave me alone, and this happened. My first time writing for Rebels, will probably be a three-parter. (title by Imagine Dragons)

Rated T for: Mild language, canon-typical violence, blood, and injury.

And now, without further ado, please read on and enjoy! :) - Aqua

Part I - Impact

The first explosion nearly throws Kanan off his feet, rolling through the ground like thunder.

The air is heavy with smoke, filling Kanan's lungs and clouding his vision. He can't trust his eyes, so he trusts the force to guide him. He can sense every living soul on the battlefield; Ezra to his left, Sabine and Zeb flanking. The stormtrooper patrol, fifteen strong, regrouping at the smoldering hangar. Their own troops are disorganized, spread out among the rubble.

He can see it all in the force. The stormtroopers are gathered now, and Kanan hears the unmistakable whir of blasters the same second he feels the energy bolts cut through the air. There are mixed shouts of confusion as the rebels scatter for cover. Someone cries out in pain. Something else explodes, so close Kanan can feel the heat on his face.

If they can't regroup, it's a lost cause. Kanan ignites his lightsaber; he'll give them something to shoot at.

The stormtroopers must see his glowing blade through the smog, because suddenly there are shots coming his way. He lets his body take over, catching the bolts with his saber and parrying them away. He moves without thinking, without hesitating, just feeling, his blade arcing through the air. He shifts the hilt to his right hand and lifts his left wrist to his chin.

"This is Specter One, calling all units," Kanan says into the comm-link. "Double back and regroup, I'll cover. Specter Two, we could use some backup."

"On my way, Specter One."

Kanan presses forward, giving the rebel forces room to move. He hears feet thud against the pavement, and is able to make out Zeb's bulky figure in the shadows, Sabine in tow. They duck from cover to cover, taking shelter behind piles of crates and destroyed shuttles.

"Specter Four to One, me an' Five are pinned back here." Zeb's ragged voice filters through the comm.

"Acknowledged," Kanan bats a laser blast away, "get to the rest of the group. I'll draw their fire."

"Copy that."

Kanan takes a deep breath and advances, his focus snapping into place. His vision tunnels until he can see nothing except the oncoming rain of blaster fire, winking brightly through the smoke. He moves automatically, determined not to let a single bolt get past. The lightsaber spins in his hand, thrumming with energy as he deflects the shots. He falls into a rhythm, the force humming at the base of his skull.

It's chaos, but it's familiar.

Blood rushes in his ears, the steady pulse drowning out the sounds of battle. The Imperial ships are on fire, groaning as the durasteel melts and buckles under the heat. Black smoke billows up into the sky, and the acidic note in the air tells Kanan of leaking fuel tanks. Something akin to a plan starts to form in his mind, and Kanan moves, deflecting shots as he goes-

He's overwhelmed with a feeling of wrongness, so sudden and fierce it steals his breath from his lungs. Kanan can sense it; a disturbance in the force, a stray shot, glancing off the blade of his lightsaber. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and everything seems to freeze for a moment. Kanan sees it, glowing in the darkness- the force is screaming wrong, wrong, wrong- and he follows its trajectory to-

Ezra. Ezra, balanced precariously on a stack of crates, unlit lightsaber in hand. He's out of the enemies' line of view, taking the high ground- it's a sneak attack, Kanan realizes uselessly, helplessly- and his back is to him, he doesn't see it, and Kanan can't move fast enough.

He feels it before he hears the scream.

The bolt hits Ezra in the lower back, and Kanan feels something inside of him twist, break, and there's a searing pain at the base of his skull. His breath rushes out in a strangled gasp the same moment Ezra screams; his head snaps back, and his whole body jolts with the force of the shot. The world stops, and Ezra sways where he stands- even from this distance Kanan can see the red blossoming out from the wound- and then he tips slowly over the edge, plummeting to the ground below.

Kanan breaks into a run, his lungs burning, a scream desperately trying to claw out of his throat. He won't make it, Kanan realizes, watching Ezra rapidly approach the hard ground, and he reaches for the force, lunges for it, and throws an arm out.

Ezra stops inches above the ground, hanging limply in the air as the force envelops him. Kanan can already feel the tug at the back of his mind; he blocks it out, gritting his teeth, and keeps his hold on his padawan (he can't touch him, can't let anything touch him, can't even put him on the ground). He sweeps his other arm out, and the stack of crates fall into a wall around them, shielding them from blaster fire.

