See end for author's notes.
"What are you waiting on? Come in here, kid. Just don't make a mess in here. I'll make sure you regret it."
This had to be a punishment. They said it was because of lack of space that the Loth-Rat had to bunk with him. But Zeb knew it for what it was: penance for leaving the brat behind.
The kid in question stood in the doorway. His eyes darted around the room, gloved hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack. He stepped slowly into the room. His nose wrinkled immediately. "Ugh, it smells worse than you do in here. And that's saying something."
"You watch yer mouth, kid." Zeb let his voice rumble from deep within his chest, making the sound deeper. Normally this intimidated most individuals. Ezra must have been much stupider than most people, because took he the noise as a personal challenge.
He stood straighter, staring the last dead in the eyes. "No wonder you're always so grumpy. I would be too if my own stench followed me everywhere."
The kid was dead. If Zeb had any choice in the matter, he would have already thrown him out the airlock. Instead, the lasat took a deep breath, and forced the unpleasant image of throttling the kid out of his mind. Forget Kanan's disappointment, Hera wouldn't be thrilled if Zeb murdered their newest Spectre within two hours.
Speaking of them, why weren't they the one helping him move in? Kanan had simply dropped the loth-rat in front of the door, patting his shoulder before leaving him to get settled in while he helped cook dinner (Hera had many skills, but cooking was not one of them. They now kept an spare extinguisher in the kitchen after the last time they trusted her alone.).
"Extra bedding is in the closet." Zeb forced a smile instead. "For that attitude, you can make your own bed." Not that Zeb planned to help anyway.
Ezra raised his chin. He may have been trying to make himself look bigger, but all he reminded Zeb of was the kits on Lasan, trying to prove that they were old enough to join in with the adults. "I think I can manage."
It took the kid longer than anticipated to make the bed. He would no sooner than tuck the corners over one edge of the mattress, only for them to slide off the other side. Zeb laid on his bunk, hands behind his head, and trying not to laugh at the muttered curses that would have made Hera probably wash the kid's mouth out.
"Kriff!" Something tumbled off Ezra's bunk. The kid's hand popped over the side, fumbling to grab the falling object. The bag just slipped just past his fingers, and landed on the floor with a thunk.
Zeb sat up. He had just hooked a claw under the strap, when two feet landed in front of him, and it was pulled out of his reach.
"Don't. Touch." Ezra growled. He held the bag close to his chest, eyes narrowed in a glare.
Zeb raised his hands. "Don't get yerself twisted, kid. I was just trying to help."
"I think I'm fine." The boy shot back. Zeb bristled, fur raising. But he paused before anything could come out of his mouth.
The kid had the bag cradled to his front, not unlike a parent with a child—or someone who had a history of things being taken from them. He glared at Zeb. His eyes had a fire lit, but behind the spark was a very real fear.
The loth-rat was such a troublemaker, Zeb had forgotten where they had picked the kid at. A street kid, but they knew nothing else about him. What had happened to him, to guard his bag as though it would be snatched a moment's notice?
Zeb didn't like the kid yet. But he liked the look in those large blue eyes even less. "Last time I try to help ya on anything kid," With that, Zeb stood up, brushing past Ezra to leave the room. The kid would probably be more relaxed if no one was hanging over his shoulder.
…
"Hey, watch it!" Sabine ducked just before Ezra vaulted over the common room table to get away from Zeb—apparently mixing black dye in shampoo, and blaming the droid for the mix-up would lead to two enemies against you. Strange how that worked.
Watching the kid disappear down the hall, backpack thumping against his back, she realized that the kid always had his backpack on. Even when he was in the refresher, he brought it inside with him. If had to remove it for a mission, it was hidden in a place on a ship that no one could find (except Hera, but she had never searched for it, as far as Sabine knew).
"Kanan?" She turned to the Jedi sitting opposite from her. Kanan's face was buried in his hands, like it had been since the three came charging through the room. His cup, moved quickly from when Ezra had clambered onto the table, was surrounded by a small puddle of kaff that had sloshed over the sides.
"Yes?" His voice was muffled in his palms.
"Why does Ezra carry that bag everywhere, even in here? Did he tell you why during 'training?'" Sabine put air quotes around the last word. Currently, training resembled Kanan trying to pin down a kowakian monkey-lizard in one spot.
