A/N: Hi everyone. As it said in the summary, this is a short little side story that goes with my story "Convergence." You probably want to read that one first, or read this first, then go read that one. Rated T-there are descriptions of wounds, and discussion of an abused and maltreated child; the aftermath is described, not the abuse. Just wanted to warn those who don't want to read that sort of thing. This is for "ItsJustABook"-Thanks for the inspiration!

1.

Zeb's teeth hurt from clenching them as he watched Hera gently clean the deep parallel and criss-crossing slices on the small boy's back. The dark-haired child lay limp, his face almost as pale as the pillow next to it. Someone had decided to carve the child up like a bantha roast, Zeb thought angrily. The boy's raw flesh still oozed blood as Hera cleaned the wounds, then applied bacta.

"What kind of monster would do this to a child?" Zeb growled low in his chest.

They'd found him while on one of Fulcrum's missions; their objective was to steal some power generators from the Imperial base on Lothal, and they'd come across the kid being dragged along the floor on his injured back. Zeb could still see the trail of blood along the floor and he felt nauseous.

He'd killed the stormtrooper dragging the kid. Together, he and Hera had bundled the boy up and brought him back to the Ghost, the power generators forgotten. Whoever the boy was, Zeb thought, he must have been important. They'd been chased by five TIEs and just barely got away with their lives.

"I don't know, Zeb," she replied to his question. She raised her forearm to swipe it over her teary eyes, barely able to see. Her gloved hands went back to work on the wounds; she would have to get them cleaned quickly while the child was still unconscious. "He's lost a lot of blood…we should be prepared if…if he…doesn't…" Her voice hitched.

"Don't." Zeb shook his head. "Don't say it."

She nodded, cleaning the last few areas of the child's back, and applying more bacta. She'd given him as much painkiller as she dared for his weight and age, and it had been enough to keep him unconscious while she treated him. He was achingly thin, the bones of his face sticking out sharply. There were dark circles under his eyes, and bruises on the parts of his body that weren't bloody. She moved her attention to the deep spiral cut around the boy's arm. It was a strange wound, and it ended with a bloody red line across his palm. "What would make a wound like this?" she asked as she dabbed the spiral slash with bacta, then began to wrap it.

"A whip maybe." Zeb murmured, rubbing his face with a big paw.

Hera reached out and placed a hand on Zeb's shoulder. The fur around his eyes was damp. She worried about the Lasat, who had a giant heart. This was upsetting him more than he could bear. After what the Empire did on Lasan, the treatment of this kid was not surprising, but it didn't make it any less barbaric.

She moved back to the boy. She had trouble finding a vein to start an IV of fluids; eventually she inserted the needle in his hand, then taped it down. "He's dehydrated." She murmured. "The bacta will help with the pain, if he wakes up. One of us should stay with him."

"I'm not leaving him." Zeb said, sitting beside the bed and reaching out to smooth the boy's dirty, unwashed hair. Tears had made tracks in the blood and dirt that streaked his face—the tracks were the only clean part of him, it seemed.

Hera glanced at Zeb, then placed her hand on his shoulder. Underneath his grouchy exterior was a heart the size of a planet. "I need to check the helm, then I'll come back and give you a break."

Ezra awoke later that night, woozy and confused from the medication. He saw only white in front of his eyes, and that increased the sense of bewilderment. He was laying on his stomach and he lifted his head in fear. He was in some sort of bed, and there was a machine near him emitting soft beeps. It reminded him of the Pau'an's torture droid and he scrambled to sit up, becoming tangled in the sheets. After a moment of silent, desperate struggle, he began emitting soft moans of sheer terror, tugging at the twisted fabric.

Zeb, who had fallen asleep at the bedside, opened his eyes and saw the child struggling. Fresh streams of blood were staining the sheets as the dark-haired boy fought to sit up, while also backing away from the machine administering the intravenous fluids. "No, kit. Don't do that." He got to his feet and reached out to still the boy's movements, and the child let out a cry of terror and shrank away from him.

"It's okay. I promise. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Zeb felt the boy trembling under his touch, so he let him go. "I'm here to help, kit."

The boy watched him warily with dark blue eyes, still shaking with pain and fear. His panicking, grasping hand found the IV and pulled it out, but he never took his wild gaze off of Zeb.

Zeb pressed his comm. "Hera. I need you down here."

