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Chapter Text

Dinner was typically a rowdy affair aboard the Ghost, and this evening had proven to be no different. However, only one dish had been broken, and no food had (intentionally) been thrown, and Hera considered this a victory, considering it had been the first meal they’d shared with Ezra since he officially joined the crew. She began to corral the stack of dishes, assigning washing to Sabine and drying to Zeb and Ezra, who, due to their immediate dislike of each other, would need time to learn to operate as a team. Good to start these things small.

“Wait! Don’t go anywhere yet,” Zeb said as he reached under his seat, producing a basket of fresh jogan fruit. “We’ve got dessert tonight.”

Sabine and Kanan pounded their fists on the table in excitement; jogan fruit was a rare treat these days, especially on a planet whose orchards were now under Imperial control. Chopper, though he could not partake, nonetheless spun himself excitedly. The only person not smiling was Ezra.

“Why’d you tell them? We could have kept these for ourselves!” he said, almost yelling. “No one would’ve ever found it in our bunk.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zeb frowned as he took a bite of one of the jogans. “Those Imps stole ‘em from the orchards outside of Capital City, and we just stole them right back. They belong to all the people of Lothal.”

Ezra felt himself disintegrating with rage. The intensity of his reaction surprised him, but when he rationalized it, he assured himself it was the correct reaction. He had found those jogans in the Imperial stockroom they had raided this morning; they were his and his alone to decide what to do with. How dare Zeb—and now everyone else, too—take this from him?

He couldn’t bring himself to grab what was rightfully his, so he did the next best thing: he got up and left. The metallic echo of his chair slamming against the table was the only sound as he stormed out of the mess hall, leaving the others in a stunned silence, each holding a half-eaten fruit.

Ezra burst into the cool night air, damp on his burning cheeks, and picked up the nearest stone and hurled it as far as he could. Sure, these people—essentially still strangers—had shared their food with him. Not just their food, but their time, their energy, and their attention. But that had been their own decision; it wasn’t like he had asked for anything. No, he had planned on taking what he needed and getting out of there when he was done. Just because they’d decided to share with him didn’t mean he owned them anything in return, let alone an entire basket of jogan fruit. He didn’t know how yet, but Ezra swore he’d get his revenge on Zeb.

The sound of footsteps behind him pulled him back to the present, and he turned around to see Kanan approaching him, a neutral expression on his face. Ezra kicked another stone, bracing himself for a lecture, and waited. But the older man simply stood beside him and looked towards the sky, dark with the pinpricks of distant stars. Lothal’s moons had not yet risen.

“I got in trouble once, back when I was a student at the Jedi Temple, for stuffing my pockets with fruit after dinner,” Kanan said after a long silence. “Master Yoda made me deliver fruit to all the other younglings every day for seven rotations. Told me I had to learn to share. I couldn’t see what the big deal was; I thought the whole thing was so stupid. It wasn’t like fruit was scarce back then. And there was nothing stopping anyone else from taking what they wanted.”
Ezra looked at him through the corner of his eye and said nothing.

“I’d have probably starved if I’d followed his advice after my Master died. There weren’t too many people on Kaller interested in sharing after the Republic fell. Some lesson, huh?”

Ezra shrugged. He agreed, though he refused to express it, as he sensed he was being led into a trap.

“Only after I met Hera did I finally understand what Master Yoda was trying to teach me. I had to let go of what I thought was mine in order to understand what's ours.”

“I thought Jedi training would involve more lightsabers and less moralizing,” Ezra said flatly, finally breaking his silence.

“Anybody can wave a laser sword around,” Kanan said. “But what really makes you a Jedi is your connection to the Force. And in order to connect, you need to learn how to open up and let go.”

“This is such a stupid hill to die on, okay? Those jogans were mine, simple as that. Zeb should have at least asked me before he let everyone else take some.”

“That’s exactly my point. Let it go, Ezra. This morning, you didn’t even know that basket of jogans existed. They might be gone tomorrow. Accept that they’re here now, and let it go.”

“And what does that get me?”

“A seat at the dinner table? I bet it’s a lot more peaceful than sitting out here alone and mad. Without any jogans, too.”

Ezra folded his arms tightly across his chest and glared, signaling to Kanan that he knew he had been outmaneuvered. He thought he wanted to learn how to wield the Force so he could bend the universe at his will—a refinement of all the tricks he’d used to survive on his own. He could still cheat, steal, and con, and he’d be even better at it, and with a lightsaber, no one would ever mess with him. Letting go of the only things he had to hold onto felt like launching himself out of an airlock to be swallowed by the dark, cold vacuum of space. He didn’t trust that there was anything to catch him because, for so long, there hadn’t been. All he had was his own desperate grip, clinging to the windswept edge of the galaxy.

“I don’t know how to let go of everything,” he said. “It’s too hard.”

“I’m not asking you to let go of everything. I’m asking you to start with just this one thing,” Kanan said. “Or don’t. It’s your choice.”

He got up and began to walk back towards the Ghost.

“Wait!” Ezra called after him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad and yelled like that. I’m—I’m so afraid of everything disappearing, and I just—I…panicked.”

Kanan stood silently for a moment, letting Ezra’s words hang in the air.

“You wanna tell that to everyone else, too?”

“Do you think they’ll even want to hear it?”

“Yeah, I do. C’mon.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that the bunk was uncomfortable. It had been a long time since Ezra had slept with his head on a pillow, and this blanket smelled like it had been washed recently, unlike the threadbare lump of fabric still back at his comms tower. It wasn’t even that Zeb’s snoring bothered him. But no matter how he rearranged his limbs or how tightly he wrapped the blanket around his body, Ezra couldn’t fall asleep; he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. In the dark, the room seemed cavernous, and he knew the door wasn’t locked either. Trying to sleep here was pointless.

Carefully, so as not to disturb his slumbering bunkmate, Ezra rolled his bedding into a ball and slid down the ladder, feeling his way along the wall until he found the door. Once into the hallway, he searched along the ceiling until his fingertips found a loose vent, which he removed and hauled himself up into the crawlspace.

That’s more like it, he thought, replacing the panel behind him. He yawned as he stretched out horizontally, comfortably enclosed by the smooth sides of the ventilation duct. With his head on the pillow, there were only a few inches between the tip of his nose and the edge of the duct, and he finally felt his body begin to relax. He was safe in this cocoon. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, and for the first time in ages, he slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

The sound of muffled voices below woke him.

“—should have known he’d take off as soon as he got the chance. I just hope he didn’t steal anything else on his way out.”

That sounded like Zeb. Ezra pressed his ear against the duct, straining to hear.

“You don’t know that,” came Hera’s reply. “He could—”

“He’s not on the ship. I guarantee it.”

“Well, I don’t care where he is as long as he doesn’t make me regret offering to train him.”

Ezra winced. Zeb’s opinion didn’t matter much to him, and it made sense that Hera was generous enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the last thing he wanted to do was make Kanan regret his offer to train him to be a Jedi. He kicked himself internally; he should have known to return to his bunk before everyone else woke up. This was avoidable.

“He’ll be back. These days, it’s so rare to encounter anyone who can wield the Force, and he seemed pretty desperate anyway,” