Ezra swore as his stupid leg stopped moving. Ducking behind a few crates, he frantically searched for Kanan, hoping that they wouldn't leave him behind. Stupid thought. They hardly leave him alone anymore, which was why the stupid leg had probably failed in this awful moment.
"Come on, Ezra, we have to move," Kanan shouted. The Storm Troopers were closing in fast. If they didn't move, they would all be dead.
Ezra swore again, pulling out a screwdriver and pounding the leg with it, hoping to jolt it back to action. He had to move. Now. Maybe once he started moving again it would move. Standing on one leg, he tried to stand on the other one, before collapsing to the ground.
"What are you doing Ezra? We have to move," Kanan said, sprinting over to where Ezra lied on the ground. "Can you run?"
"Apparently not. Stupid leg," Ezra muttered, "never works when it has to."
Kanan wordlessly picked up his Padawan, carrying him back to the Phantom where Sabine was already in the air, waiting for them. Safe in the air, Kanan now could discover as to why Ezra couldn't walk.
Ezra was already working on his leg, methodically taking off his shin armor and rolling up the pant leg of his orange jumpsuit. Karan couldn't see anything wrong with the leg, until Ezra peeled away the false skin, expertly avoiding the sparking wires.
"Your leg is sparking," Kanan said, mouth fumbling to form the correct words. How long had he had this? Why didn't Ezra tell him? Why hadn't they found him sooner? Sabine jerked the Phantom, away from enemy fire, calmly talking to Hera about the situation over the comms.
"I know, Kanan," Ezra said, messing around with the components of his leg, hoping to jolt something to get it functional enough so that he could make some real repairs on it. He swayed to Sabine's evasion maneuvers while simultaneously working on his prosthetic leg. Kanan forced himself to focus on helping Sabine get them out safely. It wouldn't matter if Ezra was missing a leg if they all died.
"I'm in the pocket," Sabine said, parking the Phantom into the Ghost.
"Hello Hyperspace," Hera said over the comms. The space turned a streaking blue before Sabine or Kanan moved. Ezra was still diligently working on his leg, making it mobile again. Kanan forced himself to walk away as Sabine came over to ask questions about the model. He had to stay calm, otherwise he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Meditating was probably the best right now. Certain events. The murder of a child would not go well with Hera in the least. How much has this kid lived through?
Who knows how much later, Ezra tapped Kanan's shoulder. "Kanan, Hera wants you," he said, limping back to his room. The leg was working enough that Ezra could move. Kanan took a deep breath, and moved to find Hera.
Ezra, in the meantime, was attempting to avoid Chopper as he made his way into his room. There, he had stashed the right tools to do a better job of fixing the stupid leg. It wasn't until he was in his room before he realized that getting to those specific tools would be almost impossible. The knee wouldn't bend far enough to jump of to the top bunk, nor could he just climb the ladder. He considered taking off the leg, but he hadn't climbed without it in years. He wasn't sure if it was possible anymore.
Chopper rolled into the room, intent on some form of destruction. Until he saw his favorite organic staring at his bed. Why wasn't the small organic moving? Was he frozen, the wires connecting to his brain finally turned off to charge? The small meatbag turned to the astromech, burbling about wanting his tools from the secret room he created in the ceiling. Chopper whirred in anger. Why couldn't the meatbag get it himself? He had a body that maneuvered better on different Z planes that he did.
Ezra turned to Chopper painfully. "I would go get it myself, but this stupid leg won't bend right." He collapsed to the floor, once again rolling up the leg on his ratty orange jumpsuit, showing Chopper the unruly leg. It had stopped sparking, but the synthetic skin had been completely burned away, revealing rusty screw plates and assorted pieces he took from the street, completing the picture of a junk leg. "Can you fix it enough that Zeb or Hera won't notice?"
Chopper pulled out his electro-prod, and prodded the boy in the leg. Electricity spread from the prosthetic toward the rest of him, shocking the boy painfully. "You need a new leg. It's not supposed to do that," Chopper said, poking a now sparking leg with one of his arms.
"I know that it shouldn't do that, but do you see any new legs just lying around?" Ezra said, glaring at the astromech before him. "Can you make it end enough so that I can get my tools to make better adjustments?" Ezra listened to Chopper's angry whirring and beeping patiently. "I can understand that. How about I give you an upgrade after you fix this heap of junk a little?" He listened to Chopper's reply with a grimace. He didn't relax until Chopper had ripped some wiring from his knee, releasing the mechanism so that he could bend it more. Ezra patted the astromech's head. I'll work on that upgrade as soon as I get those tools."
Ezra climbed up into his bed, efficiently grabbing his tattered toolbox before descending back to Chopper to work on the electro-prod so that it could fire the electricity bolts over a farther distance. Ezra wasn't sure if it was a good idea to give Chopper that much power, but the astromech had promised him much needed parts for his leg as part of the deal.
