Chapter Text
Hera closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, pivoting in her seat. She turned to look at Kanan, who looked about as frustrated as she felt with herself. They had chosen to let Ezra rest in her cabin, and had returned to the cockpit. After a minute of not speaking to each other, Kanan abruptly kicked the panelling under the dash in a rare moment of uncontained frustration, startling Hera out of her thoughts. “Kanan…” she said, warning present in her tone. He knew to be gentle with her ship.
He turned away from her, shaking his head. “I know, I’m sorry,” he mustered out through gritted teeth. “I’m just so kriffing angry at myself for not seeing this coming. How did I not think of this?”
“I’m just as culpable,” Hera murmured. “We both should have thought about this. I’ve been so preoccupied with our new status in the Rebellion that I overlooked something with one of my crew members that, now, in retrospect, is so glaringly obvious.”
“I noticed he seemed nervous, I should have said something, I should have realized…” Kanan whispered, seeming not to hear her. “I’m his master, I should have connected the dots. And, also, there’s the question of why didn’t he come to us in the first place to consider.” His voice tapered off, and he stared dejectedly out the viewport into the vast expanse of stars.
“Love, I don’t know. We both should have thought of it, we can’t change that, but we can change how we go about this now. He’s protective of his past, we can’t - and I know you don’t - blame him for that. Kriff, honestly, we’dve been the same way if it was us. We are the same way. None of us on this ship exactly have pleasant pasts,” she reasoned, “and none of us are exactly eager to be super forthcoming about every difficult thing we’ve endured. We can’t just expect him to be open with us and tell us everything, especially when he hasn’t often seen that kind of vulnerability from us. He’s a child, adapting to a new environment, surrounded mostly by adults, of course he’s going to try to emmulate our behavior. But that’s not the point, I want to focus on -” she said, before being abruptly cut off by Kanan.
“But that’s exactly the point, Hera! He’s a child,” Kanan whisper-yelled, in an attempt to make sure the rest of the ship didn’t hear their conversation, or worse, wake Ezra. “And he is in our care. It”s our job to know these things, and help him through them. And to make sure he knows that we want to help him through these things.”
“You’re right, Kanan, it is our job to help him through this, and we can do that. Now, we have more information to go on, and we even have resources to help him, especially with the Rebellion.” She pretended not to notice his barley contained eye-roll at the mention of the Rebellion. She knew he held a certain level of disdain for the military structure of their new environment. “We will talk to Shayla, straighten this out, and figure out the best path from here on out. Let’s not let ourselves get hung up on what happened in the past or what we could’ve done, let’s focus on what will happen and what roles we need to play in strengthening his education.”
Kanan looked over at her, eyes breaking away from the stars. The corner of his lip twitched, “Hera Syndulla, heh,” he chuckled dryly, the slightest hint of humor creeping into his eyes, “Are you sure you’re not actually the Jedi here? Because you sound exactly like one.”
She matched his tone, and playfully responded, “Oh, yeah, sorry, I probably should have told you before now, I guess I just forgot to mention it.” He smirked and looked away shaking his head in mock annoyance at her sarcasm. “All jokes aside, let’s talk to Shayla today before she packs up for the day. I’m sure she’ll understand and help us figure out a plan.”
“Okay, we can do that.” Kanan sighed, “I’m just worried she might not know what to do - she might not have experience with this kind of situation.”
“Let’s just take this one step at a time, there’s no rush,” Hera reasoned. “We can call her in a few minutes, let’s just take the next few minutes to settle down, and brainstorm possible questions we might have.” And with that, silence fell upon the cockpit for several minutes as they both contemplated the situation, until they heard the sharp click of Sabine’s boot heading towards the cockpit.
They both looked up as the doors to the cockpit swung open and Sabine sauntered into the room with a proud smile. “I got my grade of the test! I passed everything with flying colors, the only section that was bit dicey was mathematics. I got a few questions wrong, but not too bad, I still passed though!”
“I’m not surprised,” Hera smiled proudly, looking over the report. “Ah, you did really well in Science and Lit, my two favorites! Great job, Sabine!”
“That’s my girl,” Kanan beamed, snaking an arm around her shoulders and giving her a small squeeze. “Knew you’d do great. We’re very proud!”
“Well, I trained hard at the Academy, we had a lot of tests like this.” A slight shadow obscured her gaze for a moment, until she pushed past it, and voiced another thought. “I heard Ezra come back, did he tell you why he didn’t go to the test?”
“Yeah, he came back,” Kanan started, briefly catching Hera’s eye, and making the snap decision to roll with it. “He’s lying down right now. He wasn’t feeling well earlier, that’s why he didn’t go.”