"No." Kanan finally sat up. He used his sleeve to mop up the drink puddle. "And don't go asking him about it either."
"But why is he so protective of it?" Sabine argued. "He's been here a few weeks. Shouldn't he have given us something by now?"
"Like you trust us with everything?" Kanan sipped on his drink while Sabine crossed his arms. She ignored the little nagging in the back of her head that Kanan was right.
But this was about Ezra, not her.
Kanan sighed. The click of the mug being sat down on the table brought Sabine's eyes back up to his face. The man's hair was sticking out of his ponytail, and dark circles were under his eyes. It made Sabine feel uncomfortable. She had always seen Kanan as a rock, something unmoving; a solid structure in a storm.
It wasn't nice seeing Kanan's look reflecting what Sabine felt since Ezra had joined the crew and rocked their team.
"Look." Kanan sat back, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not asking you to leave him alone just because he's still new. If we force his hand, make him reveal something he's not ready for, it might hurt him in the long run."
Scuffling, and Ezra's yelp from the cargo bay made Sabine wince. Kanan didn't look worried, so the boys weren't too hurt—hopefully.
Kanan continued. "Sabine, give him time to trust. It will be worth it in the end if we wait, okay? If not for him, then for me."
Sabine bit the inside of her cheek, but finally nodded. Her arms unwound themselves. "How long did it take you to come to that conclusion?"
"Far longer than I'm comfortable admitting." Kanan chuckled.
"They were interrupted by Hera storming into the room. Chopper—the little tattle-tale—was following behind. The brat, and the carpet are in so much trouble, he beeped smugly.
"Where are they?" Hera demanded. Kanan waved a hand in the direction of the cargo bay. Hera steered in that direction, but not without muttering, "no one fights on my ship and gets away with it."
……
Time passed. Ezra still never allowed anyone to touch his bag. But, like how one stops noticing one's hair or clothes when you spend enough time with them, it faded into the background. It was simply one of the kid's strange quirks, nothing more.
Of course, they did eventually find out what was in it.
They just didn't expect it to be in the middle of an mission.
It was supposed to be simple—they crew would create a diversion. Hera and Chopper would load the crates. Sabine would set a detonator, and they would leave before anyone had a chance to scream rebel!
Kanan was deflecting bolts. Ezra, with his new lightsaber, was beside him, catching the occasional bolt. Kanan took most of the fire. The kid was good with a 'saber, but not good enough for Kanan to trust him to catch live bolts.
Kanan saw Ezra frown, but didn't have a chance to think about why before another barrage of bolts flew past them.
"Any day now, Hera," Kanan muttered under his breath. The stormtroopers were hanging back, but he doubted that they would for long. Several troopers had already realized that Sabine, who had left her hiding spot from behind the crates, must have planted something. They continued to fire as several tried to get closer..
Maybe it was to prove he could handle it to Kanan; maybe it was just to protect the bomb from exploding prematurely. Regardless of the reason, Ezra stepped closer to the crates, sending away bolts from the detonators.
In the chaos, no one had noticed the imperial officer in the shadows—until his arm was around Ezra's chest. He plunged a needle into Ezra's neck, and the teen immediately collapsed, only held upright by the arm around his chest, and now the blade at his throat. He was still awake, but weak and unable to fight back.
Everyone froze. Even the stormtroopers stopped firing—probably to avoid hitting their leader. Kanan's light saber sizzled in the silence.
"Let. Him. Go." Kanan's eyes had narrowed into slits at the imperial holding Ezra as a shield. Anger didn't pulse through him—but the fierce need to protect. Later, Kanan was told that he had never seemed as threatening as he did in that moment.
"Why?" The officer smirked. He kicked Ezra's lightsaber away, and yanked the boy's head back by the ends of his hair. The blade at his neck had already sliced skin. Blood ran in a small rivulet down past his collar.
"You rebels have been running rampant in this town. But your group is pathetically small compared to the might of the Empire. You can't afford to lose a single member in the crossfires." He suddenly sliced his knife.
The backpack, with its straps severed, fell to the ground. "You're lucky, Jedi, that the Grand Inquisitor wants to deal with you personally. But that doesn't mean I can't see what secrets your little friend has hidden."
