Drunk on Petroleum
By PerilousPie
A/N: Warning of suicidal themes. No major character death.
Chapter 1: Heavy Light of Day
Ezra stared sightlessly out at the horizon of Atollon. Night was falling and the activities of the rebel base were slowly falling to a quiet rest from the business of the day. Things had still been functioning strangely after the loss of Ahsoka, but Commander Sato had managed to rally them from the loss and the work was continued. Grief and mourning were the motivations for their cause.
Ezra let his head bend to the side, the cocked angle making no difference as to what he could see. He could smell the dust, a light aroma of dirt that carried salt on it as evidence to the ancient sea which used to reside there. He could also feel the sun, and the creeping cold as sunset approached. He was near the edge of one of the great leafs of the mountainous coral that part of the base was built on. It felt nice to know that such a precarious drop was so close, the magnitude of his position something he could control, unlike so many other things.
Following the events on Malachor, his betrayal of Kanan, Ahsoka's death, his own subsequent and well deserved blindness, things had dropped to a slow monotony. Nothing could be done, such a lightsaber wound untreatable, and after recovering to full health (or as much full health as he would have) Ezra had sunk into an ignored anonymity. No one had any use for a blind padawan, least of all time to spend with him as the rebellion pushed forward. Hera was run ragged with work and aside from a few minutes eating and a few hours sleeping, she had little time. Ezra hadn't seen her for several weeks. Sabine was just as busy, and when she was around, the time was awkwardly spent. He never saw Kanan, and at just the thought his chest got tight and he drew his arms closer around his knees.
Kanan had spoken to him a handful of times following Malachor, and it was only ever in the first week of his injury, a few quiet, emotionless words or questions lingering in his memory trying to push past the fog that surrounded that time. Ezra knew Kanan was mad, knew his master was deeply disappointed in him and he hated the nausea that stirred in his stomach at the thought. He'd kriffed up and there were many times he wished it had been him and not Ahsoka who had fallen under the Sith lord's blade.
He couldn't change any of that though. The worst was probably the Force with Kanan, Ezra could feel the shields and blockades his master had put up, and the one time Ezra had tried to meekly prod at them he'd been figuratively slapped away. So yeah, Ezra could read between the lines, take a hint, whatever you wanted to call it, and he'd backed off. It didn't mean it didn't hurt, but Ezra survived that by obdurately pushing it away from his mind, shoving at the emotions and trying to focus on the frustrating process of relearning how to live in a world he couldn't see.
"Whatcha doin' out here?"
Ezra jumped at the voice. He'd been so thoroughly inside his own head he hadn't heard the person approach.
"Hey Zeb," Ezra said quietly.
He heard the Lasat move closer and then seat himself next to Ezra. Strangely enough, Ezra knew Zeb by his smell, a musty, earthy smell which had a hint of spice that was foreign. He assumed, after snooping around a little and discovering that Zeb did not use any perfumes of cologne, that it was the natural scent of the Lasat. He remembered when he'd first joined the Ghost crew and it used to be weird and by his young mind, an unappealing smell, it was now reassuring.
In all of the recent difficulties, Zeb seemed to have been the best about it. He wasn't awkward like Sabine, or constantly absent like Hera and Kanan (though Kanan's was by choice and Hera's by circumstance).
In fact, Zeb was a surprisingly strong and stable support, still hassling Ezra so he didn't feel changed and offering to train him in fighting, apparently sightless fighting was a special form of combat in Lasat culture called hluhutsu. Zeb had taken to working with Ezra nearly daily on movement and hluhutsu. It was the one thing that made Ezra feel like he wasn't rotting away, but he still felt guilty, knowing that Zeb was using his time helping Ezra rather than helping the rebellion.
"You know, I'm not exactly sure what you get out of this, watching the sunset and all," Zeb said, jesting.
That was the other thing, Zeb had no qualms teasing Ezra about his blindness, of making jokes or using it as another tool to mess with him, he did so with tact, but it was a relief, especially as everyone else tiptoed around the issue.
