When Kanan awoke the next morning the first thing he noticed was the smell of bacon and coffee. While it was one of the better smells to wake up with, it was not one he was accustomed to. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Hera placing a large plate of eggs on the table.

"You never make me breakfast." Kanan paused for a second. "Kriff, what happened?"

Hera gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry love, but Kallus called earlier."

"Nothing good ever starts with that."

She nodded. "They're going to announce in a few weeks a new initiative for all stores to require swabbing employees. You're going to have to quit now so it's not suspicious. I'm sure Old Jho with give you more hours."

"Karabast," he muttered. Kanan hated working at the bookstore, but he hated tending bar even more. Late hours, breaking up fights, coming home reeking of smoke.

"At least there's good news." She poured Kanan a cup of coffee. "Zeb says his contact has been able to infiltrate a few factories and replace shipments of swabs so that only result in red."

Such a small victory. It hadn't taken long for people to realize that those who registered for the government's list of Power Wielders were starting to disappear quietly. As less people cooperated, it became apparent to those in charge that other means were necessary. About fifteen years ago, E.M.P.I.R.E. had been able to create reliable testing for DNA found in Wielders, such as himself. Tests were practically instant. All it took was some saliva, and a person's fate would be decided. Red meant human. Normal and free to go about their lives. But blue? Blue was practically a death sentence. Most colleges and schools required testing for all students. Even most jobs, but Kanan had been lucky to find a few that didn't. But ever since E.M.P.I.R.E. had begun accumulating power, more and more laws were being enacted to hunt down his kind.

"It's not enough." Kanan rubbed at his eyes. Sometimes it felt like they were fighting a battle that had already been long lost.

"I know, love." Hera sat down next to him and sipped her tea. "But at least it's something."

Always so hopeful. A perfect balance to his extreme cynicism.

She started piling bacon and eggs on to her plate. "Eat up, we're going to be busy today."

Kanan brought his gaze to Hera's smiling face. It was too sweet of a smile. "What are we doing?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, I thought we'd walk around the city. Maybe explore places we don't normally go." Her voice dripped with honey. Never a good sign.

He sighed. "Hera, he didn't want my help. Chasing after him isn't going to do anything except piss him off."

"Of course, he didn't want your help. Some weird older guy buying him dinner and admitting he has superpowers."

"You know I hate when you call them that," Kanan replied, his voice quiet. He took another deep sip of coffee. "I might not be able to find him again. You know how it works."

The one good thing about his annoying ability was that it faded the longer he spent time with someone. By the time Ezra had left the diner, the pulling sensation had faded to nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"Kanan, we need to try." Her tone had lost all of its sweetness. Hera was the type of woman who made decisions and people listened. A trait he admired her greatly for, except when it was directed at him. "There's something you should see."

She placed a copy of the paper on the table in front of him. She had circled a small headline reading "City Shelters Begin Testing for Wielders".

"They know a lot of people have stayed hidden by living on the streets, especially children. Kanan we have to find him."

"What, so now you want to adopt every teenager I can sense? Hera, we can't save them all."

"I know." She reached over and took his hand. "But maybe we can save this one."

Ezra ignored the gnawing feeling in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything since the night before at the diner with Kanan.

His plan to get lunch at a shelter had been dashed when he spotted the line outside the door. Before each person could enter an employee stuck a cotton swab into their mouth, waited for it to turn red and then allowed them in. Ezra had swiped enough newspapers to know that it was E.M.P.I.R.E.'s new method of weeding out freaks like him.

He had scouted out three more shelters he knew of, only to find them doing the same. While he certainly wasn't proud enough to dismiss dumpster diving as a viable source for food, he knew he needed to acquire gloves before he could do so. Just because something was now trash, it didn't mean there weren't still significant memories attached to it.

Living on the streets was difficult enough, but he needed to be able to use his hands without his stupid powers getting in the way. But that meant obtaining money, and there was only one way he knew how.

He had seen flyers for a street fair and started making his way there. While large crowds were certainly the worst place for him, he also knew it would be the best place to pick pockets. Years of experience had taught him what look for. Signs that would pinpoint those less likely to notice the slip of a hand inside a pocket or purse. And if someone should get too wise to what he was doing, he could easily get lost in the crowd.

The thought of touching wallets, money, and other people make his empty stomach lurch. If anything went wrong, if he got overwhelmed, then he would be in serious trouble. But if he didn't get a pair of gloves soon, he'd be screwed. Keeping his hands in his pockets could only protect him for so long.

