Drunk on Petroleum
By PerilousPie
Chapter 2: The Walls Are Growing Thin
Kanan had done a large amount of unhealthy self-reflection, better called self-recrimination. Malachor was a sign to him, the big event which ripped away all the confidence he'd built in his abilities and fate as a Jedi. The insecurities of his teenage years and young adulthood had been thrust back on him, his student was blind, another good friend dead, all by his judgement. Kanan had spent many hours and days pondering why the events on Malachor had unfolded the way they had and he had settled on the explanation of the important variable being himself.
Not strong enough, still corrupt and impure from his many years breaking the Jedi code, his failure as a teacher. Ezra was blind. Kanan had done the impossible, taken a kid with a kriffed up life and managed to somehow make it worse, something he hadn't thought conceivable. He kept telling himself that it was now of utmost importance that he allow Ezra the space to heal and to come to his own decisions without Kanan's influence. No doubt the deep bond between the two, formed at a time in Ezra's life when he had no one (an unfair situation to a child with little choice in the matter) was something which needed to be tempered.
Kanan was too attached, had encouraged Ezra to be too attached to someone who was ultimately akin to a cancerous growth. Best to leave Ezra alone. Kanan had forgotten who he was.
Rubbing at his face, Kanan walked down the hallways of the rebellion ship Chrysalis, a meeting place and the main quarters of Commander Sato.
"Jarrus, I was just looking for you."
Speak of the devil. Kanan turned to see Commander Sato walking towards him, a smile on his face.
"Commander Sato," Kanan said in reply, "what can I help you with?"
"Your Padawan," Sato said, standing at ease in the hallway.
Kanan glanced about the white hall, uncomfortable discussing this in general, but wishing to do so out of earshot.
"What about him?" Kanan asked, now less bonhomous.
"I know I initially underestimated the boy, but since then I've seen exactly how skilled and capable he is. I know the loss of his sight is no doubt devastating but I'm sure he'll rebound well. I hope his progress has been going well."
"I wouldn't know," Kanan answered.
Sato looked surprised.
"Why not?"
"Well, we've needed a Jedi in the field, I've been busy with missions," Kanan felt pretty good about that excuse and it seemed Sato believed it.
The man frowned, seemed to consider it for a few moments, before looking back to Kanan. Kanan had hopes that the man would leave it at that.
"I'm sure we can live without you, it's more important for you to be with your Padawan. I'll have you taken off all missions and stationed at Atollon," with that, Sato smiled at Kanan and patted him on the back before walking off.
Kanan was frozen in shock. The last place he wanted to go was Atollon.
Ezra ran into Sabine on his way out from breakfast the second day Zeb was gone.
"Ezra," Sabine's voice was hesitant.
Ezra halted, turning in the direction of the voice.
"How, uh, how have you been?"
Sabine sounded so awkward and uncomfortable. It pricked at Ezra and he turned to continue making his way out of the breakfast hall.
"Fine," he threw out, hearing the girl falling into step beside him.
It was silent aside from the quick staccato of Sabine's boots echoing just behind him. It pressed on Ezra, the sound, the steady click click and the knowledge that she was following. Irrational anger brewed in him, what did she care? Why was she following, the click click grating on his ears, sightless motions carrying away and away till he was walking at a pace nearer to a jog.
Finally the sound, her presence, a weight upon his chest and lungs, snapped.
"What do you want!?" He barked, spinning around.
He saw nothing, could only hear the click click replaced by silence. Was she sneering, staring at him in disgust and accusation? Pity poor Ezra Bridger, the blind street rat now useless by his own idiocy.
"I just-" Sabine broke off, her voice was meek and hurt.
Ezra's rage faltered, a pin to a balloon and all the air and bravado escaping. He'd snapped at her for no reason.
"Leave me alone, please," Ezra said quietly, head ducked even though he couldn't see.
"I'm sorry," Sabine whispered out and the click click of her boots rapidly faded away.
Ezra stood there feeling pathetic. He was still hurting people. A few moments passed before he realized he had no idea where he was. He'd been so, so, wound up, a clockwork mouse whose gears were ready to burst and fall apart. He hadn't even payed attention to where he was storming off to and was now lost.
"Watch it!" An elderly voice whipped through the despair and Ezra stumbled back against the wall.
"Sorry," he said, not entirely sure who he was saying it to or why.
There was silence, the clink of metal and then Ezra felt a soft puff of air from movement.
"Say, you're that boy from the Ghost, the Jedi whatchamacallit."
Ezra stiffened, preparing for the inevitable questions about his blindness and about Malachor.
"I heard you're pretty good with machines, follow me."
A wrinkled hand grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, Ezra was too stunned by the turn of events to do anything. They walked a little ways and then stopped. The hand released him and Ezra heard the whir of a door. The hand seized him again.
"C'mon in," the old woman's voice bellowed.
Ezra didn't have much of a choice as she tugged him.
"You sit here."
He was guided to a seat and pushed down roughly. Now sitting, he waited. The old woman however seemed busy, noises that Ezra didn't recognize sounding out. There was suddenly a loud clunk right next to him and Ezra jumped a little.
"Here we are, you try an' clean these parts up, see if you can get them function."
And that seemed to be that. The old woman said nothing more and from what Ezra heard, she had set about her own business. Hesitantly, Ezra felt out in front of him. His fingers brushed against a box and then, as he explored, he found that in it were what felt like bits and pieces of machinery to ships.
At first, Ezra was shy about messing with the parts, he couldn't see and he honestly didn't know much. But every so often the old woman would snap something at him, move his hands and then give him a bit of an explanation. She did it in a way that didn't make him feel like he was being babied because he was blind. The other part of the time she prattled away, talking about herself, about her tiny droids that she literally built merely for company, about places she'd been and ships she'd fixed. Ezra learned her name was Tira Prim. She was a self-confessed crazy old mechanic lady and she helped do maintenance and repairs on ship parts.
The time passed pleasantly. Tira shoved a sandwich into his hand around lunch time and then kept working. When evening came, or Ezra assumed it was evening, she patted him on the back, steered him out and told him to come back tomorrow. She shot off quick directions to the mess hall and then the door was sliding shut behind Ezra.
Ezra walked down the hall to his room feeling a little better than he had the day before.
The week Zeb was gone passed pretty easily. Ezra spent his days with Tira Prim, cleaning machine parts and sometimes even fixing him. He found himself actually using the Force, albeit nearly unconsciously, as he used it to help him see the parts beyond just using his hands and the sensation of touch. It was strange, but Ezra felt useful again, even if just a little, he had some small purpose. Maybe he wasn't with his family, and maybe he still spent his nights struggling to sleep and tossing his way through nightmares and battling the thoughts in his head, but at least he was now helping the rebellion.
When Zeb got back, the Lasat visited Ezra and for the first time in a while, Ezra actually smiled a full smile. They practiced hluhutsu and Ezra felt like everything was looking up.
Kanan had landed on Atollon a few days ago. He hated it, boxed away and grounded from all missions. General Sato didn't fully understand the situation and had given Kanan this 'vacation' to allow him to help Ezra. It had been a well meaning gesture, but Kanan was still bitter about it. His padawan didn't need him, in fact the last person Ezra needed was Kanan.
So Kanan sometimes ate, stalked about and in general tried to avoid everybody. He left his lightsaber in his room and tucked the holocron as far away as possible. He'd stopped meditating and it felt so similar to the time after Billaba's death. She probably wouldn't be too happy with his decisions now either.
Right now he was on a tiny mission for one of the pilots, the guy had needed a hand bringing some parts to someone he called 'the crazy parts lady' because he didn't have time. Kanan, overwhelmed by time, had volunteered himself.
Coming to the door of the crazy parts lady, Kanan knocked. An old voice barked out a 'come in' and Kanan opened the door. He stepped in and approached the wrinkled old human woman, the part in his hand. He came to a halt as someone he hadn't seen initially came into view. It was Ezra, standing behind the old woman with a part in hand. Kanan was staring, the words that had been about to slip from his mouth gone.
Ezra was wearing no eye guard and his milky white eyes and the red scar were very visible. The boy obviously couldn't see him and there was a small, if a little sad, smile on his face.
"Well? What is it? Loth-cat got your tongue or are you going to tell me why you're here?" The old woman snapped.
Kanan blinked, right, the part. He stared down at the part in his hand. Maybe he should walk away, not even risk putting himself in Ezra's world. He'd promised the part though, and the boy would inevitably run into him at some point.
"Uh," Kanan cleared his throat, "yeah, I have this part for you."
Kanan couldn't ignore the way Ezra's eyes widened, the way the boy's whole body stiffened. The woman noticed, a brow raising, but she said nothing.
"I believe I can fix it for you," she said, grabbing the part and eyeing it.
Kanan watched Ezra's mouth open, like he wanted to say something.
"Come back in a couple days, I'll have it ready then."
Kanan gave a nod, turning to go. He needed to leave. He was almost out the door when he heard Ezra's voice and heard a clatter.
"Wait!" Ezra cried out, rushing forward without thinking and slamming into a pile of parts and knocking them everywhere.
Kanan paused briefly, guilt swallowing him. Ezra was busy trying to disentangle himself from the mess he'd made.
"Kanan, wait, just wait," Ezra huffed, finally getting to his feet.
Kanan felt panic fill him, a desperate need to run. Ezra was approaching, blindly fumbling along. Kanan edged away.
"Can we talk? Please?" Ezra begged.
"No, we," Kanan fumbled, "there's nothing to talk about, kid."
With that Kanan fled the scene, rushing down the hallway.
Ezra hadn't been expecting Kanan's voice, the rich timbre almost foreign from how long it'd been since he'd heard it. Thoughts had sped through his mind and as Kanan turned to go he'd just desperately wanted to say sorry, to let his master know that he hadn't meant it. Instead, Kanan had left and Ezra's apology had never had time to form on his tongue.
Standing in shock, Ezra felt that familiar weight settle on his chest with a vengeance, a tight band constricting his lungs and stomach.
"Boy," Tira said, for once sounding soft.
Ezra fled, rushing out and headed somewhere he could feel like he had control, somewhere to get rid of this weight and to feel light again. That somewhere was his favorite coral leaf. He stepped out haphazardly, foot slipping one time and nearly sending him tumbling down the fatal distance to the ground. Finally, he was edged out on the tip of the leaf, his toes peeking over the edge and meeting air.
Ezra clenched his eyes shut, his chest hurt, he needed it to not hurt.
"Ezra!?"
Ezra flinched at the unexpected sound, nearly falling. It was Zeb. A few moments passed and a large hand was gripping his bicep and pulling him back and away from the edge. It was a bit of a blur, Zeb both rough and gentle as he carted Ezra back towards safety.
"Karabast kid, you damn near gave me a heart attack. What were you doing?"
Ezra was silent. He didn't really know. Zeb shook him a little before pulling him closer into what was almost sort of a hug. Then he was guiding him somewhere, Ezra assumed his room.
"Why?" Ezra asked.
Zeb stopped.
"Whaddaya mean, why?" Zeb asked cantankerously.
"Why am I here?" Ezra asked, voice ethereal, weighed with despair and confusion.
There was silence. Zeb sort of shook him, obviously confused by the question as well.
"We're getting you to bed, okay," Zeb replied before continuing to take Ezra towards his room.