The dream was always the same.
The boy was on the ground- sometimes he was bleeding, other times he wasn't. He was always on the ground though, unnervingly still.
The girl wasn't. She was beside him, wet-faced and panic stricken. She was usually the one that the monster talks to when he enters wielding a red lightsaber.
They're children so they never stood a chance to begin with.
A split second later, it's over. They're both on the ground, and he doesn't have to check to know they're gone. Forever.
That's not even the worst part though. The worst part comes next, when the mask comes off and he can see the face and despite knowing what's coming it always comes as a shock.
The face isn't that of a monster.
It's a reflection.
[ STARWARS ]
The woman left a while ago, leaving him alone at the bar. The scent of the room- the combination of smoke and body musk- settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Unpleasant was nowhere close to describe what he was feeling, though it was certainly unpleasant.
He couldn't understand how people lived like this- surrounded by filth and death and so much hatred.
Thankfully, though, the room was large enough- crowded enough- that no one seemed to notice that he so clearly didn't belong there. Except for the strange woman but she had long since disappeared.
He thought of her words, sad and soft like it pained her to admit that she didn't think anyone will be able to help him. He didn't want to hear that, though. Just like he didn't want reassurance that everything was going to be alright because it certainly was not. Not if all he seemed capable of doing was wander across the universe in hopes of some sort of lead. A chance to rescue Ezra while there was still something worth saving.
Part of his Jedi training with Depa had been knowledge of what would happen if he was ever caught. As far as he knew it wasn't something she was supposed to teach him but, for whatever reason, she felt compelled to. Probably because they were still fighting a war and chances of getting caught by the enemy seemed to increase daily.
So she trained him about torture tactics, on different ways the enemy could use to break someone and he was surprised to just how many various ways that could be accomplished. It was rough and he knew he'd never be the same, his master stripping all previous innocence from him and he had hated her for a long time because of it.
Of course now he understood why she had done it. To prepare him, make him better than he had been the day previous and he regretted not teaching Ezra.
He never felt the need to though, and perhaps valued Ezra's opinion of him a little too much to show something so horrid to someone so young. Maybe Ezra was already aware, the streets an unforgiving place to live, or perhaps he hadn't. Kanan didn't know, never bothered to ask.
He wished he had.
If Ezra was aware of just the types of horrible things his captors could do to him then it increased his chances of surviving. At least he'd be able to tell himself that they're trying to break him and weren't being unnecessarily cruel because the world was a cruel place. Even still, though, there was only so much one could take before even that knowledge wasn't enough.
With that thought came many more- all of them worst then the one before it- of sweet little Ezra with bright blue eyes and a smile that could outshine any star slowly being stripped away. Piece by piece. A little at a time, till there was nothing left and he was a stranger wearing a familiar face.
Kanan squeezed his eyes painfully tight, wrestling with the images as he tried forcing them away. He didn't want them. He didn't need them because he wasn't going to let them happen. He'd rescue Ezra and he'd undo whatever horrid things done to him.
He just needed to find him.
With absolutely no leads or any way of restarting help.
The drink was bitter when he forced the entire cup down in one swig, swallowing thickly and briefly reveling at how it seemed to make the room sway. He knew he shouldn't, spent his whole life being told drinks like that were dangerous because it influenced his grasp on the Force. So logically his mind knew he needed to stop there.
He slammed the cup on the counter as he declared for another then another and another…
Still images of his padawan, broken and hurt and betrayed, filled his brain and he needed them to stop. He couldn't get them to stop, now that he's had time to come up with them.
And by his fourth he was almost too out of it to realize the hand on his wrist meant trouble.
Fat fingers squeezed, painfully tight, as he was spun around to face the ugliest creature he's ever seen before. Skin colored the ugliest shade of green in the whole galaxy a pinched up face sneered down at him, lip pulling back to reveal a set of yellow crooked teeth.
"You're in my spot buddy," they- sounded masculine but Kanan's seen some weird things in his life and his brain was still too foggy to come to an exact decision- informed him as the hand tightened, threatening to snap bone.
Kanan didn't have time for this, and he knew that if Ezra had been there he would've apologized and let the matter drop. Set a good example for his padawan.
Only Ezra wasn't there, which was the problem.
"Find a new place," Kanan gurgled, voice thick and heavy under the influence of his drink as he went to spin back around and demand a refill.
The hand prevented that from happening as the creature feigned shock at Kanan's words. Clearly they thought they were somehow entitled to something, and if Kanan was a little less out of it then he would've wisely moved away. The last thing he needed was to get in a fight, especially only a planet like this one.
