Kanan trailed a couple of metres behind the Ghost crew as they moved silently through a corridor of the abandoned complex. At least they had been told it was abandoned. Kanan's senses were picking up on... well, he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. It almost seemed like a presence, but then also not. He felt it stir every couple of minutes, linger for a moment and then recede into the darkness.

It was probably nothing to worry about, Kanan reassured himself as he moved swiftly around a corner keeping his hand firmly locked on the hilt of his blaster. It definitely wasn't a stormtrooper patrol or an Imperial of any sort and it certainly didn't feel like the presence of any of the Inquisitors he had ever encountered.

Kanan snorted softly. It wasn't like they were going to show up anyway. The encounters between the Jedi hunters and the Ghost team had been short and brief over the past two years. Where once the Inquisitors had made an awfully inconvenient habit of showing up during nearly every single one of their ops, they now rarely showed themselves. And when they did show, they were swift to exit the scene, sometimes even without a confrontation. Kanan wasn't sure why the change had occurred but he did remember when it had happened. It had happened right after…

Kanan gritted his teeth and shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about that.

But the words seeped into his mind anyway.

Right after Ezra's death.

Kanan slowed his pace a little as he struggled to push the painful thoughts away. It had been two years since that event and he still wasn't over it. He doubted he ever would be. Ezra had been his padawan and he had failed him—failed him to the extent where he could never ask for forgiveness again. He knew now why his master had told him to run when the clones had turned on them at the end of the war. The guilt of knowing one's failure and having to live with it was far worse of a punishment than death. If only he had done something—something useful—perhaps Ezra would still be with them today, sneaking around an abandoned warehouse looking for med supplies and armaments, or whatever the hell it was they were here for. But he hadn't. Well, no. He had tried. He had tried with all his might to rescue Ezra from the grasp of the Imperials. But nothing had worked. He had been unfocused and undisciplined. And just when he had thought up a new rescue plan—one that he had been confident was going to work—they had received the news.

The news that they were too late.

Kanan braced himself against the wall as his steps faltered and his knees gave way. For a second he thought it was the overwhelming emotion he was feeling that had momentarily weakened him, but then he noticed something. A feeling. And not just any feeling. That feeling.

The presence that he had felt before had returned, stronger now, lingering just out of his reach in a way that was almost… almost gloating.

Kanan straightened, senses alert. He had brushed off the possibility of an Inquisitor before, but there was no mistaking that dark tint in the Force. He reached for his saber, snapping the two halves together in a second, and moved forward slowly, letting the Force guide him towards the presence.

He could hear Hera and Sabine calling his name over the comlink, no doubt wondering where he had gotten to, but he ignored them for the time being, instead putting his concentration into following the whispers of the Force. The presence seemed to dart away from him every time he got close and he was beginning to grow irritated. If the Inquisitor was toying with him only to leave without a fight once again, Kanan would surely lose his mind. It wasn't the Jedi way, but ever since that fateful day two years ago, he had been itching for the chance to take a swipe at the ones responsible for Ezra's death. Perhaps even a lethal swipe. So far he hadn't had a chance, what with the Inquisitors' decreased presence in the lives. But even when they had run into them, Hera and the Ghost crew had whisked him away before he even got to draw his lightsaber.

Well, that wasn't going to happen this time. Kanan tightened his grip on his saber and proceeded down the hallway.

"Kanan!" Hera's voice crackled over the comm, for once making it to his ears. From the fact that she had given up on his code name suggested that she was either very worried about him or very angry. Kanan figured it to be the former, although once she discovered what he was up to he was sure that that would change. Hence, he decided to remain silent as Hera continued.

"Chopper's picked up an incoming Imperial vessel. Small, probably a troop carrier but we can't be certain just yet. It'd be nice to know you're still with us, love. And if your comm's down then I suggest you get back to the Ghost. We're going to have company and Chopper can't take them all on his own."

