Chapter Text
“Can you help me?”
The words came in clearly through the open comm channel, exactly what Thirteen had taught the boy to say.
“Someone’s following me.”
Thirteen could easily picture the six-year-old’s eyes widening slightly, the picture of innocence and fear, as he looked up at the target. The boy knew exactly what to do. He’d been coached on it enough that it was second nature.
“I just want to get home, and I can’t – I –”
The boy would be glancing at the nearest stormtroopers now. Thirteen could sense his fear, a barbed wire coiling around his chest and pulling tightly. It was real, not just an act to fool their target. After a year, the boy was still terrified by the sight of the soldiers.
“It’s okay, kid,” a woman’s voice said. “I’ll walk with you.”
Thirteen swallowed, trying to fight back the tightness in his throat at the sound of the voice. Whether it was familiar to him didn’t matter. He had a job to do, and the boy’s life was at stake if he didn’t do it properly.
Clenching his right hand into a fist, Thirteen began to pace the length of the room. Dust stirred in his wake with each step. The small two-room house had long since been abandoned, the people who’d lived here either arrested or in hiding. It was the perfect place to lay their trap and bring in the Jedi without a struggle. And now that the boy was leading her here, all Thirteen had to do was wait.
It wasn’t long before Thirteen heard the Jedi’s voice through the comm once more, echoing the faint voice he heard from the street outside.
“Hold on,” she said. “Your parents don’t always leave the door open like that.”
It wasn’t a question. This wasn’t the kind of place it was safe for a family to just leave their door hanging open. Another part of the trap. Those protective instincts the Jedi had taught her to follow, the same ones she now fought if she had any sense of self-preservation, would push her through the door, directly to him.
“N-no.” A frightened tremor shook the boy’s voice. This wasn’t just an act either. Thirteen could feel the genuine fear twisting around their bond once again, sharp spikes digging into it. He reached out, trying to soothe that fear, only for the boy to recoil from his mental touch.
“Just wait here for a minute.” He recognized the firm determination in the Jedi’s voice, no different than how he remembered it.
Thirteen switched his commlink off. There was no need for it anymore. In just a few seconds, the Jedi would be inside the house and he could take her down. The mission would be complete and they could return to Nur, with Thirteen having bought his apprentice a few more months of relative safety.
When he heard the Jedi’s footsteps cross the threshold, Thirteen removed his lightsaber from his belt. The weapon felt heavy as it settled into his palm; heavier than his old ‘saber ever had. After a year, it was only just starting to be familiar. He fought to keep himself as impassive as the metal that pressed against his skin. This didn’t mean anything to him. She didn’t mean anything to him. At the very least he had to pretend that was the truth.
A figure stepped through the door, freezing in her tracks when she saw Thirteen. He ignited the twin blades of his lightsaber, casting a sickly red glow across the Jedi’s face. She went by Areta Trebo now, but to him, that would always be the face of Tai Uzuma.
“Caleb.” Her eyes travelled from his face to the lightsaber in his hand. Her own hand twitched toward her hip, instinctively reaching for a weapon she no longer carried.
“Not anymore.”
He met her gaze with his own, keeping her attention on him. By now, his apprentice would have entered the house and crept up behind her.
“This doesn’t have to be difficult,” he said. “If you come quietly, you won't get hurt.”
Tai’s eyes narrowed, and Thirteen could sense the fury and sheer disgust burning in her heart as she stared him down.
“That isn’t going to happen,” she said.
Before Tai could act, there was a sharp crackle of electricity. Tai dropped to the floor, gasping as her head struck the doorframe. The boy stood behind her, a shock prod in his hand. Thirteen kept his focus on Tai, avoiding the blank, almost deadened look in his apprentice’s eyes.
As Tai struggled to get up, Thirteen reached out through the Force, pushing her back down to the floor and pinning her there. He returned his lightsaber to his belt, exchanging it for a pair of stun cuffs. Tai glared up at him as he cuffed her wrists behind her back.
“You can't even do this yourself?” she growled. “You have to use a kid to do your dirty work for you?”
“Quiet,” Thirteen snapped as he dragged Tai to her feet.
He shoved Tai forward, forcing her into the front room. As he led her toward the door, he looked back to make sure his apprentice was following. The boy’s shoulders slumped as he stood there, staring blankly down at the spot where the Jedi had fallen.
“Apprentice.”
The boy jumped, startled out of the daze he’d fallen into. He hesitated for only a moment before falling into step behind Thirteen.
Ezra sat in the copilot’s seat with his knees pulled up to his chest. His master was securing the Jedi in the back of the ship, probably drugging her so she would remain unconscious until they got back to Nur. From there, the Grand Inquisitor would be the one who decided if she lived or died. And Ezra had helped put this in motion.
As his master sat down in the pilot’s seat and began the startup sequence, Ezra glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye. His jaw clenched as the anger smoldering away in his mind burned even hotter. He knew his master could sense it. They’d shared a strong bond in the Force since before Ezra could remember. Even if they didn’t, Ezra wasn’t trying to hide his feelings. He wanted Kanan – no, not Kanan, not anymore – to sense them.