It wasn't until late into the night that Chopper and Ezra were done with those repairs. Ezra hadn't realized how suspicious it was that Zeb hadn't entered their room to get some much needed rest. If he had, maybe then he wouldn't have been so eager to grab a snack from the rations. If he had realized, then maybe he would have done a better job of covering up the prosthetic instead of leaving it out in the open for a certain family to see. An angry and distressed Hera is a Hera that one never wants to encounter.
The woman herself was standing in the kitchen area with her arms crossed, with Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb sitting by the holochess table, quieter than the whispering grasses on Lothal. "You were going to tell us, when?" Hera asked, green eyes blazing with motherly anger.
Ezra tried to slink into the shadows, only to be pulled forward by a slender gloved hand with greater force than necessary. He wanted to fight away, but knew that it would make it worse for him, so he let Hera drag him to the holochess table to be interrogated by the Ghost crew. The leg hummed softly as Ezra sat down on a nearby crate, waiting for the questions to fall out of their mouths.
Hera was first, like he knew that she would. "How long have you had it?"
Ezra risked a glance at his Master, hoping for a way out. However, seeing the look in Kanan's eyes deterred him from hoping for an escape. He took a deep breath, still deciding on whether telling the truth would get him out faster than lies. "Three years."
"How did it happen?" Hera asked quietly, folding her hands in her lap. She seemed unsure of what she wanted to hear from him.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I had to sell it in order to survive." It wasn't exactly the truth, but close enough to what actually happened to placate Hera. If she knew what really happened to it- He stopped, staring at Hera's horrified expression in confusion. Didn't they know that selling body parts was normal in the outer rim?
Ezra turned to Zeb, who couldn't seem to control the rage bubbling underneath his fur. "Give me the name of the buyer. I'll kill 'im." Zeb turned to Sabine, cracking his knuckles.
Ezra's attention darted through everyone's reactions. Everyone seemed furious, but for the life of him, Ezra couldn't understand why they were so angry. Even Kanan was struggling not to let the rage flowing through him control his actions. Ezra could feel it, and he wasn't sure how to react. It was jut a leg. He knew people that had given up more for less.
The silence overpowered the beating of five hearts in that room, and Ezra couldn't move a muscle. For what seemed like an eternity, Sabine asked Ezra a question of her own. "Can I paint it?"
A burst of nervous laughter erupted from Ezra's chest. "What?"
"Your leg," Sabine said, bending down to look at the creases and crevices. "Can I paint it?"
"Why?" Ezra shakily looked at the Mandalorian before him.
Sabine laughed. She knew that she had to lighten up the mood, otherwise Hera was going with Zeb to kill every body marketer in Lothal. "It's much too grey. Don't you think that it needs some color?"
Ezra studied the grey metal attached to him. "I guess so, but nobody will ever see it."
"But you will," Sabine said, her grin widening. He needed something of hers to keep with him all the time. That way, she would never be forgotten again.
Ezra wasn't sure if he was breathing or not. If she was going to paint it, what would she put on it? Something humiliating, or something for just the two of them? "I'll be replacing parts on it soon, so your painting wouldn't be whole for long."
Sabine grinned. "More canvas for me then."
"I never said you could do it. What if I want it to be its normal self?"
The girl leaned in close, "Who said you had any choice, kid?"
Ezra tried to distance himself. This was getting too intense for comfort. She would probably put something humiliating on it, which could not happen. "My l-leg, m-my rules," he stammered out weakly. Idiot!
Sabine's grin grew. "Guess I'll have to kidnap you."
Ezra bolted out of there, hoping to find a place to hide that the Mandalorian wouldn't be able to find him. He didn't make it three steps before Sabine had caught him in her arms, carrying him to her room. She didn't care about the consequences, all she cared about was keeping everyone's sanity and maybe to mess around with her baby brother.
After Sabine had disappeared with Ezra in tow, Hera couldn't hold back her rage any longer. Her voice dangerously low, Hera turned to Kanan, "How could he be so happy with a life so messed up?"
Kanan held Hera close, as the angry tears spilled. "Survival makes the strong, stronger, and he was lucky that they didn't ask for more."
"And if more of him is missing-"
"Then we just carry on. You know this, Hera," Kanan said, hoping that nobody could see the pain in his movements.
"Why couldn't we have found the kid sooner?" Zeb said with a snarl, "Maybe then he wouldn' be missing a leg."
Kanan nodded in consent. "He's here now."
"And we're never letting him go," Hera said, releasing herself from Kanan's embrace. "Though we all wish we could have found Ezra sooner, he's with us now, and the pain that he could have on the streets is nipped."
"And he'll experience pain by fighting with us," Zeb said.
Kanan touched Zeb's shoulder. "But we're here to help him through that pain, as a family." He turned toward the doors that he could get some rest, or to have a serious meditation. Tomorrow was probably going to be just as stressful. Collapsing into his cabin, Kanan folded himself into a meditative pose, and closed his eyes. Just what he needed.