"We've already got company," Kanan answered, growling softly as the Force presence slipped away from him yet again.

"What?" Hera asked sharply. "What do you mean? Where are you?"

"I'm dealing with it," Kanan replied quickly. "Get the supplies and get back to the Ghost. I'll meet you there when I'm done."

"Kanan, if it's an Inquisitor, please—"

"I'll be fine, Hera. Gotta go." Kanan snapped off his comlink, quieting Hera's calls and pocketed the device.

His Force senses had led him down a long corridor during his conversation with Hera and now he was left staring at a large circular-shaped blast door. The presence was close… Perhaps on the other side of the door.

Kanan reached for the control panel on the wall and pressed the unlock button, but the doors didn't budge. Kanan frowned, trying to listen more closely to what the Force was telling him. The presence was close… Very close, in fact. But where...

Oh.

Kanan turned around.

There, standing at the end of the corridor that he had just walked down, was a figure dressed in black—an Inquisitor. Kanan narrowed his eyes and readjusted his grip on his saber but fought back the urge to turn the weapon on. He had expected to see the familiar form of the Seventh Sister or perhaps even the Fifth Brother, but the figure who stood in front of him was new to his eyes. Perhaps a little shorter than Kanan, this Inquisitor was lithe and lightly muscled. He held a silver saber hilt in his right hand and stood in a ready stance, feet spread and shoulders squared. It was a peculiar thought, but beneath the outward confidence and obvious eagerness for a fight, Kanan almost thought he could sense a bit of nervousness from the Inquisitor.

Why that would be, Kanan didn't have time to consider, for a sudden tremble in the Force caused him to look up and down the hallway from where he stood to the feet of the Inquisitor. The walls along the corridor were smooth, aside from the regular interruption of support beams. There were no doors.

He was cornered.

But that suited him just fine. After all, he hadn't planned on running.

Kanan twisted his saber in his hand as if to emphasise that point and watched as the Inquisitor regarded him silently. Besides the tremors in the Force, it was impossible to tell what the Inquisitor was thinking, for he wore a sleek, black helmet which prevented Kanan from seeing his face. Kanan searched the Force and the Inquisitor's stance for what might come next. Who would make the first move? The Inquisitor? Or Kanan?

The wary silence continued for almost a minute and just when Kanan was about to lose all of his resolve and snap his saber on to strike first, the Inquisitor spoke.

"You've looked better, Kanan," the Inquisitor remarked, his voice twisted into a mechanical hiss through his helmet. "Surely the death of your dear padawan isn't still affecting you?"

"No, just my lack of interaction with you guys," Kanan said, flashing the Inquisitor a crooked grin. Then his expression hardened. "You're going to pay for what you did to Ezra."

"You're going to kill me?" the Inquisitor responded with a laugh. "Now that would be ironic." He shifted slightly on the spot, readjusting his grip on his saber and continued before Kanan could even begin to consider that statement. "From what I recall, killing isn't the Jedi way."

"No one's here to stop me this time," Kanan growled. "As long as you don't run away first like your friends did." He knew he shouldn't be this angry—be this eager to battle the enemy—but he couldn't help it. Every day he thought about Ezra's death—about how he had failed the kid who he had promised to protect. There wasn't a single moment where he didn't feel the guilt weighing him down. He still woke up screaming Ezra's name in the middle of the night, images of red blades flashing through his mind as they distinguished the light of electric blue eyes.

Kanan ignited his saber, unable to hold himself back any longer. The blue energy blade snapped to life with a spark and a hiss and he raised it in front of him, the challenge clear.

The Inquisitor tilted his head slightly as he looked at Kanan, almost as if he was amused by the Jedi's very un-Jedi-like actions. Then he too snapped on his saber and the fight began.

It took them no time at all to meet in the centre of the hallway, blades clashing with a fierce intensity that showered sparks in their faces. Kanan pulled back, ducked and swung. And the Inquisitor met his strike instantly. Two more strikes, a push off the wall and a third strike had them caught once again in a shower of sparks as their sabers collided.

Kanan growled slightly as he felt his muscles strain against the force of the Inquisitor's blow. In the two years since Ezra's death he hadn't had much of a chance to fight one on one, especially since the Inquisitors had mostly avoided engaging him in combat. He was out of practice, that much was clear. And the Inquisitor he was facing seemed to be much younger and faster than he was. But he wouldn't let that stop him.

Kanan gave a little into the saber lock, then pushed his blade hard forward and sent a shove into the Inquisitor with the Force. The result sent his opponent sliding backwards down the hallway before he skidded to a crouched halt a couple of metres away. The Inquisitor looked up at him for a moment, red saber held aloft and head cocked as if examining him. Kanan took the opportunity to catch his breath.

"If your padawan's death has done this to you, I wonder what killing me would result in."

"Why don't we find out?"

The Inquisitor gave a short laugh. "As much as I'd love to see you destroy yourself, Kanan, I'd prefer not to do it from beyond the grave."

The Inquisitor sprung up from the floor and in two swift movements was swinging his saber at Kanan's head. Kanan ducked and swiveled to the side, letting the Inquisitor overshoot him, then he swiftly brought his saber up to take a swipe at where he thought his opponent's torso would be.

Only, his blade once again met the Inquisitor's red one. Kanan growled and shifted on his feet, sliding away from the Inquisitor to open up a new angle for attack. He swung his saber to land three swift blows against his opponents blade, each one blocked perfectly, much to his annoyance.

Their fiery dance took them down the corridor towards the locked blast door. Every strike that Kanan made was matched evenly by the Inquisitor and they moved around each other in a way that was almost natural. Their blades had turned into a blur of blue and red in the intensity of the fight, but none ever hit their target.

Kanan growled in annoyance as he struggled to find an opening in the Inquisitor's defences. But no matter how hard he tried, the Inquisitor seemed to know exactly where he was going to make a strike. The thing was, Kanan also knew exactly where the Inquisitor was going to make a strike—and it wasn't an intuition that seemed guided by the Force. Of course the mystical energy field helped in quickening his reflexes, but the way he and the Inquisitor seemed to know each other's moves… It wasn't the workings of the Force. It was something more.

But Kanan didn't have time to think further on the matter, for a particularly powerful blow from the Inquisitor sent him flying back into the blast door. He gasped as his head collided painfully with the heavily reinforced metal and stars splashed across his vision.

He blinked frantically, trying to get his sight back. The Force was screaming at him to raise his saber—defend himself. But the collision had not only sent his head spinning, it had also winded him and it was all he could do to keep his saber from slipping from his grasp.

Kanan braced himself against the door as he struggled to regain his breath, doing all he could to focus on the Force, hoping that he would be quick enough to react if the Inquisitor chose to strike in his moment of weakness.

But in the short moment that it took for Kanan's senses to return to him, no attacks came. He shook his head and finally found it within himself to raise his saber into a defensive block. His vision had stilled now, allowing him to look at the Inquisitor as he finally managed to take a normal breath.

The black clad Jedi hunter stood a couple of metres away, red saber humming softly at his side. Not exactly what Kanan had been expecting. To be completely honest, he was amazed he was even alive right now. Inquisitors didn't usually fight fair, so he wondered what exactly had stopped this one from striking him down when he had effectively been defenceless.

He supposed it didn't really matter though. What mattered was that he was still alive.

And that meant he still had a chance to make the Inquisitor pay for Ezra's death.

He pushed away from the door and brought his left hand onto his saber hilt so that he was gripping the weapon with two hands. He was still a little unsteady on his feet but that would soon pass. Especially once he was back into the fight.

He waited for the Inquisitor to raise his saber, but that moment didn't come. Instead, the Inquisitor chose to speak, much to Kanan's irritation.