Neither of them spoke as the Thirteenth Brother piloted the ship out of the atmosphere and made the jump to hyperspace. It was nearly an hour before his master finally broke the tense, painful silence.
“Are you okay?”
Ezra finally raised his head to look at his master, pouring his anger into the glare he shot at the man.
“Ezra –”
“Don’t call me that,” Ezra snapped. He clenched his jaw for a moment to stop it from trembling before he forced out the words, “You’re not supposed to.”
The Thirteenth Brother turned to face him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Ezra pulled away from his touch. Deep down, he didn’t want to. He wanted his master to comfort him the way he used to, but his anger was stronger than what he wanted.
“No one can hear us,” his master said. “You don’t have to worry about that here.”
Ezra shrugged and looked back down at the floor. It was true; there were no listening devices on their ship. Here, they could speak freely and use their real names. They could try to pretend to be the family they’d been before the Inquisitors had found them. But it was all just that; pretend. And it would all go away again the second they reached Nur.
“We could just leave,” Ezra said, his voice weak. He knew it was pointless. If his master wanted to leave, they would have done it already.
“We can't.” The words came out almost as a sigh more than actual speech, and with it, Ezra could sense the hopelessness and defeat that filled Kanan’s – no, Thirteenth Brother … no, Kanan’s – mind. His master tried to shield him from it, but it was always there.
“They’re not watching us.”
“It’s not that simple,” Kanan said. It wasn’t the first time he’d used that reason, and every time, Ezra wondered what exactly was so complicated.
Kanan sighed, gripping the edge of Ezra’s chair and turning it so they were face to face. Ezra looked up at him, a deep ache spreading through his chest when he looked into his master’s bright yellow eyes. They hadn’t always looked like that, but now he couldn’t even remember what color they’d been before.
“Ezra, you can't talk like this on Nur,” Kanan said, as if Ezra needed reminding.
“I know,” Ezra muttered, dropping his gaze back to the floor. He’d made that mistake before, saying that he wished they could just run away. The Seventh Sister had dragged him away for a week of isolation, and the next time he saw Kanan, they both had fading bruises. “I just – I hate this. I miss how it used to be.”
In truth, he could barely remember the days before the Inquisitorius. His clearest memories were of emotions, not events or words. But he’d felt safe before. He’d felt like he was really Kanan’s son all the time, not just when it was safe for him to be.
“I know, kid,” Kanan said. He reached out, resting his hand on Ezra’s knee and squeezing gently. Ezra could feel him gently cradling their bond in his mind, pouring all the love and comfort into it that he could while they were still somewhere it was safe to do so. “I miss it, too.”
All too soon, a soft chime sounded, alerting them that they were approaching the point where they would drop out of hyperspace. Ezra could sense his master’s mental flinch as he pulled away, returning his attention to the ship’s controls.
Ezra tightened his arms around his knees. As a familiar burning feeling rose up behind his eyes, he squeezed them shut, willing the tears not to come. He couldn’t cry, not when they were this close to Nur. If someone saw, they would both get in trouble; him for crying in the first place, and Kanan for not stopping him.
He opened his eyes again just in time to see the bright lines of light that quickly solidified into stars as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. A chill ran up his spine as he looked out the viewport to see Nur looming ahead of them. No matter how many times they left the fortress and returned to it, the sight of the moon always made a gaping pit of fear open up in his stomach.
Ezra remained silent as his master transmitted their clearance code along with the signal that meant their mission was successful. The order to land came shortly afterward and with it a lump formed in Ezra’s throat. As his master piloted the ship toward the moon, Ezra forced himself to speak. He had to get the words out before they were back there, with the other Inquisitors watching their every move.
“Ashi.” His voice shook as he spoke the word he rarely found himself saying anymore. “Zekh zelha zi ke.”
“Zekh stinmamo zi ke bi daz ka,” Kanan said. Ezra could feel the bitter, stinging guilt prickling at their bond for the few seconds before his master violently shoved it away, banishing the feeling from his mind. Inquisitors didn’t feel guilt.
“I don’t,” Ezra said. The memory of what had happened the last time one of the other Inquisitors had heard him speaking Kayil crept to the forefront of his mind as he forced himself to switch back to Basic.
As they began their descent toward the dark fortress, Kanan reached out, gripping Ezra’s shoulder tightly for just a moment before he let go again. For just a few seconds, as the warmth from his father’s touch lingered, Ezra couldn’t help but feel that maybe, despite where they were going, things would be okay.
But that feeling vanished as quickly as it had appeared. As the ship drew closer to Fortress Inquisitorius, the scraps of warmth Kanan had given him disappeared, swallowed up by the icy chill that spread through Ezra’s chest. By the time they set down on the landing platform, it was gone completely.
All that remained was the cold.