"You were alone," Jack summarized. For all he'd said, that's what she heard underneath it all. He hadn't even had himself. Caleb had to die. Everything about him had to be erased so that Kanan would even have a chance. Couldn't get close to anyone in case he slipped up and wasn't Kanan enough. Had to be Kanan when he didn't know how to be anybody.

She understood that part all too well. That was kind of her daily life. Trying to be like everyone around her when she didn't know how. She got it wrong all the time. She could afford to. Screwing up and getting it wrong didn't mean getting shot - or worse.

"You're not alone anymore." He knew that. She still had to say it. "It doesn't, you know," Jack added after a minute, "Alcohol doesn't make things less hard. It just makes you care less for a little while. Until you're sober again and you have to face it. The things you said or did when you didn't care enough, when emotional shit was dull enough you could pretend it wasn't sharp enough to cut and that the bleeding didn't matter. And then the only way to feel less stupid and to dull the hurt again is to take another fucking drink."

Silent for a second.

"No more drinking. Not for you. That's not who you are. It would fuck you up again."