Pre story A/N: I am so sorry this is late, between my increased work hours and the side story I ran out time, plus this chapter was just a beast to write!

Confusing Lasats and Yellow Eyes

Ezra bolted upright. His heart raced as he scanned the still and dark room, the only sound his ragged breathing. He lay back down and pulled the blanket he'd scavenged during one of their supply runs up over his head, curling up in a small, protective ball.

Yellow eyes. That was all he could remember from his dream. They'd been watching him and for some reason, scared him. Ezra instinctively curled up tighter. Those eyes were dangerous, and he wished he remembered why.

The next time he woke up the eye were a distant, hazy memory and he quickly forgot about them in the face of bigger problems.

Ezra was confused, extremely so, and since he couldn't run away or avoid the source of his confusion he was forced to do something he really hated to do: think about it.

Grumbling under his breath Ezra climbed up the ladder to the dorsal gun well and settled himself into what was unofficially 'his' spot. Kicking his feet up onto the consol, Ezra leaned back, gaze unfocusing as he thought about what, or rather who, had driven him here. Zeb.

It had been two days since the eventful supply run and things still hadn't returned to normal between him and Zeb. Nope, instead Zeb was still being nice. Well, nice as someone like Zeb could be anyway.

Ezra scowled at his reflection.

Zeb wasn't supposed to be nice. He was supposed to be grouchy and surly and short-tempered and rough and kind of mean. That was Ezra expected him to be like and he'd thought he had Zeb's personality, and by default their 'relationship', pegged. He was normally good at reading people and figuring out their personalities, but – but now Zeb was being nice. . . ish, and Ezra didn't know why!

He groaned and took of his hat, running his hands through his hair.

Maybe he'd missed something? Or misread the Lasat?

He drug a hand down his face and drummed his fingers against his lips as he thought all the way to their very first meeting.

They'd been arguing about the blasters he'd stolen until Kanan had put an end to it. Not long after Zeb had threatened to throw him off the ship, and then had thrown him into a closet. Then had come the disastrous rescue attempt in which he'd been captured; he was still a bit miffed about that to be honest. They had come to rescue him, sure, but the first thing Zeb had done when he saw him was try to hit him! Then there was the mad rush of the second rescue attempt; they actually managed to rescue the Wookies that time.

Things hadn't really improved after that. Sure Zeb had given him his hat back which had significantly improved his opinion of the Lasat, but the tension had remained. Maybe Zeb had been a little friendlier, but he'd been so focused on other, bigger issues at the time – like what to do about the holocron – to really notice.

Ezra let out a frustrated growl. Nothing was adding up! He'd thought it over carefully, but so far he'd come to the same conclusion: Zeb treated him, and therefore thought of him as, a barely tolerable nuisance. Something which hadn't really changed even after Ezra had saved him from being electrocuted by Kallus.

Ezra was. . .Well, he couldn't exactly say he was happy with the arrangement, but he was ok with it. Being tolerated was infinitely better than being ignored or flat out despised like he'd been as a street rat. Quite frankly, being tolerated was the best he could hope for and the most he expected.

Being considered a nuisance though? That stung a bit. Not that Ezra really did anything to change that opinion what with how he went out of his way to annoy Zeb. But then again Ezra firmly believed that if someone was going to call or treat him like a nuisance that he had every right to give them a reason to.

Ezra face scrunched in though. Maybe that was why nothing had really changed between him and Zeb after the he'd saved the Lasat? Maybe he'd just bugged Zeb too much about it? But then, why was something different now?

"Ezra," Kanan's voice called from below. "It's time to train."

"Coming!" Ezra shouted back down, glad for an excuse not to think about his confusing situation with Zeb.

A few hours later Ezra was back in his spot thoroughly disturbed. He pressed himself against the seat back of the worn out seat and peered down the ladder.

No one was there.

Breathing as sigh of relief he let his mind wonder to the reason he was back in the gun well for the second time that day. He frowned, come to think of it it was the same reason he'd come in the first place: Zeb!

Ezra shivered.

'Nice'. . .ish Zeb was bad enough, but a Zeb that was curious about what he was doing? A Zeb that spoke to him instead of growling at him?

Ezra shivered again and glared out the window.

He shouldn't be this worked up! All Zeb had done was ask how Jedi practice had gone and passively mention that Ezra's looked tired. Nothing much, no invasive questions or anything. Really, it wasn't what Zeb had said that bothered Ezra, it was how Zeb had said it. As if – as if he cared. Honestly, truly cared about Ezra and his answer. That was what had startled him.

Startled not scared. There was no way he was hiding.

His reflection flickered and for a second instead of his face staring back at him he saw that person's. The slightly vexed and weary expression was gone the instant he blinked, but he could still hear the quiet scoff.

"Really, Mi Cielo, you're hiding from feelings? Thing are better this way, right? So man up! Good things don't last forever."

Ezra's head dropped into his hands.

Great. Just great, now he was hearing voice. Not only that, but they were making him feel guilty about feeling confused!

Ezra groaned and headed down the ladder. All this thinking was giving him a headache. A little sleep would make everything better.

