Kanan sat with his feet propped up against the dashboard, watching the landscape fly by. "So, when is it my turn?" he asked.

Hera arched an eyebrow, keeping her focus on the road. "You don't exactly have a license, dear."

"I still know how to drive," he protested.

"Yes, but on the off chance we get pulled over, I'd rather not have an unregistered Wielder at the wheel."

He wrinkled his nose at that, but knew she was right. Random E.M.P.I.R.E. checkpoints weren't unheard of, especially near state lines.

"How much is it costing us to rent this thing?" he asked.

"We aren't. I figured we'd be gone for a while and it was cheaper to just buy it."

This was news to him. Last time he checked, their bank account barely had enough to cover rent for a few months. "Did you win the lottery and forget to tell me?"

"I borrowed some money. From my dad mostly."

He wasn't too fond of the nonchalant way she'd said that. "Mostly?"

"Well," she replied, stretching out the word.

"Hera," he said, swiveling in his seat to face her. "Tell me you didn't."

"You know this is what they do."

He rubbed at his eyes. "Dammit Hera, I didn't want the Rebellion involved with this." He glanced back at Ezra lying on the bed and lowered his voice. "Please tell me they don't know about him."

"No, all I told them is we have a kid the Inquisitors are after. Cal is the only one who knows what he can do." She paused. "Although Ahsoka might too. You never know with that ability of hers."

"It doesn't matter, they don't do anything for free. They'll want to recruit him."

Hera said nothing.

"You want them to?" Kanan couldn't believe this. He'd never had an issue with Hera still working for the Rebellion, passing along information for them. In fact, he admired her fearlessness and desire to help others. But Ezra was still very much a kid. One that was terrified of his own ability. The Rebellion might be far from the Inquisitors, but they'd exploit his gift just the same. They wouldn't care it could hurt him—possibly even change him.

"No, I don't," Hera replied tentatively. "But I'd be lying if I hadn't thought about it. His ability could really help them."

"Yeah at the cost of his sanity," he snapped.

"Which is why I haven't told them, Kanan," she said, equal bite to her voice.

Anticipating the edge of an argument he was in no mood for, Kanan slumped back down in his chair, arms folded across his chest. The silence between the two of them stretched, growing unbearably uncomfortable with each passing second.

"You know," Hera started, her voice slicing through the tension. "Cal seems to be all right. Maybe with practice Ezra will be too."

"So what, we help him just so he can get recruited to be a solider? No thanks. The kid's been through enough."

"So has every other Wielder in the Rebellion. Ahsoka lost her brother. Kriff, Cal watched his father die during a mission last year." She took a deep breath, and Kanan could hear the forced patience in her words. "I'm not saying Ezra needs to help. I just think once he learns to control his gift, he might consider it. He doesn't have to fight, but there's a lot of good he can do."

"Fine," Kanan replied through gritted teeth. "But until then I don't want anyone knowing about his ability."

"They won't. I promise." She paused before asking quietly. "We okay?"

His chest tightened with guilt that she even had to ask. "Always," he answered, standing up to kiss her cheek. "Sorry, I'm just don't want him to get hurt again."

"I know that." She spared him a two second glance before returning to the road. "I don't either."

He squeezed her shoulder in response before joining Ezra in the back. Plopping down in one of the table's booths, he made sure to check for Chopper first. The mistake had already happened once, the scratches on his arm a nasty reminder.

Ezra lifted his head from the comic he'd been reading. "Cal's dad died recently? I thought he grew up in foster care with you."

Kanan frowned. "You heard us?"

Ezra snorted. "Kanan, it's a shoebox in here. And you guys aren't as quiet as you think." His face sobered as he tugged at his gloves. "Never thought my power would be this big of a deal. Seems everyone wants it."

"Information is power, kid." When Ezra didn't respond, he added, "You don't have to join the Rebellion. I didn't offer to protect you from Inquisitors just to force you to work for the other side. You always have a choice."