He once again found himself down an alley that more well off, and perhaps intelligent, residents knew to avoid. Unfortunately, the quickest way to get around the city unnoticed was to use these streets. While Ezra considered them valuable, they were not without risk. Even with his instincts, he had been jumped on more than one occasion.

"Well, hello there."

A girl, a little older than himself, sat on top of a stack of crates, a sandwich in her hands. Taking her in, Ezra noticed the fraying jeans, the holes in the toe of one of her boots. She was wearing a coat that was two sizes too large for her. Underneath her eyes were reddish circles, almost as if she had been crying before he found her, but there were no tears on her cheeks.

She studied him for a second and pulled out a second sandwich from her coat pocket. "I'd be happy to share," she said. Her voice had a purring like quality to it. She held out the sandwich to him.

Ezra hesitated. Something was not right. He had lived on the street for almost three years now and had encountered several other homeless teens. They all had the same things in common, ratty clothes that didn't fit properly, perpetually acned faces, but most significantly was the quiet defiance in their eyes. Because sure they had been dealt a shitty hand, but they refused to let their circumstances get the best of them. If they were going down, they would go down fighting.

The girl in front of him might have the mismatched clothes and slightly dirty face, but there was a distinct lack of the unwashed smell that he had come to associate with kids on the street. There was no dirt underneath her fingernails, no tangles in her long hair. Her eyes were too bright, too proud to belong to someone unsure of where their next meal was going to come from. The more he looked at her, the more her facade began to unravel. Even the circles under her eyes, a detail only the most the empathetic would notice, was a part of the performance

She smiled at him, but there was a hint of predatoriness to it. Almost like a cat playing who had found a baby bird.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Suite yourself." She continued to grin, but there was no longer the pretense of kindness to it. Ezra noticed that her own sandwich sat untouched in her lap.

"What's your name?" she asked when he didn't reply.

"Morgan." The lie rolled easily off his tongue. "What's yours?"

"My friends call me Vii."

"Well, I have someplace I have to be."

"See you around, Morgan," she replied slowly.

Ezra waved awkwardly and continued down the alley. Just before he turned on another street, he looked back. The girl was still there sitting on the crates, watching him. She grinned at him and hopped off, a little too gracefully he noticed, and headed in the opposite direction.

By the time he made it to the fair, the sun was low in the sky. The streets were packed with people. They gathered around various booths selling food or offering games. A large crowd had congregated around a makeshift stage, listening and dancing to the band playing.

Ezra took a deep breath, willing his feet to move forward into the crowd. All he needed was just one wallet and then he could leave.

Get in and get out. And then he'd have enough money to buy gloves, food, and maybe some of that coffee he kept smelling.

He pushed his way through the throng, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets until the very last second. The song playing ended and everyone turned toward the stage to clap. This was his chance.

"Excuse me," he apologized, bumping into an older man. His hands quickly slipped inside the man's coat pockets, pulling out a faded leather wallet.

Anger like he had never experienced before slammed into him.

I just need a few twenties. Dad won't notice it missing. He pays more attention to his stupid new wife, than he ever did to me.

Ezra froze, his mind trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

Next came an overwhelming swell of shame.

How can I let her go?

The image of a torn photo of a woman being tucked into a pocket, swam before his eyes.

Ezra felt the wallet slip from his fingers at the same time he heard someone next to him shout.

"Hey!"

Instincts overrode his confusion. Ezra took off into the sea of people.

"Hey! Stop that kid!"

A few people stepped in front of him, but he easily dodged them. The crowds had grown thicker now as more people had come out to see the holiday lights that were strung up all around. Ezra ran, trying his best to avoid touching anyone, but it was impossible. He jostled through them, his hands brushing up against coats, scarves, and even the bare skin of those not wearing gloves.

What if he didn't get the message? Maybe I should call him back?

Rent is due in two weeks. If I work every day until then I think I can make it.

These freaks need to just die already.

Ezra broke away from the crowd, down a side alley, He stumbled blindly, his hands trailing a wall for support. The noise of the crowd and music had faded into nothingness. Unable to bear it any longer, his legs collapsed beneath him. So many different voices. So many different minds.

Anxiety, excitement, hatred. All these emotions hitting him at once. What felt like hundreds of personalities smothering his own.

He huddled against the wall, muttering to himself. "My name is Ezra Bridger. My name is Ezra Bridger."