Her reply was almost immediate. "Affirmative."

The child looked around in fear as he heard the tink tink of Hera's footfalls on the ladder. She came in, and the boy's eyes flicked to her in terror. By now he'd worked himself into hysterics, but the only sign of it was his gasping breath and silent tears.

"Okay. I know you're scared." Hera began, knowing that she might be a little less imposing than Zeb. "I know you don't know what's going on, but we are here to help you." She held out both empty hands, but she didn't miss how the boy's eyes went to her blaster. "Okay. Wait." She murmured taking off her belt and throwing it outside the door. "See? Not going to hurt you, love."

Ezra was biting his bottom lip so hard it began to bleed and drip just like the tears that spilled down his face. He knew that she was going to punish him for crying. Hera slowly walked to the cabinet in the room, loaded up a dose of painkiller and then came back. "This is medicine, okay? It might sting, but it will make you feel better."

Zeb watched, broken-hearted, as the child's body stiffened at Hera's approach. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and remained motionless, expecting the worst. It was clear that he fully expected her to hurt him in some way. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She whispered as she pressed the spray-hypo to his arm. The boy whimpered and put his hand over the mark on his skin that it left, looking at her as if confounded as the painkiller began to soothe his pain.

The strain melted from his body, and he fell against the pillows, landing on his back and moaning softly.

"Help me, Zeb." Hera said, as she gently turned the boy over so that he was lying on his stomach again. "Did he speak at all?"

Zeb shook his head. "Nah. He began to moan and struggle, then ripped his IV out, and I called you immediately."

The boy's eyes were growing heavier as he looked up at her wonderingly.

"What's your name, love?" She asked, smoothing back his hair.

He shrank a little from her touch but said nothing. His eyes began to drift closed against his will.

"We're not going to hurt you." Hera said softly. She glanced up at Zeb. "Do you think he speaks Basic?"

"There's no telling." Zeb whispered. "You need to stay with him, though. I think he reacts better to you, maybe because you're smaller and less threatening."

She nodded, returning her eyes to the child's sleeping face. "We're going to help you, sweetheart."

The utter fear the child showed seemed to wane only a little over the next week. He never spoke but seemed to listen and understand what she and Zeb said to each other. Most of the time he kept his head down and eyes averted.

Hera brought the child up from the medical bay on the fourth day, as soon as he was strong enough to climb a ladder. They were hiding out near Garel, and she and Zeb had been taking shifts at the boy's bedside until he was strong enough to make it upstairs.

"I think you'll be a lot more comfortable up here." Hera said as she waited for the boy to follow her. He stood beside the ladder, as if unsure what was expected of him.

"Follow me, love," she said, motioning with her hand, and then taking a few steps toward the crew quarters.

He followed uncertainly, watching her warily as she went to a door. "This is your room," she said, palming it open.

He edged closer, looking in with an expression of confusion.

"It's not much, but it's clean and there's warm blankets and you'll be safe here. You can stay with us as long as you want to."

He walked up, looking at the door, then glancing to Hera as if asking for permission. She nodded wordlessly. He palmed it closed, then palmed it open. He looked in and saw that there were controls for the opening of the door on the inside of the room too. He looked at her, obviously confused. This wasn't a cell.

She was trying to follow the silent flow of thoughts and emotions on his features, but she was at a loss. "I wish we knew your name. You can talk, right?" She'd scanned him with the medscanner, almost afraid that his body had been damaged in some way so that he couldn't talk, an operation that some slaveowners had performed on their slaves, but no. Physically, he could talk; there was just some reason he was choosing not to.

He looked down and away, standing completely still. When she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched as if she'd struck him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "What happened to you before, with the Imperials, is not going to happen here."

His eyes darted up to hers—a gleam of hope flared briefly, then died.

"Look at me, love," she said softly. He obediently lifted his eyes to her, a crease of worry appearing on his forehead before his face became composed and expressionless again. It was eerie, the way he appeared to blank out his emotions. "Give me your hands."

Her words were creating some sort of strange magic between them, Hera thought. She held both hands out for his and he reached out as she'd requested. "I will die before I let someone hurt you again. Do you hear me?" She tightened her hand on his uninjured one, but held the other one gently. "Zeb and I will die before we allow someone to hurt you. You don't have to believe me yet, but nod if you understand me."

