How little he shared

[Kanan] had always been aggravated by how little Obi-Wan had shared. It made sense that he’d been short of time. And perhaps he hadn’t known much, yet, when he sent the warning.

But why hadn’t he sent another? If he didn’t have access to the beacon on Coruscant any longer, wouldn’t he have found another way to get a message out, later on?

Kanan knew the answer. Because there probably aren’t any Jedi left to contact. And because Kenobi’s probably dead himself.

At one time, those had been hard thoughts to have; now they only produced a tired yawn.

He couldn’t see Obi-Wan willingly hunkering down on some remote world, waiting for things to blow over. He’d have had a mission, if he were alive—an important one. He’d want people to know about it. And all the missions Kanan could imagine would have put Obi-Wan into motion all around the galaxy.

No, if Kenobi lived, Kanan would have heard something.

But Kanan knew he wouldn’t care even if the Jedi Master popped up in the seat right behind him. Caleb Dume hadn’t yet been a Jedi Knight, and Kanan Jarrus wasn’t one now. None of it affected him, need ever affect him. He’d been dealt his hand, and that was what he would play. Play, for as long he could keep from stupid stunts like the one he’d pulled on Cynda.

He just wouldn’t play here anymore.

~

I wonder what he thought when Ezra told him that Obi-Wan was consuming his days alone with his regrets on a burnt remote Outer Rim planet, apparently doing anything but hiding.

And I wonder what he thought then, when, through the Force, he saw Obi-Wan sacrificing a good part of his existence protecting one single blond lively kid, the son of the friend that he loved the most, the hope for that better future Kanan gave his life for.

[Photo: I own this beautiful pin just because @armstrongoutpost is an amazing creator and human]