“Oh, okay,” Sabine said slowly, like she was suspicious of his answer, but she didn’t push it. “It’s not a big deal, I was just curious. Well, I’m going to tune up some of my latest miracles for our next op. See you at dinner!” And with that she was out the door.
It was silent for a few heartbeats until Kanan opened his mouth to speak. “I wasn’t sure how he would feel about the others knowing. He could barely tell us, he’s already lost so much control in this whole thing, he should at least be able to do that on his own terms.”
Hera raised her hands in an innocent gesture. “All I was gonna say is that we should tell Ezra what you just told Sabine, so the story can be straight. Now, lets call Shayla and figure this out.”
*********
Ezra sat in the back of the cargo pit on a crate, tinkering with his latest mechanical project. Another wave of embarrassment washed over him; he couldn’t believe he’d lost his composure so easily infront of Kanan and Hera. He hated how vulnerable he had become, and him crying on Hera’s shoulder probably was just going to give her another reason to doubt his abilities to be useful to the crew. He knew that Kanan and Hera cared about him, and he didn’t know why he wasn’t able to just tell them upfront about not going to school, but the nagging voice in his head reminded him that maybe they didn’t even realize until now how screwed up he is. Maybe they didn’t know what they were signing up for, he thought miserably.
When Ezra woke up in Hera’s cabin after his outburst, Kanan had been meditating beside him and Hera had been quietly working on a datapad in the corner. After a second or the details of his earlier tearful conversation hit him, and he clammed up in embarrassment. Kanan and Hera repeatedly assured him that it was okay, and that they were thankful he told them. They informed him that they had talked to Shayla and she completely understood, but advised them that this meant that feedback from the assessment would be that much more useful, a statement Hera and Kanan both echoed. They had said that they both really wanted him to still take the exam and that it would be helpful so they could see what areas he needed support in. Kanan had even offered to go with him and proctor it for him, saying that it would be a special case. But, ultimately, Hera left the choice up to Ezra, saying if it was too overwhelming he could elect not to take it. Now he had to decide whether or not he was going to do it.
Something about the entire situation and having to take an exam for the Rebellion made Ezra feel off-kilter and unsettled. Even as a small child, he remembered having trouble in school, especially with reading and writing. He had just learned to read before his parents had been taken, and Basic wasn’t even his first language. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read, he could read, really, it was just that it took him a bit longer than others and if the words were too long or complicated he had a hard time. Ezra bit back a groan of annoyance. He could read so much better in Lothali than Basic, but even then it still wasn’t great, and Ezra doubted they had a version of the test in Lothali, let alone the capability to grade something written in it. Even when thinking about writing an essay, which, by the way, was something he had never had to do before, he had no idea how he was going to sit still long enough to write anything more than a few sentences.
Needless to say, Ezra hated everything about the situation he was in. The only thing about this exam that didn’t make him feel panicked was math. Math was about the only academic subject he was able to learn beyond what little he know when he was first on the streets. In his line of work as a street rat, he needed to know math for bargaining reasons. Also, most of the sleazy fences he worked with as a kid wanted to make sure the street kids they hired to do their bidding and pawning weren’t going to get ripped off because they couldn’t calculate the right amount to charge. So, to prevent that, they made sure the street kids knew basic math, and from there Ezra learned it quite quickly. Later on, when he was around 12, he worked for a Xexto who owned a pawn shop, and he taught Ezra more advanced math for business purposes.
Before today, it hadn’t mattered before what his education was, the crew didn’t obess over if he could write an essay or not, because it wasn’t what they did. They stole from the Empire, and helped the needy. It was a set-up Ezra was very familiar with from his time on the streets; he’d always been able to pickpocket or con Imperials or rich tourists, and he did it to feed the needy, him. Ezra had never felt ashamed about his past means of income as a street rat. Ezra had always viewed it very simply: he did what he had to do to survive another day and it wasn’t something he was ashamed of. What was more difficult for him to admit and talk about were all of the things he wasn’t able to secure for himself like a proper education or basic healthcare and the list goes on. Things that most people probably considered a given, not an opportunity. For Ezra, these things were privileges he was never permitted to have.
Now, with the possibility of the impending presence of a test thay would likely reaveal how little he was actually capable of academically, Ezra couldn’t help but compare himself to others. He felt like the odd one out - everyone else on the crew were overqualified to be a part of the Rebellion. Hera, being one of the most talented pilots ever, she definitely was formally taught at least at some point. Kanan received an education at the Jedi Temple, probably one of the best around and very well rounded. Sabine clearly was shaped by educational institutions, he knew she spent several years excelling at the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. And Zeb, he wasn’t entirely sure of, but Ezra knew he came from a military background and he likely would’ve needed some education for that.
Ezra was wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely registered Zeb and Sabine entering the cargo hold. “Hey, kid,” Sabine called to him. “You feeling better?” Ezra startled and looked over at her.
“What?” He replied, confused. Then it hit him, Kanan said he had told Sabine the reason he didn’t take the exam was that he wasn’t feeling well. “Oh, yeah. I feel better now.”
“That’s good,” Sabine said, eyeing him suspiciously, but starting to look through crates for something. “Are you taking the exam tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, probably.” Ezra responded a little stressed induced irritation leaking into his voice.
“You know, it wasn’t that bad,” Sabine reasoned. Ezra nodded, and felt another wave of shame wash over him. He envied how nonchalant Sabine could be about something that was making Ezra feel crazy. That must have reflected on his face because Zeb was looking at him with something akin to concern.
“You okay, kid?” Asked Zeb. Sabine looked over from what she was doing at him. Ezra willed himself to not get emotional and responded with an affirmative hum and nodded again. He kept his eyes glued to the ceiling and began to bounce his leg. “Well, yeh don’t look okay,” Zeb asserted, walking over to where Ezra was seated and pulling up a crate to sit on. “Now, spill.” He contemplated lying and finding a way to talk his way out of the situation, but something inside of him said it might be best to tell them now what was going on. He knew he was probably going to have to tell them at some point.
“I...” He started and swallowed thickly. He wouldn’t cry again, especially not in front of Zeb and Sabine. “I lied earlier. The reason I didn’t go to the test today wasn’t because I was feeling sick, Kanan just made that up to cover for me.” He swallowed again, noting how Sabine had stopped rummaging through the crate and was watching him intently. “I didn’t go because… because I was really nervous about it.”
Ezra looked at the both of them, silently waiting for him to continue with understanding eyes. “I, uh, I stopped going to school when I was seven because my parents were… well, my parents weren’t around anymore. The people who ran my school wouldn’t let me go back after because, um,” he stumbled over his words, genuinely not knowing where his point was going. “Well, I actually don’t know why, probably because of my parents reputation as insurgents of the Empire or they just didn’t want a dirty street kid in the classroom. But, yeah,” he finished lamely, “so I didn’t go.”
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the sound of Ezra’s leg bouncing up and down nervously against the crate, until Zeb reached out and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, kid, in my experience, tests like these are kinda a formality. They don’t really mean much in the end.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” Ezra blurted out, he had half expected Zeb to be his usual combative self and make a joke or something.
Zeb shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and replied, “I can’t say the thought never occur to me before. I know how tough the streets can be on kids. I’ve seen it before on Lasan and after.” He didn’t elaborate on where, but there was a hard glint in his eyes that told Ezra he probably shouldn’t ask.
Ezra turned back to Sabine, who, for reasons beyond Ezra’s understanding, looked like she was about to burst into tears. She blinked rapidly, a little too fast to be normal, but her voice was steady when she asked, “Are you still going to take the assessment?” At that, Ezra relayed what Kanan and Hera had told him earlier, saying he had a choice, but that Kanan and Hera want him to take it.
“I’m not sure I want to do it.” Ezra said. “Like, what’s the point if I’m just gonna fail it anyways?”
“That’s not a given, Ezra,” argued Sabine. “You don’t know that. I think you should at least try it.” Ezra shot her a look that said seriously? and shrugged his shoulders. “And whatever you don’t know we can teach you,” she added, somehow still looking quite sad.
“I agree with Sabine, kid. Give it a shot, there’s no pressure,” Zeb assured him. “The result won’t change anything here. It’s just something to learn about yourself. I’ll teach ya what I can if it turns out you need help. We all would pitch in to help, ya know that by now, kid.”
Ezra felt a burst of gratitude towards the both of them. This was a side Ezra rarely saw from Zeb, and in all honesty, his words reassured Ezra more than anything that had been said to him that day. “Thank you,” Ezra replied, and if his voice wavered, and his eyes were slightly damp, they didn’t comment on it. “I’m going to go tell Hera I’m gonna take the exam.” He stood up to leave, but before he left he enthusiastically wrapped his arms around Zeb in a hug.
The lasat chuckled heartily and patted his back, then playfully shoved him away saying, “Alright, alright, that’s enough emotions for one day.” Ezra made to leave, crossing the cargo hold towards the latter. He bid goodbye to Sabine, who replied with a grimace-like smile that looked like a good impression of someone trying to grin through the pain of a broken bone. Ezra didn’t let his mind dwell on it, and set of to inform Hera of his decision.