Slowly, he nodded. "Good." She had to fight a desire to grab him and hold on and never let him go. She was certain he would misunderstand. Until she could get him talking, she would have to be very careful not to do anything that would frighten him and make trust impossible. "Now I want you to come with me. I know you're hungry for something besides protein shakes." She hadn't been able to get him to eat anything while he was in the Ghost's small medbay except the shakes. It was going to take more than just protein shakes to get his weight back up, however.

He followed her without a word, but he remained closer to her than before. She said nothing, but her heart began to soar.

Two nights later, a loud scream of terror woke Hera and Zeb at the same time. They were in a spaceport on Ylix, waiting for a shipment that was supposed to arrive the next day.

Hera stumbled into the hallway, clumsy with sleep, and saw that Zeb had entered first.

The Lasat entered without pausing, going directly to the bed where the child was huddled. The boy's blue eyes had rolled up into the back of his head, showing that he was trapped in some sort of alternate, nightmare reality. At a loss to stop the shrieking, Zeb wrapped his arms around the child carefully, holding him as one might hold a fragile piece of crystal. He could feel the heat from the kid's wounds against his arms as he held him.

"Wake up... It's a bad dream. A bad dream." Zeb rocked him as his shrieks slowed. They stopped, but the child's tears continued silently against his shoulder. His body stayed frozen as Zeb continued to rock him like a kit.

Hera ducked to try and get a read on the kid's eyes.

"Sweetheart. What did they do to you? Talk to us. We are here for you."

He made a negative noise, and shook his head furiously, curling in upon himself so tightly that Zeb was forced to let him go. He rolled over onto the bed, his body a twisted, shivering knot.

They tucked a blanket around him and stayed with him until his tears slowed. He fell back asleep.

Hera was cleaning the boy's wounds the next morning, in the common area. The silent child was sitting in a chair, leaning forward, and she was dabbing at the wounds that hadn't scabbed over yet. Touching the raw angry flesh had to be incredibly painful, but the boy let out no sound, except little hisses of breath. He was unnaturally stoic. She was almost done with her task when something incredible happened.

"Okay, we're done, love," she murmured. Zeb was reassembling a broken comm on the table near them but had paused. He looked up at the hiss of pain as Hera helped the child pull his soft white t-shirt back on. She'd gotten the child some clothes at their last port, but the soft shirt was all he could stand against his wounded back at the moment. She remembered the look on his face when she'd laid them out on his bed. He'd blinked at her as if not comprehending what they were. She'd told him that the clothes were just to get him through until he could tell her what he'd like. He'd picked up the soft white shirt and hugged it to his body, squeezing his eyes shut.

She hadn't known what to do, so she simply sat there, fighting back tears until he finally let the shirt go and she helped him put it on.

Now he was looking down, running his fingers along the hem of his shirt over and over. "Ez…Ezra." He cringed at the sound of his own voice. It was rough with disuse, and it was so soft Hera wasn't sure she even heard it at first.

She and Zeb locked eyes over his head. "That's your name…Ezra?"

The boy nodded and avoiding meeting their gaze.

Her voice trembled with emotion. "I'm glad to meet you, Ezra. Thank you…for trusting us." Hera placed a gentle hand on his uninjured arm. He took a chance and glanced at her out of his peripheral vision, just turning his head enough for her to see the profile of his face.

"W…why?"

"What do you mean?" She tilted her head to the side, and then pulled her chair to sit in front of him.

"Ididn'tmeanto…sorry." He looked down, cringing. He made himself smaller, and tucked his head to his chest, obviously expecting a physical reprimand. She was at a loss, and glanced to Zeb for any help. The Lasat was clueless as well.

"Please…" she begged, gently. "Ask. I'll answer any question, just talk to me. Please."

He didn't lift his head, but mumbled from his chest. "Wh…why helpme?" The words were halting at first, then they ran all together as he struggled to get out what he wanted to say.

"Because that's what we do," Hera assured him. "We hate the Empire and what they do to people."

He lifted his head and stared at her, open-mouthed, like she'd spoken in another language before his eyes darted away. She tried a different tactic.

"Where did they take you from, love?"

"L..Lothal."

Zeb leaned forward. "Kid, we probably need to get you back to your parents. They must be worried."

Ezra shook his head. "No."

"No, you don't want to go back to them or…"

"Dead." Ezra whispered, folding his arms over his chest protectively. "Killed by the Empire."

