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When Kanan and Hera decided to start fostering and adopting, they’d prepared for the possibility of homeschooling their kids.
Especially when they’d found the perfect plot of land for their new home, it potentially not within the bounds of any nearby school district, but nothing at the time had been set in stone.
Not when they knew it was good for kids to collaborate and socialize with people their own age, especially after everything they’d gone through.
Sure, the money they’d spend on gas in a week would be extraordinary but reasonable and worth it.
It’s not.
It’s not worth it. Not when Sabine went too far overboard in the fights she found herself in, burning hair and nearly blinding kids with paint.
She’d been worming her way out of private and public schools ever since she lived with her biological parents.
It’d become a given at some point homeschooling is what they’d resort to when taking Sabine into their hearts and home, and she’d taken to it with flying colors.
When Ezra comes along they try public school first on account of his social worker's suggestion.
Knowing the kid needed socialization more than most, and what a mistake that had been.
They’d forgotten kids could be cruel, unnecessarily so, and at the time of the court case and media circus after Dr. Seven’s arrest, his usual bullies had only gotten more bold.
Something Ezra had worried about enough to feign sickness so they’d let him stay home, and they had for a time unaware of the real reason he wanted to stay home, but the district only allowed so many absences even after such…traumatic situations.
They’d been assured Ezra would be alright, that they’d watch him, they hadn’t .
Kanan and Hera still had nightmares about that phone call: The principal nervously explained the boy had been in a fight and was refusing medical assistance from the nurse. (Ezra too reminded of Dr. Seven to allow her to work on him.)
Kanan had been sure Hera broke every posted speed limit and ran every stop sign since she’d beaten him there, and he’d come from work - which was a hell of a lot closer than their estate.
The dread in their gut had only tripled at the sight of Bo-Katan outside, leading two kids in cuffs into the back of her squad car, scowling all the way.
She stops when she sees them, harshly slamming the door and frightening those in her custody further.
“I have an ambulance on route for Ezra, he’s in the principal's office, stable for now but I’ll meet you at the hospital for a follow up,” The Lieutenant lets them know, and it’s more than telling.
Especially since the transgression had to be severe enough she was making arrests rather than waiting for the two of them to press charges.
In the backseat the kids sink, trying to avoid the gaze of their victims' parents. The pair absolutely murderous and it must show on their faces.
Kanan barely has half-a-mind to nod a quick thanks in the red-headed woman’s direction before rushing inside.
They don’t even bother with the receptionist, the look on her face is telling enough, she knows who they are, and has no intention of stopping them.
Both of them know the way, having been there before when sorting out the support Ezra would need after everything he’d endured.
Neither bother with knocking on the door, and the first thing that hits them when they step inside the room is the familiar and pungent odor of blood.
Ezra is sunken down in a chair, chest smothered by his knees with his head tucked down against them.
Kanan immediately drops to the ground in front of him, Hera holding back from rushing to check on the boy in the way she wants to, knowing she’d only make things worse and one of them had to tear into the principal - so it might as well be her.
“Hey kiddo,” Kanan starts lightly, just so the boy could hear his voice. Knowing if he hadn’t the hand he was reaching out would be met with a frightened reception.
There was still a chance the boy would flinch, he’d been beaten after all, but Kanan knew above everyone else in the universe, if anyone had a chance at providing a sense of safety and comfort that Ezra would accept; it was him.
Like he hoped, Ezra slowly lifts his head from his knees at the gesture and Kanan is horrified at what he sees.
Internally he’s glad he’d spent so long building up walls and schooling his features to even the most horrific of things.
Because the left half of the kid's face is mottled with drying blood and cut skin and Kanan wants to lash out and maybe even cry because of it.
It’s clear Ezra had been held down against the searing asphalt, every movement scraping his wounds deeper, leaving behind specks of black soot and gravel.
The wounds are gnarly on their own but Kanan can tell it’s not the sole reason Bo called for an ambulance and arrested his assaulters, if he’s not mistaken - which he usually isn’t- the kid’s orbital bone had been fractured.
It must be agony and yet Ezra is still and quiet, looking at him through hazy eyes, trapping them in a moment where they are deaf to Hera’s conversation with the principal entirely.
The older man hopes the stillness is not born from a concussion, a brutal one at least.
Leaning forward, Kanan tucks the boy’s hair behind his ear (on the non-injured side) and not so subtly makes sure there is no clear liquid leaking out of his nose or ears.
Thankfully there is none to be seen, if there had been spinal fluid apparent Kanan would have beaten the principal for not calling the ambulance sooner. Bo had said she called, meaning the bastard likely hadn’t at all.
Cupping Ezra’s non-injured features, Kanan smiles assuringly, taking it as a win when the boy leans into his touch, slowly but surely unfurling from his guarded position. Knowing he was in safe hands now.
“I got you,” Kanan promised, hearing his wife threaten a lawsuit behind him and he can’t say he blamed her, he was thinking the same.
“Did he say why they did it?” Zeb questioned, sat across from Kanan on the couch, the family patriarch holding their patched up youngest in his lap.
The three had just returned from the hospital after several long hours of tests, MRI’s, and a statement for Bo .
The kid nearly dead asleep now if not for the twinges of wakefulness brought upon by pain his medication couldn’t temper.
“Something about Seven,” Hera grumbles with disdain from the kitchen, consistently checking over her shoulder not only to look at them but the door as well, waiting on Sabine to get home.
The girl had gone out earlier, all her work for the week having been done meaning she had some time to herself to go out with friends or do whatever she wanted.
She wasn’t required to come home and check in on the boy, but they knew Sabine and how protective she got, they couldn’t not let her know her little brother had been hurt.
The older woman couldn’t understand how or why those kids had heard about the hell Ezra and all the other victims had gone through because of that woman, and decided to hurt him too.
Sadly both Kanan and Zeb knew why, hating how young teenage boy’s could think.
The damn twerps had the disgusting belief Ezra should be grateful an older woman had taken advantage of him, that something was wrong with him for not enjoying such attention.
It's twisted and wrong and neither speaks up or even wants to attempt to explain that to the matriarch and upset her further as she angrily prepared dinner.
The door opens and Sabine rushes in, hair wild and something unexpected in her arms.
A decently sized yellow stuffed animal they all make out as being Pikachu in her arms. The girl spots her brother on the couch immediately and brings it over.
Ezra in a bout of wakefulness, or merely stirring to her presence lifts his head slightly, and Sabine has no qualms about handing the plush over.
“But what if I get blood on it?” He murmurs tiredly, holding it away from himself in fear of ruining it.
“I know how to wash it,” Sabine assures, and Ezra hugs the plush close instantly, a muffled thanks being pushed into the fabric as he curls around it the best he can and falls back asleep.
“So did Bo give us the names of who did it?” Sabine questions once she’s sure Ezra is asleep, looking between Kanan and Zeb.
“You can’t attack them,” Hera calls from the kitchen.
“Why not? At worst I go to juvie for a bit and it’s not like any of you can do it,” The mandalorian questions seriously.
Zeb makes a face of why not, but Kanan and Hera are quick to shut it down with looks of their own.
The girl groans disappointed and takes a seat with a huff, trying to better spot the boy’s wounds from where they were buried against the yellow fabric of her gift.
An idea coming to her mind, “Maybe we should homeschool him, not like we can’t do it together.”
Hera stops in the kitchen and Kanan adjusts his head when Ezra absently pushes further into his throat, both of them noting they could do that.
“We’ll ask him when he wakes up,” Kanan lands on, and it's a good enough answer for all of them.
Especially when they knew it was more than less likely Ezra would say yes.