It seemed to only look pretty from above. Here, on the inside, it was worse than Tatooine.
"You wanna repeat that buddy?" and Kanan didn't have to be sober to hear the threat underlining the words as the creature bent forward, beady black eyes gleaming in their malice.
Kanan wrenched his wrist first, which took a lot less effort then he originally intended as he leveled a glare up at his most current threat and snarled, "You're not my buddy."
The creature made a strange sound from the back of their throat, a sort of scoffing as they went to latch onto the front of Kanan's shirt. Probably to intimidate him some more, before the beating came, but Kanan wasn't thinking straight and was consumed with horrific images of all different sorts of torture.
Quicker than humanly possible, he had his blaster out from the holster and pressed against the creature's chest. His finger rested over the trigger, knowing pulling it would be the easiest thing in the world. Dealing with the consequences afterwards, would not.
"I'm only going to say this once," Kanan growled threatening through his teeth, "Back. Off."
Teal eyes were narrowed and hard, reveling in how the black specks amongst the green widened in horror. He must have realized Kanan wasn't playing around.
"Alright. Chill out you crazy-" the rest was ignored as Kanan spun around, waving his empty cup in the air like a flag.
A hand grabbed his arm, forcing the cup back down on the table. He frowned, wondering who was crazy enough to confront him after the display he just showed only to be slightly taken aback when he realized Hera was staring back at him. She wasn't smiling (he was starting to think she never did) but her eyes were twinkling in the tiniest hints of amusement.
"A little early to be trying to forget," Hera proclaimed softly, eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side like one would towards an idiotic child.
Kanan just shrugged, pulling his arm free.
At least the images of his padawan had subsided slightly.
"Good," Hera continued taking the empty space at his side, "because we've got a lot of work to do if we're going to find this kid of yours."
Kanan just blinked at the resolution in her words.
Since when did their sides switch?
"Why do you care?" he managed to get out, voice distrusting and bitter as he stared at the bottom of his cup.
"Like you said, all I care about is how many credits I earn at the end of the day. It didn't sit right with me to walk away from such a potential load," she responded, arms crossed on the bar counter as she bent over it almost seductively.
Funny considering just how un-seductive her clothes were.
Kanan snorted, something tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was ridiculous, he knew, finding amusement from something so seemingly silly. Especially considering the company he currently had flanked around him.
When the bartender returned to get Hera's order she sprouted off something Kanan's never heard of nor did he have any desire to try it. When the glass was pressed into the woman's grasp Hera asked in a calm serious tone, "Ever done business with the Phantom Dealer?"
There was a small gasp- from whom Kanan wasn't sure but Hera didn't seem to pay it any mind. Nor did she seem concerned when the noise quieted down to indistinguishable levels.
Instead she rose an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.
"I take that as a yes?"
Something in the back of Kanan's head tickled his senses, sending something tingling down to his boots. A quick glance around revealed most if not all patrons' eyes were on them and he didn't need the force to know what that meant.
They weren't leaving with their lives.
[ STARWARS ]
It was a type of torturing method.
The thought occurred to him almost as soon as weary eyes blinked open. Where or how the thought occurred to him, he's not sure, and it brought little comfort. If anything it removed comfort, knowing that your captors are trying to break you.
Ezra is nothing if not resilient though- and stubborn. Kanan would often enjoy saying he was frustratingly so.
The thought of his master- one of the last few bright spots in his fractured memory- made something sweet and dejected fill him. He missed the man, of course, and was certain he's still alive. He just didn't know where the man was or what he was doing.
Was he looking for Ezra? There was no way for Ezra to be sure.
Had he noticed his unexplainable absence? Probably considering Ezra's last memory was speaking with him, however unfortunate the circumstances had been.
Did he care? That, it seemed, was the million dollar question.
Did Kanan even care Ezra was gone? Swept away like a piece of paper in the wind, flying further and further out of reach until there was nothing left but a distant memory.
Ezra knew that several years ago he would've been certain of the answer to that question. It would've been 'no' with no hesitation and even less uncertainty. In fact, he was sure that the only thing there would be was his frustratingly stubborn unyielding faith in that answer.
Several years ago, Kanan didn't care much for him- period.
Now, who knew? Ezra certainly didn't.
He liked to think, when he was by himself late at night plagued with memories of his late parents that Kanan did. That Kanan had adopted some sort of paternal role, but that was just from Ezra's eyes. He would certainly do anything for Kanan, but would the man do the same?
He hoped so.
He prayed for it.
Because if not then all this resistance from the dark side would be for nothing and he'd still turn evil, a little more scarred then needed.