He was running, dancing between flashes of red as he chased after a vanishing shadow. But no matter how fast he ran he couldn't catch up, and he could still feel them watching him. He didn't dare turn around, if he did he knew they over take him and if that happened. . .

He rounded a corner and almost crashed into a wall. He stumbled back and froze. There in the reflection of the metal was a pair of yellow eyes.

Ezra jolted awake, heart still racing as if he had really had been running. It was with a sense of unease that he glanced around. Nothing remotely yellow stared back at him, but the feeling of unease still lingered.

He burrowed further under his blanket.

'Why? Why did those eyes scare him so much?'

Zeb stood at the base of the ladder leading up to the dorsal gun well, looking up he could just make out a hint of orange.

The kid had spent most of the past two days up there and it looked like he going to try to do the same today. He only came down when it was time for Jedi lessons or to hunt up some food. Zeb knew the kid at least slept in their cabin since his bed was always a mess, but he hadn't seen him come or go.

Zeb gave a small sigh and rolled his shoulders back. He didn't know what had driven the tiny human into seclusion, but the kid could be a sulky teenager later. Right now Zeb needed him as Hera had requested, her way of gently ordering, him to show Ezra how to do basic maintenance on the Phantom.

"Oi, kid!" he called up and waited until a pair of blue eyes appeared. Was it his imagination or did they look a little wary? "Hera wants me to teach you something useful for a change, so get your scrawny self down here."

"Thanks, but I don't need any lessons on breaking dishware," Ezra shot down cheekily. "I'm perfectly capable of doing that already."

"One time," Zeb growled. So he got a little heavy handed with some dishes. If they broke that easily, they obviously hadn't been well made to begin with. "That was one time!"

"This week," Ezra muttered, but Zeb's sensitive ears heard him.

"Get down here, you little Loth-rat, before I drag you down," Zeb snapped. "We got work to do and I don't' feel like waiting."

Surprise, hurt, and relief flashed across Ezra's face and Zeb's brows furrowed as the kid slid down the ladder.

"Come on." He turned and led the way to the Phantom. The emotions didn't make any sense to Zeb, but he brushed aside his confusion. He'd heard human teenagers didn't make sense even to their own species so he wasn't going to worry about it. It wasn't like the kid had made much sense before so it probably wasn't a big deal.

"How's it going?" Zeb asked, frowning as Ezra flinched, again, and moved slightly away, again.

"I think I've finally got the steering back to normal."

"'Bout time," Zeb muttered. "Let me check."

Zeb stretched out a hand to pull the kid out of the maintenance hatch, but Ezra scrambled out and away, putting as much room between them as possible. Zeb scowled.

"Go run a diagnostic. You should be able to do that without blowing a fuse."

"The last one was your fault," Ezra replied as he darted out of the Phantom and over to the control panel.

The diagnostic would take at least 30 minutes, which was fine since Zeb needed to do some thinking, again, about Ezra, again.

For the past 45 minutes every time Zeb had spoken to or gotten within three feet of Ezra the kid had flinched. Zeb could vaguely recall Hera mentioning it before, but he was certain he'd heard Kanan say the kid had gotten a lot better and hardly ever flinched anymore.

Zeb exhaled frustratedly and glared at the mess of wires in front of him.

Was the kid having a relapse? Or had he just not noticed it before? The thought caused a twinge of unease and Zeb shifted uncomfortably as he tried to recall Ezra's past behavior. Memories of their past interactions flashed through his mind, and with a growing feeling of guilt Zeb realized he might have been a bit too rough with the kid.

"Karabast," Zeb cursed softly as he absently corrected some of the wiring.

They'd all speculated about the kid's past, and the one thing everyone had agreed upon was that Ezra hadn't had the easiest of childhoods. The flinching, the way he always stood just out of everyone's reach, and the habit of making sure there wasn't anyone behind him all suggested a physically abusive past.

Zeb might not have much experience with kids, but he knew you didn't go around being rough to the ones that'd had abusive pasts. The only problem was that was how he was raised, and after all he'd been through he didn't know any other way to express himself.

This shouldn't bother him. Even after the kid had saved him from Kallus, Zeb had been perfectly fine keeping him at arm's length. So why did it suddenly bother him?

A pair of big, pleading blue eyes flashed through his head, and Zeb shoved a sprocket back in place a little too forcefully.

Now he remembered. It was that look the kid had given him when he'd wanted to go rescue those farmers. The same look he'd seen on the Lasat younglings when they'd wanted something. He'd always had a soft spot for the tiny furballs, wanting a younger sibling of his own. Not because he was lonely, far from it. His family had been large with several older sisters and a much older brother.

'Sar.' It had been a long time since he'd thought of his older brother, his role model and inspiration. The two had been very close despite a rather large age gap, and Zeb had followed in his brother's footsteps in every way except one. Being the youngest meant just that, there was no one younger for him to be an older brother to. Zeb had always hoped their parents would have one more child so he could have a chance to be an amazing older brother like Sar had been to him.

But that dream had died alongside his brother all those years ago. At least that's what he'd thought, but if his willingness to go along with Ezra's ideas and stick his neck out for the kid's sake was any indication then that dream might not be as dead as he thought.