The entire Ghost crew stopped breathing. The number one unspoken rule on the ghost—right behind listening to Hera, and only spend the minimum amount of time in the refresher—was you NEVER touched Ezra's backpack. Chopper had learned the hard way, and still complained that he was still cleaning paint out of his circuits.
Apparently the rule still applied here.
Ezra's eyes cleared. Through the force, Kanan felt him gather what little energy he had left to kick backwards. The officer yelped, and Ezra jerked out of his hands—only for both of them to stumble over the bag on the floor,
Ezra fell on his hands, arms shaking from the effort. It must have taken all his energy to kick the officer, because he made no move to rise. The imperial fell backwards, rubbing his kneecap, and shouting for the stormtroopers to start shooting. But no one moved—the contents of the bag almost looked comically out of place.
lock picking kit? Check
Packed-away slingshot? Check.
Stuffed animal—check?
The studded wolf was so dirty that the whole appearance was a murky gray, Its plastic nose had all the fur rubbed off, and its one of its plastic eyes had been nicked.
Kanan tore his gaze away from the bag to look back at Ezra's face. The boy's arms had given out, and the boy was laying face-first, head turned in the direction of his toy. The kid groaned, burying his face in the cold floor, but not before Kanan caught the small dusting of red running across his cheeks and nose.
"What are you waiting for?" The imperial officer cried. "Don't let them get aw…."
Sabine's parting present exploded.
The aftermath sent everyone standing nearby flying, or toppling over. Ezra, curled up on the floor, had been spared from it. The officer, the stormtroopers weren't so lucky. Even the spectres had been sent falling from the impact.
Kanan raised his head. He blinked away his blurry vision to see that, while most of the troopers weren't moving, a few had already began stirring. And out the viewport, he could make out a small blinking light—Hera's signal that the distraction had worked, and the cargo was loaded.
"Time to go!" He stood up. Somehow, by the force, none of the Ghost crew had been injured in the blast. Ezra was still on the floor, unable to bring energy into his limbs. The barest impression was in Kanan's mind, the frustration of not being able to move to get out of the way. But mostly dire embarrassment. The kid really needed to learn that life-and-death situations were not the best time to brood.
Zeb didn't need to be told what to do; before Kanan had opened his mouth, the lasat had already scooped the kid up. Throwing Ezra over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Zeb ran toward the exit. Sabine and Kanan were on his heels.
Kanan saw the horrified look on Ezra's face, hand trying to stretch out weakly in the direction they were running from. The Jedi sighed. They really didn't have time for this, but his conscience wouldn't stop pricking him.
He halted, turning around as the others ran His eyes scoured the room, finally seeing the stuffed animal across the room from where it had been thrown in the blast. He lifted his hand, and within seconds the toy smacked into his palm.
He didn't have a chance to call the backpack to him before a shot missed his head, grazing a loose strand of hair.
Kanan didn't need another hint to get moving again.
….
As soon as they were in hyperspace, Hera leaned back in the pilot's seat, heaving a sigh of relief. She turned as the cockpit door opened. Sabine and Zeb entered, both of them wearing strange looks on their faces. They were quiet as they sat down, Sabine taking off her helmet to set it in her lap.
Hera raised an eyebrow. "What happened down there? Where's Kanan and Ezra?"
As though he had been summoned, the door hissed open again. Kanan stood in the frame, a toy in his hand. Hera blinked at it. Did they pick up a child down there somehow? She hoped not. Between the three they had, Hera's heart couldn't take another one.
"Where's Ezra?" Kanan asked, tucking the toy under his arm.
"Bedroom." Zeb said. "Said he was gonna sleep off whatever the officer gave him. Really, think he's just hiding." A scoff. "Doesn't matter what the bucketheads thought though. They were trying to kill us all the same."
"I can't say I'm surprised." Kanan's shoulders slumped. He turned presumably to go see his padawan.
"Kanan, wait!" Hera stood up, following him out of the cockpit. She smacked the button to close the door—hopefully it would signal to the other spectres to stay out of this. "What's going on?"
Kanan filled her in quickly on what happened and how Ezra's secret was, quite literally, out of the bag.. "I guess we know why he was so protective of it." The Jedi said with a sign, glancing down at the loth-wolf toy. "Think we'll be able to dray the kid out of hiding once he feels better, or will we need to drop food off at the vent openings from now on?"
