A/N: You should read this before you go on. I took a lot of risks with this chapter, which caused me to hesitate to post for over two weeks. I originally began writing this spinoff story from "Not to Yield" to see what happened to Ezra while he was on Hoth. I wrote a lot of happy ending stories before this series, and I felt like I wanted to see what I could do if things became the worst they could be for the Ghost crew after Kanan's death.

Since this is an AU, their reactions are out of character for the series, but not out of character for what they have gone through and are going through (which I think I have justified in the story well). I originally began the "Not to Yield" series to explore the ravages that war causes on soldiers, and this runs in that same vein. Like "Orbits," I wanted to work on making my writing more gritty, and that continues here as well.

On the bright side...we know that everything goes well later for our heroes. But do not forget that Ezra and Hera are both really struggling here. Fear...fear of losing the ones you love and fear of disappointing those that depend on you causes them both to do things they should NEVER do. I hope you stay with me for this chapter, where the absolute worst things happen, because it does get better. I'd love to hear what you thought!

Warning: Substance abuse occurs in this chapter, as well as HUGE amounts of angst. If that bothers you, this story might be too much for you.

4.

"Careful." Zeb warned as he helped Hera up the ramp. It was after 0100 when Hera was released from the medbay and Zeb helped her back to the Ghost. Ezra was on the catwalk above, waiting for them.

"I'm going to lift you up, so you don't have to climb the ladder, okay?" Ezra said. Zeb had called and told them that Hera's foot had been burned by the extreme heat in the cockpit that had been rising up from below. She would recover, but walking was going to be a little difficult for a while.

"That's not necessary…" she began.

"Hera." Zeb said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Let us help you."

"Okay," she sighed and nodded. Ezra gestured with his hands and she felt a gentle touch lift her upwards. She landed next to him on the balcony, and he put an arm around her for support as Zeb climbed up.

"You okay?" Ezra asked.

"Yeah," she said with a cough. "Thank you, Ezra."

"Let's get you to bed."

Together, Zeb and Ezra moved through the Ghost with Hera, taking her toward her cabin. Sabine had readied things for them, and she followed them as they set the Twi'lek on her bunk. Hera looked down sadly at her feet. Her burned foot was wrapped in bandages, but the other was still in the charred remnants of a boot. "Those were good boots," she said mournfully. "How's Caleb?" Sabine helped her strip off her one remaining boot as she asked.

Sabine and Zeb both glanced to Ezra.

Hera's eyes went wide. "What is it?"

"First off, he's fine." Ezra said. "But he…knew when you came in hot for that landing and tried to leave the Ghost to find you. Sabine and Kallus…"

"We didn't know," Sabine interrupted. "We kept him here and…"

"He had a tantrum with the Force," Ezra finished.

Hera's eyes grew wider. Her pupils were so large her irises looked black. "He did what?"

"Hera. He can use the Force, like we've always thought. He strong, like Kanan. He didn't mean to, though-it scared him to death. He broke half the plates in the kitchen and scattered the stuff in the cargo hold..." Ezra said gently. "He…was very frightened, but we calmed him down."

Her eyes widened and she stood up immediately, limping toward the door.

"Hera-where are you going?" Zeb reached for her.

"To find my kid."

"Wait." Ezra put a hand on her shoulder. "We need to talk about this. He's going to need training…"

Hera turned on him, her eyes full of flame. "What kind of training would that be?"

Ezra's eyes widened. "He'll need help to control his abilities. Hera…I can teach him…"

She stared at him like he was speaking another language. "You're NOT training him to be a Jedi. The Force can't have my kid!" She looked away, bitterly. "Not after it took Kanan…"

Zeb tried to step in. "We can have this conversation later."

Ezra leaned forward. "No…I'm not trying to-Hera wait. He's got the same gift as Kanan…he has to learn to control it!" Ezra said, pushing past Zeb.