"I know. It's just …" he trailed off, wincing. "So, about Cal?"

Understanding the kid's need for a shift in subject, he answered, "Right. Um, Cal was adopted when I was sixteen. The guy turned out to be a Wielder. He sacrificed himself so Cal could get away after a mission went sour."

Seems to be a common theme with Wielders. Kanan's stomach twisted at the bitter thought.

"Didn't you get adopted too? By the woman who—" He broke off and Kanan knew the word "died" had been on his lips, —"taught you?"

"Not exactly," Kanan answered slowly. "She found me after I ran away from my foster home."

"You never told me that." Ezra sat up straighter, keen interest blossoming across his face. "What happened?"

Kanan shrugged. "Nothing exciting." A lie, but he wasn't quite ready to discuss it. Not that he ever really was. It had taken him, what? A year to confide in Hera?

"I thought you said no secrets," Ezra replied, cocking his head.

Kriff, he should have seen that coming. Teens really had the remarkable ability of using adults' own words against them, and Ezra was no exception. "Okay, tell me about the guy from yesterday and I'll tell you all about my past."

That wiped the smug grin off Ezra's face. He dropped his eyes and mumbled, "Nothing to tell."

"Come on, kid, I'm not an idiot."

Ezra fidgeted more with his gloves, still avoiding Kanan's gaze. "It's really nothing. I thought he was someone else. Some homeless guy that use to bother me. But I was wrong."

Oh, what Kanan would give to have mind control as an ability. It certainly would make this whole guardian thing so much easier.

He exaggerated a sigh. "If you can't be straight with me kid, I guess you don't get to unlock my tragic backstory."

Ezra's head jerked up, eyes flashing with annoyance. But it quickly subsided. "Fair enough." Smirking, he picked up his comic and started reading again.

Kanan plucked it from his grasp.

"Hey!"

"Just for that, we're mediating. Come on, kid." He sat down on the floor; eyebrows raised pointedly.

Ezra mumbled something that Kanan knew he'd never say in the presence of Hera, but he obeyed and sat down across from him. Kanan watched as Ezra closed his eyes and waited a few minutes before doing so himself.

Patience was a virtue. One he had perfected. He'd get his answers, only a matter of time.

Ezra opened his eyes, slightly disoriented. For a brief moment he expected to find himself on a rusty fire escape. He'd fallen asleep reading in one of the booths, his neck now stiff. Pain twinged down his back and he sat up to crack it. Despite his aching body, he'd slept soundly for once. No nightmares. Or at least none he could remember.

Night had fallen while he slept, yet a significant number of cars were still on the road. He watched them pass for a while, wondering about the people inside of them. When he'd been little, he use to do the same, making up stories about their lives.

A man's voice drifted up ahead from the RV's stereo. It was faint, and Ezra could just barely make out the words. "They have been called monsters, but they're not."

Wait a second, he recognized those words. He stood and inched closer to the front, careful not to make a sound.

"They're people, just like you," the man said again.

A dull ache arose in Ezra's chest, the phantom pain of a memory long ago. What had if been? A few weeks after his birthday? Right after his powers had started. He took another step forward, the voice growing louder.

"E.M.P.I.R.E. wants to divide us. They've hurt your family and friends." This time a woman spoke. Ezra closed his eyes, her voice triggering memories of soft forehead kisses and bedtime stories. The ache in his chest deepened and he steeled himself against the tears threatening to spill. Had it really been four years since he heard her voice?

Hera stared straight ahead at the road, oblivious to his presence. Kanan sat next to her in the passenger seat, leaning against the window with his eyes closed.

Ezra stood slightly behind Hera. "What are you listening to?" he asked quietly, despite already knowing the answer. He needed to hear her say it. Needed her to confirm it was real and not just his own imagination.