Hera thought her heart was going to break in to more pieces. "I'm so sorry," she said. Her eyes scanned his face. The kid grew self-conscious again, and he began to study the hem of his shirt, running his finger over the stitching almost frantically.

"Do you want to stay with us?" Hera asked. "Or do you have family somewhere…"

"T…this…this is...real?" Ezra darted a glance to her eyes, and then Zeb's.

Hera shared a confused look with Zeb. "Of course, Ezra."

"Wait…no. I…don'tunderstand." The way he ran his soft words together, in strange little bursts, tugged at her heart. She had to strain to hear him.

"I don't know what you mean."

He shook his head.

Hera glanced to the Zeb, then back to the kid. "Does that mean no, you wouldn't like to stay with us?"

Ezra brought both hands up to his hair and pulled, shaking his head.

"Kit…" Zeb began gently.

"I…don'tknowwhat I'm 'sposed to do..." He began to cry.

She was torn by what to do. The boy was growing more and more distressed, but for what reason, she didn't know. She wanted to hug him and never let him go, but instead, she reached for his hands and untangled them from his hair gently, but firmly.

"Sweetheart, stop. You don't have to do anything. No one is mad or upset. It's okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

He took a heavy breath and sagged with exhaustion. "I'msorry. I just want…todo…whatyouwant."

Zeb had come over to kneel by Ezra. "You're not a prisoner anymore. You can do anything you want. You don't have to please us, kit. Understand?"

Ezra nodded slowly, but seemed unconvinced.

"Take it easy a while. Stay with us and finish healing up. Then there will be plenty of time for decisions later. But for now, all you have to do is rest, heal up, eat, and feel safe."

Ezra nodded slowly, still looking confused. He let out a giant sigh, and looked around nervously. Anywhere but at their faces. It was clear he was at the end of what he could handle.

"Can…May I g..go?"

Hera nodded, trying hard not to seem frustrated or impatient in the least. "Of course, love."

She watched sadly as Ezra went back to his room and the door slid shut behind him. "Zeb? How do we help him? He's so…hurt." No, broken. That was the word she wanted to use. Broken.

"I know." Zeb murmured. "All we can do is be patient. It's obvious he doesn't know if he can trust us. We have to prove that to him."

Hera nodded, thinking furiously.

Ezra entered his room and stood there as the door slipped shut. He felt so afraid. And confused. If he could be alone, to think, maybe figure things out, he would be okay.

He crawled up on his bunk and placed his back against the cool metal of the bulkhead. It soothed the ache he felt on the whip wounds on his back.

It somehow gave him a feeling of safety to be in the bunk, enclosed. He could fold himself up in a corner and feel the coolness of the shadows and a sense that he was protected. In the detention center, he'd had to sleep on the cold metal floor grating, when he was allowed to sleep, only to be kicked awake by a trooper or the Pau'an. The lights were never dimmed, but glared accusingly at him twenty-four hours a day.

But the Pau'an was gone. For now. His mind turned to Hera and Zeb. At first, he'd kept quiet because he didn't understand the Twi'lek lady and her friend. It was hard to believe that this wasn't some sort of Inquistior's test. She'd promised that he was safe, but he was afraid to trust it. Maybe the two of them worked for the Inquisitor and this was some sort of test. There had been so many tests, with swift, painful penalties for failure. If these two were working for the Inquisitor, he was petrified of making a mistake.

A crueler voice spoke in Ezra's mind. Even if they were as kind and caring as they seemed, they would eventually hate him. The Inquisitor had told him how his power would make others fear and despise him. If they found out about his Force abilities, they would be afraid and either hate him, hurt him or leave him. If Hera and Zeb were for real, then they could never know about his powers.

And what if the Pau'an found him again? Then he would force Ezra to become his apprentice and learn the ways of the dark side. Ezra swallowed the lump in his throat and swiped at the tears streaking his face. He was afraid of that. More than anything else. He began to finger the hem of his shirt repetitively, and over time, his anxiety became bearable again. Focus, he told himself. Think

He was going to have to make a decision to trust Hera and Zeb…or not. And if he didn't trust them, what would be his future? Living back on the streets and hoping the Pau'an didn't find him? How long could that last? With what the evil creature could do, he'd never be safe by himself on Lothal again.

