Okay! So- I made this chapter before publishing the first chapter. [Due to the 12-hour waiting period] I have no idea how the feedback will be, and I will address it in the next chapter.

Thank you for reading!

[Heads up; this is before the events of Malachor]

Ezra groggily turned in his bed, gripping his blanket and trying his best to get comfortable. He was cold, extremely cold, but his head pounded and felt like fire. He was trembling, he noted, and was curled up against the wall. His breaths were ragged, and all in all, he felt horrible. He was in a small state of confusion, having just woke up from a livid fever dream, before realizing how much his throat also burned. At an attempt to sit up, he just ended up in a coughing fit. Oh, he tried his best to repress it, but he felt so weak; It wasn't a powerless weak, it was a sick weak. Exhaustion weak. An annoyed sigh parted his lips, as he glanced around for some indicator of the time. He concluded it was still night, as it was still quiet. Eerily quiet, he might add.

His head pounded, and when he moved on his side, a sharp pain on his elbow made him wince, a hiss of regret as he shifted his weight to the other arm. His arm was shaking as he raised it, expecting to see an open wound by the hurt of it. It was dark, but he could still see a deep purple against his skin, a tender spot he must've hit on a corner while in the frantic search.

His fingers lightly traced the outline of it, thinking of what to do know. It was.. What, midnight? A bit after? He felt horrible, and couldn't go back to sleep without feverish nightmares that taunted his already aching head. And then- what about training? He couldn't just ignore it because of a little sickness, it was much more serious than that.

After a while of thinking, Ezra decided he'd just pop a fever reducer and force himself to sleep. He was exhausted, and after years of dealing with nightmares? He could stand a day or two with them. Hopping from his bed, that's what he did. Grabbed one fever reducer, and went back to his bunk. He didn't get much sleep, even after grabbing another blanket, but it was better than nothing.

Under Kanan's request, the Ghost crew had went to Lothal to continue Ezra's training. Kanan's idea was that he'd be more in sync with the Force if they went back to his home planet. It was something he heard from his master once, why younger padawans trained in the same area for the majority of their childhoods. He kept the few quotes he remembered of her close, and was determined to use them.

It was the morning, and the padawan and master sat under a small cliff in a meditative stance, a small distance from the Ghost. Ezra still wasn't feeling all that good; he skipped breakfast, saying he heard something fry in the night, and that he'd check it out. In all actuality, he just couldn't eat. The idea was unappealing to him at the time, and just made him feel even sicker. As for his bruise.. He kept his sleeves folded back to his elbows, just enough to cover the bruise.

While he wasn't feeling amazing, it was a nice day, and he could enjoy that. A familiar smell that gave him comfort, and the distant sounds of lothcats running around in the grass gave him memories of when his earlier life wasn't so bad. It was.. Nice, until a breeze came. That sent a crowd of shivers through Ezra, and Kanan obviously noticed the ragged sigh from the youth.

Kanan opened his eyes, feeling a short and sudden emotion of exhaustion through the Force. His gaze fell upon Ezra, his eyebrows tilting up in a bit of concern. "Ezra?"

Ezra met Kanan's sight for a moment, before looking away with a subtle hint of shame. "Sorry," He said, trying to think of an excuse. "The wind surprised me, there usually isn't any on Lothal." A light and strained chuckle erupted from him, hoping that Kanan would buy it.

He wasn't. "Ezra," He said again. The boy flinched a bit, suddenly repressing a coughing fit that would surely give away his sickness. Kanan glanced at his fidgeting hand, rubbing his elbow, and cocked his eyebrows. It wasn't in an accusing manner, but more of a worried one. "Are you feeling alright?"

Ezra felt powerless in this situation, hesitating before giving a nod. He tried to say yes, but instead coughed, trying to cover it with a sigh and a arm stretch. He waited a few moments before forcing himself to speak, his voice obviously strained, but Ezra was oblivious to it. "I'm just.. tired." With that, he took a subtly ragged breath in, and exhaled, closing his eyes and trying to get back into the meditative stance.

Kanan didn't say anything as he watched him revert back into the training. He watched him, curious as to what was going on in his mind, when he noticed Ezra was trembling. A subtle one, but powerful nonetheless. This caught his attention, and he put two and two together. The older man stood up, a slight frown on his face, as Ezra opened his eyes to watch him. "You're sick."

Ezra forged confusion on his face, before shaking it. "Kanan- I'm fine," He was about to go on, but as if life just hated him at the moment, another coughing fit wrecked his body.

Kanan immediately kneeled down next to him, worry along his face. He waited until Ezra was breathing normally again, as uneven as it was, to speak again. "C'mon, we should get back to the Ghost." Hesitantly, he added, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Ezra shook his head as he stood up in defeat. He was a bit off balance, having to lean on the cliffside for support. His vision was spotted with black, but he ignored it and looked up at Kanan. It'd go away, just like the sickness. It always did. "It didn't seem that important," He replied, held-back strain in his voice that made Kanan visibly flinch.

He really did sound sick, and Kanan could tell. He placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder, unsure whether to support him or not, before deciding against it when Ezra stood up besides him. He sighed, motioning him to follow. "Sickness is important, you shouldn't push yourself like this." Kanan said, glancing back at Ezra before falling back to match his slower pace.

Ezra shut his eyes as he walked, a bit dazed and when he opened them again, the Ghost seemed so far. He felt a sudden wave of exhaustion from the prior night all over again, a cold sensation running through his body. His throat had numb, and his breathing felt limited. "I know.." He quietly replied, just loud enough to hear. His bruised arm started to numb and lightly hurt, and that was what just made him shut down.

Ezra stopped in the field, his hand moving up to his forehead as he tried to move the dizziness away. He could hear Kanan talking, a worried tone he only heard him use twice before, but he didn't listen. His vision was dotted, and he couldn't move; it scared him, actually, and he couldn't process what was going on. His knees buckled beneath him, exhaustion giving in, and he fell. The last thing he remembered was waiting to hit the ground, but never doing so.