Hera started a bit in her seat as he spoke. "Sorry, I didn't know you were awake," she said. "It's not too loud is it? It helps me stay focused."

"That's when we need to stand the tallest," the woman's voice said. There was a crunching noise in the background, so faint it was easy to miss if you weren't listening for it.

He'd been eating cereal when they'd recorded this. Cap'n Crunch mixed with Lucky Charms. The perfect blend of pure sugar. Strange, the details that stayed with him after so many years.

Ezra shook his head before realizing Hera probably couldn't see him. "No, it's fine. It's a podcast, right?"

"We need to stand together. Because that's when we're strongest—as one."

"Yeah, The Lothal Transmissions. One of the few that weren't afraid to be vocal in support of Wielders," she answered. "It's not online anymore but I had a few episodes saved. I relisten to it when things seem a little bleak." She reached over and hit pause on her phone. "These two were always so passionate. So hopeful things could get better. But this was their last one. Went quiet when E.M.P.I.R.E. starting censoring stuff like this."

"No, it's because they're dead," Ezra said. How he managed to keep his voice void of any emotion, he didn't know.

Hera visibly went rigid in her seat.

Ezra swallowed. He shouldn't have said anything. But he had and now it was too late to take it back "It's—it's my parents. They always defended Wielders, even before my power started. This podcast was their way of rallying others." He paused, struggling to form the next words. "And they—they were killed for it."

Refusing to say those words over the past few years hadn't made the situation any less true. But after holding them in for so long, Ezra got the strange impression he had just solidified the fact his parent had been murdered simple for standing up for their beliefs. Their only crime wanting a better world for their son.

Hera's eyes did not leave the road. Her mouth parted open and her knuckles went white as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"They broke in at night," Ezra continued, unable to stop now. Though he spoke quietly he might as well have been shouting. The only other sounds were passing cars on the road, and his voice filled the RV. "I heard a loud noise and then screaming. I—" He broke off. The words had burned his throat as he said them. He had never told anyone what had happened. What he had seen that day. He hadn't even allowed himself to think of it. The past four years the memory had been buried deep inside of him. A sore left to fester, unable to heal.

"How did you survive?"

Ezra jumped. Kanan was awake now, or maybe he'd been the whole time. His eyes were fixed on Ezra, something indecipherable in them.

"I hid. There was a crawl space in my closet," Ezra answered. He could hear himself speaking but felt oddly detached from the words. Like he was listening to someone else tell the story. "They came into my room. I could hear them talking, trying to find me. Even after they gave up, I just stayed there. I couldn't move. I stayed there all night. I—" His voice failed, and he had to take a moment to compose himself. "Found them the next morning. Could have been sleeping if not for all the blood. I packed up a backpack and left. And, well, you know the rest."

"The police never showed up?" Hera asked, her voice wobbling. She sounded as if it was taking all her effort not to scream. Or maybe he was projecting. It was certainly how he felt at the moment.

Ezra gave a small hollow laugh. "We lived in a crappy part of the city. Wielders were disappearing all the time. No one cared."

"It might have been for the best," Kanan said. "They would have tested you. Taken you away."

"I wasn't even thinking about that." Ezra's throat tightened. "I was just scared. So I ran. Like a coward." Anger colored his next words. "Left them there all alone. Who does that? Who just runs?"

The questions hung in the silence that followed. Hera had gone so still that she didn't appear to be breathing. And Kanan was staring at him; eyebrows drawn together, his expression horribly soft. Kriff, why didn't he keep his damn mouth shut?

"Kid—" Kanan reached out toward him.

Ezra dodged the act of comfort. "Now that you all have unlocked my tragic backstory," he said, forcing some semblance of humor into the words. "I think I'm gonna go back to bed."

Hera's eyes darted to his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Ezra, I'm—I'm so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have—"

"Don't be." And he meant it. "It was nice to hear their voices again."