Kanan all but screams into the comm-link, "I need pick-up now! Ezra's down." His voice is raw, and his heart is racing, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

Hera must hear the urgency in his voice, because she doesn't ask questions. "I'm on my way, ETA thirty seconds. Hang in there."

Thirty seconds seem to stretch on forever. He can't hear anything except his heartbeat echoing in his ears, and it isn't until he feels wind in his face that he realizes the Ghost is there. Kanan adjusts his mental grip on Ezra, forehead beaded with sweat, and slowly begins the difficult move.

It isn't until they're both safely inside that his heart climbs down from his throat, and he can breathe again.

The hangar door slams shut, and the Ghost jolts into space.

It's the longest flight of Kanan's life.

The force is a hammer at the back of his mind, beating into his skull and sending jolts of white-hot pain flashing behind his eyes. They must make quite a sight, he thinks absently; Ezra, suspended in the air, and Kanan sitting cross legged in front of him, in a meditative position to hold his focus. He can't put Ezra down, not until he's safe at the base's med bay, because he knows where that bolt hit, and he knows what it means.

And god, how he wishes he didn't.

Hera must be losing her mind, up in the cock-pit with no idea what happened. Kanan can hear Chopper in the room, wheeling circles around them and beeping in agitation, but it's muted somehow, like he's underwater. He hopes the droid will take news of their condition back to Hera, let her know that they're alive, at least, because Kanan can't even afford to speak right now, lest his concentration falter.

Ezra's force signature is faint, but Kanan holds tight, clinging to the only proof he has that his padawan is still alive (his eyes are closed, and he's unable to see the slight rise and fall of Ezra's chest), and it's a comfort, albeit a small one.

He feels the Ghost exit hyperdrive, and Hera's voice blares over the intercom, piercing through the white noise.

"We're here."

Kanan ends up sitting in a white plastasteel chair in the hallway outside the medical bay.

People rush back and forth, and it's the only time Kanan is actually thankful for it, because in the post-op chaos he can disappear. A few cast him pitying looks, but most are too preoccupied to notice him. There are other injuries to tend to, and reports to be filed, debriefings to attend... normally he'd be with Commander Sato and the council, to discuss the mission-

The mission... Kanan has no idea what happened. He knows the hangar was destroyed, all the Imperial ships with it, but as far as the battle went, he has no idea if they won or lost. There's dried blood above his right eye; he doesn't remember taking a hit, but everything after Ezra is a blur. His body feels heavy with exhaustion, and a migraine's setting in...

Hera's with him; she might have told him to go rest, but it doesn't register. She's leaning against the wall, her arms folded and her lekku stiff, expression unreadable. The rest of the team joins them moments later, bursting into the hallway; Sabine, breathless, demands to know where Ezra is. Zeb asks what happened, and there's fear in his eyes- he's been through this before, Kanan remembers, he was a soldier- and Chopper's emitting a high-pitched screech.

Hera glances at him before responding. "Ezra's hurt," she says softly, a question hidden in her voice.

"He took a hit to the spine," Kanan supplies, staring at the floor. "He was unconscious... I- I don't know how bad it is."

Liar.

"Oh, god..." Sabine breathes.

"Karabast," Zeb mutters, his eyes widening. "How- how did this happen?"

"It's my fault," Kanan says. His voice is hollow, even to his own ears.

"Stop it." Hera's expression is tight. "You don't know that. I'm sure you did your best."

Kanan flinches and doesn't reply. They don't understand, none of them know what he did. But as much as he wants to tell them, the words won't come- they choke his throat, bring tears to his eyes, because they don't get it- and he hates it; he wasn't raised a coward, but right now he's more terrified than he's been in a long time. He feels helpless, just like he was back then, but this time it's his fault.

Hera must sense his doubt, because she opens her mouth to speak-

The door to the med bay slides open, and one of the medics is standing there, expression grave.

"Are you here for Ezra Bridger?"

Kanan sits by Ezra's bed, his mind blank and his body numb.

Sabine's on the other side, arms folded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Zeb's pacing the length of the room, ears pinned flat against his skull. Chopper's parked idly at the foot of the bed, uncharacteristically silent. Hera's still talking to the medic, outside of the room. Kanan can faintly hear their voices through the walls, and he thinks Hera might be crying.

