Samsa's Companion
By PerilousPie
Synopsis: Tag to "Droids in Distress". Ezra comes face to face with his life on the streets, he nearly forgets that he is no longer a street rat.
"Why do we have to make this delivery for Vizago?" Ezra asked, face scrunched up in confusion and distaste.
Kanan sighed, sending an annoyed look to his padawan.
"Because, Ezra, we need credits," Kanan replied, his patience running thin.
They were currently walking through Capital City, the midday bustle of activity creating a warm buzz of sound in the air around them.
"But this is on planet, you'd think his cronies could do this work," Ezra complained.
Kanan didn't reply immediately, eyes scanning the crowd in case of danger. You couldn't be too careful, especially with all the things they'd done to tick the Imperials off.
"Maybe he needs someone not so recognizable to his group," Kanan guessed.
Ezra was incredulous, dodging members of the crowd as he kept up with Kanan.
"And we're not recognizable?! We've got more beef with the Empire than Vizago does," Ezra huffed.
Kanan shrugged, "maybe, maybe not."
They left the planet, traveled, took time apart. Vizago was a major black market dealer who was based on Lothal, his operation being mainly run out of Capital City and the outskirts. Kanan had a feeling that the man had more beef with the Imperials on Lothal than they did.
Ezra let out a dignified snort and paused at a stall to nimbly snatch a fruit. A minute later, Kanan noticed Ezra snacking on the said fruit.
"Where'd you get that?" Kanan demanded.
Ezra's eyes widened and he quickly drew the fruit behind his back.
"Nowhere," he said much too quickly to be honest.
Kanan shook his head, about to reprimand Ezra when he saw the man they were supposed to meet.
"I'll deal with you later," he snapped, waving a hand at Ezra in frustration.
"Wait? Don't I get to come with you?" Ezra looked upset, the fruit forgotten in his hand.
"No," Kanan said firmly, turning to walk towards the meet.
"But, Kanan!" Ezra cried, starting to chase after the Jedi.
Kanan whirled around, looking sternly at Ezra.
"Stay here and wait for me."
Ezra crossed his arms, a pout coming on his face.
"Fine," he spat out, turning to continue eating his fruit.
Kanan had already turned away and was walking towards the man. Ezra watched them out of the corner of his eye as he finished the fruit, curiosity never held at bay by a command. Kanan shook hands with the man and the two then stepped into a building.
"Okay, Kanan, you didn't say where 'here' was," Ezra muttered under his breath, tossing the core of the fruit onto the street.
Spotting an alley directly adjacent to the building, Ezra, with a gleam of mischief in his eye, began to head over.
Kanan had never loved Vizago or his whole operation, it would be more appropriate to say he loathed the man. But credits were credits and they had ship which needed fuel and a crew that needed feeding. So taking on a job like this was a necessary evil. He didn't know exactly what he was delivering, but it was small and in a heavy duty box which lead him to think that it might be a highly valuable gem of some sort, but that didn't seem like Vizago's kind of thing. It was best not to overthink these kinds of things.
The man he met, a Dressellian, lead him into the building. It was dark, windows covered with metal slatted blinds and the first room acting as some sort of place for social gathering. It wasn't very social at the moment, a few molls lounging about, and sentient creatures that bowed low and stared with the furtive, damning eyes of criminals. The Dressellian, who had introduced himself as Has Sommol, walked to the back of the room where a door was.
"This way," Has Sommol said, opening the door and stepping through.
It was an empty room, a round table placed in the center with several metal chairs around it.
"You have what Vizago promised?" He asked.
Kanan gave a nod, pulling the small box from his belt. He hesitated before handing it over.
"What is it exactly?" He asked.
Yellow eyes pierced him, the wrinkled skin of Has Sommol's brow knitting itself.
"Curiosity killed the Loth-cat," he purred, "but if you must risk death for satisfaction, it is a seed."
"A seed?" Kanan replied, surprised and slightly disbelieving.
The Dressellian nodded, taking the box from Kanan and opening it. Inside was indeed a seed.
"Ruik root seed, one grows fond of such things and habits are like clinging spider webs."
Kanan was baffled, but he didn't say anything. Has Sommol sent him an amused look before passing him credit chips.
"Vizago has been paid already, I doubt you he will pay what this is worth."
Kanan speechlessly accepted the money before being guided out by the Dressellian.
Back on the street Kanan was struck by the luck of this particular job. He'd been delivering a seed, a seed used, as far as he was aware, for recreational use. Even if he'd been stopped by Imperial soldiers they wouldn't have batted an eye at it. On top of that, Has Sommol had given him a fair amount of credits, if Vizago kept up his end of this bargain, the Ghost would be coming out of this unscathed and with more credits than they usually earned.
He was happy it had gone so well until he realized that Ezra had not stayed put. With a huff of irritation, Kanan started to look around. Ezra didn't appear to be on the street. Kanan turned back to the building, thinking that if the incorrigible kid had gone anywhere it had been to the meet he'd been kept from. Seeing an alleyway to the side of the building, Kanan made a guess and headed over there.
When he got to the mouth of the alleyway he was shocked to see Ezra standing cornered, a broken piece of glass in his hand. There were three men surrounding Ezra, none of them armed but none of them looking too friendly. Kanan watched as Ezra slashed out in warning as one man stepped close. It revealed blood streaming down Ezra's face. But the most difficult thing of all to see was the absolute animalistic ferocity with which Ezra's face was contorted, he looked like a wild beast and not the brave kind hearted boy Kanan had come to know. The metamorphosis was frightening.
