Freshman Year (Fall Semester)

Setting my Sharpie aside, I eye the white Bankers' Box that I picked up at the office supply store for a moment.

I think this will work out for what I want to do.

And if I don't end up needing most of this stuff later on, then oh well.

Saved it anyway.

I pivot back to the post I've set up in my living room, backpack and last semester's supplies plus assorted notes and other things on one side. Whereas on the other are multiple bags from the store, filled with what I'll need for this semester.

No time like the present.

Unzipping my backpack, the memory of my last final leaps out to me which causes me to smile.

University Strategies. It ended up being a sort of scavenger hunt like our midterm. Ran around Campus to find "our fondest memory" of the semester.

Sabine didn't have anything going on that hour and joined me. We found the eclectic piece of art from that same scavenger hunt earlier on and I took a picture of that.

Easy. Class really wasn't worth all that much. Just learning the basics of being a college student.

Discipline, study habits. Time management.

Setting the notebook, folder and my old workbook which we hardly used into the box, I then turn back to my backpack.

Spanish.

The class I never went to.

If I run long on a notebook this semester, I'll recycle the notebook from this semester and turn it into what I need.

Repeating the process from earlier, I then turn back to my backpack.

Wonder if the bookstore will have the proper book lists this time. I had to go back twice and get things I needed for class that weren't on the lists I pulled from the syllabuses.

We'll find out tomorrow.

The unofficial start of the Spring semester.

Dorms are opening back up so Sabine's moving out, at least a little bit.

I bet she'll be happy not to have to live out of her suitcase.

My interview with somebody from the football team is tomorrow too. Matt's promise finally has taken form with a meeting at 10 AM tomorrow.

He says not to be worried, he's vouched for me. Should be easy.

Freshman Composition.

I didn't learn the most in that class, but I think I got the most out of it. I liked my professor, she kept an open dialogue and made pretty much everyone a better writer.

And it was the only class I wasn't at the top of.

Grabbing the lone notebook for the class, I set it on top of the others and continue.

Focus.

Concentrate on the task at hand. Stay vigilant to distractions and temptations.

Like vanity.

…

Vanity like tricking myself into believing that Aubrey somehow still loved me.

Of course she doesn't love me anymore. She has no reason to. Like she said, her whole life collapsed because of me.

Another ruined family. Because of me.

Focus. Computer Sciences.

My presumptive major.

I don't even blame Aubrey really. I blame myself. It's my fault entirely.

She had to do what everyone had to do following the collapse of the Empire following my treachery.

A part of me understands why there is the two billion dollar death mark on my head. I ruined everything, thousands, even more lives ruined. With one decision by me.

It can't have been easy for anyone associated with anything related to Lothal. The first year plus was a mad dash trying to catch everyone they could. Some slipped away, but the Council believes we got most of them.

The rest, they believe we'll catch.

Like Gideon, whose location we have and now can move on.

The Council might even drag me in to interrogate him like we did with Laufey.

Setting my computer sciences notebook, workbook and binder full of worksheets inside the box, I move on to my English course.

Definitely came to me the easiest.

Read some of the "classics", many of which still filter into the culture today.

It was alright I guess. I like reading and as it turns out, I didn't mind spending hours on end curled up in a book.

Like I was a kid again.

My books are over on my desk in alphabetical order…

I set the notebook inside the box and move to my final course from last semester.

Chemistry.

All lectures. All printouts. All studying.

Except my memory is photographic and I hardly have to study.

90% of all the answers in the class leapt to the front of my mind as I read the question. And all of the tests were on Scantrons, which means I had a 1 in 5 chance off the rip.

I don't need 1 in 5.

Letting out a breath after I set the two folders, and hardly touched notebook into the box, I turn back and peek at what Sabine's doing.

Looking at her phone.

As I watch, Sabine scrolls two or three times, then taps the top of her screen and begins typing swiftly.

She's hardly touched her new canvas. Barely begun her tracing.

The most progress she's made is her little signature on the bottom right of the canvas that she always does.

Her name, Sabine on top of Wren with a diamond for the 'i' on top. While she meshes the 'ine' part of her name all together with a solid like, almost like a Chinese character.

The far end of the 'W' in Wren intersects neatly with that line, leading to the rest of her name.

It's a nice signature.

As I look on, Sabine' face furrows as she reads, scrolls again then begins tapping away at her screen.