The thing about that though was that Ezra held no love for his captors. In fact, he didn't care much at all for them wishing that their paths had never crossed and he could've returned living some happy little Jedi delusion they all shared. He couldn't, though, not after the things he's seen. Not after the things he's seen his fellow Jedi do to other living things.
Rather or not they deserved it was never in question for Ezra.
The Jedi were built upon this maddening sense that all life- good or bad- mattered and that's why killing was forbidden. That's why the clone wars had been so hard to win because Jedi refused to kill.
"When mice are backed into a corner they'll do whatever needs to be done," the drone voice Ezra hates reassured from somewhere amongst all the shadows, and Ezra didn't resist the urge to groan.
He figured it was safe considering he was certain now that they held no plans to kill him or they would've done it already.
"Go away," Ezra mumbled instead, dehydration making his voice soft and raspy like he was speaking against sandpaper.
That probably would've been less painful.
"But where, my dear child, where do you wish for me to go?" the Grand Inquisitor asked and if Ezra hadn't known any better than he would've claimed his voice to be light and jovial.
Too bad he knew better.
"Why don't you try taking a walk out a space port?" Ezra suggested with so much venom in his tone it was practically dripping with his animosity.
The Grand Inquisitor just chuckled darkly, evidently amused by the idea. Ezra wasn't sure why considering he just suggested for him to kill himself.
Did it count as murder if one placed the thought of suicide in the other's brain?
Ezra was sure it did.
"Your thoughts betray you," the Grand Inquisitor noted after a pause and Ezra just banged his head against the backboard as he screwed his eyes shut and silently prayed for him to be alone once more.
"My thoughts betray nothing," Ezra replied in a small voice, "and I'm not the one who kidnap children and torture them."
"Torture is a rather harsh word, no?" the Grand Inquisitor goaded, and Ezra knew he was being baited but was too tired to care.
He had figured it out almost instantly.
That had been why it was so easy for him to have escaped and why the halls had all but been deserted or how two force users strolled past him without sensing something was wrong. It wasn't an act of carelessness but rather deliberation. They hadn't wanted him to escape so he could discover firsthand how futile it was.
There was no way off this planet.
Ezra was stuck, left to rot.
He refused to believe that, if for only a little longer.
"I think it's a perfect word, actually," Ezra informed in a bitter tone but it was a lot less tame before. More tired.
"Well then your thoughts betray you," the Grand Inquisitor repeated, "for we have no intentions of torturing you."
Ezra laughed darkly and though he didn't say it out loud he knew the Grand Inquisitor knew it too. After all, he seemed constantly in his head poking and prodding and rearranging.
There's more than one kind of torture.
Kanan would be appalled that Ezra was having those sorts of thoughts but considering his master wasn't there at the moment he didn't very much care. Even if Kanan was present, though, Ezra wasn't sure it would make much of a difference.
They stripped him of his hope of escape, and now came the loss of his hope of rescue.
Step by step, like they were reading their techniques from a manual.
Ezra sort of wished they would.
The Grand Inquisitor suddenly appeared inches from his face, yellow eyes nearly golden amongst the darkness. Fingers brushed against Ezra's temple and Ezra didn't move. He didn't flinch or cower away like he wanted to. He just glared, matching orbs of burning blue light.
There was a shift and the memory of Kanan's disdainful gazes popped in his head- ones the man would offer in the very beginning when neither Kanan nor Ezra wished to be with the other.
Ezra's lips just twisted upward at the image as he used it as a sort of pulley, dragging the Grand Inquisitor down with him as he forced his way into the man's own mind. He was almost overcome by the other's shock and then disgust as he tried pulling away. Ezra let him.
"You used to be a Jedi Knight," Ezra whispered in the darkening room even as the Grand Inquisitor pulled away physically and then a sharp laugh escaped Ezra's throat as he repeated, "You used to be a Jedi Knight before you turned your back on them. Ha. Coward."
The Grand Inquisitor said nothing and Ezra suspected he had left the second Ezra had turned it around and forced himself into his own vulnerable mind.
Ezra didn't care, though, as he banged his head back once more and continued in a loud almost drunken tone, "There's no where you can go to hide your treachery. You live amongst the stars, and the stars are old. They may never forget."
[ STARWARS ]
"What do you think you know, wrench?" the bartender demanded voice harsh and hostile but neither Hera nor Kanan backed down.
Hera wasn't sure rather or not she was impressed with that. After all, upon first meeting the man she had seen him as a coward and it only grew worst the longer she had stayed. It hadn't been anything personal, at least not at first, but she had lived under the impression that all Jedi were cowards that hide behind some greater law.