"No! It will be a warm day on Hoth when I let that happen!" She turned on him, her voice rising. "The Force let Kanan die! My child-"

"Stop." Zeb said. "The kid will hear—"

Ezra paid no attention. "Hera, you know what could happen. The dark side is always there—"

"How can you even suggest this?" she asked, horrified, and stepping back. "After everything that's happened? Kanan was like a father to you, and…the Force took him away from both of us!"

Ezra felt his heart twist in his chest, shaking his head. "Hera….You can't keep Caleb from the Force…it's a part of him…like…like breathing or his lekku…"

She went to slap him, but preternaturally alert, Ezra's reflexes were so fast that he caught her hand before it made contact. Everyone froze in stunned silence; then Zeb pulled her back further before she could try it again. "Never!" Hera growled. "My child will never use the Force, Ezra! I'd rather die first!"

Some part of Ezra shrank back in horror when he realized she was going to hit him, but it was his fault Kanan was gone, after all. If they'd been with the Rebel fleet and not on Lothal…Kanan would be here to see his child grow up.

Was this what they'd become in his absence? His face twisted with grief as Hera's pain washed over him in a cold dark wave. He felt sick to his stomach. Had he eaten anything, he would have thrown it up, but as it was, he'd had nothing but a few cups of cold caf.

"I'm sorry for what happened to Kanan, Hera. I would gladly take his place in a…in a heartbeat, but you can't stop Caleb from becoming who he is," he spoke, his voice unsteady with inconsolable sadness. His jaw tightened and he looked away. Tears began to stream down Hera's face as she put a hand over her mouth, obviously realizing what she'd almost done.

After a moment, Ezra turned and left.

"No, Ezra…wait," Hera whispered.

When he didn't turn back, she sat back heavily on the bed, her face in her hands. Zeb sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her, trying to comfort her. They all were paralyzed with shock.

"Kriff," Sabine murmured, her eyes catching Zeb's.

"I got this. Go after him." Zeb said to her, pulling a now-crying Hera against his shoulder.

"Sabine. I'm…I'm sorry." Hera murmured.

"I know, but I'm not the one you should apologize to," Sabine said grimly as she left the room.

Hera gathered herself together after a moment, then stood up and followed at a painful limp, with Zeb.

But Sabine was already standing in the middle of the common area. "He left," she said, turning around and meeting their eyes. "He's gone."

Just leave. They'll all be a lot better without you. The voice of the dark side in his mind spoke in an even, reasonable tone, as if it knew what was best for him. Hera hates you…what you are. You saw her eyes. She thinks you shouldn't be around the child…she knows you're a danger to him. Just because it was the dark side, didn't make the words any less true.

"Shut up." He muttered, jamming his flight helmet on his head and starting the pre-flight checklist.

"What was that, Bridger?"

His comm had communicated his words to flight control. Karking hells, he thought. He shook his head. "Nothing. All good here. Let me know when I'm clear for takeoff."

He'd left the Ghost and gone to command to ask for the first mission they had. Putting all his focus on a job would keep him on the right side of sane. He was being sent to purchase a few hyperspace motivators that could be modified for usage on the X-wings. A warehouse on Ylix sold them wholesale, and he would be posing as an intermediary for a small aerospace company. This was a job that shouldn't call a lot of attention to him, if done right. And after the job, he planned to get as shitfaced as the local bar would allow him and forget this karking bastard of a day.

The okay from flight control came and he took off. The small civilian space craft would get him in and out with no problems, and he was anxious to burn sky.

He took the situation with Hera and pushed it far away, ready to concentrate on the task at hand. But before he hit hyperspace, his comm beeped softly. Wincing a little, he answered.

"Sabine." He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Ezra. Don't go alone-"

Obviously someone had told her he was leaving on a mission.

"I'm already up about to jump, Sabine. This mission'll only take a day or two. It'll give things time to calm down." He kneaded his forehead with one hand; he could feel the beginnings of a headache.