Zeb sighed and pulled his brother's medal from his pocket. It was the one thing, besides his bo-rifle, that he'd managed to take with him that last, horrific day on Lasan. He ran his thumb over the faded outline of his brother's face as he thought over his brother's teachings. Lasats were one of the more instinctual species, and every member of the Lasat Honor Guard was trained to respect their instincts. It was a teaching his brother had passed on to him long before Zeb had even heard what sound a bo-rifle made.

Right now his instincts were telling him he needed to look after the kid, after Ezra, because the kid needed him. It was an odd feeling as despite being the oldest member of the crew, both in general terms and taking into account the differing aging process of all the species that made up the crew, he hadn't felt such a need toward any of the other members. Kanan and Hera had been taking care of themselves and each other long before he met them. Sabine, despite being almost as young as Ezra, had proven herself quite capable. Not that he didn't still keep an eye on her during missions, it just didn't feel as necessary as watching over Ezra now did.

Zeb blamed the kid's eyes. They might be hidden under his hat most of the time but when he did see them they were far too expressive and conveyed a sense of vulnerability. The emotions he saw in them were much too innocent in their depth.

Zeb put his brother's medal away, silently promising to honor his brother's memory by following his instincts. With a sigh he pushed himself out of the cramped hatch. Now he just had to figure out how to actually do that.

Ezra stared at the display scene in front of him. The bar that indicated how far along the diagnostic was creeped slowly along. He was completely oblivious to the emotional turmoil he'd left Zeb in, caught up as he was in his own problems.

The day had not started well for Ezra. He'd woken once again hours before anyone else from a nightmare involving those strange yellow eyes, but unlike before when the feeling of being stared at faded after a few minutes this time it had lingered. If he held still too long he could almost swear the eyes were going to appear.

The unpleasant feeling had felt him jumpy and twitchy, and he found himself looking around as if he expected the eyes to suddenly appear around a corner.

He shivered at the thought and glanced around. No yellow eyes just a hunched over mass of purple colored muscle slowly standing up. He let out a slow breath and the tension eased a bit. Even though he'd spent all afternoon avoiding him, it was kind of comforting to have Zeb there. He felt. . .safer almost.

Ezra's eyes snapped back to panel as a small ding announced the diagnostic was finished.

"Well, kid." Zeb's gruff voice moved closer and Ezra shifted away just enough for Zeb to see the control panel. "Looks like everything's in order, and now that you know how to do it, you better not mess it up."

"I won't as long as you don't tell me how to do it wrong again." Ezra replied with a lazy smile.

"Why you cocky, little–" Zeb cuffed the kid lightly on the head, relieved when all Ezra did dance out of reach with a laugh.

"Gonna have to be faster than that!" Ezra called as he raced down the hall.

Smirking, Zeb chased after him. He managed to corner the kid in the common room and had him in a well deserved headlock when Hera walked in.

"I take it you're done working on the Phantom?" She asked.

They nodded. Well, Zeb did, Ezra wasn't quite free enough for that particular move.

"Good. Now we need to find some cheap supplies since you two lost them and the credits during your little trip the other day." Hera gave them an exasperated and slightly irritated look.

"Actually." Ezra wiggled free and rummaged in his pockets. "Here are the credits we owe you. Knew you'd be upset about the lost money, so we scrounged some up. Here ya go!"

He dropped the credits into his Hera's hand with a flourish.

"Well, this saves us some trouble." Hera smiled at them. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

Hera left and Ezra made to follow but Zeb placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Where did you get the credits?" He asked softly.

"Ah, well, ya know what they say," Ezra shrugged off Zeb's hand. "Old habits die hard."

He gave Zeb a cheeky smile and disappeared into the ship.

"Oh, that reminds me" His head popped back into view. "Thank you so much for your contribution."

He vanished again.

"Wait! What do you mean my contribution?" Zeb patted his pockets, noticing how light they suddenly felt. "Kid! Get back here! KID!"

Ezra let out a breath and leaned back as he finished telling that person's holopicture everything that had happened over the past few days.

"Ok, so I still don't know why Zeb suddenly decided to start being nice. . .ish, but I've decided to just roll with it. Ya know," Ezra gave the picture in front of him a thoughtful look. "He's a lot like you."

"Tch! For your information I am much better looking."

Naturally he had to imagine that person answering him in all their snarky glory.

"Of course you are."

Answering imaginary voices might be a sign of insanity, but it was still rude not to.

Author's Notes:

I decided to give Zeb an older brother rather than a younger brother since I felt that if Zeb had a younger brother then he would be even more conflicted and possibly end up getting closer to Ezra which wouldn't really fit with the show's plot. Since Zeb never had a younger brother he wouldn't really know how to treat one so that would leave plenty of room for awkwardness and growth later. That's my reasoning anyway.

As for the whole 'yellow eyes' thing. . .Well, foreshadowing *dum dum duuuummmm*

Comments to Your Reviews:

~ Got a lot of people wondering when the crew will find out about Ezra talking to the pic. Without giving to much away: soon, in about 2/3 episodes

~ Thank you all for your support of my twists and turns.