Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I am one with the Force.  

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel, could barely see.  Darkness swam in his vision like flickering ocean shallows under a moonlit sky as he spun out into nothing, became nothing.  

And the Force is with me.  

Shapes moved in the mist, purposeful, patient.  There was no sound out here, no blast as the debris from the ship burst outward with all the silent power of a supernova in deep space.  Is this how Kanan felt, at the very end? Fear swallowed up in acceptance, quiet victory in the survival of those who mattered? Not peace, but a heavy, numb thing that was close to it.  

Child of the Force, this is not where your journey ends  

Consciousness slipped away from him.  The Force, like a mother at the end of the day, folded him into sleep.  

But where it begins.  

And the Jedi known as Ezra Bridger took his last breath.  

:::

He woke to rain falling on his face.  

Ezra coughed.  Rolled over and almost retched at the smell.  It was dark and crowded, water dripping down into the cramped alley he was lying in.  Around him the Force throbbed like a persistent headache, unsettled in a way that he’d never felt in his life.  He squinted into the dim light, scrambled up, and yelped as his shoulder promptly gave out. Winced while gingerly peering down at the blistered skin.  Was that a blaster wound? What-

The Force throbbed again, a dull hammer on the inside of his skull.  He screwed his eyes shut and tried to think past the pain. How he had gotten to this city?  Did...Hera send him here for a drop? But she wouldn’t… no, wait, she had, several months ago, and then he’d returned with the intel, Mon Mothma had wanted…But why did he wake up here?  Had he been attacked? Were the others okay- had Sabine...

Images flickered through his mind, nonsensical.  Hera shouting in front of a wall of flame. A wolf running by his side.  Ahsoka falling through a dark door.

Thrawn.  

Someone moaned.  

For a moment Ezra thought it had been him.  But then the moan came again and there, in the shadow of the dump crate near the entrance of the alley, something shifted.  

“Are you-”  His voice rasped and Ezra winced.  “Are you alright?”

Stupid question - obviously not, if they were hunkered down in the street - but a head popped up anyway.  

“Who’s there?” a panicked voice called out.  Something shifted in the air around him and Ezra blinked.  

Force-sensitive.  

“It’s alright, I just, uh, heard you make a noise and thought-”  He honestly hadn’t known what he’d thought. But four years with the crew of the Ghost had rearranged something inside him he thought he’d forgotten ever since his parents had been taken.  

Kindness was a reflex now, not an afterthought.  

“-I thought I could help,” he finished.

More practically, any Force-sensitive drifter was vulnerable to the machinations of the Empire, and Ezra had seen too many damn Inquisitors in his life.  Slowly, so as not to startle his companion, Ezra shuffled over until he was only a meter away from the sodden pile of fabric that was apparently a person.  

Upon closer inspection he realized they were a child, probably no more than thirteen years old at the most.  He was filthy, cheeks streaked with grime and clothes burned and torn. The boy studied him nervously in turn, eyes darting from the empty blaster holster on his hip to his injured shoulder up to his face before stilling completely.  

“That’s a lightsaber scar,” he choked out.  

That...changed things.  Ezra touched his cheek with a frown.  “And how would you know?” he said slowly.  The kid’s eyes widened as if realizing a mistake.  

“I-”  Stopped, froze.  

Something moved in the Force.  The boy closed his eyes and seemed to reach out, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them.  And without quite thinking about what he was doing Ezra answered in kind.

The boy’s popped open.  

“You’re a Jedi,” he whispered.  

The sound of falling rain filled the silence around them.  Finally, Ezra replied.

“That’s a dangerous word to throw around these days.”  When those wide, red rimmed eyes snapped up to meet his there was a terrifying hope in them.  

“But, but-”  The boy licked his lips, seemed unable to catch his breath.  Ezra eyed the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders with worry as the kid seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. Finally he choked out the words.  “But you’re a padawan, right? I thought-” he clapped a hand over his mouth as he gasped, taking big sucking breaths as he started to shake.

“Whoa, whoa hey it’s okay,” Ezra said quickly, hesitating before taking his shoulders in a firm grip.  The boy shook his head, eyes watering. “Hey, it’s alright, I’ve had a few panic attacks in my day too.  Just breathe with me. Follow my count, try to, uh, empty your mind.”

“Like meditation,” he choked out.  

“Yeah, just like that, like you’re meditating.  In, and out. In, and out.”

He lost track of time, world closing in to just the rise and fall of their breathing.  When the boy finally took one, last shuddering breath before relaxing Ezra finally let go of the tension in his own body, collapsing against the duracrete wall with a low oof .  Then immediately regretted it as his injured shoulder flared up in pain.  

He opened his eyes to find his companion staring at him intently enough to sear a hole through his head.  Ezra cracked a grin. “What, is my face that interesting?” he joked tiredly. The boy reached up and traced two fingers down his own cheek.  

“How did you get those?” he asked, voice still a little hoarse but more confident than before.  Ezra reached up to lay a hand over the scars in question.

“I got into a fight.”  

The boy narrowed his eyes at the opaque answer.  “Did you win?”

A red blade, the moment of blind panic as it lashed at his face.  Kanan, countering the Grand Inquisitor’s vicious assault.

“No,” Ezra replied.  “But my master did.”

The boy looked down.  “I don’t remember you from the Temple,” he said abruptly, changing the subject.  “You’re a padawan, right?” Again, that note of terrifying hope. “You’re a padawan, just like me.  After everything...I thought I was alone, that I was the only one left.”

There were several things off about that statement.  Ezra’s unease, already present since he woke up, only grew.  “What do you mean, the Temple?”

The boy looked up at him warily.  “Uh, the Jedi Temple? On Coruscant?  Did you not…” he tapered off. “You are a Jedi, right?”  

And wasn’t that a loaded question.  “I’m from Lothal,” he said absently, and as the boy tried to puzzle that one out he picked apart the other thing that troubled him.  “So when you mean, ‘a padawan like me,’ are you saying you were also trained in secret by a Jedi, or-” Something on the street caught his eye and oh no, oh no .  

“In secret?  So your master was a Shadow?  I didn’t think they took padawans with the war going on, but-”  

The boy’s words seemed to fade as Ezra stared, fixated on the date below the news broadcast flickering determinedly on the public holoscreen.  White noise buzzed in his ears.

Empire Day.  Plateau City.  

Eighteen years in the past.  

“-and, hey, are you okay?”  

Ezra tore his gaze away.  Suspicious eyes stared up at him, and in his mind’s eye he saw a similar expression in a Lothal market, so long ago.  

“What’s your name?” he said abruptly.  The boy clammed up.

“You first,” he said warily.  

Ezra ran a hand over his hair, buzzing with nervous energy.  “I’m Ezra,” he finally offered. “And you are?”

The boy opened his mouth, closed it, then finally relented.  

“I’m Caleb Dume,” he said quietly, and Ezra’s entire world tilted sideways.    

:::

This boy felt nothing like Kanan.  

Ezra studied him out of the corner of his eye as he stumbled along beside him, crashed out on adrenaline and exhausted from running for who knew how long.  It was easy to see the physical resemblance if he took the time to really look - the long jawline, the way shadows formed around his eyes when he got tired.  

It was his demeanor that threw him off more than anything.  The man who had been his teacher had been impatient sometimes, cynical at others, though it had been more than tempered by his softer moments when bits of the cocky spacer fell away - and they had fallen away more the longer Ezra had been with him.  

He’d even seen Kanan afraid.  For Ezra’s life, for Hera’s, for all those moments when the family they’d made together had been in danger.  

Never though had he seen in Kanan this lost, needy grief.  

Like a ship left adrift in dead space , he thought, as Caleb turned towards him with faint mockery.  

“What, is my face that interesting?” he parroted back at Ezra, eyebrow rising.  

Okay, so maybe he was a little like Kanan.  

“You just remind me of someone I know.”  

Caleb blinked, swayed, visibly trying to process the statement.  Ezra frowned. They needed a place to rest and recover, fast. “Is...is that a good thing?” he finally stumbled out.  

Even when they hadn’t been on the best terms Kanan had always loomed larger than life.  Ezra hasn't thought him capable of looking as small and uncertain as the child in front of him.  A strange sort of agony filled his heart.

Ezra looped an arm around the boy and pulled him in close until he was tucked against his side.  “Yeah kid, it’s a good thing.” And then- “Oof, hey, what was that for?”

Caleb withdrew his elbow from where it poked against his ribs and fell back against him.  “Don’t call me kid,” he mumbled.

Ahead, at the turn off to a side road, a blinking sign caught Ezra’s eye.  “Bingo,” he muttered, and steered the two of them around the corner and through a drab doorway.  

The hostel lobby was empty just as he’d hoped it’d be.  Spaceport cities usually had a variety of disreputable hole in the walls like this where a weary spacer could pay for a few hours of shut eye or privacy, depending on the need.

“A room please,” he called out to the rickety droid behind the desk.  

It took their credits and wordlessly handed over their room key, movements slow under the buzzing lights, before pointing them to the stairs.  The walk up to their room was a silent one.

“Stay here,” he commanded Kanan - no, Caleb - as he gave the room a cursory sweep.  Not the most secure place they’d used as a base of operations, but it would do for one night.  “I’m going to go out and, uh, take care of some stuff.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Caleb was stumbling back towards him, one hand getting a firm grip on his shirt.  “No,” he muttered. Ezra gently pried his fingers off him.

“Come on, buddy, you’re exhausted.”  

He shook his head again, agitated.  “Can’t sleep. Master Billaba-” His breath hitched.  

“Listen.”  Ezra cast about the room for a place to sit before giving up and directing them both to the bed.  “I know things have been tough-” the Force was still keening, tearing itself apart unlike anything he’d felt before- “but we need things like credits, and uh, food and maybe a comm link and some not Jedi clothes for you.  And no offense, but you’re kind of dead on your feet.”

“I don’t-” Caleb grit his teeth.  

“You don’t what?”  

So quiet, enough to almost be a whisper.  “I don’t want to be alone,” he forced out.  Desperate hands were gripping his clothes again.  “I can still feel them- still feel them all dying out there, in the Force.  How do I know you won’t too?”

And, well.  He couldn’t promise that, could he?  For all he knew he might have already died once today.  “Well, I’ll try my best not to.” It was an inadequate answer and from the tightening of Caleb’s grip they both knew it.  He sighed and collapsed on the mattress beside the other boy, choosing his words carefully.

“Listen, it’s a risk, okay, but staying here with nothing we can use to survive is also a risk.  We’ve gotta do something.” He laid a reassuring hand on top of Caleb’s where it clung to his sleeve.  “I’ve survived for years on the streets on my own. A few stormtroopers won’t be a problem for me.” Ah kark.  “Clone troopers, a few clone troopers.”  And they won’t actually have a warrant out for me , he thought silently, though there was no easy way to explain that to Caleb.  

Thankfully Caleb was too tired to catch his slip.  However he was still hanging on with all the strength of a mynock.  Ezra reached a decision. “Listen, I’ll stay. At least until you fall asleep.  How’s that?”

Caleb didn’t say anything, but he didn’t disagree either.  Ezra laid him down on the bed and awkwardly threw the blanket over him - they were both filthy, but neither of them had the energy to do much about it at the moment.  The bed sheets would just have to suffer. As he went through the motion of tucking in the blanket an unbidden memory rose to the front of his mind - his mother’s warm hands, gentle voice reciting tales he’d forgotten years ago.  

“Uh, how about a story?”  Caleb shrugged. Well, it was better than nothing.  

He feels like Zeb might have told him a bedtime story once in that gruff, rambling way of his, when he’d been down with a bad fever.  “Uh, do you know the one about Lira San? It starts like this…”

The rain died down outside their window and a Jedi displaced in time haltingly spun the tale of the Lasat and their home.  And so Caleb Dume, after the worst thirty hours of his life, finally fell asleep.

:::

“Search quadrant eight.  Zeta squad, do you copy?”  

“East district is clear, sir.”

The clones were a lot more difficult to evade than stormtroopers had been.  Ezra’s mind flashed to Rex - where was he now, in all of this? Was he alright?  Hoisting his newly obtained pack higher on his uninjured shoulder Ezra hurried on and carefully set the thought aside where all his other unvoiced worries were, the ones he would save until he had time to unpack them in safety.  

Survive now, mourn later , Ahsoka had once told him.  Mourn...yeah that might be a good word for it.  

Ahsoka .  

He stopped in his tracks.  

Somewhere out there in the galaxy, Ahsoka Tano was still alive and if she was anything like he remembered her, she would know what to do.  

“Hey, you there!”  

Ah kriff.  

“Sorry, sorry, sir,” he apologized, holding up his hands apologetically.  “Just lost in thought.”

An armored hand pushed him firmly along.  “Well, think elsewhere,” he said brusquely.  “There’s <traitors> about.”

There...was something weird in that.   Leave it , part of him said.   Keep your head down .  But Ezra had never been good at that to begin with.  “Traitors sir?” he said earnestly, looking up guilessly into the trooper’s helmet.  

“Jedi <traitors> to the Republic.  They’re dangerous, so move along.”

It was jarring, in an awful way, to see someone with that helmet say ‘the Republic.’  He wanted to be sick.

Instead, he gasped.  “Oh how awful! What did they do?”  

The trooper’s helmet was impassive.  “They betrayed the Republic, the traitor’s…”  Twitched minutely, shook his head. “The traitors will be executed for crimes against the Republic.  We follow our orders.”

And that was his cue to leave.  “Ah, well thank you sir I think I’ll be on my way then,” and then he was hurrying away, down that street, around that corner, until he was certain he hadn’t been followed.  Finally Ezra slumped against a wall and ran a shaking hand down his face.

It was one thing, to hear about the birth of the Empire.  To see it in person…

He looked up towards the cloudy skies above Kaller.  “Take care of yourself, Rex,” he whispered, and hoped that wherever Gregor and Wolffe were, they took care as well.

It had been years since he’d had to resort to thievery to get by but apparently old instincts never truly left.  It didn’t make him happy, exactly, but since it was useful he wasn’t going to complain.

I’m a Jedi, not just some lothrat, not anymore.  No matter what I’m doing in the moment that’s not going to change.  

His feelings on the subject aside, his deft hands and gift for misdirection had procured him enough credits for the rest of the supplies they needed.  Food for when Caleb woke up, an extra change of clothes about his size, a pair of cheap comms. A regulation blaster he’d lifted from a clone trooper, though he’d need to modify it so it wouldn’t be identified on sight.

What few credits had been left on his person before the jump were now well and truly gone - when Caleb woke up they’d need to find some paying work and a way off planet.  Well. If Hera had taught him anything, it was how to be useful on a starship.

The Force tugged at him.  

Slowing, he took stock of his surroundings with a frown.  It was almost dark again, the docks nearly empty as crew personnel and pilots enjoyed their time planetside.  Ezra scanned the ships before closing his eyes, reaching out with the Force to see just what it was trying to tell him.  

“Kid, I get it, you’re used to following a master so you’re in the market for a new one.  Trouble is, I’m not in the market for a padawan. So scurry. Before I do something no one else in the galaxy is alive to regret.”  

A tall Kalleran, teeth glinting sharp in the ship’s light.  A bedraggled child, defiance and desperation rolled into one.  

The Kasmiri.  

Something in the darkness growled.  

Ezra’s eyes snapped open.  

“Kanan?” he called out instinctively.  

The shadows around him stayed silent.  Water dripped slowly off the surrounding eaves.  Ezra turned slowly, taking in every direction - there was no black wolf in sight.  

Shaken but also vaguely disappointed, Ezra gathered his things and hurried back towards the hostel.  

:::

Caleb was still asleep in their room when he crept in, quietly closing the door behind him.  In the dim light coming through the window he looked even younger than before if that was possible, sleeping like the dead in a way that only the completely exhausted could manage.  

Even at this age, Kanan snored.  

Ezra put their things away and sighed, slumping down to sit on the floor.  He studied the child in front of him wearily.

Kanan had always been close lipped about his history, though he’d let drop a few things here and there.  His name had been Caleb Dume. He’d been padawan to Depa Billaba. He’d heard tales of Ryloth from Mace Windu at one point, if Ezra remembered his nervous attempt at camaraderie with Hera’s father correctly.  Had been mentored by Master Yoda too, though if Ahsoka’s account was accurate that was true of all kids who’d been raised at the temple, and had seen a few campaigns before the Clone Wars ended.