"He'll be fine, love." Hera laughed softly, taking the toy from Kanan's hands. "He's a teenage boy. He'll be embarrassed for a few days, but he'll get over it. Let me take it to him-once he's had a chance to rest."
Some time later, Hera found herself standing in front of the locked bedroom door, with her items clutched against her chest. The others should be eating right now, waiting for her to drag Ezra out for dinner. She knocked. "Ezra, open this door."
Silence. Hera knocked again. "You know the rule. No locks when injured."
"But I'm fine." The boy whined through the door, and Hera could almost hear the eyeroll that accompanied it. She heaved a sigh.
"You were still injected with something, and we have no idea how it will interact with your system. Now open the door."
A few more seconds passed. Just when Hera thought she would have to override the lock, the door hissed open. Ezra stood on the other side, dressed in pajamas. The boy was swaying, and seemed a bit pale, but was otherwise much better than what Hera had imagined.
Ezra's red-rimmed eyes widened at what Hera held in her hands. His hand twitched at his side, creeping forward a few inches before dropping again. His gaze rose to meet Hera's before dropping away.
"Let me in, love?" Hera kept her voice soft and calm. After a long pause, Ezra stepped back to let the twi-lek into the room.
She sat down on the edge of Zeb's bunk, placing the loth-wolf away from her casually, but hung onto her other treasure. She held it now in both hands, a gloved thumb stroking the worn fabric.
"My mother made this for me." Hera didn't look up at the youngest spectre. Her eyes stayed trained on her tooka doll. It was dressed in a pilot suit, not entirely unlike the one Hera wore. "I'm not sure how old I was—I must have been very young. I took it everywhere with me growing up.
"Sometimes I think my mother was the reason I wanted to fly through the stars, instead of being stuck on the ground." She smiled softly, a strange mix of grief, and peace warring inside of her chest. "Having it nearby can still be comforting on the long nights."
"You sleep with it?" Ezra blurted out. He flushed, feet shuffling.
"Of course." Not always. But sometimes, when Hera had heard of another rebel group falling, or a purgill taking the life of another pilot, she would pull out the toy. She would lay in bed with it, holding it against her, and letting it soothe the edges of her sorrow.
In the present, she continued to speak, despite the memory of her mother's arms, and the bright sun, tainted with a fog of grief. "We are fighting everyday, risking our lives for those who cannot. We are not selfish or childish for seeking comfort. Sometimes, it's the things we seek it from that give us a reason to keep fighting."
Ezra was quiet: hopefully mulling over what she said. He finally sat down next to her, picking up the wolf and setting it in his lap. After a moment, he started to speak. "But what if Zeb…."
"I know you've seen him sleep with his bo-rifle." Hera interrupted. "Kanan keeps his lightsaber under his bed because he finds its nearby presence comforting." And Sabine slept with her helmet, she added in her head, though that secret would be a betrayal of the girl's fragile trust to share. "They won't judge you for this. And if Zeb does say anything, then he'll have to answer to me."
Ezra ran his fingers over his beloved toy, playing with the ear. Hera brought her toy up to her chest, hugging it tightly. She breathed in the scent. Despite many wash cycles, she could still detect the earthy scent of Ryloth on the fabric, and the spicy scent that seemed to follow her mother everywhere
After a moment, Ezra copied her movements.
Tomorrow, they would fight for the cold, dark galaxy. They would sacrifice in the years to come, losing everything dear for a future that would bring back warmth.
But for now, they sit together, holding the pieces of the past in their arms.
Hello everyone 'waves sheepishly.' It's been, what, six years? So much has happened during that time. I've always wanted to come back to writing fanfiction, but didn't have the time after getting married and working in a high-stress, full-time preschool program for the past three years. But I've switched to a calmer job, and, while I don't think I will publish fanfiction often, as I am trying to finish my own personal novel, I hope to publish small pieces like this 2-3 times a year.
Anyhow, let me know if you see any obvious spelling/grammar mistakes in here. I didn't get to edit as much as I would like, as I have no internet in my house, and I live in a rural area, so not many public spots to visit besides work. But if I waited to publish this, I was worried I would chicken out, and wouldn't post it at all lol.