Again, he thought, with a kind of fragile hope that the two spacers hadn't hurt him when he spoke to them. They had dressed his wounds and fed him. They had given him clean clothes. He couldn't help but make the connection between Hera and his mother. They both had the same kind look in their eyes.

He shifted because his back had begun to ache again, so he laid on his side in the bed. He was trying to understand but felt like his mind was spinning in circles.

He had fallen asleep and was still in the same position when there was a soft knock at the door.

Again, the terror the Pau'an had trained him to feel flared into life. It was like a vice grip was on his throat and he couldn't talk. Talking got you beaten. Complaining got you beaten and so did crying. So he did none of these, hoping the person would just go away.

"Ezra? May I come in?" It was Hera.

He struggled to talk again. It had taken a while to work up the courage to speak, but now it seemed like his courage had all faded away. "O-okay." He managed in a soft voice.

She keyed the door and entered slowly. She saw him sitting up on the bunk, his deep blue eyes watching her. There was an unnatural alertness in his posture and bearing. Like a trapped animal, Hera thought. "I brought you something to eat," she said easily, as if it was no big deal. "You slept through lunch."

He nodded hesitantly as she came in and placed an insulated cup of last night's soup in his hands.

"Th..thank you." He held it in his hands as if uncertain what to do with it. Slowly, his hand found the spoon and he began to eat.

"Ezra…" She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "I realized something when you left the room this morning."

"Wh-what?" He blinked at her, feeling a terror begin to rise. What had he done? Had he kriffed something up? He felt his breath catch in his throat.

"We haven't told you anything about ourselves. We've just spent our time prying and prying into your past and pressing you to trust us when you know very little about Zeb and me."

"Oh…" He felt relieved, but kept his head perfectly still, not wanting to anger her by agreeing or disagreeing. He didn't feel very hungry anymore, so he simply held the soup in both hands, while his anxious eyes darted to meet her own.

"I was born on Ryloth. The Empire took over my home planet. My mother died during the war, my father is still fighting the Empire at home. I'm fighting them here, doing what I can."

"B-by s-savingpeople?"

"Yeah. And…Zeb. You know he's a Lasat. He probably won't talk about it much, but he lost everyone when the Empire cleansed his planet, Lasan. Zeb's family and friends…everyone he knew was murdered by the Empire."

Ezra stared at her, unabashedly stunned. "Everyone?"

Hera nodded. "The entire planet. The Empire rules through tyranny and oppression, Ezra. The atrocities they commit…someone has to stand up to them. That's why we fight. And why we saved you."

Ezra bit his bottom lip, then spoke in a whisper. "My…myparents. They tried to fight. They made broadcasts from our house. Broadcasts against the Empire." His eyes found hers again.

Hera's face softened. He was starting to open up. "Then they are people I would have liked to know."

"They were brave." Ezra whispered, looking down at the soup.

"Do you have any of your family left?" Hera asked. "People who would want to take you in?"

Ezra shook his head.

"Well, I know we said this before, but we would be glad if you decided to stay here…be a part of the crew. Or, more if you like."

"More? I…I don't understand."

"Zeb and I are like a family." Hera said softly. "He and I have spent a lot of time watching each other's backs. There's plenty of room for you too, if you want. But think about it for a while. You don't have to decide anything until you're ready."

The tears snuck up on him, and before he knew it, his eyes were full and they were spilling down his cheeks. In all his years on the street, no one had given him anything. No one had cared that he was hungry or didn't have a roof over his head or a blanket to call his own. And in the Inquisitor's custody, things had been worse than that. For Hera to just offer…such a thing to him so freely…it overwhelmed him completely.

Hera saw the falling tears, and she reached over and took the soup from him, setting it on the floor. Then she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to hold him, and soothe this pain. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you…"

When he let out a moaning cry, she was done holding back her natural instincts. She sat on the bed and held out her arms. He slowly leaned into her touch, frightened and afraid at first, but then he melted into her touch like butter. "You can cry. Go ahead. I'm here." She murmured into the top of his head, placing her cheek there.

The tears of a whole lifetime welled up in him and he tried to talk, but there was no way his words could break through the ragged sobbing. She never let him go, however, and as time went on, he burrowed into her embrace as if it could wipe away everything bad he'd experienced.

She smoothed his thick, unruly hair. "You're not alone. I want you to know that, love." He nodded and clung to her, adrift in a sea of emotions. "You're not alone anymore."

There will be more to this in the future.

Comments appreciated!