Had never known his own parents, taken to the temple as a young child.  

“You’re right, I never knew my parents.”  

“Kanan, I- I’m sorry.”  

“No, it’s okay.  It’s too late for me, but maybe not for you.”  

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut.  

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed quietly.  Only Caleb’s faint snores answered him. “I was alone for so long, but now that you’re all not here-”  He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this on my own anymore.”

Hera.  Zeb. Chopper.  Sabine. Rex. Ahsoka.  Where were they after he had disappeared?  Ezra raised a hand toward the ceiling, as if he could just reach out and touch them through the Force.  

Kanan, there was so much more I still needed to learn from you.  You didn’t prepare me for this.

He hoped, wherever they were, that Lothal now stood free.  

In this time, Hera and Chopper would still be with her family on Ryloth, helping with her father’s resistance.  Sabine would be an infant on Mandalore within the traditions of Clan Wren. Zeb would be a member of the honor guard on Lasan, his people still around him.  Rex- he winced - Rex was...probably not doing too hot right now. But he would survive, wherever he was, and Ahsoka as well.

As for himself.  Well. He’d be one day old right now, living with his parents-

His parents.  

It felt like he’d been struck in the gut.  Ezra made a low, shocked noise as the realization hit him, bending until he was folded over on himself.  Ephraim and Mira Bridger, common citizens of Lothal. Not yet rebels, or dissidents, or Imperial prisoners.  Just another young couple celebrating the birth of their baby son on the world they loved so well.

The kindly looking face of the Emperor as he offered words like poisoned fruit.  “As for your parents, my dear boy, allow me to offer what might have been and what yet may be.”    

No.   No .  

“Are you okay?”  

Caleb was groggily sitting up in the bed, leaning forward with worry even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “I felt…” he frowned. “You felt…”

“I’m okay,” Ezra replied softly, and gently pushed Caleb back until he was lying down again.  “Just…” Mourn later.  “...mourning,” he finished.    

Something in Caleb’s eyes went dull.  “Yeah,” he whispered.

Ezra frowned.  “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?” he asked, and then felt guilty at the inordinate amount of relief he felt when Caleb shook his head.  “Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Caleb made a sour face.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m better than nothing.”  

Caleb just shrugged.  Ah, back to the surly silence it was then.  Then his shoulders slumped and he muttered, “Same goes to you though.  If you want to...talk about anything.”

Ezra would give an arm and a leg to be able to talk to Kanan again.  

“I’ll let you know if I do,” he said instead, and then startled himself with a yawn so big it cracked his jaw.  When he opened his eyes he found Caleb scooting over, making as much room as he could on the cramped cot.

“Hey, it’s fine, I’ve slept on worse things than the floor.”  

“Don’t be stupid,” Caleb replied flatly.  Squinted. “Is that a blaster wound?” Winced, and then hurriedly shuffled out of bed to where his cloak was piled on the floor.  “Of course it’s a blaster wound. Clones got you too, huh?” Ezra glanced down at where his sloppy bandage was showing through the burnt hole in his jacket and grimaced.  

“Yeah, uh-”  

“You suck at first aid.  Hold on, let me do it,” Caleb said impatiently.  He rummaged in one of his belt pouches. “Master always makes me carry a med kit,” he muttered.  

He didn’t seem to notice the slip and Ezra was too tired to comment on it.  After a moment he emerged victorious. “There,” he said absently, sticking his tongue out as he fished out a bacta patch and some bandage wraps.  “Now take off that jacket and hold still.”

Ezra did as ordered and leaned wearily against the wall, Caleb clicking his tongue judgmentally over the inexpert dressing.  He carefully took Ezra’s bandage off. Then hesitated.

“That bad?” Ezra guessed.  

“No,” Caleb replied automatically, clearly lying.  There was a beat. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen,” he amended.  “You really should have treated it properly sooner though, or it wouldn’t have gotten like this.”  

Ezra thought about Kanan’s nagging and rolled his eyes.  “Oh, so you’re an expert, are you?” Caleb sniffed primly.  

“Master Che said I have a knack for for being thorough.  Even too thorough.  Now hold still.”  

His hands were hesitant at first, poking at the wound cautiously as he applied the bacta before growing more confident.  “Now raise your arm,” he mumbled. Wrapped the cloth, undid it, and then rewrapped it again to his satisfaction. “You stink,” he added as an afterthought as the last length of bandage was secured.  

Ezra snorted.  “You don’t exactly smell like summer hay yourself.”  Caleb gave him a weird look.

“Cannon calling the blaster black,” he grumbled.  He gave the bandage one last tweak. “There, all done.  Now rest already,” he commanded blearily before clambering back into bed and rolling over into the blankets.  

Well, Ezra wasn’t going to argue with that. He waited until Caleb’s soft snores drifted through the air again before attempting to get up, pleasantly surprised when the old searing burn in his shoulder was now just a dull ache.  Bacta, huh? There’d never been much of it on the Outer Rim where they’d operated and Ezra only had passing experience with it. If this is what it did no wonder the Empire had kept such a tight hold on it.

Carefully stretching out his newly bandaged shoulder, he almost missed when something hard and small fell out of his pocket.  

“Oh.”  The holodisk.  

He gingerly retrieved it from the ground and flicked it on, staring at the familiar image of his mother and father as they had been in his childhood.  

“I’ve-”  His voice cracked.  He cleared it. “I’ve always remembered the things you taught me.  How to be good, be kind, how to stand up for what’s right. But-” Swallowed down the lump in his throat, “But I’ve also grieved you, and laid you to rest.  The dark side...it’s tempted me. I needed to learn how to let you go.”

His thumbs rubbed at the worn holodisk case.  “I’m going to save you, if I can. I’m going to do everything in my power.  But the family I remember, the family I had...that’s never going to come back.  And I’m not going to try to make it.”

He hesitated.  And then flicked over to the next image.  

The faces of the Ghost crew smiled back at him, the six of them turning in surprise towards the doorway.  Ketsu had taken it while attempting to get blackmail material on Sabine and had passed the holo on to him later when she’d sorted through the images.  

Rex had said the clones had had an old war time tradition, speaking the names of the dead.   A name that’s still spoken never truly dies , he’d told him, late in the night cycle when Ezra had found him nursing a drink in the gun turret.  He’d let Ezra sit there in silence as he recited a litany that sounded as worn and well tended as the handle of a beloved blaster.  

“Hera Syndulla,” Ezra murmured, fingers tracing the amused tilt of her brow as she turned towards the viewer.  “Garazeb Orrelios.” His head thrown back, teeth bared in a burst of riotous laughter. “Sabine Wren.” Chin in her hand, eyes slanted towards him with a longsuffering look on her face.  “Chopper.” Arms upraised in startled outrage, figure slightly blurry as they charged the viewer.

His finger stopped over the last figure.  “Kanan Jarrus.” Eyes bright, settled fondly on Hera with his old ponytail in disarray.  Paused, and closed his eyes.

“Ezra Bridger,” he recited last, shutting down the image of his younger self, shaggy hair flopping in his eyes as he basked in the easy affection of his found family.  

Rex finishing his litany, closing words like a ritual.   We keep your name as an echo down the line.  

He tucked the disk over his heart, crawled into bed, and fell into deep sleep.  

Chapter Text

When he woke up, Caleb was gone.  

Panic splashed over him like a bucket of cold water, sending him scrambling for his things even as he cursed himself for letting his too young not-master out of his sight.  He was still hopping around with one boot on when the door opened and Caleb tramped back in, pausing at the spectacle.

“Uh, hey,” Ezra offered sheepishly.  

Caleb eyed him..  “Hey,” he replied.  He looked...better, cleaned up and in his civilian clothes.  Like any kid walking the streets of Kaller and not a wanted Jedi fugitive.  Still, Ezra frowned at the hair.

“We’re going to need to do something about that braid.”  

Caleb’s hand shot protectively towards where it was tucked into his collar.  “What do you mean, do something about it,” he demanded.

“As in, the Jedi are being hunted down and those beads of yours are a dead giveaway.”  

Caleb stared down at the floor, stubborn, knowing Ezra was right but...Ezra frowned at the despair seeping into the Force.  He crouched down in front of the other padawan.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”  

“Nothing,” Caleb answered woodenly.  “You’re right, I should just- just cut it off.”  

Grief rose up in the Force like a tidal wave at the words and Ezra blinked, reached out to lay a hand on the other boy’s shoulder only to stop when he twitched away.  “Okaaaay then,” he said slowly, “I feel like there’s a lot more going on here that you’re not telling me about.”

Caleb’s wiped angrily at his eyes and glared up at him.  “How can you not know? You-” His eyes hovered at the empty space behind Ezra’s ear.  “Your master’s already knighted you, haven’t they? They cut your braid, you finished your training.  Meanwhile I-” he stopped, mouth tight. Took a deep breath.

“Caleb, it’s not your fault Master Billaba didn’t get to finish being your teacher.”  

The overwhelming rejection of that statement that rang through the Force hurt.  He had known Kanan like the back of his own hand by the end of their time together, could differentiate his Force signature from a crowd in a heartbeat but all of this - this deep self recrimination, this loathing of his own inadequacy - this was uncharted territory.  

Or was it?  

Kanan, not looking up from the Spire schematics as Ezra hovered desperately at the edges.  “We’ll get you a real Jedi master once we rescue Master Luminara, Ezra - she can teach you more than I ever could.”  

Ezra reached a decision.  

“Let’s meditate on it,” he said serenely, taking a seat on the floor.    

Caleb gaped at him.  If Kanan was here Ezra imagined he’d be gaping too.  

“What?”  

“I said, let’s meditate on it.  Your braid is important to you - maybe the Force will show us a way we can keep it without detection.”  

Caleb dropped to the floor across from him with an incredulous thump.  “Are you serious right now.”

“Serious as Master Yoda himself.”  

“You realize meditation isn’t just code for ‘thinking of a really good idea,’ right?”  Caleb offered cautiously.

“Caleb, I am insulted at the implication that I don’t know how to meditate.”  He really didn’t know how to meditate. Well, at least not in the traditional way Kanan had tried to teach him at first.  “Just, breathe with me. Reach out for the Force.”

“You mean empty your mind,” Caleb muttered.  

“Yeah, that too.”  

Despite his grumbling Caleb fell into rhythm with him, the two of them breathing in and out as they sat across from each other.  Ezra relaxed, imagined every muscle from his shoulders to his legs unwinding and going still.

In the Force, Caleb felt like a bright candle - flickering, currently a little dimmed, but warm and curious.  There was hurt there, raw edges exposed as one by one his connections to other Jedi had been abruptly snuffed out, but also determination, a stubborn will to live and survive.  Ezra reached out, sent a question.

Caleb hesitated.  Then acquiesced.

It was both familiar and unfamiliar sharing memories with Caleb.  He and Kanan had done so sometimes during his training but the ease with which Ezra reached out wasn’t reciprocated, and the two of them fumbled for a moment before regaining equilibrium.  

Ezra braced himself, let himself feel his fear, his pain, his regret.  And then let the memory go.

“Kanan!”

His master, arms outstretched on the fuel tank as it burst into flames.  Hera shouting frantically as the blast of incandescent heat rose higher and higher, struggling against the Force hold Kanan had on her, pushing her back into the ship.  

Pale eyes, looking up at where Ezra stood frozen in the doorway as he gave him one last smile.  

Take care of them.  

His master’s presence extinguished in his mind as the ship was blown back out of range of the blast.  

Ezra came out of the memory with a gasp.  

Caleb was looking up at him wide eyed, one hand clutching Ezra’s arm.  Why was he shaking him? Ezra felt wetness on his face and reached up one trembling hand to wipe it away.  Oh. The shaking was coming from him.

“I-”  He sniffed, tried again.  “I lost my master a few weeks ago.”  The finality of the statement still hurt.  Here he was in the past, Kanan’s younger counterpart right in front of him, and it still hurt so much.  Why did it hurt so much.

“He- it was a stupid miscalculation, we didn’t know- anyway.”  Ezra took his hand back, clenched them together and willed himself to still.  “He sacrificed himself to save us. To save me.”

Caleb looked away.  “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.  Ezra’s laugh was wobbly.

“I do understand. And blame myself too.  But- But the decision was his, at the end of the day.”  

“Because he knew what his duty was,” Caleb murmured.  

“Because he loved us,” Ezra corrected gently.  “Just like I’m sure your master did for you.”

Caleb’s protest died in his throat.  His throat bobbed, face working its way through a range of emotion.  “It should have been me,” he finally managed, fists white knuckled in his lap.  “I cared about her too.”

“She was your teacher.  That wasn’t your job.”

“Well I don’t care!  It should have been! It should have been me!  If I hadn’t run, if I hadn’t abandoned her-” A sob tore through him and Caleb curled in on himself while forcing the rest of the words out.  

“If I hadn’t abandoned her then she would be here instead of me, and the galaxy would be a better place for it!”  

Caleb’s cries echoed in the silence between them, his gut wrenching sobs shaking his shoulders as he hid his face in his knees.  After a moment, warmth leaned up against his side and a hand tucked his head into the scratchy fabric of an orange jumper.

“You don’t need to,” he finally muttered, tears and mucus still streaming down his face in a gross mess.  Ezra shrugged.

“I don’t need to do a lot of things,” he said.  “But I definitely want to, so here I am.”

“Your master...must have been a strange Jedi,” Caleb said, obviously without thinking, then cringed.  “I mean-”

Ezra was already laughing.  “Yeah, he was. That’s what made him the very best kind of Jedi.  What made him the perfect master for me.”

They stayed that way for a long while, until Caleb’s tears had dried and all he was left with was a numb exhaustion.  Finally, Ezra spoke up.

“You know, my master used to keep his lightsaber in two pieces when he didn’t want others to realize he was a Jedi.  But even when it wasn’t in a recognizable shape it was still there. A functional lightsaber, hidden in plain sight.”  

He looked at Caleb’s braid thoughtfully.  “We don’t need to cut it,” he said. “Disassemble it, maybe, so that it doesn’t put you in danger.  But-” He reached over and fished in his pack until he’d found a length of string. “Keep the beads on here, have you wear them.  Grow your hair out and tuck the long strand in a ponytail. But your braid will still be there. Just...looking a little different, because these times call for us to be a different sort of Jedi.”  

A different sort of Jedi.  Ezra could almost see Caleb turning the words over in his head, mulling over what that meant for him.  Wondered if he was changing anything, if inadvertently he was trying to turn Caleb into the Kanan he remembered.  

The thought died as soon as it was born.  Kanan had always been himself, long before he had ever met Ezra.  And Ezra had a feeling that no matter what he did, Caleb would be the same, becoming the person he wanted to be no matter what Ezra’s preferences were.  

If Ezra could just make the journey a little easier along the way, it would be enough.  

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.  Caleb reached over without moving his face from Ezra’s chest and grabbed a crumpled, grease stained package.  

“Food,” he mumbled.  “I, uh, ate everything you brought back last night.”  

“That.  Huh. That was a lot of, uh, food.”  As in, he’d meant for it to last them all day.  Had he eaten that much when Hera and Kanan first picked him up?  Surely not.

“Yeah, well, I was hungry.”  

Ezra inspected the Kalleran street food - no suspect meat, just lots and lots of fried tubers - before taking an appreciative bite.  “Whe’d you get tis foo’ anyway?” he asked in the middle of his mouthful.

“I, uh-”  Caleb pulled back and looked away at the corner.  “I might have gone through some garbage in the restaurant district.”  

Ezra swallowed.  “Sweet. Dead night to early morning is the best time to go dumpster diving anyway, that’s when all the late night eateries throw out their leftovers.”  Capital City on Lothal, Plateau City on Kaller. Some things weren’t so different across the galaxy after all.

Caleb had perked up.  “Really? I… did a good job?”  

Ezra wiped the last of the grease from his mouth and licked his fingers absently.  “Yeah. When you’re hungry and in a hard place you do what you gotta do.” The younger boy frowned.  

“That doesn’t seem like a very Jedi thing to say.”  

Ezra leaned back and looked at him.  “Really? What would a good Jedi do in our situation then?”  