The medic's words keep repeating in his mind.

'We have reason to suspect he has a complete laceration in his thoracic vertebrae. There's significant swelling in the spinal cord, however, so the extent of this damage won't be certain until he wakes up.'

The air in the room is heavy with the weight of the topic they're avoiding. Sabine seems to be in denial, she didn't even listen to the medic finish. There's anger hanging off Zeb like a dark cloud, and Kanan can't tell what it's directed at. Chopper's silence is the most eerie; the droid has never been so serious, and it's putting Kanan off.

'The most probable outcome is thoracic paraplegia- that is, paralysis from the waist down. If the spinal cord is truly severed, then this will be irreversible.'

Kanan can't tear his gaze away from Ezra. In all his time with the padawan, he can never recall him being so still- it doesn't feel right, Ezra is always moving, he hasn't even mastered meditation yet- and on the medical bed he looks so small. The bed was made to accommodate species and adults much larger than him. He almost disappears beneath the starched white sheets.

'There is hope; if it is a T10-T12 injury, then he'll maintain function from the torso up. Some patients with thoracic paraplegia even learn to walk with aid from specialized astro-mechs and prosthetics.'

The door slides open, and Hera slips into the room. Her eyes are red and puffy, her arms drawn around herself, and she won't meet anyone's gaze as she silently approaches the bed. Kanan's heart bleeds for her, and a new wave of grief and guilt washes over him. They're all suffering- and it's his fault.

'We'll do everything we can to make the adjustment process easier.' A sympathetic look, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'

Hera stops by his side, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Kanan leans towards her touch, the tension rolling off his body with a sigh until he just feels empty. He wants to say something, but he doesn't trust his voice- and he doesn't want to break down, not here, not now.

"Hey, love," Hera says softly, her voice hoarse.

Kanan doesn't reply, watching Ezra, the steady rise and fall of his chest- and damn it all if he doesn't just look peaceful, like he's sleeping-

"You should get some rest-"

"I'm not leaving him." His response is immediate, the words out of his mouth before she's even finished.

"Kanan, you spent a lot of energy on that mission," she's still being gentle with him, patient, and it grates on him like broken glass- "you know how badly using the force can affect you. Please, just for a little while, you still have to take care of yourself-"

"I'm not leaving," Kanan insists again. Zeb and Sabine are watching, and he feels even more self-conscious. "If he wakes up and I'm not here-"

There's a catch in Ezra's breathing, and his eyes flutter open.

The air steals from Kanan's lungs, his hands unintentionally clenching into fists. Hera stiffens beside him, and Sabine lets out a soft gasp. Zeb hurries over, expression anxious, gripping the metal bed rail so tightly it starts to give.

The heart monitor's pace quickens, in time with Ezra's racing heartbeat. He lets out a stifled groan, shifting so he's sitting upright. It takes the padawan a moment to recognize them, take in his surroundings. He finds Kanan's eyes, looking lost, and Kanan's throat closes up.

"Wh- what ha-appened?" Ezra's voice is rough, and he winces. "Kanan..? Where- the mission..."

"Shh, it's going to be okay, Ezra," Hera speaks calmly, but it's false; her hand tightens on Kanan's shoulder, so hard she's almost shaking. "The mission's over, you were hurt. Do you remember what happened?"

Ezra blinks, his bright blue eyes clouded with fog and confusion. His gaze settles in front of him, and his brows knit together.

"I- I don't-" He reaches forward, hesitantly, and rests a hand on his knee. His eyes widen, pupils dilate. "I can't feel my legs. Wha- why can't I feel my legs?" His voice rises in pitch until it breaks.

"You were shot in the spine," Kanan forces the words out, each one stabbing through him like a knife. "Ezra, I'm so sorry-"

"What?! You mean I'm- I can't-" The realization hits him, and Kanan can see his world come crashing down behind his eyes. It's too much; Ezra breaks down, his shoulders shaking.

Kanan's face is wet- he's crying, he can't remember the last time he cried- and suddenly he's cursing himself, the Jedi Order, and the whole damn Republic for making him think it was okay to take children into battle, just because it's how he was raised. Cursing the Empire for their damn war, and even the Rebellion for fighting it.

And finally, finally, he understands why his master was willing to die for him.