Images, thoughts, feeling were threatening to drown him. He was a man with a wife and two kids. A teenage girl stressing about college applications. A woman obsessing over if she remembered to lock her door.

Ezra gasped, struggling to retain any sense of self. His fingers clutched his hair as he tried to will away memories that didn't belong to him.

Someone was shouting off in the distance, but their words were unintelligible.

Moments later he vaguely felt gentle hands grasping his face. But then their hands brushed his and what little identity he had held on to shattered.

Caleb, run!

But he couldn't run. He was falling.

Further and further he went, down into the quiet.

To anyone else they looked like a normal couple enjoying the street fair. For the most part they were. Hera was sipping hot chocolate and smiling. But she was also glancing around, trying to place a boy she had only heard about. Her arm was tight around Kanan's. The later it got, the less optimistic Kanan became, and he hadn't been very optimistic from the start. He could only imagine how Hera felt after almost ten hours of searching.

"Hera, there's too many people here. Even if I sense anything, I can't be sure if it's him or not."

She gripped his arm tighter, though whether for warmth of comfort he wasn't sure. "I know." She sighed. "We just need to try. I can't stop thinking about how vulnerable he is on his own."

If he were being honest with himself, neither could Kanan. All night long he had struggled with nightmares of Ezra being captured by E.M.P.I.R.E.'s Inquisitors.

For some reason E.M.P.I.R.E. made children and teens a priority to capture over adults. Perhaps it was because they were so much easier to find due to required testing for schools. That along with the various vaccines and regular checkups that most children had, it was very rare that a young Wielder could stay hidden for long. Powers didn't always show right away, and some could be so subtle that parents didn't realize their child was special. Testing so far had been unable to detect a Wielder until their powers manifested and there were numerous stories of young people who went entire childhoods being labeled as normal only to have their worlds turned upside down after a well-intentioned parent took them in for a broken bone or flu symptoms. People always believed bad things only happened to others, no one ever thought their kid would be the next one to disappear.

"Let's keep just do a full lap around. And then we go home. Maybe start calling shelters to see if they found someone with his description?"

Kanan took her hand and squeezed it. "Yeah. And we can look tomorr-"

He froze. It was very faint, but he could feel the unmistakable hum that came with his ability.

"Hey! Stop that kid!"

Up ahead a small commotion had started. Kanan let go of Hera's hand, making his way toward the source of the noise.

"He tried to take my wallet!" A man was shouting to anyone who would listen. Kanan searched in the direction the man was pointing but saw nothing.

"Kanan! To the left!"

He followed Hera's direction and sure enough a familiar shabby jacket and its owner was pushing through the crowds of people.

The sun had almost set now and despite all the lights, it was still hard to see far ahead. Kanan had difficulty keeping up. Kriff, was the kid fast. But the faint pulling feeling was still there, guiding him.

Kanan ran until the crowd began to dissolve at the end of the fair.

"Karabast!" he muttered. He had lost him.

But Kanan refused to give up so easily this time. Closing his eyes, he focused on the now almost absent pulling sensation.

It led him to an alley between two apartment buildings and then puffed out. He couldn't see anyone.

Another dead end. Another failure.

But then he heard it.

"No, no, no, stop."

There, at the very back of the alley, Ezra sat huddled in the corner, his knees pulled tight to him.

"Hera! He's here!" Kanan ran to him, but Ezra didn't acknowledge his presence.

The boy was grasping his hair, pulling, his fingers scratching at his face. Incoherent words fell from his lips.

"Ezra?"

Kanan heard Hera's footsteps as she caught up. "Kanan what's going on? Is he okay?" Her voice was high pitched, frantic.

"I don't know. I don't know," he answered, unable to hide the tremor in his words. He softened his voice, "Ezra, can you hear me?"

Was he having a fit? Was he high? No, this was something else.

"Kanan, we need to get him out of here."

"Ezra?"

The boy stared past Kanan, his blue eyes unfocused. Kanan tried to gently pry his fingers away from his face, afraid he would hurt himself. Ezra's eyelids fluttered for a second as he pitched over sideways. Kanan caught him before his head hit the concrete.

"We can't take him to the hospital," Hera stated. "The first thing they'll do is test him."

"I know." Kanan gently scooped Ezra up, his head lolling against Kanan's chest. "Call Zeb. Tell him to come pick us up." He watched as Ezra's breathing evened out, his eyes fully closed now. "Don't worry, kid. I got you."