He was honestly curious.  He’d worked for the Rebel Alliance for several years now, had proven himself on missions, in Lothal’s temple, and against the Inquisitor’s over and over again.  From the way Kanan had spoken about the Order though, it sounded like his education had been unconventional by traditional standards. That as much as Kanan himself had mastered his connection to the Force even he didn’t know what the Jedi of the old Republic would have thought of him.  

That there’d been gaps in his knowledge, his cultural upbringing, that a true Jedi trained in the old ways would not have lacked.  

Caleb fidgeted.  “Master Yoda would say… that our bodies are not everything.  That we’re luminous beings.”

“Huh.  What does that mean?”  Caleb wilted. “Hey, hey, no, I didn’t mean to test you or, or put you in a hard spot.  It’s just that.” Ezra scratched his head. “We’ve got to take care of our bodies, right?  Like being a luminous being sounds nice but I can’t eat the Force.”

Caleb gave a startled laugh.  “I’m serious, I don’t know!” he protested, giggling, more at ease now.  “It’s just something he would say in the creche when we complained about stuff.”  

Ezra grinned and leaned back.  “Okay. What would Master Billaba say then?”  

There was that familiar pang of grief in the Force at her name again, but instead of breaking into tears Caleb just got quiet, brow furrowed in recollection.  

“Before- before all this happened.  She told me not to get too attached to the present as it is now.  That-” He looked up and met Ezra’s eyes. “That the galaxy is always changing, and that the Jedi need to change with it.”  

“She sounds like she was a wise master,” Ezra offered.  

“Yeah.”  Caleb looked down, expression pained and bittersweet.  “Yeah she was.”

There was a moment of quiet.  “I didn’t know her at all,” Ezra finally said.  Had heard of her, yes, had spent hours wondering what kind of person she had been as he’d followed Kanan all over the galaxy.  “But I don’t think she’d begrudge you doing what you have to do to survive.”

Caleb dropped his chin.  “I don’t want to disappoint her, or dishonor her memory.  To fail to be the Jedi she taught me to be,” he confessed.  On impulse Ezra reached out and tugged on his braid until Caleb looked back up.    

“Yeah, well.  Just because everything didn’t go according to plan doesn’t mean she still wouldn’t be proud of you.”  

“You can’t know that.”  

Ezra got up and stretched his back.  Reached down. “Yeah, I can’t. But I can use my common sense, and you, Caleb Dume?”  Caleb took his hand and Ezra pulled him to his feet.

Kanan, sitting in the cockpit of the Phantom as the two of them looked over Lothal.  “When I lost my master, I was alone. I didn’t want you to be.”  

“You’re the sort of person anyone would be lucky to have.”  

:::

“Always go in with a plan.  Even if everything goes belly up later it’s important to have an idea of where to start.”  

“But Hera, our missions never go according to plan.”  

“Yes, well.”  She grinned over at where he was lounging in the co-pilot’s seat.  “I always live in hope. And that’s the stuff rebellions are built on, isn’t it?”

“So?  What are we going to do?”  

Ezra blinked.  

The two of them had gathered their belongings and walked to the docks, the long strand of Caleb’s braid tucked away under the thick band of a pair of pilot’s goggles that swallowed his face.  Ezra had picked them up for him at the hostel’s lost-and-found and was immediately filled with honest regret that he couldn’t snap a holo and send it to Hera.

Not to be weird about it, but baby Kanan peering out at the world under an oversized pair of aviators was akin to those recordings of adorable lothcats his mother used to watch on the holonet in her spare time.  

The two of them squatted by the wall with the other day workers, looking like any other pair of potential sign-ons as they passed a flask of water back and forth.  Ezra spread out a piece of flimsi.

“So here’s the thing.”  He ran his finger down a list of systems and planets, hastily scratched out that morning from what he could remember.  “My master and I used to run missions in the Outer Rim assisting, uh, guerilla fighters and stuff. So I’m familiar with with a lot of different locations and groups, but they’re all kind of random, and, uh-”  

Caleb cocked an eyebrow at him.  “It’s been a while?” Ezra winced.  

“Yeah, my intelligence might be kind of dated.”  Premature, more like it.

He pointed at the second list.  “I also know a few people that might help us, but I’m not sure of their exact location.  You know Alderaan?”

Caleb made a face.  “Of course I know Alderaan.  I did pass my initiate classes, come on.” Ezra rolled his eyes.  

“Yeah, whatever.  Anyway, there might be someone there who’d be willing to connect us to a rebel cell, but I don’t know how far he is in the game yet and I don’t want to approach him if he hasn’t already-”  

Caleb’s comm link beeped.  

“That’s the recall signal,” he whispered.  He swung his gaze up at Ezra. “That’s...that’s the all clear beacon.  It’s calling us, Ezra, it’s-” He swallowed thickly. “It’s calling us home.”  

“Caleb-” Ezra said warningly.  

“They must have survived, some of us- some of us made it back to the temple, we need to go back and regroup we need to go now-”  

“Caleb!”  Ezra glanced around nervously and lowered his voice.  “Caleb, think about it for just two seconds,” he hissed.  

“What?  Think about what?  The fact that some of my- that some our Order, our family, might have survived?”  

“Be quiet!” Ezra whispered furiously.  Noticed they were gaining too much interest from some of their neighbors and towed Caleb away.  When they reached a relatively isolated corner of the docks he let go.

“You just want to believe the worst,” Caleb bit out.  He was furious, Ezra realized, neck already craned around him to inspect the ships in port.  “You want us to give up our only chance to find the other Jedi, just because you’re too scared to try.”  

“I want us to use our heads,” Ezra retorted.  Took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I know you want to find other Jedi, Caleb, and I promise you, we will .  But this is obviously a trap and I’m not risking your safety on it.”  

“Oh, so it’s my safety you’re not risking,” Caleb sneered.  

“Caleb-” Ezra said warningly.  A sudden spike of nausea make his stomach churn.  

“Is that what you told yourself when you ran, that you were saving everyone else as your Kanan burned to death?”  

It hurt more than he thought it would, to hear those words from the mouth of his master’s younger counterpart.  

Caleb’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said.  He opened his mouth as if to apologize, horrified, then closed it again as an unreadable expression fell over his face.  “I’ll meet you back at the temple,” he muttered, and pushed past him. It took Ezra a few seconds to recover.

“Caleb, hey- wait!”  But the crowd had swallowed him up.  The padawan was gone.

Ezra swore and scrambled after him.  Tried to find him through the Force only to find his signature politely blocked.  Groaned.

If Caleb was as resourceful as Kanan had been, he was sure he’d figure out where he was soon enough.  

“Karabast,” he said with feeling.  

:::

Ezra hated being right.  

“Hey!  My ship was just stolen!”  

Adjusting the white helmet on his head, Ezra shuffled over to where the other clone troopers were gathered around a pissed off looking ship owner - smuggler, he’d bet credits on it - who was pointing at the empty dock where his ship had previously been.  “Small fellow, slipped right in while I was distracted and bypassed the ships codes. He could be anywhere by now.”

A clone flicked up a holo image and a chill went down Ezra’s back as Caleb’s face came into focus.  “Did he look anything like this?”

“Sure!  Yeah, whatever you say.  Does that mean you’re going after my ship?”  

The man ignored him.  “Styles?”

“Yeah, I’m on it.  Calling in the lead to the Coruscant guard now, they’ll be in the air when he arrives.”  

“Good.  We’ll wait for word of his capture.”  

Ezra frowned, then made a subtle gesture towards him.  “Sir, someone from our squad should be in the air with them,” he said neutrally.  

The commander paused.  “Someone should be in the air with them.”  

The other clone frowned.  “Grey?” he said carefully.  The commander shook his head.  

“If we want the job done right we need to do it ourselves.  Styles, you lead a half squadron in pursuit. Shiny, you got a name?”  

It took a moment for Ezra to realize Commander Grey was talking to him.  He straightened. “Sir?”

“Name, shiny.  I don’t have all day.”  

“Uh.  Jabba, sir.”  

The man placed a finger to his temple.  “I don’t want to know,” he muttered. “You got any piloting experience?”  

Only from the best.  “Yes sir.”

“Then I want you up there with Captain Styles.  The rest of you, move out!”

Ezra sprinted towards the X-wings with the others, clone armor heavier than the storm trooper disguises he’d often donned while undercover.  He plugged in the starting sequence and flight coordinates sent to him, lifted off, and readied for hyperjump. As he waited for the signal to depart he reached out with the Force.  

Caleb?  Caleb!  

A muted sense of shock burst against his consciousness.  What had happened?

“Captain Styles, we’re ready to jump!”  

“Copy that.  Rostu squad, move out!”  

Ezra punched the hyperdrive and tried to let go of his fear as the stars streaked white in the viewport.  

:::

They came into real space in the middle of a firefight.  

Coruscant loomed below, the city planet covered with the lights of millions of people going about their lives.  Ezra had never actually been to Imperial Center before but he didn’t have long to enjoy the view.

Voices crackled over the comm.  “Coruscant guard, this is Captain Styles leading Rostu Squad.  We’re in pursuit.”

“Copy that Rostu Squad.  The suspect freighter arrived five minutes ago, we’re pinning them down now.”  

“Appreciated.  Don’t let them escape.  We have good reason to believe a Jedi is on board.”  

Ezra ducked and wove through the fighters, jockeying for a position near the front of the crowd.  Caleb’s stolen freighter was a good one at least, with decent shields and a solid set of nose guns he was using to return fire.  

Still, he was outnumbered ten to one.  Splitting his focus as much as he was able, Ezra reached out and tried to catch Caleb’s attention.   Caleb , he said urgently.   Caleb !  

A sense of startlement.   Ezra ?  

Yeah, it’s me.  When I give you an opening I want you to get out of here.  

But-  

Head back for Kaller, I’ll meet up with you again.  

Not giving the other boy a chance to protest, Ezra veered out of formation and began firing on the other X-wings.  

“Fighter 23-702, what are you doing!”  

Ezra ignored him and dove again, narrowly missing the other aircraft in the squad and forcing them to scatter.  

“Rostu Squad, what’s going on there?”  

“Unknown, Coruscant, one of our fighters seem to- agh!”  

Ezra watched grimly as one of his shots hit true and sent the other X-wing hurtling down towards the surface.  The guards’ attention was on him now, and after corkscrewing to evade Rostu’s return fire he made a sudden dive towards them with guns blazing.  

Caleb, now!  

The stolen freighter hesitated.  

Run!  

Panic flooded the Force like a shout.  And then the freighter turned and began firing on the X-wings behind him.  

Ezra was so baffled that he almost missed the incoming fighter on his six.  “Karabast,” he swore, and barely twisted out of the way. A shot clipped his left and the ship shuddered, sparks flying.  

Caleb, what are you doing!  Panicked silence was his only response.  Ezra tried a different track. Get out of here now!  They know you’re here.  You couldn’t get into the Temple even if you tried!    

A wave of frustration.   I’m not leaving you!   

Ezra looped around and a fired a volley on the guard’s fighters, knowing they wouldn’t be distracted forever.  Their window of escape was quickly shrinking.

Like hell you aren’t.  This is a direct order!  

Caleb remained stubbornly present.  Ezra frantically ran through all his options, twisting and weaving through the battle as he tried to keep them both alive.  For once in his life he found himself wishing that Chopper was there - they would have hijacked the ship and run in a heartbeat, misplaced selflessness be damned.  

Actually.  Hijacking the ship wasn’t such a bad idea.  

Fine.  I’m boarding . Ezra snapped.  

Caleb’s alarm was palpable.   What?!  

If you refuse to leave then I’m going to get on that freighter and make you .  

That’s crazy, we’re in the middle of battle you can’t- Eza tuned him out, focusing instead on the the control board in front of him.  This was an older model, sure. But if Sabine had taught him anything it was how to improvise on the fly.  

As well as the importance of a good explosion.  

With a flick of the Force he sealed the opening of the ammunition chamber.  Set the fire setting to its highest power. And turned on the comm again.

“Fighter 23-702, I repeat, what are you doing!”  Captain Styles demanded.

Ezra groaned.  “Sir, be careful,” he gasped.  “The Jedi… my mind…”

Styles swore.  “Stand down, shiny, get yourself down to the base before you do any more damage.”  

The fighter was humming with power beneath his fingertips, heating up dangerously.   

“Copy that, sir.”  

Just a little closer… three, two, one-

Ezra smacked the eject button and gave the X-wing one last push with the Force before dropping into the vacuum of space.  

The explosion almost blinded him.  

Ezra!  

I’m here , Ezra managed, white spots still swimming in his vision.  Above him the fighters were in chaos. Where-  

I see you, hold on just a little longer I’m coming to get you!  

He drifted.  Two of the fighters had been damaged beyond repair, slowly sinking down in flames to the planet’s surface.  Ezra watched their descent sluggishly, the freezing absence of space sinking with swift viciousness into his bones.  The sealed helmet contained a little oxygen yet, though he had no air tank, but the cold would kill him long before the lack of air would.  

Kanan… we really have to stop… dying in explosions…

Ezra!  

There was a tug, and then he was yanked into warmth with brutal efficiency.  

Ezra screamed.  

“Hold on!” he heard Caleb shout as if from a distant room, and then the distinctive pull of the hyperdrive shuddered through the ship.  

He blinked, fighting to stay awake.  Lost time. And then Caleb was crouched in front of him, fear filling the air so thickly he could choke on it.  

“What-” Ezra wheezed.  

“That was so STUPID.”  Caleb shouted into his face.  “What were you thinking?”

Ezra blinked, scowled.  “ I’m the stupid one?  I wouldn’t have needed to do any of that if you’d just left when I told you to!”  

“If I left you could have died!”  

“Well I almost died anyway, so thanks a lot!”  

Caleb’s lower lip trembled.  “Fine, I guess I can’t make the right choice no matter what I do,” he snapped, and stomped off.  Belatedly Ezra reached out.

“Caleb-”  

The cockpit door hissed closed behind him.  

His strength abruptly gave out.  Ezra sagged limply against the wall, half sprawled out on the floor, limbs numb.  He grimaced.

“Well that went well,” he said to the empty air.  His vision was still kriffed, the ship lights wobbling in fuzzy haloes overhead.  

“As someone who’s been spaced a few times I wouldn’t recommend it,” Kanan said wryly, shivering in the Ghost’s hold after the hostage situation with Maul.  “But in the event you are, the first thing to go will be your eyes - they’re all water and will freeze over in an instant.”

“Even if you’re blind?”  

Kanan snorted.  “Seriously? Yes, even if you’re blind.”  Ezra had ducked, chagrined. Kanan ruffled the stubby crop of his hair.  

“If you can spare the presence of mind, focus your efforts on keeping them warm until you can reach atmosphere again.”  

“Not helpful Kanan,” Ezra croaked.  His head lolled. Something moved beside him.  

“Not Kanan,” Kanan said- no, Caleb, crouched down next to him.  When had he come back? The padawan was steadfastly avoiding his gaze as he carefully massaged warmth back into his right arm.  

“Oh,” Ezra said stupidly.  “...sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Caleb dropped his right arm, scooted over to his left.  Paused. “Do you think you can get up?”

Ezra tried to get his leg underneath him only to have his knee promptly give out.  “Nope.”

An arm moved under his neck, and then he was lying on the floor, head pillowed under something soft.  Fumbling fingers began warming his left arm. “I shouldn’t have left,” Caleb started again. “Well, just now, I mean.  When you’re hurt.”

Ezra tried to shrug it off.  “Hey, this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve survived.  I would have managed it.”

Somehow that didn’t seem to make Caleb feel any better.  “I should have listened to you when you told me to leave the first time,” he continued.  “I shouldn’t have run off in the first place, back on Kaller. I shouldn’t have-” His fingers stopped.  

“Hey, Caleb-”  

“I shouldn’t have said what I did about you.  About- about your master,” he burst out. Hung his head.  “It was inexcusable,” he whispered.

Shame, welling up in his breast as he saw Kanan fumbling with the walls.  At the disappointment apparent on his face when he found the Sith holocron.  

Regret, like a blade through his gut, every time he saw that mask.  

“Fine.  I don’t need it.  Just like I don’t need you!”  

“Sometimes, when we’re hurt, or ashamed, or trapped,” Ezra said slowly, “we take it out on the people around us.  And then there’s no way to take those words back no matter how much we may want to.”

Caleb nodded miserably, still avoiding his eyes.  