"It wouldn't make a difference if I said I had nothing to do with your padawan's death, would it?" the Inquisitor asked with a hint of amusement that said he already knew the answer.

"No," Kanan replied coldly.

"Perhaps if you knew my identity your position on the matter might be different."

There it was again. That strange hinting that the Inquisitor's identity was of some importance to the situation. An importance, Kanan suspected, that was supposed to stop him from trying to kill the Inquisitor. He snorted.

"I don't care who you are," he growled. "You're an Inquisitor and in my eyes that makes you guilty. So you're going to pay—whether you were personally involved in Ezra's death or not."

"Oh, Kanan. I really thought you would have figured it out by now," the Inquisitor replied almost disappointedly. "Perhaps I gave you more credit than you deserved."

Something about the way the Inquisitor said Kanan's name made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He looked over his opponent again. As much as he wanted to disregard the Inquisitor's words as just a ploy to distract him, the Force was telling him that there was something more to this. But what... What was so special about this Inquisitor—black clad and red bladed just like the rest of them—that Kanan should reconsider killing him?

He couldn't find a reason.

And he let the Inquisitor know that by taking a swing at his head. But the Inquisitor blocked his blow yet again with an ease that made Kanan narrow his eyes.

Perhaps that was a reason...

A sudden flash of red forced him to duck as the Inquisitor took a swipe at him. The next blow he managed to block, but the force of it sent him stumbling down the corridor.

He turned back to look at the Inquisitor as he caught his balance and came to a halt.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?" the Inquisitor said, giving his saber a short twirl.

"Like I said," Kanan spat, "I don't care who you are. All I care about is that you pay for what you did to Ezra—to me!"

The Inquisitor let out a short laugh at that. "Your anger has truly blinded you if you can't see beyond what your eyes show you. Aren't you even a little curious?"

"No," Kanan answered quickly. And from the silence he received, he was sure that there was a raised eyebrow on the other side of the Inquisitor's helmet. He growled and lunged again, jabbing his saber at the Inquisitor.

But his attack was met once more by the intervention of a fiery red blade.

Kanan stumbled, falling against the wall. But it was a feint and in the next instant he turned and slashed out violently at the Inquisitor's face.

The Inquisitor recoiled with an anguished cry as Kanan's blade skimmed over the surface of his helmet, leaving a molten gash along his eyeline. Unfortunately for Kanan, but fortunate for the Inquisitor, the blade had only just managed to scrape the helmet, meaning that the damage it had done was only surface deep. The Inquisitor was unharmed, but his eyesight was now impeded by the scarring on the helmet.

Kanan eased back a couple of steps as he watched the Inquisitor cautiously. What he had done had been a risky move and he hadn't quite pulled it off, which meant that the only thing he had probably achieved through the attack was to make the Inquisitor angry.

The Inquisitor let out a snarl as he ran his gloved fingers across the gash in his helmet.

Yep, definitely angry.

Kanan raised his saber in a defensive block.

"Perhaps I underestimated you, Kanan," the Inquisitor said, his voice low and dangerous. "But not as much as you underestimated me."

"Then prove it," Kanan hissed. "Take off that helmet and face me properly this time."

"Are you sure you're ready to face the truth?"

"I'd like to see the light leave your eyes when you die." Kanan's gaze was hard.

The Inquisitor was silent for a moment as he regarded Kanan. Then he shook his head softly.

"You've changed."

"How would you know?" Kanan growled, defensive.

But the Inquisitor ignored him as he reached for his helmet. "But I've changed too," he said as he tugged it off, revealing a tangled mop of blue-black hair.

Kanan froze.

The Inquisitor shot him a crooked grin that didn't go at all with the features that Kanan painfully recognised. Tanned skin, dark brows... The only thing that didn't match the face from his memory were the eyes—once electric blue, now a sickly yellow.