Force, he'd almost had forgotten what his parents had sounded like. Thinking of them had only brought pain. A distraction he didn't allow himself to have. Couldn't have, to survive on his own. But hearing them again, their words fighting for him and his kind, he couldn't just let them fade away again. He owed them that much. Pointing to the phone he asked, "Can I borrow that?"

Kanan handed it to him. Ezra headed back to the bed and rummaged through his bag for headphones. Lying down, he hit play and closed his eyes. His parent's voices filled his ears.

It might have not been bedtime stories, but it helped him to imagine they were there as he drifted off to sleep.

Hera watched the road without blinking. Tears had begun to form in the corners of her eyes, a few of them trickling down her cheeks. Kanan touched her gently on the arm and she flinched.

"Hey," he said. "Let's take a break. Find a rest stop."

"No, I'm fine," she replied, her voice strained. "I want to get out of the state by morning."

"Hera, you haven't slept since we left."

"Kanan—" She broke off, pressing her lips together in a tight line. "No, I'd rather focus on driving right now".

"Okay," he said softly.

Kanan glanced back at Ezra lying on the bed. He looked so young, clutching the phone to his chest as if it were a teddy bear.

Who does that? Who just runs?

The kid had no way of knowing how those words would affect him. Even still, Kanan felt like he'd been punched in the face. He'd been asking those questions for years, unable to forgive himself for Billaba's death.

Some paternal instinct he wasn't aware he had, urged him to gather Ezra up in his arms and tell him none of it was his fault. That he wasn't to blame for his parent's death or for running to save his own life. But he sincerely doubted the kid would be comfortable with that level of affection. So instead he went over and covered Ezra with the blanket he'd neglected at the foot of the bed.

A few months ago, never in his wildest dreams Kanan would have thought he'd be taking care of a kid. Frankly, he'd never wanted children. While no one knew for certain why only a small population had developed abilities, numerous evidence was starting to suggest the gene could be passed down; a thought which terrified Kanan to no end. He couldn't subject an innocent child to the life he led. Always hiding a major part of himself, frightened what others would think. What could happened if he were found out.

He'd always figured Sabine would be the closest thing he'd have to a daughter. But then Ezra had entered his life and here he was suddenly responsible for another human. Constantly worrying if he'd screw it up. Had Billaba ever felt this way?

He was just about to rejoin Hera when something caught his eye. His book, the one Ezra's had unfortunately touched, was sitting on the table among Ezra's comics. To be honest, he'd completely forgotten to pack it and was surprised to find it here. A napkin stuck out of the pages, almost like a bookmark. Had Ezra been reading it?

Kanan sat down at the table, cracking it open for the first time since Billaba's death. He'd never been much of a reader. The only reason he'd started this one because it was her favorite first. She'd thrust it into his hands one night after he wouldn't stop pestering her with questions. He'd devoured it, the parallels between it and their current situation not lost to him. Even though he knew she'd just wanted a little quiet, he always liked that the book was something they could share. Something other than constantly fearing for their lives, that is.

He flipped to the first page and began to read.

Ash fell from the sky.

They'd only been on the road for a week and already Ezra was going stir-crazy. While the last few years had been less than fun, at least he hadn't been cooped up. He'd had freedom to explore the city. Go where he wanted when he wanted.

Here in the RV, there was no place to escape. Nothing to do but read or sleep. Occasionally he listened to his parent's podcasts, but Hera has only saved a few episodes and he had burned through them quickly. Neither Kanan or Hera had mentioned the whole parent confession debacle, and for that he was grateful. Still, he could see it in their faces that they wanted to, especially Kanan's.

He missed having privacy. It was nonexistent in the RV, with the exception of the minuscule bathroom. Even when Kanan kept Hera company at the front, there was still Chopper around to harass him. The furry little bastard had the habit of jumping up on his chest and head butting him until he got the pets he desired. He'd give anything just for an hour to himself.