“But.”  Ezra frowned, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.  “But. If they care about you. If they think what the two of you have is stronger than the hurt you’ve caused.”  

Caleb waited.  “Then what?”

Arms, wrapped tightly around him.  

“I never blamed you Ezra.  It’s time to forgive yourself.”  

“Then they accept you for who you are, mistakes and all.  And they forgive you.”

Caleb was quiet.  “Do you...forgive me?”  

Ezra reached out and patted his knee.  

“Yeah, kid.  Before you even asked.”  

:::

Caleb didn’t know what to make of his new teacher.  

And Ezra was his teacher whether he was aware of it yet or not, though of a different sort than Master Billaba had been.  The Temple had taught him philosophy, politics, saber combat. How to be the sort of Jedi they thought the galaxy needed.

They hadn’t taught him how to survive.  

No, everything he currently knew about making it in the wider galaxy could be attributed to the young man sitting next to him, fiddling with the navicomputer as the stars streaked by outside.  

Ezra… felt different from the other Jedi Caleb had known.  More irreverent, worldly, with a way of challenging things Caleb had been taught his entire life without even seeming aware of it.  

But he was also patient.  Kind. Protective. Reliable in a way that Caleb wanted to lean into, like a solid pillar in a galaxy that didn’t make sense anymore.  

And for some reason, of all people, Ezra wanted to take care of him.  

He thought back onto the brief flash of memory Ezra had carefully shared with him - the one you used to hurt him , a corner of his mind whispered - and wondered who the other people in that ship were.  Wondered who Ezra had been clinging to as he dragged them back from the flames that had consumed his master, who’d been the other shadowed figure in the cockpit of their escape transport.  Wondered where they were now, if they were okay, or whether Ezra had lost them too.

I think Master Billaba would have liked you , he thought as Ezra looked up at him with a small grin.  

“We’ll be on Kaller in two minutes.  After that, the entire galaxy is at our disposal.  Any preferences?”

Caleb just shook his head.   As long as I stick with you I think I’d be willing to go anywhere. 

Chapter Text

“You stole my ship!”  

Caleb glanced frantically over at Ezra in a silent bid for help.  The young man shrugged. “You did do that.”

“But I returned it!”  Caleb protested. “No harm no foul, right?”  

The lanky Kalleran squinted at the hull.  “Are those scorch marks?”

“No!  I mean, yes?  Uh, maybe?”

Ezra took pity on him.  “But it’s back in one piece, none the worse for wear,” he said, clapping a friendly hand on the smuggler’s shoulder.  “And really, do you want to drag the troopers back into this? A nice, respectable smuggler like you, captain…”

“Janus.  Janus Kasmir.”  

“Captain Janus.  I doubt either of us want more attention from the law.”  

Something about Janus had been bothering Ezra ever since he’d laid eyes on him - not a bad feeling per se, but a persistent one.  Had he seen him before? In the Alliance perhaps, or during one of his lengthy mishaps with Hondo in the criminal underworld.

“Ah well, if we’re going to bring the law into it-” Janus grumbled, tapping his knuckles against the Aurebesh script looping gracefully against the siding.  Ezra blinked, the name loosening something from the recesses of his memory.

“Kid, I get it, you’re used to following a master so you’re in the market for a new one.  Trouble is, I’m not in the market for a padawan.”

Dim shadows, the docks at night, <traitor> scratching like bitter dust at the back of his throat.

The absence of a black wolf.  

“The Kasmiri,” Ezra murmured, following the lines of the ship.  “It’s an interesting name.”

“Don’t get cozy now,” Janus warned, pointing a finger.  Ezra just gave a disarming smile.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he replied, holding up his hands.  “Only a fool would get between a captain and a lady as fine as this one.”  

Caleb made a face over the smuggler’s shoulder.  

“Lady, eh?”  Janus rubbed his chin.  “I’ll admit, you’re certainly a charmer.  I’ve been at the game longer than you’ve been alive though, runtling.  Why don’t you just go ahead and spit out what you want?”

Ezra cut to the chase.  “Let’s help each other,” he suggested.  “We’ve caused you some inconvenience so let us pay you back.  In return, all we ask for is a lift off this planet.”

Janus eyed him.  Was that...amusement in the Force?  “And how is a slip of a thing like you going to pay me back?”  

“I’ve worked on a ship’s crew for a good part of my life - I’m sure there’s some use you can find for me.”  

Lidded eyes slid over to where Caleb was observing quietly behind him.  “And the baby Jedi?”

Ezra stiffened.  

“How,” Caleb started.  

“I’ll admit, it took me a while to recognize you without the robes.  But I saw you at the palace, remember? Right after the Republic ran the Separatists out of here.”  He squinted at Ezra. “I don’t remember this one being your master though. Found another one pretty quick, eh?”  

Ezra moved before he was even aware of it.  

The Kalleran was big, but Ezra had the Force at his call.  Janus hissed where he was pinned against the hull.

“And what,” Ezra said quietly, putting pressure on the other’s throat, “are you going to do about it?”  

“Ezra-” Caleb said nervously.  

Janus hissed and narrowed his eyes.  “Awfully cocky for one so young, aren’t you?”  

“Just answer the question.  Are you going to report us, or not?”  

Around them the dock was quiet at dusk, but the people who were still around hurried onwards when they noticed them.  Janus’s breath fluttered under Ezra’s arm. Finally, he laughed.

“Us, huh?”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed.  Slowly, Janus grinned.

“I suppose I could find a use for two indebted Jedi around my ship.”  

Ezra couldn’t detect any falsehood.  He stepped back and immediately fell to the ground as Janus smacked him across the head so sharply his ears rang.  Caleb gave a shout as he went sprawling.

“Make no mistake though, runtling,” Janus said cooly, brushing off his hands as he straightened.  “That’s the last time I’ll afford that sort of disrespect from you.”

“Ezra!”  Caleb hurried forward and crouched down to help him up.  Ezra waved off his indignation.

“It’s okay, Caleb, I’m fine.”  He looked up to find Janus studying the two of them.  The smuggler raised a brow.

“So, do we have a deal, Ezra .”  

“It depends,” Ezra replied lightly.  “Do you make a habit of throwing around your crew?”  Janus threw back his head and laughed.

“Only if they have it coming.  Fear not, Jedi runt, I’ll not lay a hand on your boy.”  

Ezra extended his hand and the two of them shook.  

“Then we have a deal.”  

:::

“I don’t like him.”  

Ezra didn’t look up from the manifest he was reading.  “I know, Caleb. You’ve only said that for the fifth time tonight.”  

They were bunked in the cargo hold of the ship, between some empty crates the two of them had arranged into a little alcove.  Caleb was fiddling with something in his lap although from where he was sitting Ezra couldn’t tell what it was.

“He hit you.”  

“Yeah well, sometimes you have to work with unpleasant people.”  

“He knows…” Caleb looked around and lowered his voice.  “He knows we’re Jedi.”

Yeah that...hadn’t been ideal.  But Ezra couldn’t shake the feeling that this is where they were supposed to be.  At the end of the day he had trusted in the Force.

What he actually said was, “It’s the only reason he signed us on.”  

Caleb made a face.  “But couldn’t we have worked with someone else?”  

“Who, Caleb?  Who else would have given us a place to sleep before it got dark?”  

“I don’t know, anybody!  Or we could have stolen enough credits to rent the room for another night-”  

“Yeah, and give people more reason to hunt us down than they already have.”  Ezra finally looked up. “Let it go, Caleb. We have a place to sleep and a way off planet.  A bit of indentured servitude is a small price to pay.”

“But for how long?” Caleb almost whined.  

Ezra tossed the contract over at him.  “Two weeks. It’s all there in writing, plain for you to read.”  He grinned over at him teasingly. “You did pass your initiate classes on this too, right?”  

“Oh come off,” Caleb grumbled, turning the flimsi over in his hands.  A faint glow caught the underside of his face and Ezra blinked, looking over at his lap only to freeze.  

Kanan’s holocron.  The one he had destroyed with Maul so long ago.  

“Is that…”  He trailed off, trying to figure out what he wanted to ask.  Caleb glanced down.

“Oh yeah, my educational holos.  Master Billaba gave it to me, right before-”  He bit his lip. “Anyway, she wanted me to study them.”  

“I see,” Ezra said uselessly.  Caleb held the glittering crystal storage unit up for his inspection while fiddling with something on one side.  

“When I tried to return to the Temple, before you came for me,” he said haltingly.  “I got a message on my comm. Master Kenobi- he reversed the signal. Told us-”

An image flickered to life.  “ This is Master Obi-wan Kenobi, ” a bearded man pronounced, grave even through the blue static.  “ I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.”

Twin suns.  An old man standing in the desert, hood sheltering white hair and worn eyes.  

“This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force.  Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret... but be strong.”  

The first time Ezra had seen this holocron he had been only a year older than Caleb was now, huddled furtively in the cabin of a stranger he barely knew.  Caught rummaging through artifacts he hadn’t understood.

The cube hadn’t opened for him until later when he’d been captured aboard that Imperial starship.  He could still remember the warmth that had blossomed in his chest when he’d looked up to see his cell bathed in blue light.  Something like hope singing through the air as the pieces had spun, showing the recording of Master Kenobi’s face. The Force, awakening something dormant inside him, responding to his call for the first time.  

Kanan’s first test.  

“We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you always."

The image fizzled out.  Caleb moved to put the holocron away and Ezra reached out and put a hand on his arm.  

“Hey.”  He paused.  “The holos Master Billaba gave you - did you ever finish them?”  Caleb shook his head.

“It’s dangerous,” he said, looking away.  “You said so yourself about my padawan braid, remember?  Anything that marks us as Jedi is going to put us in danger.”  

Ezra ran a hand over his head.  “Well, yeah, obviously we shouldn’t be flashing that around in public.  But- just because the Order’s gone doesn’t mean you should neglect your training.”  

Caleb looked at him incredulously.  “I’m never going to take my Trials. Never going to go on another diplomatic mission, never going to be-” he stumbled over the words, “-never going to be knighted.  What’s the point?” Ezra frowned.

“What do you mean, what’s the point?  It’s useful!”

Caleb shook his head stubbornly.  “No, no it’s not.”

“I can’t believe this.”  

The other boy drew into himself defensively.  “What’s there not to believe? Nothing I learned in my classes has helped me survive after everything that’s happened.”  His fingers clenched. “I’m never going to need to know intergalactic law, or Jedi philosophy, or theoretical metaphysics.  Everything-” he glanced over at Ezra, “Everything I’ve learned about surviving, out here, in life outside the Temple - I’ve learned from you.”  

This was going to be a long conversation.  

Ezra settled back with a frown.  “Okay, fine. So here’s a real life situation - say we’re working on a passenger transport that gets attacked by, I don’t know, pirates.  And the other passengers are all civilians that can’t defend themselves. What do you do?”

Caleb stared at him.  “That’s not enough information,” he said incredulously.  

“Okay, fine.  Say there’s fifteen pirates, and seventy civilians.  Barely enough escape pods to take thirty, and no settled planet within range anyway.  Do you fight the pirates? Negotiate a surrender? What terms are acceptable to surrender to?”  

Caleb groaned.  “Now you sound like Master Drallig.”  

Ezra had no idea who that was.  “Sure, thanks I guess.” He was on a roll now.  “But what if they’re not pirates? What if they’re Inqui- uh, dark side users, and they’re after a Force sensitive baby on board?  What then?”

“Sith wouldn’t go after a baby ,” Caleb whined.  Ezra just raised his eyebrows.  

“You never know,” he said cryptically.  Caleb stared at him.

“ Have they gone after babies?”  

“In my experience, yes.”  

Caleb quieted, then threw up his hands.  “I still don’t see what any of this has to do with my educational holos,” he grumbled.  

“All that stuff I just threw at you - that’s, I don’t know, thinking skills.  Personal ethics stuff.” Ezra spread his hands. “It’s easy to learn how to steal, or cheat, or lie.  Trust me, I know from experience.” He reached out and tapped Caleb’s forehead as the younger boy made a face.  “Learning how to do the right thing under pressure is a lot harder.”

“Okay, fine then.  What would be the right thing in that situation then?”  

Ezra leaned back and shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know!”  

“As you said, it’s not enough information.”  

Caleb snorted.  “Unbelievable.”

Mercy missions.  Prisoner rescues.  Supply runs, handing out food and medicine to those the Empire had hurt most.  

“Why would I risk my life for a bunch of strangers?”  

“Because Kanan risked his for you.  If all you do is fight for your own life your life is worth nothing.”  

“I guess it depends on what your priorities are,” Ezra said slowly.  “If your priority is just to survive another day then yeah, it’d be smarter to keep your head down and let others fend for themselves.  But if it’s your priority to help people, to make the galaxy a better place…”

A blue blade, standing bright against the shadows cutting across the canyons of Kessel’s spice mines.  Kanan’s lone figure standing between a transport of enslaved Wookies and Imperial troops.

“...If your goal is to make the galaxy a better place, sometimes that means putting yourself in the line of fire.”  

Caleb made a disgusted noise.  “Sounds like a good way to get yourself shot.”  Tucked the holocron away and lay down, turning his back to Ezra.  Faintly he heard him mutter, “That’s what the Jedi did, and look where it got them.”  

It was getting late in the planetary cycle and Ezra was starting to feel the weight of the day’s events.  He lay on his back a few feet away, arms tucked under his head. “You didn’t strike me as that sort of a tough guy,” he commented.  “In it only for yourself, and forget the rest of the galaxy.”

“I’m not!”  

“Why are you trying to act like one then?”  

Caleb squirmed uncomfortably in his peripheral vision.  “I just don’t see the point in getting ourselves killed,” he said sullenly.  

Ezra was quiet.  “The galaxy’s a lot harsher than it seemed before everything in your life got ripped away, huh?”  

“What, are you telling me I should just suck it up?” Caleb grit out.  “I know I’ve been sheltered, that I don’t know how the galaxy works, you don’t need to-”  

“No, wait, you misunderstand.”  Ah kriff, he was messing this up.  Ezra pressed a hand over his eyes. “I’m saying that life hasn’t been fair to you.  You had the Jedi, your master, safety, a sense of purpose. And now they’re gone.” Caleb’s silence was sullen, but he could tell he was listening.  

Ezra continued.  “I’m saying that when life hurts you like that, you want to hit back.  Close yourself off from other people so you don’t get burned again. I… I was like that for a long time too, after my parents were taken.”  

Caleb’s voice was hesitant.  “Your parents?”

“Yeah, my mom and dad.”  Ezra uncovered his eyes and turned to find Caleb looking at him intently.  “I didn’t want to look out for anyone else but myself either. But.”

“Before I met Kanan, I only ever thought of myself.”  

He sat in front of Master Yoda, at peace in the starfield surrounding them.  Physically he knew he was in Lothal’s temple, but this place felt different. Like a place apart from the rest of reality.  Master Yoda’s eyes crinkled up in encouragement and Ezra plowed on.

“But Kanan and the rest, they don’t think like that.  They help people, they give everything away, and I see it.  I see how it makes people feel.

“Feel yes.  How?”

“They feel alive.  Like I do now.”

Ezra smiled.  “But that’s no way to live.  It took me a while to realize that.  But helping other people, it’s worth it, even if sometimes the risk is high or someone betrays your trust.”  

He wondered if this was how Hera and Kanan felt during those first few months after he joined the Ghost - had remembered his own insecurity, so sure they were going to cast him off at the slightest provocation.  

Well, to be fair, they almost had at first.  That very first accidental mission together had been kind of a disaster.  

When Caleb finally spoke his voice was soft.  “Was that when the Jedi found you? After your parents died?”  

“Uh-”  Ezra had always been quick on his feet and a fast talker when he needed to be, spinning tale upon tale with just enough truth to string the listener along.  But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Kanan, and the thought of lying to him even for a moment’s convenience sent a sour feeling through his gut.

“The Jedi didn’t find me.  Nobody did for those first few years - I was on my own.”  

Caleb chewed on this.  “So when did they find you?  You must have- you must have been pretty old.”  

“I was fourteen.”  

Caleb’s head popped up.  “Fourteen?”

Ezra turned his head, frowning in confusion.  “Yeah?”

“That’s that’s too old to join the Order, isn’t it?”  

“I didn’t-”  Ezra paused, weighing his words.  “My master had been working on his own for a while when he found me.  My age- it wasn’t so much of an issue to him.”