They were all hypocrites and no matter what her father believed she had refused to stand beside them. She had refused to stand beside their beliefs and everything they stand for.
Then he had traded Chopper and it turned real personal real quick.
That's why she had abandoned him but something had drew her back. Something she couldn't explain if she wanted to and, frankly, she preferred not to. Feelings were already messy things and though she wasn't completely heartless she preferred to keep things such as those to herself.
He didn't back down, though, not even when his back tensed as he sensed something she'd never be able to.
They were in trouble.
Yet he remained.
She recalled in the cockpit of her ship when she had asked about Ezra, of the way his teal eyes seemed to glow as he talked about his apprentice. It was so strange, seeing something she'd convinced herself to being heartless jerks to brighten up at the thought of something that wasn't themselves.
Ezra must really mean a lot to Kanan.
And she'd have to die before she let the man forget that.
She held up her hands in a pacifying gesture as she straightened her back and reassured, "It was only a question."
One that could very well end with their throats slit. And then what, because she wasn't fond of the idea of spending the rest of eternity with Kanan.
The bartender squinted beady eyes at her before shifting over to Kanan where he still stood tall and defensive, waiting for the unseen battle. When neither spoke the bartender's gaze fell back upon Hera.
"You better watch your tongue," the bartender suggested instead with a shrug, "The Phantom Dealer isn't really something you'd be wise to speak of again."
"I don't see any harm in doing it now that we've begun," Hera tried but the bartender just glared back.
"Take my advice and keep those sort of questions to yourself," the bartender responded, turning to fetch drinks on the other side.
Kanan relaxed- fractionally- as his teal expression continued shifting around as if waiting for something Hera could neither see nor feel. A perk of being a Jedi, she supposed.
"Of course," she replied almost instantly before blinking as the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, "My mistake. It was wrong to assume you'd know anything. After all, the Phantom Dealer never struck me as one to do business with a planet so… desolate."
That caught the bartender's attention and she could feel Kanan's startled expression on the back of her neck. She ignored both accounts, keeping her gaze focused on the bartender before her the words of her past life echoing in her skull.
If you play too close to the fire then you're bound to get burned Syndulla.
"I'd advise you to not repeat that," the bartender warned in a slow testy voice. She struck a nerve, one that brought great joy despite the fact that these people outnumbered her and Kanan greatly and they could still very well die.
She thought of Kanan in the cockpit, speaking of something she'd never thought the Jedi were capable of. She wanted to meet this Ezra Bridger, the boy who has caused so much fuss the last couple of days.
So she tilted her head to the side and demanded in a challenging voice, "If I do."
The bartender's hand clenched and she knew she went too far. Except when he moved forward to attack her the sound of a shot fired echoed around the crowded room, seemingly vibrating down the walls and silencing what little noise there had been. The bartender collapsed somewhere behind the bar, face contorted in shock.
At first she had thought it was Kanan and had turned to confront him when she realized he looked just as shocked as her.
Then who?
"I'd say we've heard enough of that," a raspy voice spoke from the crowd and Hera's stomach soured at recognition even before he stepped out from the crowd.
Beside her, Kanan stiffened. Evidently he recognized him as well, which wasn't all that surprising considering Hera's heard stories of how he made the Order's life difficult before the end of the clone wars.
The bounty hunter just smirked, a wicked side grin that revealed rows of perfect white teeth.
"Impossible," Kanan gasped and Hera couldn't help but agree. After all, last she had heard he was still in a jail and had no business on some forgotten bar on a forsaken planet that only looked nice.
"I take it you know my name then?" and there was an air of confidence in the voice- one Hera had always envied because no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she could never replicate that cocky self-assured attitude.
She spoke first, the name sending something icy and frightening down to the base of her spine, where it lingered way longer than it should have.
"Cad Bane."
[ STARWARS ]
Zeb forgot how much he hated space until he was back in it, surrounded by a sort of freezing nothingness that could destroy more than it could comfort. It probably didn't help that the last time he was in space it had been for the clone wars, where he had seen plenty of his comrades fall, fading even in memory.
Too many had died then, plenty without a name, and the Republic had barely won out.
They couldn't afford another war so soon.
Not being able to take the sitting and waiting he found himself wandering until he stumbled upon Sabine. She was in one of the empty rooms, set in one of the chairs with her feet propped against the table and upon hearing the door opened she dropped her feet and straightened her back almost instantly.
"Oh. It's only you," she breathed when golden eyes found him and her shoulders visibly relaxed as she moved to prop her feet back up.
