Work Text:
The soft creaking of footsteps on the worn wooden floor told Ezra that Kanan was awake. He began stirring the cup of instant coffee even faster, wanting to make sure it was ready before Kanan came out of his room. His heart skipped a beat as the door opened, but rather than stepping into the living room, Kanan stumbled into the bathroom.
Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Ezra turned to the sink and quickly scrubbed the spoon he’d used, replacing it in the drawer just as the bathroom door opened again. Just as Kanan walked across the room, Ezra slid the mug across the counter toward him.
“I made you this,” he said, immediately withdrawing his hand from the mug and rubbing at his left elbow while dropping his gaze to the floor.
“Thanks,” Kanan said, picking up the mug and taking a long gulp of it. “Didn’t make any for yourself?”
Ezra shook his head. “I’m okay,” he said. “I just – I know you were having nightmares.”
His words dissolved into a quiet mumble as he dropped his gaze to the floor. His face flushed as white-hot embarrassment blossomed in his stomach. A cup of coffee wasn’t going to make anything better. If anything, Kanan would probably get mad at him for bringing it up.
“How did you know?” As he said it, Kanan seemed to freeze up, and somehow Ezra knew he was … angry? No, not angry, afraid.
“Did I do something?” Kanan asked.
“No,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “I just – I just knew. I don’t know.”
He shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain it. He’d spent half the night lying awake, paralyzed by terror that he somehow knew wasn’t his own. It had been hours before he realized what was going on, and he still wasn’t sure how he’d come to that conclusion.
When Kanan said nothing in response, Ezra looked up cautiously, his heart fluttering nervously. Kanan was watching him, his eyes narrowed slightly, though he still didn’t seem angry. If anything, he seemed curious.
“I knew there was something,” he said, almost sounding like he was talking to himself rather than to Ezra.
“What do you mean?” Ezra’s own curiosity piqued, encouraged by Kanan’s.
Kanan set the mug down on the countertop, his eyebrows furrowing in thought.
“Do you know what a Sensitive is?” he asked.
“Is that like a Parahuman?” Ezra asked.
“Kind of.” Kanan sat down at the counter and gestured for Ezra to do the same. Ezra slid into the other seat, his eyes fixed on the space just over Kanan’s shoulder. In spite of his curiosity a thread of anxiety worked its way through his mind as he hoped the man wouldn’t notice that Ezra wasn’t actually looking directly at him. People had never reacted well when they realized he wouldn’t look into their eyes.
“Sensitives are like a different type of Parahuman,” Kanan said. “We have our Parahuman abilities, like my force fields, or your ability to talk to animals. But we also have… other gifts. Gifts that connect us to the minds of other people.”
Ezra stared down at the countertop, tapping his finger against it as he considered Kanan’s words.
“You mean, like psychics?” he asked. His face burned again, certain that it was a stupid question and that Kanan was about to tell him so.
“Something like that,” Kanan said. “My ability is that I can sense other Parahumans, and other Sensitives, and I can usually get some kind of sense of what their powers are. I never learned how to use it very well, so until you said something, I wasn’t sure, but I think you might be one, too.”
Ezra remained silent as Kanan’s words sank in. Somehow it, made perfect sense, as if his words had magically made everything click into place. When he was a kid, his parents had always said he had “strong intuition,” but they had never seemed to understand just how strong it was. He had never been able to explain to them that the way he seemed to feel entire people crowding into his head was different than the way the sound of a packed room overwhelmed him. Even knowing he was a Parahuman, they had still just thought he was a smart, empathetic kid. They hadn’t realized he was even more different than they’d originally thought.
He grimaced, tracing his finger along a faded scuff mark on the countertop. That was just the story of his entire fucking life, wasn’t it? Different in one way, and then another, and then another. First a diagnosis that had painted a target on him at school until he’d stopped going altogether. Then the discovery of his powers. Then being shuffled from one foster home to the next, perpetually the new kid, the “disturbed” kid, the “bad” kid. Now he could… what? Read minds?
Knowing that Kanan probably expected him to say something, Ezra hesitantly forced himself to speak.
“I always know what people are feeling,” he said. The words tumbled out faster than he’d intended them to. Somehow – because you’re a Sensitive – he knew exactly what Kanan’s intentions were. Kanan just wanted to help, to give him answers. “I don’t even have to look at them. Sometimes I don’t even have to think that much about it. But it’s – it’s too much, most of the time. I can't sort different people out from each other and I get confused and –”
He cut himself off, realizing that he was babbling now. But the expected surge of annoyance didn’t come.
“Tele-empathy,” Kanan said. “That’s what it’s called.”
Just hearing the word sent a jolt down Ezra’s spine. Tele-empathy. It made so many things make sense. The dreams he’d had that matched up exactly with things his foster sister had told him weeks later. The things he’d seen when he was forced to look into people’s eyes. The way he could usually guess exactly what people wanted out of him when they started being nice to him.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but –”
Ezra shook his head, and Kanan stopped speaking.
“It makes sense,” Ezra said, his voice quiet. “A – a lot of things make sense.”
He looked back up at Kanan.
“Thank you.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help you learn how to control it,” Kanan said. “But I haven’t met another Sensitive with your ability in …” he let out a soft sigh. “It’s been a long time. The I.N.Q.S. is even more interested in Sensitives than they are in regular Parahumans, so most of us are either dead or in hiding.”
Ezra dropped his gaze to his own feet, dangling a few inches above the floor. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Kanan had rested a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, and Ezra could feel what he now understood to be Kanan’s own determination and sincerity.
“They’re not going to find you,” Kanan said. “Not if I can help it. I promise.”
There was something else behind Kanan’s words. Guilt, maybe. Pain, for sure. His grip tightened slightly on Ezra’s shoulder. It was comforting in a way Ezra hadn’t experienced in years.
His heart sank as Kanan withdrew his hand. His parents had said the same thing, promising Ezra that they would protect him, that they would protect other kids like him, too. And now they were gone, and he would probably never see them again.
“Thank you,” Ezra said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”
Silently, Kanan stood up, walking to the cabinet and taking out a second mug. He poured the rest of the still-hot water into it, followed by another pack of instant coffee.
“Like I said.” He turned back to Ezra, setting the cup on the counter in front of Ezra. “We need to look out for each other. Now, drink this. I’m guessing you got even less sleep than I did.”
Ezra took a sip of the coffee, hiding his smile behind the mug. Somehow, the cup of weak dollar store instant coffee managed to be the best thing he’d ever tasted since the last time his mom had made him hot chocolate, the spring before he’d lost his parents forever. And for the first time since Kanan had given him the key, Ezra felt like this place might really be home.