Caleb stared down at him.  “The Council must have thrown a fit.”  

Ezra hummed noncommittally.  “Well, Master Yoda seemed okay with it.”  

Caleb’s eyes bugged wider if it was even possible.  “Master Yoda was okay with it?”  Okay, that was enough of that.  

“What, am I that objectionable?” Ezra asked flatly.  Caleb backtracked quickly, shaking his head side to side.  

“No, no I mean-!  I meant-” He nibbled his thumb nail.  “You just- you don’t seem like a feral- I mean someone who was brought to the Order late,” he mumbled.  Embarrassment colored his words as he backtracked. “I mean, you’re not a feral Force sensitive, you’re a real Jedi, I didn’t mean-”  

Well, so much for wondering what a Jedi of the old Order would have thought of him.  Ezra closed his eyes. “It’s okay Caleb,” he said gently.

The temple on Lothal had accepted him.  Bendu had mentored him, named his master Jedi Knight.  The world between worlds had called him through its doors.  

Ezra knew who he was.  It was enough.

That still didn’t mean Caleb’s fumbled judgement didn’t sting.  

“We should sleep,” he said instead, turning over onto his side.  Behind him Caleb’s silence was miserable and for a long few moments Ezra debated the merit of turning back over to offer comfort.  

But he was tired, and even as he contemplated what he’d say sleep came for him, sweeping away the exhaustion of the day.  Before long Ezra was fast asleep, leaving Caleb Dume to brood over their conversation in silence.

:::

Caleb dreamed of a black wolf.

It loomed above him like a mountain, eyes luminescent and fur rippling with each gust of passing wind.  Plains spread around them as far as the eye could see, each blade of grass stark in the shadowed twilight.  The stars above blinked in unfamiliar patterns.

Dark shaggy hair flopped into his eyes and he blew it aside with an impatient huff, picking a loose strand off his orange jumper.  His hands, when he looked down, were bonier and more tanned than his own.

The boy Caleb was supposed to be knew this planet as intimately as the palm of his hand.  It sang to him through the Force as much as his own heartblood.

Caleb himself though?  Had not the faintest clue where they were.

Walk with me , the wolf said, and Caleb walked.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, after they had walked for an indeterminable amount of time.

I am the first specter.

In that moment the words made sense.  “Okay,” he said amenably. “Who am I?”

The wolf stopped.   You are Ezra .

That didn’t sound right.  “No, wait, Ezra’s back on the ship.”  The dream wavered. “I-” He stopped, frowned.  Tried again. “My name is Caleb Dume.”

They were on a ship.  The interior felt worn and well lived in – a home more than a temporary transport.  A girl laughed just outside his field of vision and somehow Caleb knew that if he was to turn she’d be gone.  

“Kanan, can you get that diagnostic started for me?  I need to run into town for some supplies.”

“I’m not-”  He stopped. He was Kanan, right?  There was another name tripping over his tongue just out of reach, but then the speaker walked through the door and all other thoughts flew out of his head.  

“Aye aye captain, just give me a moment,” he responded with a casual two fingered salute.  She grinned and threw something at him. He was so absorbed in staring at her laugh lines that he almost dropped it.  It was good to see her again. He’d always been able to see her, right? He had known her for years.

“Just make sure Zeb gets these power packs for his bo rifle, he was complaining about the subpar quality we got last time.”  

“Yeah, sure.”  Zeb. He knew Zeb.  Tall with a rough way of speaking but with a giant soft spot underneath it all.  Handy with a blaster, especially during that one time they’d almost crashed the Kasmiri-    

“Wrong ship, love,” the captain said softly, and laid a hand on his cheek.  

Caleb woke up.  

Sunlight filtered through the hold windows and he groaned, turning over to peer groggily into the morning light.  It had been weeks since they had joined Janus’s crew and he didn’t wake up with a sense of bewilderment anymore, that split second of disorientation when he wasn’t sure whether he was in the Temple or the ground camp or in the street.  

Now, he woke up with a fragile sense of peace, Ezra’s soft breathing indicating he was still sleeping in his own bunk a few paces away.  

“Wrong ship,” he whispered to himself.  Frowned. Where had that come from? He laid a hand on his own cheek and furrowed his brow, trying to remember what he’d been dreaming of.  

Dume , something seemed to whisper in the back of his mind.  

He shivered and quickly got up to get dressed, impatient to get ready for the day.  There were jobs to run, credits to earn through honest and less honest means, a ship to help maintain.  

He had no time for shadows and half remembered dreams.  

Chapter Text

Days with Janus were fast paced but rewarding - it almost reminded Ezra of that first year with the crew of the Ghost, running small operations in and out of the local star system only with Kaller as their base of operations instead of Lothal.  Two weeks became three, became four, became more than a month.

Ezra’s shoulder had completely healed by that point, only puckered scarring showing the spot where Thrawn’s blaster had found its mark.  Despite the looming threat of the Empire life managed to settle into a sort of normality. They moved some contraband here, passed on some intel there, and engaged in the standard negotiation with Kasmir's business partners.  

“Really Tapusk, pulling a blaster on the kid?” Ezra complained.  He kept his posture loose and easy even as Caleb looked about ready to bolt as fast as a twitchy lothcat.  Ezra made a face at him. Calm down , he thought.  The face Caleb shot back at him could have curdled milk.  

Oh I’m sorry, you can have the blaster pointed at your head next time.  

“Now gentlemen, I’m sure there’s a resolution that can satisfy all of us,” Janus said as he swept his hands open in a magnanimous motion.  He winked over at Caleb, who was still fuming. “There’s no need to upset my young friend here.”

“Still not your friend,” Caleb grit out.  

Tapusk and his crew didn’t seem inclined to agree.  “You stiffed us on the last job, Kasmir. You might be able to pull one on a pair of greenies like this, but that sort of thing doesn’t fly with us.”  

“Now, now-”  

“The credits, Kasmir.”  Tapusk shifted the blaster over from Caleb’s head to Janus’s.  Lowered it a bit. “Or you’re going to find yourself a little smaller,” he sneered.  

“Fine, be that way,” Janus snapped.  Mumbled under his breath. “Ten thousand credits, wasted to pay off petty loans.”  

The other smuggler’s eyes narrowed.  “What’s that?”

“None of your business,” Janus retorted.  

“Ten thousand credit job, huh?”  Tapusk leaned in, grinning. “And you didn’t even think to invite me.”  

“All pointless now, thanks to you.”  

Tapusk made a small motion and his crew relaxed, holstering their weaponry.   Finally , Ezra thought he heard Caleb grumble, and had to hide a smile.  

“Now, I wouldn't be so hasty.  If your information is still good I might even be convinced to let this-” Tapusk gestured around at the grubby alleyway where they had been standing off, “-entire little matter go.”  

Janus sneered at him in sullen silence.  Tapusk growled, closing in, when Caleb finally spoke up.  

“IG-RM droids!” he blurted.  

The smuggler drew back with a smile.  “See? Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he crooned.  He gave Caleb a friendly pat on the cheek and only laughed when the boy slapped his hand away.  

Janus glared.  “Lando, keep that trap of yours shut.”  

“What, and get my head blown off?  No thanks,” Caleb grumbled. He turned to face the other Kalleran.  “Gamut Key has a cache of them on his estate. If we can steal them there’s a buyer that’s willing to pay handsomely.”  

“Lando!”  

“Now now, don’t scold the boy Kasmir.  I feel like this could be a beneficial arrangement for all of us.”  Tapusk motioned again and someone dragged over some empty crates, arranging them so they faced each other.  He gestured for Janus to take a seat.

“I’ll forgive the money you owe.  Stang, I’ll even throw in some of the supplies.”  

Janus sat reluctantly.  “I’m still the one with the information and contacts.  And you need my lock breaker.” Tapusk looked up and Ezra gave a lazy salute.  

“Of course, of course.”  Tapusk gave a slow smile as the others moved in a ring around them.  

“Now, let’s talk business.”  

:::

“You did a good job back there, Caleb.”  

The boy made a rude gesture.  “I meant what I said earlier! Not your friend!” he shouted, heading towards the fresher.  

Janus chuckled.  “Ah, how quick these young ones grow.  It only seemed like a week ago he was huddled in your shadow.”  

Ezra picked up Caleb’s discarded coat with a sigh.  “Well, his hair is certainly growing quickly, that’s for sure.”  

And it had, the remainder of the padawan braid now wrapped around a modest ponytail that still blindsided Ezra with deja vu when he wasn’t paying attention.  The beads hung on a leather cord around his neck, underneath the spacer’s outfit Caleb had delighted in choosing for himself when Janus had given them their first cut of the profits.  

“How did you know Tapusk would take the bait, anyway?”  

Janus shrugged.  “Old son of a chuba’s predictable.  If he thinks he’s got a chance for a bigger haul he’s going to grab it.”  

“And the real price for the enforcer droids?”  

Janus winked.  “Ah, we’re close, boy, but not that close.”  He turned towards the dejarik table and shuffled through some documents.  “Trust me though, it’s much more than ten thousand.”

Ezra shrugged, content to leave it be.  Playing the part of the pirate had been fun at times but he didn’t have the constant itch for more , the urge to gamble it all like he’d seen in Hondo and now saw in Janus.  

If they were working to supply the larger Rebellion he might have cared more, but, well.  He didn’t even know if the few founding members he’d known of had even begun laying the groundwork for it yet.  

It was disheartening to think of if he let himself dwell on it - Commander Sato probably still on Mykapo, Senator Mothma a member of the Imperial Senate.  Chopper Base not even a glimmer in the Rebellion’s eye, nevermind the headquarters at Yavin 4.

Instead he focused on the present.  “So what’s the plan for tonight, boss?”  

Janus turned, enlarging a map that hovered over the table.  “This is Gamut Key’s mansion. We’ll not be approaching the main house, of course, but there is a docking bay that leads to short term storage.  Here,” he said, pointing. “I’m going to need you to force open the doors without tripping the alarm. Security cameras are going to be on a loop - we’ll have a ten minute window to haul as many droids out into the ship as we can.”  

Ezra frowned, staring at the compound.  “And your friend Tapusk?”

“Won’t be there when you open the door.  He and his team will be around the corner on the north side, disabling the guards’ speeders.  They won’t come around until the door’s open.”

It was risky, but not nearly as much as some other missions Ezra had pulled in the past.  And the plan itself was solid. “Alright. But Caleb stays with me.”

Janus waved a dismissive hand.  “Of course. Far be it from me to keep you apart from the padawan.”  

Ezra didn’t look up from the map.  “Not my padawan,” he said absently.  Stars, they were only a few years apart in age thanks to the time travel nonsense.  Ezra was...something, alright, but certainly not a Jedi Knight.

One of the questions from his early conversations with Caleb came back to mind.  

“Your master’s already knighted you, haven’t they?”  

Ezra snorted.  He’d barely even been a proper padawan to begin with.  He hadn’t the faintest clue what Jedi had done in the old days to progress in rank.  Did interfering with the flow of space time qualify? Summoning a pod of purrgil to kidnap a fleet of star destroyers?  

How about communing with the Force manifestation of his dead master, did that count?  

Janus didn’t bother pushing the point.  “At any rate, the kid is newer at this. I’d rather have him be with someone more experienced anyway.”  Made an amused noise. “Though how a Jedi like you learned how to be a smuggler is still an interesting mystery.”  

Ezra shut down the holo and leaned his hip against the table.  “Then you’re just going to keep wondering, old man.”

“Ezra, you wound me.”  Janus tsked, clasping a hand over his chest.  “And here I thought tiny Jedi respected their elders.”  

Ezra smirked, straightened and gestured towards the cargo hold.  “If that’s all you need from me I’m going to catch up on some sleep until we’re ready to move.”  

Janus waved him off and Ezra made his way through the ship, pausing at the extra bunk Janus had in the galley.  Technically one of them could have taken it, but there was only enough room for one and neither of them had been inclined to separate even to sleep for the night.  

So the hold had become their unofficial berth, with a pair of hammocks strung up between the support beams and the empty crates converted into some stacking shelves.  

He did mean to sleep, eventually.  But first he had something more important to do.  Wiggling loose a vent grating, he reached in and grabbed the datapad he’d purchased with his first cut of their earnings.  It was a simple device but had a sturdy casing and decent encryption, which was what Ezra needed most.  

He settled down on the floor and unlocked the datapad.  

“Imperial Year fifteen,” he said aloud.  Frowned at the blinking cursor.

Ideally the holocron would have been better for this sort of sensitive record keeping, but it was Caleb’s first and foremost and Ezra was loathe to take it from him.  He squinted down and tried to remember what had happened during his second year with the Ghost.

Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor found on Seelos through Ahsoka’s contact , he meticulously transcribed.  Struggled to remember how long it had taken them.  A few days? No longer than a week, surely.

Ketsu Onyu: joined Rebellion, previous history with Sabine, friend and mission partner.  Had that been the next significant event?  Or had he met Hondo first? Ezra impatiently ran a hand through his hair.  He wished he’d made a habit of keeping a diary sooner - but that would have been stupid, a glaring breach in security when so many of their missions had been confidential.  

For all of Chopper’s crankiness at least he had memory banks where he could store things with perfect recall.  Ugh, and now he was missing the recalcitrant droid again.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and leaned his head against the wall with a thump.  

It was important he write all this down.  He knew it was important - life was dangerous for the two of them, and if anything happened- well, if anything happened to Ezra, it was important to leave this information behind.  For the Rebellion, perhaps. For Caleb at the very least.

But the past four years were such a blur and Ezra had never had the greatest memory for fine detail.  Chopper had always been able to help fill in the blanks even as the astromech would make fun of him relentlessly.  

Was there some sort of secret Jedi trick to help you remember things you’d forgotten?  Ezra had no idea. Maybe it would be worth asking Caleb sometime...

Something else came to him and he sat up quickly, fingers flying over the datapad.  

Ryder Azadi found on Lothal.  I learn my parents are dead.

The words floated in their text box.  Ezra stared at them and gnawed at his lip.  

He had a vague idea of what they’d do after parting ways with Janus - find a ship, if they were lucky, or more plausibly work for their berth on a freighter headed in the direction they wanted to go.  

The strategy Hera had ingrained into him said he should seek out Rebellion leadership, or at the very least find the beginnings of a rebel cell and help them get a foothold.  Kanan’s inclination for tactical planning urged him to find a weak point in the Empire’s machine that a team of two could deal with, before it became the monstrosity Ezra had known in his own time.  

His heart, though, was paralyzed - simultaneously drawn to and terrified by the thought of returning to Lothal. Of seeing his parents again.  

Why couldn’t it have been anyone else in my position, he thought for what was probably the thousandth time since he first woke up in that alley.  Someone like Ahsoka, or even Kanan himself. Someone who had actually been alive during these events the first time around and knew what they were doing.  

“Ezra?”  

Ezra closed the datapad, shoving it back into the vent right before Caleb came around the corner toweling his hair.  

The boy yawned.  “Next time, you can look like the bumbling idiot who talks too easily,” he grumbled.  Ezra grinned and leaned over to ruffle Caleb’s still wet hair as soon as he got into range.  He yelped, dignity offended.

“But you play the part so well,” Ezra baited, countering Caleb’s efforts to bat his hands away.  

“But I look like an idiot.”  

Ezra rubbed his chin and studied him with mock seriousness.  “They say appearances are deceiving, but in this case…” he joked.  

Caleb growled, and leaped for him.  The two of them tussled for a while before Ezra’s superior strength won the day.    

“Oh come on, this isn’t fair,” Caleb complained, wriggling a bit before going limp in Ezra’s bear hug.  “Just wait until I grow taller than you,” he grumbled.

Ezra snorted, thinking of all the height Kanan had had on him.  “I don’t doubt it. But today,” he teased, “you’re just going to have to deal.” He released the younger boy, who tucked forward into a neat roll and then ruined the effect by flopping bonelessly onto his back.  

“So what’s the plan for tonight?”  

“You mean for the enforcer droids?  We sneak in, Janus disables the security, we open the doors without triggering the alarm, and then we cram as many droids into the hold as we can in ten minutes.  Security speeders are going to be disabled to minimize pursuit.”

“Ugh, that’s it?  Why did we even need to recruit the others today then?”  