Zeb swatted them back down.
"Don't," he warned, eyes narrowed and angry as he added in a low throaty growl, "It's disrespectful."
She seemed to deflate under his gaze, expression dropping shamefully, as she murmured softly, "Sorry."
"I don't want your apology," Zeb responded as he rubbed the top of his head tiredly, leaning back against the table so he was beside her, facing the opposite direction.
He hated space and he wasn't entirely sure he was fond of her. Surely he must be, though, considering he had vouched for her. He was the reason she was there.
Evidently, she could read his mind.
"Why did you tell that general that I could come?"
It was spoke in a soft voice, barely audible in the empty room yet it seemed to roar in his ears echoing loudly. He hated it as much as he hated how he didn't have an answer.
"Excuse me?" he asked and he was no fool- he knew he appeared intimidating to most people but Sabine had yet to show any fear towards him. Like Ezra, before he had been taken.
Maybe that was why he had been drawn to the two kids.
Especially considering it was no secret that he was terrible with children.
Sabine did shrink- if only slightly- as her shoulders folded in on herself and she shrugged. Her finger was scratching at what she had been working on when he had entered.
"You made it clear that you wish for me to not be here," she explained like it was obvious and there was no fear when she regarded him once more with her eyes, "yet you're the reason I am."
"You're a mechanic," Zeb just shrugged like that somehow made sense but considering it didn't to him he doubted it did to her.
The dubious expression she fixated him with was testimony to that.
"There's plenty of mechanics back at the temple," she reminded him unhelpfully, "and even more work droids. There had been no reason to allow me to come along as well."
"There hadn't really been a need to allow you in the temple either," he replied almost instantly, without thinking of how insensitive that sounded.
And it was- insensitive.
Sabine- strong capable Sabine who he once thought to be so strong- flinched, and he hated himself a little for it.
He had forgot that she was still just a child, young and still vulnerable no matter how hard one tried to cover it up. Some with bright smiles and others with secluded eyes and Zeb was a warrior- a fighter- and he still found himself feeling bare and vulnerable in the vast expanse of space.
Idiot.
"Sabine," he tried but she rose from her chair, head still dropped so her chin was touching her chest and her hands fumbled with the object in her hands.
"Forget it," she muttered lowly sounding more like her age since they had first met, "I'm sorry to be such a bother."
"Sabine!" Zeb called as she turned to walk away from him.
She didn't stop. She didn't even hesitate.
"I know why you wanted to tag along," he said in one last desperate attempt to get her to understand why, "and it wasn't to play our pretty little mechanic either."
She did stop then, moments from exiting the door. Her hand even hesitated over the pad beside it, only a little further, a second later, and she'll be gone.
"Oh really?" she asked and there was a challenge in there that had Zeb swallowing thickly, urging him to answer correctly so everything previously said could be forgotten.
"You want to rescue Ezra," he informed in his baritone voice taking special care to keep his voice level as if not to upset her further, "but more so then that you want to rescue Kanan. From the Republic. From the Chancellor."
Sabine's head tilted to the side, thin fingers twitching as if she couldn't decide what she wanted to do. Unsure himself, Zeb continued speaking.
"You hate them. You think they're weak. I saw it in your expression back there at the temple, and you want Ezra back and you want Kanan safe but that's not all, is it? You didn't just leave because of selfless reasons. You couldn't stand staying there a moment longer."
"You're right," Sabine agreed voice soft and delicate, "I did it for myself but didn't we all? Didn't you?"
Zeb swallowed thickly, ears flat against his skull. She was right, but something was keeping him from admitting it to himself. Pride, probably.
He opened his mouth to reply, unsure what was about to come out of his mouth just then when the door in front of Sabine slid open. She stumbled back in shock, the large broad frame of the Lasat taking up most of the space.
Zeb tensed, deciding then that he wasn't ready to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth.
And he had been right on that account, at least.
He wasn't ready.
Green slits slid between the two of them as if they were unsure what had just been happening behind the closed door; they must have decided it was nothing considering they spoke. The words made something in Zeb stiffen and he saw a similar occurrence happen with Sabine.
"We've got a lead. We know where the traitor and bounty hunter are."
Next time:
"Ah yes, and I know of you- Hera Syndulla- but I must admit that your friend is unknown to me."
"His name is Kanan. Kanan Jarrus."
...
"You're stalling."
"Perhaps, or maybe I just want to see your faces when I shoot you both down."
...
"Kanan! Don't be stupid! These people owe you nothing!"
...
I know they're in here! Tear this place apart if you have to! Find them!"