Kanan shook his head, retreating slowly down the corridor. No… This couldn't be possible.

"You're not going to run now, are you?"

That voice.

A little deeper than he remembered, but no less painful to hear.

"Ezra," Kanan whispered hoarsely.

"It's lovely to see you again, old master." The smile that Ezra gave him didn't reach his eyes.

Kanan shook his head again, still too shocked to properly process what was going on.

"How? What happened? I thought…" Kanan fumbled over his words as he continued to back away.

Ezra followed him slowly, eyebrow raised. "You thought what? That I was dead?" He gave a bitter laugh. "Surely you weren't naive enough to think that the Inquisitors would actually kill me?"

"They told us…" Kanan trailed off quietly, still at a loss about the situation.

"They told you?" Ezra scoffed. "Kanan, they lied. They lied so that they could have me to themselves. So that they could work on turning me into one of them without you interfering with rescue attempts. If you ever even did try to rescue me." The last part was snarled with such venom that Kanan was taken aback.

"Of course we tried to rescue you, Ezra. Why wouldn't we? We weren't going to leave you at their mercy," Kanan pleaded, brow curved.

"But you did."

Kanan fell silent at those words. Like vibroblades piercing through armour, the reality of that statement shattered him. He had left Ezra at the mercy of the Inquisitors... He had taken their word that his padawan had been killed when really he should have known better. He shouldn't have let his emotions cloud his judgement. He should have seen straight through them.

But he hadn't. And Ezra had paid the price for that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry?" Ezra raised his eyebrows. "Sorry isn't going to cut it, Kanan. Do you know what it felt like to be abandoned again? Do you know what they did to me?"

"No, Ezra, I don't. Please," Kanan begged. "Come back. We can fix this. We can fix everything."

Ezra's glare was hard. "No, Kanan. We can't. I'll never forgive you for what you did. You were my family and you abandoned me."

"Ezra, please—"

"I trusted you!"

The pure hatred on Ezra's face subdued Kanan into silence.

"I trusted you and you failed. The Inquisitors are my family now. As much as I initially didn't want to believe them, I now know that this is the path for me." Ezra looked him over with a glare. "Perhaps, I should be thanking you for leaving me to them. I wouldn't have discovered my true destiny if you hadn't."

"Ezra—"

"But you betrayed me and you have to pay for that."

"Ezra!" Kanan cried again, but his words were turned into a gasp as Ezra pounced, his red lightsaber plunging straight towards Kanan's heart.

Kanan barely managed to block the blow—and the next and the next. Each strike Ezra made at him felt like a stab through the heart, a cherished memory shattered, a limb lost. Kanan let Ezra push him back, making no move to turn on the offensive. He let the Force guide his actions—let his hands move naturally to block each of the incoming attacks. It was only now that Kanan realised why the two of them had been so in sync earlier. Ezra may have been taught by the Inquisitors, but hadn't lost his typical fighting style and Kanan was able to see every move coming—just how Ezra had seen every one of his moves coming when he had been the one attacking. The only difference now was that Ezra was taller and stronger.

And Kanan was severely out of practice.

A particularly forceful blow sent him careening into the wall. He took the opportunity to duck and swivel, increasing the distance between the two of them.

"You were so determined to kill me before, Kanan," Ezra growled, taking a moment to catch his breath as Kanan did the same. "What changed?"

"You know what changed," Kanan replied. "I won't kill you, Ezra. I can't."

"Then we already know how this is going to end." Ezra twirled his saber, yellow eyes—corrupted eyes—flashing wickedly. "Any last words?"

"Ezra, stop this," Kanan pleaded. "It doesn't have to be this way. You're a good person. You can change—we can both change. Together we can make this right. Please, Ezra."

Ezra stared at him for a moment and Kanan almost thought he caught a glimpse of wistful sadness cross his former padawan's face. But either he had been imagining the expression or it had been quickly masked, for Ezra now fixed him with a glare.