Ezra poked him in the side with his foot.  “Because with three people we’d fill a quarter of the hold at most before we ran out of time.  Even after they take their share, we’re still going to bring in more with them than if we’d gone in alone.”  

Caleb looked up at the ceiling in silence.  “What if they betray us?” he finally said. Ezra paused.  

“They’re smugglers and petty criminals.   We’re smugglers and petty criminals.”  He recalled the many many missions with Hondo that had gone sideways.  “They’re always going to be looking out for their own self interest first.”  

The other boy turned away from him.  “I just don’t like working with people I can’t trust,” he mumbled at the wall.  

“Do you trust Janus?”  

“No!”  Ezra snorted.   Right .  

Part of the reason they’d stayed so long with the Kasmiri, Ezra had to admit, was because Caleb seemed loathe to upset their routine.  The boy had latched onto the ship and the structure it offered like a baby mynock, lapsing into willful silence every time Ezra had brought up the idea of leaving.  

Could Ezra really blame him?  He would have given anything for a fragment of normalcy and safety - of belonging - those first few years on the streets.  

“I trust you.”  The statement startled him.  He turned to see Caleb glance at him over his shoulder, expression embarrassed.  “I trust you, and you trust Janus, so. That’s what’s happening, I guess.” Ezra settled down next to him and slowly Caleb inched up until he was leaning against his side.  

“You know he’s awfully fond of you in his own way, right?” Ezra said.  “He likes you more than he likes me.”

“Yeah right,” Caleb grumbled into his shirt.  

“Aww, would I lie to you?”  

“Lie?  No.” Caleb abruptly got up and headed for his bunk.  “Conveniently leave out things you don’t want to tell me?  Absolutely.”

“Hey, Caleb-”  

The boy waved him off.  “Whatever Ezra.” He clambered up and settled into the hammock without looking up.  “When you’re ready to tell me what’s on that secret datapad you don’t think I know about, then come talk to me.”  

The boy disappeared under his blankets.  Ezra stared at the silent lump in chagrin, then looked over to where the aforementioned datapad was still half hidden in the vent.  

I’m able to travel through time using the Force and you’re actually my master from fourteen years in the future.  Could he?  Could he just...tell him?  

You’re the master who died to save my life.  

The Ghost was our family, but right now we’re all scattered across the galaxy and we won’t find each other for several more years.  

You died, and when given the opportunity to go back and change it all I didn’t save you.  

Groaning, Ezra headed towards his own bunk and buried his head under the pillow.  Questions could wait. For now he just needed to rest until their job tonight.

:::  

The job went smoothly until of course, it didn’t.  

“Damn it!”  

The storage building was a maze, Key’s guards running after them through rows and rows of crates.  Ezra skidded around a corner, dragging Caleb behind him as blaster fire whined above their heads.

“Injured?” he demanded.  Caleb shook his head. To his right he heard shouts as some of Tapusk’s crew were not so lucky, stunned and restrained as they tried to make a break for the doors.  

Ezra glanced around with a critical eye.  If they used the Force they might be able to outrun the guards to the ship, but wouldn’t be able to evade their blaster bolts while keeping Caleb’s saber hidden.  They could try jumping over the rows of crates- no, too exposed.

Ezra’s eyes kept going up and he got an idea.  

“Caleb, I’m going to boost you up onto that walkway.”  

“What-”

Footsteps drew too close for comfort.  “Now!” he barked.

With a twitch of the Force he sent a pile of canisters tumbling into the path of their pursuit, eliciting shouts of surprise.  In the same breath he pushed Caleb up towards the overhead struts in a single fluid motion, muscle memory following what he’d done with Kanan so many times before.  

There was a single burst of surprise from Caleb.  And then quiet swearing as he hit the catwalk.

Language.  

Kriff you!  

Ezra snickered as he bolted down the next row of shelves, almost tripping as he rummaged through his belt pouch.  For the hundredth time since he was thrown back into the past he wished he’d paid better attention to Sabine’s lessons as he slapped a flash grenade onto the nearest crate.  

Five, six, seven paces.  Ezra gave a Force enhanced jump up to the ceiling as the explosion blinded his pursuers.    

Sure, his creations were adequate, but they lacked Sabine’s sheer flair .  

“Took you long enough,” Caleb grumbled as Ezra caught up with him, the two of them cautiously clambering over the criss crossing maintenance walkways and support beams as they made their way to the exit.  Below, security personnel were milling around in confusion as the dust settled.

Focusing outward, Ezra subtly directed their minds towards the rest of the warehouse and away from the ceiling - people were unlikely to look up to begin with, but a little extra help didn’t hurt.  

“Do you know where Janus is?” he murmured.  Caleb nodded over at the doors.

The Kasmiri was primed and ready to go, guards sprawled out on the ground around the ship.  So Janus must have made it out. There were some security droids headed in his direction though, in pursuit of-

“Tapusk is in trouble,” Caleb panted out.  

Ezra slowed.  The Kalleran was limping, still several rows away from the door.  He might be able to hold the droids off, but the rest of the guards were closing in.  Most of his crew had already been captured, huddled in a resentful group near the main control station.  

The gap between them and the freedom of the door stretched tantalizingly before him.  

“Keep running for the ship,” he bit out.  

“What!?”  

“I’m going to give him a hand.”  He glanced up at the roof access hatch.  “Tell Janus to pick me up on top of the building.”  

He could already feel Caleb building up for an argument they didn’t have time for.  With one last Force push he threw the younger boy over the gap to the last stretch of catwalk, eliciting a squawk of surprise.  

I told you to stop doing that!  Caleb shouted in his mind.  

Then don’t argue with me on everything, Ezra shot back.  

He waited until he was sure Caleb was on his way.  Then took a deep breath and centered himself in the Force as he unholstered the blaster on his hip.  

The first shot hit the lead droid straight in the processor.  

“What-”  He could see Tapusk stumble in surprise as he glanced around him, but didn’t have time to sit around and watch.  The next two shots were clean, taking down two more droids with swift precision. Someone shouted on the main floor and Ezra winced as the fourth shot went wide.  

“He’s up there!”  

Ezra leaped as blaster bolts began peppering the beams around him, landing on an arching support strut a few feet away.  Hunkering behind a pylon, he rolled his eyes when he looked up to see Tapusk staring at him.

Go , he mouthed as he pointed at the door, then quickly retracted his arm as a blaster bolt zipped by a little too close for comfort.  He winced. The smuggler didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling for the exit even as Ezra peeked around his hiding place to return fire.  

Three flash grenades left in his pouch.  Ezra sprinted and leaped across the beams, moving on instinct to avoid the bolts aimed at his back.  He slammed behind the next pylon that provided cover and ran through his options.

It would be risky setting off explosives on the ground - he wasn’t sure what else was being stored down here and the last thing he wanted was a full scale explosion in the building if there were volatile compounds.  He was lucky nothing had blown up in his face when he’d set off the first one. Maybe if he triggered them while they were still in the air? Ezra chewed on his lip as every lecture on detonations safety Sabine had ever given him replayed through his head.  

Pain seared across the bridge of his nose.  

Some of the guards had had the bright idea of climbing up after him and were taking aim from a nearby walkway.  Another shot almost clipped him in the leg and Ezra made his decision.

Ting.  Ting. Ting.  

The sound of the grenades hitting the catwalk was almost comically quiet.  

Ezra braced himself and rode the explosion out, using the blinding flash to roll right underneath the roof access hatch.  With one last jaunty salute at the groaning guards he opened the door and leaped up. Cool night air hit his skin with giddy relief.  

“Ezra!”  

Caleb was waving at him frantically from the door of the Kasmiri as it hovered at the edge of the roof.  Ezra sprinted towards him, footsteps loud on the duracrete.

When the stun blast hit it caught him completely off guard.  

Rough hands dragged him up from the ground.  Caleb was shouting something but it was far off, filtered through the ringing in his ears.  Ezra groaned as the cold end of a blaster was shoved in his face.

“Well well well,” Governor Key said, completely unamused.  “Here I was, thinking to enjoy a peaceful evening on the veranda when I find my entire compound has been put on lock down.  Luckily for you,” he continued, and Ezra hissed as a shift in weight pressed against his bruised ribs, “I was already close by.”  

“Leave him alone!”  

The bright flash of a lightsaber immediately gave Ezra an entirely different sort of headache.  “Don’t-” he started, too little, too late.

He grunted as Key let go of him, landing with a thump on the hard duracrete.  Struggling to rise, he looked up just as Caleb leaped forward with a yell, slamming into the governor and making them both go rolling across the roof.  

“Jedi!” someone hissed.  With trepidation Ezra looked over to see Tapusk in the Kasmiri’s doorway, shock outlined by the stark light of the ship’s interior.  

But there was no time.  Key had regained his feet and was holding his own against Caleb’s attack, his size and quick reflexes giving him just enough of an edge to keep ahead of the plasma blade singing through the night.  It wouldn’t last long though.

Great.  Decapitating or otherwise severing limbs from a high ranking planetary official was just what they needed.  

Ezra grit his teeth.  

“Lando!” he barked.  

With a snap the lightsaber blinked out and flew into Ezra’s hand.  

Caleb looked at him, aghast.  Betrayal and indignation filled the Force, but there was no time to deal with it now, not with Tapusk staring, not with Key’s too sharp eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them with the pieces coming together all too quickly in his head.  

“Halt!  This is Kaller Security!”  

Lights, flooding the rooftop, speeders hovering overhead.  Movement from the rooftop doors as guards moved in, several breaking rank to surround Governor Key in a protective ring.  

They were trapped.  

“Really Zeb?  You’re going to just give up that piece?”  

The Lasat grinning, leaning back at the galley table with a smug look on his face as Chopper chortled in the background.  “I’ll give it to you kid, you sprang a good one on me. Not going to be able to get away without sacrificing something.”  

Behind him, the Kasmiri came to land on the roof with a gentle thump.  Janus’s smooth voice rang out in the silence. “Gentlemen, please. I’m sure we can all come to an agreement.”  

:::

Janus Kasmir could be many things in the brief time Caleb had known him - sly, temperamental, clever and quick on his feet.  One thing he’d never considered, though, was that razor sharp mind being turned on him .  

“Kasmir,” Key said with some measure of resignation.  He held up his hand and with reluctance the guards lowered their weapons.  “Care to explain yourself?”

“Esteemed governor, my old friend-”  

“Spare me the snivelling and give me one reason why I shouldn’t throw you into detention right now.”  

A single finger, pointing.  Caleb’s heart plummeted straight through his chest.  

“Because I’ll hand over the Jedi.”  

Caleb looked up expecting to see everyone’s eyes trained on him.  But instead-

Ezra’s lone figure stood on the empty roof with the incriminating saber in hand, every blaster shifted to train on him.  Janus’s hand, raised accusingly.

Away from Caleb.  Pointed at Ezra.

Surprisingly it was Tapusk who spoke up first.  “Kasmir, no-”

“You seem to misunderstand your situation,” Key sneered.  “I have you and all your associates under arrest - you can’t leverage a plea bargain with something I already have.”  

“Do you, though?”  Ezra’s voice, quiet though it was, sent a chill down Caleb’s spine.  The lightsaber sprang to life in his hand and Key and his guards took a step back despite themselves.  

Ezra’s eyes slitted over to Janus.  “We had a deal, Kasmir.”

Caleb, go.  The words were so quiet that Caleb almost missed them, passing through his mind like a light breeze.   Go towards the ship.  

Janus sneered.  “Things change, Dev.  Now turn yourself in quietly.”  

Wait, what?  

The lightsaber spun in Ezra’s hand, no particular form apparent but promising deadly competency nonetheless.  

“Ez-” Caleb started, and then choked off into silence as he felt a blaster get pressed to his temple.  

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Dev Morgan,” Janus said coolly.  His grip around Caleb’s neck was like iron. “Turn off that karking light sword of yours or the kid’s brains get spattered.”  

“Kasmir,” Key said tensely.  The guards shifted, uneasy.

Caleb shuddered as Janus’s breath stirred his hair.  “We have a deal, governor, or not?”

“You’re kidnapping a child,” Key snapped.  

“I’m helping you subdue a dangerous criminal wanted by the Empire.”  Sweat trickled down Caleb’s brow as the blaster pressed a little harder.  “Now do we have a deal, or not?”

In the saber’s light Ezra’s face looked foreign, cast in strange shadows until Caleb wondered whether he recognized him at all.  Like something eerie, ruthless, feral and dangerous.

Like everything the Empire’s propaganda said they were.  

One of the guard’s cleared his throat.  “Sir,” he said shakily. Gamut Key raised his hand.  

“You have your deal,” he said stonily.  “May it be the last time I ever have to see your face,” he added, words colder than the night air.    

The lightsaber flickered off.  

“No!” Caleb burst out.  

“Kid-” Janus began, but Caleb wouldn’t listen, couldn’t listen.  The world closed in on that single figure standing on alone on the rooftop as Janus began dragging him back into the ship, Tapusk already revving the engine.  

Caleb!  Ezra’s voice rang through his head like a shout.   Caleb it’s okay!  

Someone was yelling as the doors closed, Janus’s grip on him slipping as he struggled in the smuggler’s grip.  No it’s not , Caleb howled.  Rage swamped him, like a solar flare lashing out into the darkness of space.   You always pull stupid, stupid shit like this.  How dare you, how dare you and Janus-  

“Caleb!”  Janus arms were still wrapped around him in an unforgiving grip, but his voice had gentled.  “Caleb, stop shouting.”

“I’m not shouting!” he shouted.  

“Caleb, listen to me, Ezra’s going to be okay, he and I-”  

“I know you two planned this together, you kriffing assholes!”  

The two of them bent over the table, discussing plans late into the night after Caleb had gone to bed.  Ezra grinning at him earlier this afternoon.

“You know he’s awfully fond of you in his own way, right?  He likes you more than he likes me.”

Something caught in his chest.  “I know you two planned on turning him in so I could escape if we got caught,” he choked out.  “I know that, and I’m not going to forgive either of you.”

“Uh, hey,” Tapusk said awkwardly from the the doorway.  “We’re hitting mid-atmosphere.”

“Great,” Janus snapped.  “Now stay in the cockpit for a bit.”  

“Kasmir-”  

“Now, Tapusk!”  

Caleb sagged as the other smuggler’s footsteps retreated.  Janus coughed, posture unsure as he kept Caleb leaning upright.  “Uh, if I let go, you promise not to be an idiot?” Caleb nodded.  

He dropped to the floor with a thump and closed his eyes.  If he concentrated he could feel Ezra’s presence like a bright warmth in his mind, a spot of afternoon sunlight on a cloudy day.  It felt determined and apologetic all in one, worry rolling out towards him hesitantly.

Caleb ? Ezra ventured.  

Go away , Caleb snapped.  

Look, I’m sorry-  

I honestly don’t care how sorry you are right now.  Kriff you!

He felt Ezra waver.  And then fade away until he was only a dim awareness in the back of his mind.  

Caleb buried his face in his arms and tried not to think of anything at all.  

Chapter Text

Ezra had seen the inside of more impressive containment facilities.  

“I don’t suppose I could get some water?” he asked as someone pushed him into the ray shield warded cell.  The guard turned away without a word and Ezra sighed. “Or like, a snack maybe? A fresher break?” Their footsteps retreated down the hall.  “Nothing, really?” he complained.

“Be quiet,” the other guard hissed.  Ezra held up his hands defensively.

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”  

They eyed him warily, obviously torn between dislike and apprehension.  Ezra was saved from their decision when the far door slid open.

“Sir!”  

Gamut Key waved them off.  “Leave us for a bit.”

The guard blanched.  “But- the Jedi-”

“Is contained.  Now leave us, please.”  

The governor waited until the footsteps faded before turning to Ezra with a gimlet stare.  “So,” he stated.

Ezra waved awkwardly.  “Uh, hey there.”

He vaguely remembered Gamut Key from the first time he had visited Kaller with the crew of the Ghost.  He’d turned out to be an ally, then, sympathetic to the Rebellion and chafing from the years the Empire had occupied his planet.  

Now though, barely a month after Order 66?  Gamut Key was an unknown.

“There is no Jedi on record with the name Dev Morgan,” Key stated.  Ezra shrugged and stayed quiet. The governor eyed him impassively. “There is also no Jedi currently wanted with the name Ezra.”  