Ezra had gone into the alleyway, eyes peeled for some sort of opportunity which would lead him to being in on this meet. He was dismayed to see that all there was to find was a blank stucco wall. Sighing in defeat Ezra turned to leave, he was stopped though by three figures bearing down on him.
"We saw you with your daddy, little boy," one of the men, a Rodian, said.
Ezra had opened his mouth to try to sweet talk his way out of the situation, but when he took in the three men he realized quickly that they weren't going to be listening.
"We know you have credits," another said, a bedraggled man with unkempt facial hair.
They weren't even asking him to hand it over nicely. Ezra had enough scars to know that these men meant to hurt him. Desperately his mind tried to think of what to do, what Kanan or Hera or Sabine would do.
The men took a few steps closer and Ezra tried to make a run for it. Usually so lithe and agile, Ezra was caught by the Rodian and slammed harshly to the ground, the other man swung a foot back and kicked him in the head. The world spun, he could feel his flesh break and blood begin pouring out. They got in a couple more hits, busting his rib cage and undoubtedly bruising his stomach. Ezra's brain short-circuited and he wasn't on the Ghost anymore, wasn't Kanan's padawan or Specter Six, he was Ezra Bridger street-rat, and he was going to do anything to survive this.
Rolling away, Ezra's eyes flashed about for a weapon, he caught sight of a long sharp piece of glass that used to comprise part of a bottle. Snatching it up he ignored the way it dug into his skin. Crouched low, he held it in front of him, lip pulled back in a growling sneer.
One of the men stepped closer and Ezra lashed out, cutting the man across his chest. The man fell back with a cry of pain.
"I'll gut whoever comes closer," he hissed.
The three men eyed him warily, for once they looked afraid.
It was at that moment that Kanan appeared in the alleyway.
Kanan only hesitated a moment at the scene before pulling out his blaster.
"Get away from him!" He shouted.
The three men turned around and seeing that they were outnumbered when it came to weapons, fled. Kanan let them go, more concerned about his padawan. Ezra's eyes were glazed, pupils dilated and his entire body still tense. Kanan saw the glass clutched in Ezra's hand, blood leaking around where he was holding it.
"Ezra," he said softly, hesitantly approaching the boy.
Ezra's eyes snapped to him, no longer staring at where the men had disappeared.
"Are you okay?" Kanan asked gently.
Ezra sort of nodded, standing up from his crouch and still looking flighty and full of tension. Kanan stepped forward, carefully putting his blaster away before reaching a hand out to Ezra. He placed his hand on Ezra's shoulder and the boy flinched, but didn't do anything else.
"Hey Kanan," Ezra said, starting to come out of it, "fancy meeting you here."
The levity was ill placed and Kanan said nothing in return.
"What happened?" Kanan asked.
"Nothing," Ezra replied easily, shaking his head as if nothing was wrong with the world, "nothing I couldn't handle."
Kanan gave a slow nod that seemed to communicate that he didn't quite trust Ezra's state of mind. With a gentle hand, Kanan grabbed Ezra's hand. Ezra tightened his grip and his eyes flashed with venom. Kanan didn't recoil.
"You should probably let go of that now," Kanan said slowly and calmly.
Ezra stared down at his hand which Kanan was holding. The piece of glass was still firmly in his grip and had cut through his glove. Ezra slowly let it go, dropping the blood stained item to the ground. Kanan patted him on the shoulder.
"Let's go back," he said solemnly.
Ezra just nodded, accepting for the first time that all was not right. He ducked his head and averted his eyes as Kanan's gaze lingered on him. They then started the walk home.
When they got back to the Ghost, Kanan brushed Hera to the side and dismissed Zeb's and Sabine's questioning looks. Instead he lead Ezra to the medbay. When they got there, Ezra stiffened, becoming defensive.
"I don't need to be fixed up, I've had a lot worse," he protested.
It all felt weird, Kanan was being so quiet, Ezra was almost afraid he was going to be punished or kicked off the ship or something. It didn't help when Kanan let out a sigh.
He wasn't expecting Kanan's response.
"Humor me, kid."
Ezra gave a nod and hopped onto the table. Kanan gently cleaned his hand and wrapped it, before moving onto his head. When they were done Kanan looked at Ezra expectantly.
"Anywhere else?"
Ezra shook his head before hesitating and then reluctantly changing his answer.
"The got in a few good kicks," he explained.
"May I see them?" Kanan asked.
Ezra, still wary at his master's strangely quiet behavior, assented. He lifted his shirt and Kanan prodded at the bruising, checking for broken ribs and internal bleeding. When he was satisfied, he took a step back and regarded Ezra with an unreadable expression. It made Ezra uncomfortable, so he ducked his head and stared to the side.
Finally Kanan spoke.
"You've got us now, kid," he set a hand on Ezra's shoulder before surprising the boy and pulling him into a hug.
It was short lived, but it shocked Ezra as much as it made his heart turnover. He hadn't been hugged by anyone in a long time.
"Remember that, alright," Kanan finished.
Ezra gave a dazed nod. Maybe, just maybe, that street rat back on Lothal would start to realize that it wasn't needed, that Ezra had a crew now.