"I'm sorry, Kanan, but it's much too late for that."

And once again they were locked in combat—although this time it was completely one-sided. Kanan didn't have the strength to put up a fight against Ezra. He almost didn't want to. Perhaps he deserved this.

His blocks were lazy and conducted with little effort, so it was no surprise to him when he suddenly toppled backwards to land on the floor, his lightsaber flying out of his grasp. Ezra was on top of him in a second, knee pressed roughly to his chest and red lightsaber tip held only inches from his face.

The guilt that had plagued Kanan ever since Ezra's supposed death had tripled in the past few minutes. A feeling multiplied by the sight of his former padawan's red-rimmed yellow irises glaring down at him. Ezra's blue-black hair hung in front of his face as he stared down at Kanan, throwing his once so friendly features into shadow.

What had they done to him?

What had he let them do to him?

"I'm sorry I failed you, Ezra," he said quietly, his words barely making it above a whisper. "I didn't want any of this to happen to you. I'm sorry."

Ezra opened his mouth to snarl out a reply, but he was cut off by a shout from the end of the corridor.

"Kanan!"

It was Hera.

"Drop your weapon, Inquisitor, and step away from Kanan or we won't hesitate to blast you to pieces."

Kanan felt sick as he looked up at Ezra, wondering what his apprentice-turned-Inquisitor was planning to do. Ezra had pulled back a little at Hera's interruption but had not dropped his saber and didn't look like he was about to do so any time soon. His back was currently turned to the Ghost crew, but that could change in an instant. And then what? Would he attack them? Would they shoot back?

Kanan glanced around for his lightsaber but couldn't spot it. And, in any case, Ezra's glare told him that it wouldn't be wise to try anything.

"If my 'death' caused you so much pain," Ezra said, keeping his voice low so that only Kanan could hear, "I'd love to see what this new revelation does to you. Let's let it sink in for a while, shall we?"

Ezra extended his hand and called his damaged helmet into his grasp.

"Until next time, Kanan."

Ezra donned the helmet and lifted himself off of Kanan in one quick motion. Then he was gone from Kanan's line of vision.

Kanan pulled himself up into a crouch in alarm, thinking that Ezra had headed off towards Hera and the rest of the crew. But he hadn't. Instead, he was now at the locked blast door, producing a card from his pocket that, when he pressed it to the control panel, made the door slide open. He stepped through quickly, but paused, turning back to look at Kanan for a moment.

Then the blast door closed and he was gone.

Kanan sunk to his knees and buried his face in his hands. The Ghost crew rushed towards him but he barely felt their hands on him as they tried to figure out what was wrong. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, leaving his mind numb and cold as he tried to process what had just happened.

Only he didn't want to process what had happened. It was much too painful. Heartbreaking, even. Him unknowingly trying to kill Ezra, then Ezra knowingly trying to kill him... Ezra's eyes, filled with anger and hatred, tinted yellow with the corruption of the dark side…

It was all too much and Kanan felt like he was sinking.

But Hera's voice managed to pierce through the fog of numbness and draw him back to the surface, if only for a moment.

"Kanan. Kanan, look at me."

He turned his face towards Hera's. Her thin brows were turned upwards in concern as she looked at him with wide, green eyes.

"Kanan, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"I…" he murmured, trying to find the right words. But his mind was just too jumbled, the memories too painfully fresh. "Ezra…"

"Ezra?" Hera's voice was laced with concern as she repeated the name. "Oh, Kanan. If the Inquisitor taunted you about his death you know that it's not your fault."

Kanan closed his eyes and shook his head, fighting to regain control of his emotions before they managed to overwhelm him. He felt Hera pull him close, felt her whisper soft words in his ear.

"It's not your fault, Kanan. You did all that you could, you know that. You're not the one who killed him."

"No…" Kanan replied hoarsely, thinking back to the look of pure hatred on Ezra's face. "I did something much worse."