Focus. Next semester.

I shift on the couch to where I printed out my new schedule.

Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Creative Writing 8-9 AM

Intro to Programming 9-10 AM

History of Mandalore 1-2:30 PM

Tuesday/Thursday

Ballroom Dance 8-10:30 AM

Sociology 1-2:30 PM

Seems manageable enough. I'll have time for lunch every day, I'm out by 2:30 at the latest and can go home or to Kanan's or to the Temple to train or study or whatever.

I need to print those Syllabuses. I compiled them yesterday while Sabine cooked dinner.

Taking my cue from Sabine herself, I pull out my phone and navigate my way over to my message thread with Twos.

"Hey Twos, can you find that document I created yesterday that has all of my syllabuses' on it and print them all out for me?" I text Twos, then set my phone aside.

I bought a notebook and folder for each subject, even dance and have color coded them. Bought new pens and a new box of erasers in case I want to use pencil.

My pencil holder on my desk is full again after I somehow managed to lose like half of them forever last semester between class and moving.

I don't know how either. They just vanished.

Twos – New iMessage

"Found that document Ezra. Printing from your printer on your desk now."

As soon as I finish reading the message, I hear my printer come to life and begin clicking into place to print my syllabuses.

"Thanks Twos."

11:16.

…

Stupid meeting should have started fifteen minutes ago.

Doing my best not to play with the petal edges of my portfolio, resume inside, I glance behind me to the sign next to the door to this office.

Coach Bradley

Real descriptive.

Prompt too. I got here ten minutes early and dressed well. Slacks, dress shoes and a nice polo.

And this guy is keeping me waiting.

Don't check your phone.

Instead I let out a breath and fidget in my chair before glancing around.

One side of the hall is all offices. The other is an enclosed room with all sorts of plaques and trophies with couches, plushy chairs, a pool table, ping pong table and multiple TV's hung on the walls.

Must be where all the money they're not giving the athletes goes.

You'd think they'd hide it better.

To my left, a man in a red t-shirt and black shorts is making his way down the hall while I look back to my portfolio.

Bought it right before last semester and never had a reason to use it. My interview for the Academic Advising job was sort of thrown together.

Spontaneously, the door to my left opens up, causing me to straighten up and for the other man to pause. "Thanks for coming Steve."

"Always a pleasure to cooperate on something." The other man says before they both turn to me.

"You Bridger?"

Quickly I stand up and smile. "Yes sir. Ezra Bridger, nice to meet you."

This must be Coach Bradley.

I move to shake the man's hand and he initially hesitates, then returns the handshake. "In."

Yes sir.

Complying with the request, both men follow me in. Shorts and t-shirt guy grabs the chair beside me, across the desk and moves it so that both men are facing me before the other man, wearing darker pants and a white polo returns to his leather seat behind the desk.

"That for me?" he asks bluntly, eyes moving to my portfolio I've set on my lap.

I nod once. "Yes sir." Before handing it over.

Taking it, the room goes silent as he opens it then begins scanning the document.

Nice office. Got a window. Pictures on the desk, boxes everywhere—

"That's Coach Weber by the way." The man makes introductions, eyes appearing from behind the leather. "Our women's soccer coach."

This must be whole Jaicey was talking about.

"Pleasure to meet you sir." I smile politely and move to shake his hand.

Except that the man doesn't move, instead opting to look at me with crossed arms.

Okay…

I retract the handshake and return to my seated position.

"I've heard a fair amount about you Ezra." The man says, closing the portfolio with a snap. "My star quarterback has been on my ass for a month trying to get me to schedule an interview for you. Completely bypassing the standardized process we already have set up. Did you know that?"

"No." I shake my head. "I wasn't aware there was a process."

This is off to a bad start.

"Of course he's not." Weber quips then turns to Bradley.

Bradley glances at him for a moment then looks back to me. "Your resume is certainly impressive, I'll give you that. There's a multitude of things you could do that would help my football team."

My.

This must be the head coach of—

Oh.

"However." Bradley continues. "I have it on pretty good authority that you're a problem Mr. Bridger. Before jumping the line and finding your way into my office. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No sir."

Yes.

"My best winger got suspended for the season because she got arrested." Weber growls at me. "You completely blew up what could have been a contender for the conference! And that helped get me here."

"You were there that night." Bradley gets up from his seat and begins rounding the desk. "At that party. I've read the police reports."

"We both have." Weber adds.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

This is an interrogation. Not an interview.

Taking an extra instant to keep my voice even and calm, I reply "I was attacked and assaulted for no real reason. I was on my way home. If you're read the police report then you know this."

The Council dictated the police report. I look as good as possible in it.

"Almost everybody at that party was drunk off their ass." Weber snaps again. "The accounts can't be taken at face value."

"Then I'd take that up with the LAPD sir." I reply calmly. "I told the truth."

Bradley stops next to me and points his finger to the other man. "He can't trust his best player. Because—" he pokes my arm. "—of—" another poke "you."

"I disagree sir."

Sabine's coach laughs. "Oh yeah? How?"

"Maybe if she hadn't drank so much she could have kept her head."

Immediately both men laugh. "I'm not naïve." Bradley tells me. "My players drink, they smoke, they party. It's fucking college. It happens, it's going to happen. And if it's not then it's a bad sign because then even worse things are happening."

"I know who Sabine Wren is." Weber informs me. "She gathered a…reputation for herself in just one short semester."

"I don't like the implication there sir."

Have you even met Sabine?

The man leans forward and smiles. "I don't give a damn about what you like and don't like. You understand me?"

This…

So this is how this is going to go.

"Yes sir." I answer calmly.

"She's a problem. She's talented as all hell but she's a looney tune upstairs. I've run off tons of girls just like her. Hell, it wouldn't even surprise me if I run her out before Spring Break."

I doubt that.

Keeping my mouth shut, the other coach continues stalking me from behind. "Problems can be run off. Both of us have talented teams, and we won't allow a couple of bad apples to ruin the whole batch."

"If you believe me to be a problem sir, then please call my references. They'll confirm it for you." I gesture to my portfolio, sitting on the desk. "I'm not a problem."

"I'm sure your references will vouch for you son." Bradley nods. "They usually do. But I doubt they're the ones I want."

Huh?

"Excuse me sir?" I genuinely ask.

"There's a rumor going around, very quietly. The world's ninth richest man showed up at one of your friend's games last year." Bradley begins.

"You sat with him." Weber adds.

Bradley piles on. "You two had a nice little discussion. Left at halftime. I bet you thought that nobody really noticed."

Some people noticed. Nobody made a big deal out of it.

"Well they did." Sabine's coach says harshly.

Do not reply.

They're trying to break me.

This whole thing was a setup.

"Rumor has it that you're in league with the Jedi Order." Bradley begins haughtily. "I didn't buy it at first, until the story was corroborated a few times."

"I still don't." Weber chimes in.

Awesome.

A moment passes before Bradley rounds my chair to peer at me. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself."

"No comment sir."

I cannot blow my cover within the Jedi Order. Under any circumstances.

And especially not to Dumb and Dumber over here.

Wanna be interrogators.

"No—" Bradley begins incredulously before Weber, Sabine's coach lets out a laugh.

"NO COMMENT!"

Bradley crosses his arms. "I'm going to ask you again."

"And I'll say the same thing again." I pop back. "Sir."

"I know you're lying to me." His tone drops darkly.

I return with a smile. "I wouldn't believe every rumor you hear sir. I'm here because I want a job here."

I am.

"You're not getting this job!" Weber gets out of his chair and screams at me. "You're a problem!"

"I'm not interested in hiring people who could possibly have somebody leaning on them. In any way, shape, form or fashion." Bradley tells me. "I run a tight ship and I don't trust very much. I'm like Nick Fury, I ain't afraid to cut off fingers."

Well clearly you're blind.

"Now either you tell me who you're working for, and what's going on. Or we have a problem. You. And me." Bradley's tone rises to match Weber's.

I open my mouth to inform him that we have a problem, but am silenced by the door popping open.

Wha—whoa.

"Excuse me, that door was locked." Bradley pops off at the new guest.

"We're in a meeting."

"It is hardly a meeting. I could hear your screaming all the way down the hall." Count Dooku informs him before closing the door quietly behind him and glancing to me.

"Who are you?" Weber demands before I quickly attempt to stifle a laugh.

"Whatever it is, it's not funny!" Bradley snaps at me.

"My name is Dooku." He begins, tone calm yet cool. "Jedi Master, former Grand Master of the New York City Temple. Count…of Serenno and as you are already aware…the ninth richest man on the planet."

Yup.

"Now I have to ask you to stop yelling at my protégé, otherwise this poor excuse for a meeting is over." Dooku finishes.

Quickly, Bradley moves to return to his desk. "Now…" Dooku muses as Sabine' coach has nearly back up into the corner. "Rumor has it that you'd like to know Ezra here's connection to myself as well as the Jedi Order."

Rumor has it…

"I need to know if he is compromised." Bradley replies. "If I hire him, I need to know that I can trust him."

"He is not compromised. Far from it in fact. In the face of your clumsy questioning he hasn't cracked or even broken a sweat. I can say with confidence that he's faced far, far worse." Dooku replies before turning to me. "Isn't that right."

"Yes Master Dooku."

Dooku instantly waves away my formality. "The young man that you have so rudely decided to turn on is in fact trusted by not only myself, but some of the most powerful people…in the world."

"The Jedi Order, the United States Government…other bodies as well." Dooku says calmly. "And it is not a stretch at all to say that I would trust him with my life."

—

I allow myself to smile just a little bit before Dooku seems to wait and allow the coaches in front of me to gather their thoughts.

He brought the rain today.

"Then why so secretive?" Weber asks.

"Good question." Dooku gives the man a smile. "Discretion and trust are premiums in this world of ours. Ezra knows and understands this, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten half as far as he has. The secrecy is an asset…not a deterrent."

"It appears to be a problem from the outside." Bradley tells the room.

Dooku seems to hear this and nod. "It appears…that you are wrong on that count."

OH!

"Now I believe that all of us have better places to be than this cramped and crowded office." Dooku begins, prompting me to rise from my seat. "Besides, I believe your team is waiting for you across the hall."

Huh?

Dooku waves me to the door before he pop it open.

NOPE!

Multiple familiar faces are facing me in the lounge across the hell before I find Sabine, leaned up against a counter near a sink and just before I see her eyes widen.

Turn back.

I turn towards the empty hallway as Dooku moves to the doorway before raising his hand and pulling my portfolio off the desk and into his hand. "Now…good day."

He extends my portfolio to me then begins leading me down the hall and out of the building.

…

Whoa.

"I—" I begin after we take a turn, only for Dooku to motion for me to be silent.

Not until we get out of the building.

Okay.

Together, Dooku and I walk down a few hallways before he casually strolls through the lobby and out into the clear Southern California day outside.

"Now then..." Dooku finally cracks a smile. "Much better. Beautiful day."

"It is a nice day."

Should be spent outside.

"I assume that you parked close?" Dooku asks before gesturing for me to lead the way.

Of course.

"I don't think I'm getting that job."

"On the contrary." Dooku replies. "I think you held your own quite well."

"All they did was yell at me." I point out.

Dooku's smile grows. "Rather poor interview technique if you ask me. They were awfully clumsy."

"They were." I agree. "I thought you were in Kamino."

Dooku pauses for a moment as we pass a pair of students as we make our way towards the parking lot. "I was, but returned a few days ago. I regret to report that there isn't much more to be gleaned from there without you I'm afraid."

Great.

"Kind of sounds like I'm going." I reply.

"You are." Dooku nods. "The first few days of your Spring Break in fact, before you go to Washington."

Washington?

"D.C.?"

"Not the state." Dooku smirks. "Although it has its own beauty if you like marble, monuments and mosquitos."

I can't help but laugh as I pull out my car keys.

Dooku smiles as well before I unlock my car and we both pile inside. "So…where am I taking you to?" I ask him as I fire up the engine.

"Lunch sounds good to me. Then the Syndulla's for you. Rumor has it that they miss you and want to see you."

(A/N: No Friday update this week, I'm travelling the rest of this week. Sorry to break up the recent string of updates, it's been nice to find a groove again, string some chapters together and really get the ball rolling. I'll be back on Monday.

I usually never ask this in reviews, I prefer people to leave one if they are so inclined (Which I appreciate each and every one.) Recently there's been some momentum for me to create a place outside of these reviews to meet up and discuss this story and other related topics. If you're interested, I'd love for you to voice that in the reviews. I'm leaning towards yes but need some help getting it going.

Thank you for reading and supporting as always. And lastly…

Happy Birthday Twos.)