"Ezra, she didn't mean-"

"No, she meant it." He spoke through clenched teeth. "It's fine. It'll take 36 hours tops. Then I'll be back."

She let out a deep breath, not wanting to say goodbye on bad terms. "Take care of yourself out there. I love you."

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His eyes stung with tears he didn't let fall. "Love you too, babe."

He clicked off before she could say anything else, then made the jump to hyperspace.

Caleb opened his eyes when he felt a gentle touch on his forehead. "M..Mama?"

"I'm here, sweetheart."

The little boy sat up and looked around. "Where's Ezra?"

She bit her bottom lip. "He…he went on a mission."

"Ezra said you'd be back." She could see the dark mark under his eye, even in the silvery night cycle lights. Her child had gotten more than his good looks from his father, she thought as she smoothed his hair.

Caleb nodded. "Mama? I was scared and I…I did something bad."

So did I, she thought. Instead, she shook her head and tucked him under her chin so he wouldn't see her give into her tears. "No, baby. You didn't do anything bad. Ezra told me all about it and I'm not mad."

"Not mad, Mama?" He seemed almost skeptical.

"Nope." He snuggled closer and they remained that way a long time. Hera could feel him starting to wind down. Eventually, Hera wiped her eyes and then leaned back. "How about I sleep in here tonight?"

He nodded. "Mama…Your foot's hurt?" She followed his gaze and realized he saw the bacta soaked bandages wrapped around the burns on her foot.

"Just a little, love. It's not bad."

He nodded, believing her.

She adjusted the covers to lie over the both of them as she pulled him in close. His lekku curled slowly, and his breathing began to slow as she ran a hand through his unruly brown locks. He was so much like his father that it made her heart ache. As much as she had loved Kanan, however, she couldn't allow Caleb to follow in his footsteps. Losing her kid was her deepest fear. Could Ezra understand…and maybe forgive her? The thought of Caleb becoming a Jedi was something she just couldn't consider—it made her feel a sense of anxiety she couldn't handle. She'd felt crazy—out of control when Ezra mentioned it.

The door swished open and she saw Zeb there. "I'll be in here tonight, Zeb."

Zeb nodded. "If you need me, you know where I'll be." He came close and ruffled Caleb's hair. "Sleep well, kit."

There was a sleepy murmur that neither of them could make out. Zeb touched Hera's hand, covering it with his paw. "It's gonna be okay," he promised her.

"Zeb." Hera's eyes were large and dark in the semi-twilight of the night cycle. The tone of her voice said that she didn't believe his words. "What I said…what I almost…did…he might not forgive me."

He shook his head; she could see the movement in the dark. "He will. We're family. Things will work themselves out."

She closed her eyes against tears. "I hope you're right, Zeb. I hope so."

"I am." She could feel his hand on her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze and then he headed to the door and was gone.

The purchase of equipment had gone well, and afterwards, he'd found the first cheap bar he could fall into. He'd started pounding shots in the early afternoon, before the crowd picked up.

When it started to get late, he'd stood up for a walk to the fresher when he saw a human male beating his Twi'lek girlfriend. The man had been ordering her to "get her ass back out on the street and make some money." She'd refused, and Ezra had grabbed the man's hand, and stopped him before he could punch her.

Using the Force to heighten his senses and offset the alcohol, Ezra avoided the man's roundhouse punch. Ezra punched him in the jaw, then threw him back against the nearby column with the Force. Then he'd mind tricked him into leaving. Not just the bar, or the city, but the planet. He'd made the sleemo give up most of his creds too before the Jedi sent him packing.

The pretty lavender Twi'lek had been grateful; she'd taken most of the money and run, leaving Ezra alone by the hi-top table where a few spare credits still lay. He had swept them into one hand, not realizing at first that there was something else there too. As he peered into his palm, he saw a small spray hypo.