"I mean, got to be a screw loose in there, watching nothing. Unless you were trying to go for the wise person staring off into the distance, in which case kid, you aren't exactly wise."
"Shut up," Ezra said, a grin on his face as he smacked Zeb in the arm.
The Lasat shoved him back, but it was gentle and didn't upset his position. That was one thing that had changed, Zeb was gentle and much more careful with his physical interactions with Ezra. This fact only bothered Ezra a little, in a deluge of difficulties, it was one of the smaller ones.
"In face, you gotta be one of the dumbest people on base," Zeb said with a guffaw.
"Funny you should say that, because you're a close second," Ezra shot back.
Zeb let out a chuckle and Ezra imagined the Lasat was shaking his head. They fell into a comfortable silence. Ezra scooted a little closer so his shoulder was just brushing Zeb's. The Lasat said nothing about the close contact, something Ezra appreciated. Sometimes it was grounding to be able to physically know Zeb was there, that anyone was there.
Being blind had been surprisingly lonely, after his health stabilized people awkwardly avoided him and he'd stayed in his room, afraid and uncomfortable. Long hours in a world forever dark that was both silent and empty had not exactly been conducive to his already fragile mental health. Ezra hated to admit it, but sometimes he felt like he was going crazy.
A warm hand landed on his shoulder.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Ezra didn't want to eat, he knew he was hungry, could feel it, but his mind didn't want to. He knew Zeb was being kind, maybe even having noticed that Ezra ate less now, but Ezra doubted that. Zeb was kind, and observant, but he was still pretty busy and spent sometimes days or even over a week off base on missions. During that time Ezra stayed and wallowed.
"Yeah, sounds good," Ezra said, forcing an extra cheerfulness into his voice.
He liked sounding like himself for Zeb, if just to assuage any worries he might be rousing. An awkward moment passed as Ezra got to his feet, one where he could hear Zeb shift and could accurately assume that the Lasat had moved to help him before stepping back.
Zeb cleared his throat to avoid the uncomfortable moment that passed.
"Uh, heard they got some real food from off planet, dinner'll probably be good."
Ezra gave a nod and the two headed towards the mess hall.
"Kanan," Hera sounded surprised, a pleased, if tired, smile adorning her face.
"Hey Hera," Kanan replied, glad he'd finally found the Twi'lek.
"I haven't seen you, well," Hera folded her arms, "it's been a while."
Hera's face softened sadly.
"I've missed you, love," she said quietly
It had been a while, since the loss of Ahsoka Hera had been working double time helping Commander Sato with making up for the devastating loss. Kanan had been, well, he'd been throwing himself into whatever mission he could.
"I've missed you too," Kanan replied.
Hera looked exhausted and Kanan knew he didn't look much better.
"How's Ezra?"
Kanan jerked at the question, paling slightly. Hera responding look was confused and then worried. She probably had no idea he'd been so busy, or that he hadn't seen Ezra in what would now be months. She was so busy she most likely didn't have time to visit the boy and was assuming that Kanan did.
"I don't know," Kanan said, voice low.
Hera's frown of worry creased further and Kanan hated to see how it aged her face when paired with the exhaustion.
"What do you mean?" She asked, eyes probing Kanan, sharp and gentle at the same time.
"I've been busy," he deflected, "we all have."
Hera backed off a little, and Kanan was glad that spreading the blame helped pull Hera away from questioning him further.
"I know, I haven't seen him, not for a few weeks now, things have just been so busy and-" Hera waved her hand, looking unhappy about it.
"Yeah," Kanan agreed.
"But, I would think you'd be helping him adjust, wouldn't the Force be the best medicine at this point?"
Kanan cringed at Hera's question and felt a sweep of guilt. She was very right, Ezra's best bet for relearning mobility would be through the Foce, and the process would be much easier if Ezra had another Force user helping him. Not Kanan though.
When Kanan didn't answer Hera fixed him with another considering look and Kanan just knew the woman was starting to see the whole picture a little better. Lucky for him, Commander Sato approached.