That had Ezra’s head whipping up.  Key smiled then, teeth glinting in the low light.  “Young Dume is not nearly as quiet as he thinks he is.”  

“You know,” Ezra blurted, then winced.  So much for their fake names and playing his cards close to his chest.  Key simply nodded though, eyes flickering to the door before settling on him again.  

“Kasmir and I have worked together in the past - while the man may be good, I’m far better,” he said dryly.  “If he thought I wouldn’t recognize the face that Imperial command has been cluttering my desk with for the past month then he’s a fool indeed.”  

Ezra grimaced.  “So what do you want,” he demanded.  

Key folded his hands and sighed.  “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’d turn over the actual padawan?”  Ezra shook his head mutely. “The reward for apprehending potential Jedi is quite sizeable, you know,” Key continued.  “Turning in Caleb Dume would set you up quite nicely.”

“What makes you think I’m not actually a Jedi myself?” Ezra bit out.  Key raised a brow.

“Are you?”  

“If you really thought I was you wouldn’t be asking me these questions.  No Jedi would turn in a padawan to save their own skin, you know that.”

Key looked at him for a long moment.  “You’d be surprised what years of war will do to people, even those as ideologically pure as the members of the Order supposedly were.”  

“Well they wouldn’t, and I definitely wouldn’t whether I’m a Jedi or-”  Ezra stopped. Was he...really trying to convince Key he was a Jedi? Right now?  In this situation? What was he even arguing for?

“Oh, I have no doubt you’re something ,” Key said wryly.  “The thing is, Dev , is that there’s no warrant for your arrest as far as I can find.  No one that matches your description, your profile.” He leaned in. “And I suspect that once they run a blood test they’re not going to find any match there either.”   

Ezra stayed silent.  

“So that leaves me at a bit of an impasse.  Hand over a troublesome smuggler, possible Jedi washout knowing there’ll be no reward?  Run the risk of you escaping on my watch, leaving me looking like a fool when the military arrives?”  Ezra opened his mouth and Key snorted. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve worked with Jedi before. You may be no General Billaba but I bet you have a few tricks up your sleeve.”  

Ezra thought back on the many, many times he’d escaped Imperial custody.  

Well.  He wasn’t wrong.  

Key studied him.  “Separatists, Republic, Empire - it’s all the same to us on Kaller,” he said abruptly.  “One faction arrives, demands our resources, our loyalty, our goods, and then another comes and kicks them out and does the same.”  Paused.

“That being said I’m not particularly fond of the idea of throwing children to the rancors, supposed traitors or not.”  

When the ray shield went down it left a shocked quiet in its wake.  

“Here.”  

Ezra caught the code cylinder on instinct alone.  “What,” he managed.

“If you’re going to escape anyway,” Key said with infinite patience.  “I’d rather you do it on my terms. Consider this a show of good faith.”  He tapped the control panel and the ray shield sprang back in place. “On that cylinder are some standard GAR codes - simple enough for a talented Jedi to lift from an unsuspecting petty officer.  It will get you in and out of most trooper heavy bases.”

Ezra was still confused.  “And you’re giving me this because..?”

Key’s bared his teeth.  The grin was not exactly what he’d call kind.  “I’ve had quite enough property damage for one night.  When you escape, do it on the Republic’s- sorry, the Empire’s payroll.”  

A flash of understanding.  “I don’t know if one cylinder code is enough to convince me to postpone my destructive, terrifying Jedi escape,” Ezra drawled.  “I’m not exactly eager to wait around until the clone troopers get here, you know.”

Key just raised a brow.  

“Lightsaber,” Ezra asked hopefully.  “Please?”

“Oh, well if that’s all your asking,” Key said.  The sarcasm dripping off his words could sear paint off a ship.  Ezra held his breath as Key took a long moment to think over his counteroffer, and only let it out in a slow sigh when the Kalleran finally reached out and punched at the control panel once again.  Ezra considered just overpowering him when the shield came down but dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. It seemed in poor taste, and also, well-

“The traitors will be executed for crimes against the Republic.  We follow our orders.”

The odd words in the square.  Kanan’s knee jerk reaction to Rex and the others when they’d first met them.  

The sadness in Rex and Ahsoka’s eyes whenever they’d spoken of those last, terrible days.  

There was something important happening here and it all came back to these clones that had been with Caleb from the very start.  

“One lightsaber,” Key said with a mocking flourish.  Ezra tried not to snatch it up too quickly but probably failed from the amusement on Key’s face.  “Let it not be said that I’m not a generous host.”

The ray shield snapped back in place again.  “Truly the height of hospitality,” Ezra snarked back.  The lightsaber - Kanan’s old lightsaber - was a reassuring weight in his palm.  

Key raised a brow.  “Jest as much as you like, but remember the good turn I’ve done you, boy.  Who knows - I might just have need for a Jedi of questionable veracity someday.”  

Ezra snorted.  “The longer you talk the more and more I see the resemblance.”  

“Resemblance?”  

“You and Kasmir.”  

Key smiled.  “I’m sure he’d be flattered by the comparison.”  

:::   

“So what’s the plan,” Caleb announced.  Tapusk looked up in confusion.

“Plan?”  

“The plan to rescue Ezra.”  

They were hiding in one of Janus’s more remote boltholes, an old warehouse in one of the wooded clearings outside the city.  Caleb was pacing around the edge of the dilapidated cargo doors as Tapusk watched him uneasily. Janus had his back turned to them both as he checked the ship for damage.  The silence between he and Caleb was pointed and frigid.

“Rescue- that’s crazy kid, there’s no rescuing your friend.  I didn’t want to leave him any more than you did, but trying to help him now-”  

Caleb plowed on, ignoring him.  “They’d probably still be holding him on the estate, unless planetary security took him in.  There’s a station not far from the governor’s place though, we could check there first-”

The sound of a hand slapping the hull cut him off abruptly.  

“We’re not rescuing anyone.”  

Caleb’s posture was so stiff Tapusk was afraid he’d snap in half.  “You don’t get any say in the manner,” he bit out.

Janus’s hand descended on his shoulder and Caleb shrugged him off with a violent jerk.  The smuggler’s eyes narrowed. “And whose crew do you think this is?” he said in a dangerous tone.  

Caleb’s scoff was bitter.  “Crew? What crew? You lost any crew you had the moment you decided to leave Ezra behind.”  

“Listen, you cheeky brat, you know good and well that this entire thing was his idea-”  

“And you’re the one who went through with it!” Caleb shouted.  “You’re the one who walked out and decided that sacrificing him was an acceptable plan!”  His chest heaved. “You betrayed him, me ,” he hissed.  “I don’t owe you anything.  I don’t work with traitors.”  

Janus’s ire was a palpable weight.  “Ah,” he said, condescension saturating every word.  “I’m the one who betrayed him .  I’m a traitor now.”  

Caleb bared his teeth.  “Yes, you are.”

“And I don’t suppose any of this has anything to do with how he betrayed you , baby Jedi, does it?”  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

Janus stalked forward until he was towering over the boy, forcing Caleb to backup quickly and crane his neck to look up.  “I think,” he said evenly, “that you’re mad that your friend made a decision you don’t agree with. That he hid things from you.  That you’re upset that he’s not here for you to yell at.” He bared his teeth. “And for some reason you think it’s a good idea to take it out on me.”  

Caleb looked away.  

Janus leaned in close.  “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have the sort of patience to stand there and take your tantrum.”  

The boy’s shoulders heaved.  “He should have told me,” Caleb finally whispered.  

“Yeah, it was kind of a low blow!”  Janus drew back and threw his arms open.  “I agree with you. I told him so.”

“So why didn’t you stop him!”  

“Because it’s none of my damn business, Caleb.  Because sometimes I trust people to take care of themselves when they say they can.”  Janus lowered his arms and crossed them in front of his chest. “And what this little episode is telling me is that maybe you should learn to do the same.”  

Calebe wiped as his eyes furiously.  “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through,” he hissed.  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Too bad.  You’re a member of my crew.  My ship, my rules.” Janus was quiet for a moment.  “Besides, despite any disagreements I might have with him about the, ahem, fine points of confidentiality, I did agree that it was a better idea to prioritize your safety if given the choice.”  

“I don’t care about my safety!”  

“Yeah, yeah, we know.”  There was something a little sad in Janus’s voice.  “That’s why we decided it was our job instead.”

Caleb couldn’t bear the hint of sympathy and turned away, all the fight suddenly leaving him at once.  “What do you plan to do then?” he asked nastily, footsteps falling harder on the duracrete than completely necessary.  “Or are we just planning on leaving him to rot while we go on our merry way?”

Janus settled back.  “I don’t know if it’s some sort of special Jedi thing, but your friend actually had a number of contingency plans.”  Paused. “They weren’t all good plans.  But yes, actually, I do know what we’re going to do next.”  

“Oh yeah?” Caleb sneered.  “And what’s that?”

Janus raised a brow at the set up in front of him, Ezra giving him a cheeky wave from the other side of the containment door.  “I hope you’re prepared to lose those credits,” he said dubiously. The young man just threw his head back and laughed.

“I’m telling you, if you’re travelling with us you’re going to need a more secure ship eventually.  If you don’t believe me I’m just going to have to show you.”

“My ship’s security has served me well for years.”  

“Yeah, well Janus, you’re associating with a pair of wanted Jedi now,” Ezra snickered.  “Things tend to get a little crazy around us. Trust me, I know this from my old crew.”

“You’re telling me,” Janus muttered.  Raised his voice. “I still don’t see how you’re going to get out of those binders with this door locked from the outside.”  

“Just give me fifteen minutes, old man, and keep you credit purse open.”  

After only ten Janus had to admit that the boy had been right.  

“For now, we sit here,” Janus said calmly.  “And we wait for him to find us.”

:::

“The prisoner is in here,” a gruff voice said.  Ezra blinked open his eyes and did a double take as he stared.  

Rex had told him that clones age quickly, but Ezra still hadn’t expected them to look so young .  

“That will be all,” the one with commander’s insignia said shortly as the second clone deactivated the force field.  He stepped up to the entryway and paused.

“It’s not the traitor, sir.”  

“I’m well aware, Captain Styles.  Take him in to custody anyway - the padawan was last seen with him and we need him for questioning.”  The commander pinned him with an opaque look that made Ezra want to squirm. “Security footage shows him using the traitor’s lightsaber - he doesn’t match any Jedi on record but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”  

“Wasn’t there an incident on Coruscant with a padawan’s stolen lightsaber?” Styles grumbled as he came into the cell.  “Any fool can wave around a Jedi weapon and shout boo.”

“He pulled the lightsaber straight out of the traitor’s hand.”  

“Or maybe the traitor just threw it at him.”  

It sounded like an old argument.  The commander sighed. “Just bring him out, Styles.”  

Binders were clipped around his wrists.  Ah yes, his old friend, Imperial custody.  The comm on the captain’s hip crackled. “Communications to Captain Styles, you get him?”  

Styles grunted.  “No. But we think we might have our first solid lead in weeks.  Commander Grey and I are bringing the prisoner back to base.”

“Copy that.”  

A blaster poked into Ezra’s ribs.  “No funny business now,” Grey said severely, face professional under the deep scarring that roped across half his face.  Styles was not nearly so restrained.

“Kid’s been keeping ahead of us for weeks now,” he snarled.  “I swear, this guy better have some answers so I can wring his little neck.”  

Ezra just stayed quiet, deeply discomforted.  

An odd defensiveness to Rex’s posture as he defiantly pointed to the faded scar on his head during their first meeting on Seelos.  “I didn't betray my Jedi. Wolffe, Gregor and I all removed our control chips. We all have a choice.”

After everything he had been through with the old clone commanders Ezra had expected something, well, different.  That odd feeling he’d had in the square, the word ‘traitor’ buzzing through the trooper’s skull like a loose screw in the Ghost’s stabilizer.  Something more like droids, like brainwashing, like they were being forced to act like automatons against their own will.

This genuine frustration with not being able to find and execute the boy Ezra had spent more than a month protecting rattled him more than he cared to admit.  

The walk to the clone’s transport was an awkward one.  When they finally reached the docking bay Gamut Key was waiting to see them off.  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Commander,” Key said graciously with a dip of his head.  “I hardly dare think what might have happened if you weren’t here to handle things.”

Commander Gray answered in kind.  “It’s nothing but our duty, governor.  We’re glad to help with apprehending dangerous criminals.”  

Key met Ezra’s eye with a fleeting, inscrutable look.  “Indeed,” he said levelly, “we are truly fortunate to have the Repub- the Empire looking out for our best interests.”  

If the clone commander noticed the slip he didn’t show it.  “The pleasure is ours,” he said brusquely. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”  

A hand shoved him through the transport doors, Ezra’s last glimpse of Key that of a deep frown as he stood there in the hangar’s shadow.  Captain Styles settled into the cockpit while Commander Grey secured Ezra to his seat. When the commander was finished he sat down on the other side of the transport and signaled for the ship to lift off.  

Below, Plateau City looked exactly like it’s namesake - a high island of gleaming buildings rising out of the open farmland surrounding it.  Ezra leaned his head against the window and watched the landscape below, comforted by the rumble of the ship vibrating under his skull.

“So,” he said casually, and winced as both clones swung around to look his way.  “Why, uh, are you after Caleb anyway?”

A beat.  “The traitor, Dume?” one of them asked - Ezra couldn’t be sure who through their helmets.  

“Yeah, that kid.  Dark hair, kinda scrawny, gets really cranky when he hasn’t eaten in a while?”  Ezra waved his bound hands around in a vague gesture. “That one.”

There was a pause.  “The Jedi are traitors.  They betrayed-”

“What the Empire wants is none of your business, prisoner,” Grey interrupted bluntly.  He leaned back, at ease with the blaster on his hip. “Your only concern should be providing us with information.”  

Ezra leaned back with a cocky grin, mirroring his posture.  “See, I like that. Really direct and to the point, commander, I appreciate a man like you.”  

Grey rubbed his face.  “Prisoner-”

“Dev, call me Dev.”  Ezra flashed a winning smile and spread his hands, well, as far as he could in his restraints.  “And I’d be happy to provide information. At a very, very small price, of course.”

“You’re really not in a position to negotiate,” Styles pointed out dryly.  

The air in the transport had grown lighter, less tense.  Ezra gently cast out a mental net and let out a breath as the suggestion took, both troopers relaxing their professionalism with a sense of vague amusement.  “Now, there’s no need to be like that,” he protested. “I’m just a humble ship grunt-”

“Smuggler, more like,” Styles muttered.  

“-for, ah, an exotic importer,” Ezra said quickly, “who’s been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  It was almost dishearteningly easy to channel Hondo - he’d certainly gotten a lot of practice recently, with the number of times he’d played the scoundrel to Caleb’s straight man.  “If that tuft sucker Kasmir had told me the kid was a baby Jedi I would have turned him in weeks ago. I love my Empire!” He heard a faint snicker from Styles direction and plowed on.  “Of course I’ll help you! But if you see fit to give a little compensation, you know, just a little reward to show the people what cooperation with the Empire can do-”

Grey snorted.  “And how much, exactly, is ‘a little reward’?”  

“Oh, you know, a bit of breathing room when it comes to my business, some credits to oil a few tongues-”  

“Commander, as fun as this is we’re closing in on the camp, ten klicks out.”  

And like that, the relaxed atmosphere was gone.  “Copy that captain.” He turned back to Ezra. “Listen, there’s no need to make this difficult for yourself.  If you comply with our interrogation team I don’t see why we can’t negotiate some sort of compensation afterwards.”  

He didn’t have a lot of time.  “Of course, commander. Although-”  he paused. “I could tell you something now?  As a show of good faith.”

Instantly the attention of both clones were on him.  “Like what?” Grey said guardedly.

“Like the location of Kasmir’s secret base.”  

It wasn’t so much that Ezra enjoyed manipulating the minds of others.  On the contrary the possibility disturbed him with its potential for cruelty when he thought too much about it - took him back to a time when a voice used to whisper in his ears, red tinted light casting eerie shadows in his room.  

But- it was easy, to play with people’s expectations.  Their desires and simple needs, their arrogance or wariness, to misdirect and draw in and have them see Ezra the way Ezra wanted to be seen.  

There was what Ezra wanted and what others wanted and it was just so simple, to find that sweet spot where another mind could agree that what Ezra wanted was so much more reasonable, after all.  