From his days living on the street he was familiar with typical street drugs: deathsticks, glitterstim, tempest, ryll, but lying in his hand was glitteryll…an expensive, high quality glitteryll, it appeared, from the look of the sterile disposable hypospray it came in. There was a clear window in the injector and he saw the silvery sparkles that characterized the drug. If the drug was pure, the user would have 24 to 36 hours of nothingness and wake up to an emotional numbness that might last 3 to 4 days. If it was not, worse things than death could happen. He slipped it into his pocket with the credits, then promptly forgot about it as he returned to the bar and continued beating the rancor. He threw back two more Reactor Cores, then switched to Corellian whiskey-No bartender in their right mind served more than three Reactor Cores anywhere in the Rim; more than that was asking for trouble.

The fight with Hera had still throbbed in his chest like an infected wound, despite the alcohol. The look on her face was what had hurt the most. It was a look that said he was the enemy. That she hated him for what he was—a Force user. As the alcohol flooded his bloodstream, he wondered if she was reminded of the loss of Kanan every time she looked at him, and his mouth was suddenly dry. Would she even trust him with Caleb anymore? The thought that she might not was painful. The kid…he was one of the only good things in Ezra's life right now, and the thought of him being taken away was unbearable.

Two more whiskeys and still the heaviness in his chest was no better. The bartender was about to cut him off—Ezra knew the look. He'd probably guzzled enough jet juice for two people by now, so he threw a few credits on the counter, and slid off the stool, but he had to grab it just as quickly to keep from hitting the floor. His sense of balance was karked up, but this wasn't his first time finding his way back to the ship drunk, so he let his mind go on autopilot and carry him along.

Time turned strange and thick, alternately running slow like syrup, then fast like water. The city near the spaceport was bright with neon and lively. To him, however, it was a smear of shadows.

The dark street.

Forms in the gloom.

The dim spaceport.

It was as if he were watching a holo from someone else's point of view.

He opened his eyes on a close-up view of the ship's deck. He'd obviously come in and passed out on the floor near the bunks. The Jedi groaned and dragged himself up to a sitting position, and then promptly passed out again, back against the bunk.

He woke up calling for Kanan, eyes wild in the almost-dark. It was a long time before he could remember where he was. He wiped his face with one hand, not surprised to find he'd been crying in his sleep. He wondered if grief stalked Hera the same way it stalked him, slamming him at the worst times. Force, he missed Kanan-it was an ache that never went away.

Alone, his facade of having his shit together could be dropped and he could allow himself the luxury of tears. The alcohol had unlocked the pain in his chest, the way it always did, and he finally gave into it. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them and let go, burying his face against his knees as sobs shook him. The emptiness in his mind where his bond with Kanan used to be yawned open, an endless void that threatened to tear him into bits.

Take care of Hera...Sabine and Zeb too. I'm counting on you.

Before he'd died, Kanan had trusted him with Hera, and Ezra had apparently done nothing except cause her pain and remind her of why Caleb didn't have a father on a daily basis.

And it was all his fault. There was no denying it. Had he not insisted they free Lothal...had he not let Kanan follow the Loth-wolves...had he been everything a Jedi was supposed to be, he would have found a way to save Kanan and Lothal.

He sat back against the bunk and wiped his face again. He hung his head and for a long time, he tried to just breathe. Not think, not feel, but just breathe. It had been one of the first meditations Kanan had showed him long ago, and it proved to be as challenging now as it had been then. Due to the spice liquor, his sense of the Force was intermittent; it came and went like a bad comm signal. He was exhausted, and eventually fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

When he next opened his eyes, it was still dark. He had somehow made his way into the small fresher and was sitting with his back against the wall, looking down at the empty glitteryll hypo in his hand.

It was a bad choice, but if it was glitteryll, he wouldn't remember it anyway, he thought, as his eyes drifted closed.

He only woke one more time—a brief struggle to consciousness—as a spreading numbness took over his body. The cold that had seemed like a permanent affliction on Hoth had finally faded, and he was left with only a fuzzy blankness that faded into sleep.