"Captain Syndulla, if I could have your company in the command room."
"Of course, Commander Sato, I'll be there in a few moments," she said before turning to Kanan.
Kanan could tell from her look that everything was far from over. The lines in her face were pulled tight and her eyes circled with lack of sleep. Kanan knew, with much guilt, that she would be too exhausted to do anything.
"We should talk later," she said, brushing a hand against his forearm before walking away.
Dinner was nice enough, and Zeb, who promised to teach him after, ended up being asked to help fix something and Ezra, who had been looking forward to some company, was left alone. He was now confident enough to get from the mess hall to his room, and soon he was on his bunk feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over him.
He couldn't see the room, but he remembered what it looked like, four steel walls with a plain metal framed platform bed. There was a closet and a small amount of storage under the bed which contained his lightsaber and a small loth-cat doll the Ghost crew had given him as a gag gift. It was a bleak room and somehow, being blind, it was all the worse as his imagination filled it with shadows; every bland feature was exaggerated, every sterile, unfeeling component magnified.
His room had become a prison as much as it was a sanctuary, sequestered away from people and empty save for Ezra. It brought back the horrible and terribly lonely memories of his childhood. Ezra curled up on his side and sighed. His mind wandered to Malachor and he re-lived his mistakes: trusting Darth Maul and in the course betraying Kanan (no matter how unintentional it had been), thinking he was strong enough, putting everyone in danger, killing Ahsoka. Ezra clenched his eyes shut and tried to breathe past the weight on his chest and the utter shame that flooded him.
He remembered doubling back, doubt at Maul's genuity making him do so, and he recalled watching Maul turn on his master and friend. He'd entered the fray, trying for a sneak attack which had gone horribly wrong. After that he only recalled pain and then darkness, a literal and figurative darkness, neither which had lifted since then. He knew Kanan blamed him for Ahsoka, for trusting Maul, and despite knowing he had no right to pity himself or to want his master's company, he couldn't help it.
Ezra clenched his teeth, grinding them against each other. Tonight was like many others, a round robin in his head of his failures and the consequences. He was alone again, a failure to his master and a useless tool to the rest of the Ghost crew. They were all just too nice to say it.
Morning came and Ezra wandered to the mess hall. He hadn't slept well, and he'd woken with the heavy weight still on his chest. Zeb was waiting for him, like he usually was, and Ezra was able to muster a smile, one that had a hint of sincerity. Zeb began prattling, his tone carrying up and down as he complained about what he'd fixed yesterday. Ezra was able to be lost in his voice.
"Y'know, Sabine's gonna be here, she got back from that intel mission and she might be sticking around, maybe you two can spar a little?"
Ezra shrugged, wilting at the thought. He didn't want Sabine to see him like this, or spend time with her. At least before he'd been on the same physical level as her, even if he was uneducated. Now he had nothing for Sabine to relate to him with.
"Fun, right?" Zeb sounded worried.
Ezra plastered a smile on and gave an enthusiastic nod.
"Yeah, loads," Ezra knew it wasn't particularly convincing.
Zeb was quiet a few moments and Ezra could hear the nearly inaudible and weary sigh from the Lasat. Ezra curled away from it, he was even getting to Zeb. A sort of panic seized him, without his sight he was useless, and though the rebels would humour him for now, Ezra had no idea how long they'd put up with a broken padawan. Hera had already set him to the side (and with her Chopper), Kanan hadn't even said a farewell, and the rest of the Ghost crew were slowly drifting away. Ezra was cast aside, impotency rendering him terrified at his prospects.
"Hey, I'm gonna be gone for a few days, they need me on a mission, it shouldn't be long, I'm leaving in a few hours, but we've got to prep right now," Zeb said reluctantly.
"That's fine," Ezra snapped, he wasn't a baby, he didn't need someone with him all the time.
Zeb patted him on the back and headed off. Ezra ducked his head, feeling lost. No matter how much he wanted to say he was fine on his own, he wasn't. The thought of being without any form of company and alone with his thoughts 24/7 scared him.