When they stopped for gas that day, Ezra was the first one off the RV, beelining it for the little store. His relief was short lived however once Kanan caught up to him at the inside.

The man had been practically glued to him any time they stopped to get food or stretch their legs. While Ezra appreciated the concern, it was grating on his nerves. Kriff, he got kidnapped in broad daylight once and suddenly he needed a babysitter everywhere he went.

Ezra was about to veer off, when Kanan touched his shoulder.

"Let's just stick together," he said. "It's not going to take that long."

"Kanan, the store isn't that big. If anyone tries to grab me, I'll yell stranger danger and you can come running."

Kanan threw him a wry look. "Fine. Meet me by the cashier in ten minutes."

Oh goody, a whole ten minutes to himself. He gave a mock salute—which Kanan merely deadpanned at-and wandered down an aisle to peruse. Taking his time, he debated how far he could push the ten-minute rule without Kanan's head exploding.

He meandered toward the back of the store, finding a small stand containing a meager offering of magazines and cheesy looking paperbacks. No comics, to his disappointment. He'd already devoured the small stash Kanan have gifted him and was itching for something new. Maybe he could convince them to stop at a comic store and Kanan could uphold the offer he'd made weeks ago. With everything that had happened, that night felt like an eternity ago.

A chill traveled down his spine, the strong impression someone was watching him. He slowly placed the book he'd been holding back on the rack and turned—

To find absolutely no one near. Weird.

He checked his phone and decided against pushing Kanan's buttons. The guy had uprooted his whole life just to keep him safe. As annoying as his constant presence was, Ezra couldn't blame him for being overprotective. With two minutes to spare he headed toward the front, searching for Kanan amongst the aisles. And then he froze.

Standing at the coffee machine, filling a cup, was the Inquisitor.

No.

It—it wasn't possible. She couldn't have found them. Not unless she'd been following them this while time. But why wait? To torture him longer? Did she delight in the idea of him always on edge, just waiting to get caught?

Kanan, he needed to warn Kanan. His brain screamed at him to move, to run. But his body was numb, legs refusing to cooperate. Any second now she'd look up and spot him. Any second her lips would twist into that triumph smile that haunted his dreams. He could feel her fingers curled in his hair, hear her laughter in his ears. She tilted her head toward him—

"Something wrong?"

Ezra jumped at the weight of a hand on his shoulder. Kanan scanned his face, brows furrowing. How could he be so calm? He'd have to seen the Inquisitor; she was right there in front of them. Unless—?

Ezra turned back to the coffee machine. Now that the shock had worn off, he could clearly see the girl's freckled face and long blonde hair only resembled the Inquisitor. He swallowed, the panic trickling away. "Sorry, I thought I saw something—someone."

Kanan's gaze followed Ezra's. The girl finished filling her coffee cup and walked away, none the wiser they'd been staring at her. "The Inquisitor?"

"Yeah, it's stupid." Heat crept up his neck. Force, Kanan must think he was losing it. Poor traumatized Ezra.

"No, it's understandable. But kid, you threw a knife into her back. I doubt she's in any condition to come after us. I'm more worried about her friends showing up."

"You think I killed her?" Ezra asked quietly. It was a little surprising, and honestly rather concerning, it had taken him this long to think about it. He'd been too preoccupied agonizing over hurting Kanan to even consider he'd potentially killed another person. The notion he was responsible for ending someone's life left a rotten taste in his mouth. Even if it was an Inquisitor.

"I honestly don't know," Kanan answered, glancing around for anyone in ear shot. "But we should get going. Hera's waiting."

Ezra hovered beside Kanan as he paid. His eyes flitted around the store for the girl but couldn't find her. He'd been so certain it was the Inquisitor.

When they got back to the RV, Hera was leaning against its side, her face bright.

"Something happen?" Kanan asked.

"There's been a slight change of plans," she answered, sparkling eyes on Ezra. "Cal just called. He's back from his mission and wants to join us for a bit."