“I can tell you where the base is, but I need to take you there directly since I don’t really know the coordinates,” Ezra hedged.  “It would be easier if I could just take you there now.”

“It would be easier if-”  Styles stuttered, and turned to look at Grey.  

The commander was still.  “Give me a rough description of its location,” he finally said.  

Stang.  Ezra pressed a little deeper.  “It’s kind of remote, an abandoned rail station a few klicks north of here.  If time really is of the essence…”

“Time-” Grey murmured.  

“You want to catch the traitor, right?  Don’t you guys need to follow orders?”

When looking back on this moment later Ezra would curse the utter, complete idiocy of his wording.  

It was like he’d flipped the switch of a floodgate.   Good soldiers follow orders good soldiers follow orders good soldiers-   Pain exploded behind his eyes as Ezra shouted, falling back into his seat.  

An image, flickering in blue on a holotransmitter.  “Execute Order 66.” Dust and dirt kicked into the fire as he scrambled to obey, to follow the compulsion to destroy-  

“Styles, no!”  

Blasterfire piercing the night as a smoking figure fell, a small <traitor> scrabbling up the hill behind it.  

“Take us to the traitor.”  Grey’s breathing was even as he loomed over him, but sweat was running down his face, his eyes glazed.  The ship jerked before straightening out and Ezra looked over to see Styles punching in the autopilot, hands shaking as they ran impatiently over the controls.  “Eyes here, prisoner, where is-”

“Whoa, whoa hey-”  

“Styles set a course northwards, calculate to intercept all rail lines,” Grey said.  

“Already on it, sir.”  

“You.”  Ezra jumped as the restraints securing him to his seat unlocked, leaving him free to stand as Grey pushed him towards the front of the cockpit.  “Which rail station.”

“Uh-”  His head was still pounding, ears ringing as if he’d been standing too close to the blast range of an ion torpedo.  He staggered and fell heavily against the doorway. Kriff, why was the ship tilting so much? “Which-”

“Are you going to give us a location, or not?” Grey demanded.  

“I am, just-”  The throbbing in his skull was becoming unbearable.  “The green line,” he tried.

His head was slammed against the viewport.  “No abandoned stations on the green line,” Grey said flatly as Ezra squirmed.  “Try again. The truth, this time.”

Kriff, kriff.  “I mean, I meant it’s a service line, off of-”  What was north of here again? Ezra’s mind whirled through his options.  “Off of one of the blue line branches. The one that used to service the topiary farms before they got bombed?”  

Ezra held his breath as the two clones conferred wordlessly with each other.  “It checks out sir,” Styles finally said. “More of a storage depot than a station, really, but there are several of them running along that rail.”  

Kasmir was going to kill him for giving away one of the cache locations they’d scouted but at least Ezra could be sure that wasn’t where they were hiding.  Janus would never lay low somewhere they couldn’t prep the Kasmiri for a get away and they hadn’t had time to set up a generator at any of the blue line depots.  

The grip pressing down on him eased.  “Head there immediately.”

“Sir, there are several depots-”  

“We can make a sweep of each location as we go - and if our friend here is still feeling helpful, he’ll tell us which one to head to.”  

Sweat trickled down Ezra’s brow as he was pulled back upright, Grey’s grip on his shoulder a grim reminder of his situation.  “So, kid,” the commander said grimly. “Where to?”

Time.  Ezra needed time.  “The fourth one from where the line branches,” he said.  “Not sure what it’s designation is, but there’s some rusty cargo boxes outside of it.”  

Grey shoved him back into the seat but didn’t refasten the restraints, eyes still trained on the viewport.  “How far out are we Styles?”

“If I had to guess?  I’d say about ten minutes, probably less.”  

Ten minutes.  Ezra closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to focus past the dull throbbing in his temple.  What- How had-

Good soldiers follow orders good soldiers follow orders.  

The chips, Ezra thought dully, and felt like a complete idiot.  Wondered what it was like, to have a mind trick and a neural controller both firing off in your brain at once.  

I’m sorry, guys, he thought, before reaching for the Force one last time.  

SLEEP , he commanded, bringing all his strength in the Force to bear.  

Both clones fell to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.

Ezra scrambled forward to pull Styles off of the controls as the transport tilted, sending the limp bodies of both men sliding across the floor.  He righted the ship and immediately put in a landing sequence.

Stupid, stupid.  If overriding the chips were as simple as applying a Force suggestion then the clones would have stopped hunting the Jedi ages ago.  Ezra watched grimly as the ground drew nearer, choosing to land in a small clearing at the edge of a stretch of forest.

The comm crackled as the craft settled down.  “Captain Styles, your ship is deviating from it’s route to camp.  Is everything alright?”

Uh.  Ezra winced as he pressed to answer, remembering last minute to grab Styles helmet and jam it over his head.  “Affirmative, base camp, uh, we just had some technical difficulties but everything’s alright, just fine here.”  

The back of his neck prickled.  Ezra turned as the smell of blood hit him, eyes widening at the steady seep of crimson leaking from Grey’s nose.  “Shit, shit-”

“Captain Styles?”  The voice on the other side of the comm sounded suspicious.  “Do you need assistance?”

Ezra whipped back around.  “No assistance needed,” he assured, eyes flitting to Grey and then back at the control board.  “Uh, there may have been a minor injury, we’re just stopping to patch it up, now if you’ll excuse me-”  

Ezra shut off the comm before he could dig himself any deeper.  Thought about frying it with a blaster for good measure. Ugh, this was worse than the time Kanan had him impersonate a mining overseer on that crawler.  

“Nnngh.”  

Ezra pulled the helmet off and hurried over to the commander as he moaned again, trying half heartedly to rise from his prone position on the floor.  Some minds were less susceptible to suggestion than others, and from what Ezra could tell Grey fell into that category - though whether it was a natural immunity or special training he couldn’t tell.  

“Shhh, hey, don’t strain yourself.  I’m just going to, uh-” Ezra looked around, “grab the med pack and get you a bandage or something.”  

Grey’s eyes flew open.  “Jedi,” he hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, hey-”  

A hand reached out and grabbed his jacket.  “Jedi,” Grey rasped again, struggling to rise.  “T-Traitor.”

On instinct Ezra grabbed for the Force again.  “Let me go-” he began, then stuttered to a stop as he ran against that unnatural resistance he now realized was the chip.  “Stop-” Frowned, as the chip’s programing pressed counter to his will.

Grey’s own mind, caught in the middle between them.  

This isn’t right , something whispered inside him, and Ezra felt something sour curl in his gut.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as Grey’s eyes rolled around wildly in distress.  He reached out again to test at the edges of the chip’s control, trying to understand just how something like this even worked , when he practically tripped over it.  

He laid a hand over the trooper’s scalp, felt that bright, seething little point burn under his palm.  Their eyes met. Grey’s mouth worked silently as if he couldn’t quite force the words out.

“I-”  Ezra swallowed. Considered what he was thinking of doing, really thought about it.  

Then drew his hand away.  

He didn’t know enough.  He didn’t have permission .  Removing the chip surgically was risky enough, but to just reach in and meddle with something he didn’t fully understand could result in Grey dead, or vegetative, or injured in ways there was no coming back from.   

“I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly, and fled.  

The woods outside the transport were easy to navigate, mostly clear of undergrowth and brambles after years of being sandwiched between swathes of cultivated farmland.  The binders cut into his wrists but he didn’t dare stop to free himself until he was several klicks away, panting under a rocky overhang as military ships droned overhead.  When he was sure the skies were clear he fished Caleb’s lightsaber out of his boot and sliced through the bindings.

He didn’t know what the clones would do next.  But whatever they were planning, he and Caleb needed to move off planet, fast.  

:::  

Caleb was meditating out in the field.  Dusk was setting down over the area, casting the warehouse and the trees in soft purple light as the wind moved through the grass.  

“Describe what you feel, Caleb Dume.”  

“I have questions, Master.”  

“Yes.  That seems to be the natural state of your mind.  But what of your heart?”

“Master Billaba,” he whispered.  He hadn’t said her name in weeks, the familiar words feeling strange on his lips.  “I don’t know what to do.”

The icy flash of fear that had shot down his spine when he’d heard that shot go off on the rooftop, Ezra crumpling like flimsi before his eyes.  The rage that had filled him when he realized what had happened. Instinct overriding common sense as he reached for his saber instead of a blaster, jumping to Ezra’s defense.  

Shock, like cold water being dumped over him, when the weapon had been yanked from his hand.  

I was only trying to help him, to protect him like he’s been protecting me.  And that’s his response? To sacrifice himself? Indignation filled him anew and he couldn’t separate himself from it, to accept and let it go like he’d been trained.   I thought we were friends!  He should have trusted me!

And if he’d trusted you with his plan, would you have gone along with it?  

Caleb snorted.   Obviously not.  Because it’s stupid.  

Is it stupid, to sacrifice yourself to protect the ones you love?  

“Yes, yes it is!”  Caleb stood up, suddenly too restless to stay in one place.  “You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead!”

In their minds, better that it be them than you.  

“I know that!” Caleb shouted.  The field was quiet when he looked up, chest heaving.  “I know-” His voice wavered. “I know that they’re doing it because they care.  Because- because to them my life is more important than theirs,” he choked out. “Stance.  Master Billaba. Ezra.”

Master Yoda.  Master Windu. Tai and Sammo, all his crechemates.  The entirety of his old squadron. He had lost so many people in so short a time.  

“But if they really cared about me, they would respect what I want.  And I-” His words caught in his throat and he blinked away tears.

“I don’t want the people I love to be martyrs.  I just want them to stay .”  

The wind flowing through the grass was the only response he got.  And then. Perhaps that is what you should tell them.  

Caleb blinked.  That voice, so quiet and familiar that he thought it’d been his own mind arguing with him.  Could it be- “Master Billaba?” he said sharply.

Silence was his only answer.  Caleb whipped around wildly, as if he could catch sight of her if he just turned fast enough.  “Master Billaba?” he called again.

A shape flickered in the corner of his eye before disappearing into the woods.  Caleb spun around to follow it before frowning in confusion.

Had Kaller...always had wolves?  

“Caleb?” a familiar voice called.  A lanky shape emerged from the gloom, stepping out of the woods into the open air.  

“Ezra!” Caleb called, and raced across the field towards him.  

The older boy looked worse for wear but didn’t have any visible injuries as far as he could tell, a crooked grin on his face as Caleb approached him.  That grin fell away as he got closer. “You’re mad at me,” Ezra stated.

Caleb pulled up short right in front of him and chose his words carefully.  “I was,” he finally said. “Still am.” Ezra opened his mouth to speak and Caleb held up a hand.  “Also hurt, betrayed, and disappointed.”

Ezra looked sheepish.  “Uh, is that all?”

“Probably not.  I was still in the middle of meditating on it,” Caleb said factually.  He hesitated. “That was a really shitty thing to do, Ezra.”

Ezra winced.  “Ah-” He looked away, as if he Caleb’s patient stare was too much to bear.  “Can we sit? I’ve been walking all day.”

The two of them settled on a group of large boulders in the middle of the field, not unlike the spot outside of camp where Caleb used to train with Master Billaba.  Ezra picked up a pebble and threw it. “First of all, I’ve gotten captured and escaped more times than I can count. So, uh, I’m sorry for not filling you in on the plan.  Like, I knew I could pull it off but also that you would argue with me every step of the way, and I didn’t want to risk you being in danger if you refused to follow orders.”  

“Run!”  Ezra’s voice crackling over the ship’s comm, the stolen Kasmiri shuddering under his hands as its shields took a beating in Coruscant airspace.  Master Billaba’s last words haunting him, the refrain triggering a wave of fear that swamped every other higher thought process.

“No!  I’m not leaving you!”  

Caleb’s shoulders pulled up to his ears, arms wrapped around his knees as he sat.  “Okay, I can see why you’d think that,” he conceded, mind turning over his words. “But that was weeks ago.  I barely even knew you then. We’ve been working together a lot, if you’d just explained yourself then I would have understood.  Then I wouldn’t have-” he broke off.

“Wouldn’t have felt like I stabbed you in the back?” Ezra hazarded.  

“Wouldn’t have been so scared that I was going to lose someone else I cared about,” Caleb confessed quietly.  “I’ve already-” I’ve already lost everyone else. “I can’t-” Can’t lose you too. The words got stuck in his throat and Caleb choked on them.  

A hand came down on his shoulder.  “Hey,” Ezra said gently.

“I need to be able to know that I can trust you,” he finally burst out.  “That you won’t throw yourself into danger, because I need you here with me, right now.  I don’t need a martyr, Ezra. I need my friend .”  

He was afraid to look up.  Ezra stayed quiet, and then the hand on his shoulder disappeared.  Caleb, hurt but already shoring up his defenses, was about to pull away when arms drew him into a tight hug.  

“Yeah, I hear you,” he heard Ezra say from where his face was tucked into the older boy’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry I put you through that, you’re right, it was a really shitty thing to do.”

“ Talk to me,” Caleb stressed, bringing up his own arms to return the hug.  “Don’t leave me out.”

“I hear you.  I hear you loud and clear.”  

I hear you.  It was like a string of tension loosened in his chest.  Caleb finally allowed himself to relax into the embrace, leaning heavily into Ezra’s shoulder as everything he’d been carrying inside of him for the past twenty hours just fell away.  The unexpected weight almost toppled them both off the rocks and he snickered as Ezra gave a yelp.

“Hey!”  

“Yeah, it’d suck if you escaped imprisonment and certain death just to crack your head on a rock,” Caleb gasped, grinning so hard it hurt.  Ezra rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that funny.”  

A strange giddiness was bubbling up in his chest and Caleb wiped at his eyes.  “It’s a little funny!” he chortled, and didn’t know why he was fighting tears.

“You’re two chits short of a full air tank.”  Ezra took a closer look at him and his voice softened.  “Hey, you okay?”

Caleb sniffed and laughed wetly again.  “Yeah, I am.” A warm spot of sunlight on a cloudy day, replacing the anxiety that had been curled up around his heart.  “Or at least, I will be.”

Ezra wrapped his arms around him and brought him back in again, cradling the back of his head in one hand.  Caleb took the invitation for what it was and burrowed his face in the older boy’s jacket.

The two of them stayed that way for a very long time.  And finally, finally Caleb felt like he could breathe again.  

:::

“Commander!”  

Troopers were combing the clearing in the dim evening light while a rescue shuttle rested a few paces away from the hijacked transport.  Grey waved the medic away as a messenger jogged up to him.

“Report,” he grunted.  

“News  from Coruscant sir.  No known Jedi match the profile of the unknown prisoner, alias “Dev Morgan”.”  

“I figured that trooper, but what are our orders concerning him?”  

The trooper hesitated.  “No orders. Our only priority is Padawan Dume.”  

“None at all?  Not even a capture and interrogate prerogative?”  

“None at all, sir.  The Empire is interested in registered Jedi only, and-”  The trooper hesitated.

“Go on.”  

The clone’s voice dropped.  “They seemed to doubt the veracity of your report.”  At Grey’s blank stare he elaborated. “They aren’t convinced that the prisoner was a Jedi to begin with, seem to think we’re jumping at shadows.  Doubt whether you, uh-”

“Know a damn Jedi when I see one?”  

The clone winced.  “Not in so many words, sir.”  

Grey rubbed at his temple.  “All natural born officers, I’m guessing?”  

“Yes sir.  There’s no more <traitors> in high command anymore and no brothers were present as far as I could tell.”  

Around him the world slowly grew dimmer.  Grey winced as another pang went through his head and fought to think through the headache.  

“Sir, we lost the prisoner’s trail and the depot he reported was empty, though there were signs of smuggler activity.”  The clone hesitated. “What do you want us to do now?”

“Give me all leads Kaller Intelligence has on Morgan.  I want to know everything there is to know about that slippery son of a gundark.”  

“Sir?  But command-”  

Execute Order 66.  

Good soldiers.... good soldiers…..good soldiers…  

Sleep .  A familiar touch upon his mind, the Force coming to bear in a way he’d seen hundreds of times before but which his <traitor> had never turned on him .   A compulsion so strong he didn’t even think to disobey.  

Execute the Jedi.  

Grey winced.  “We’re doing what we’ve always done, trooper.  We follow orders.”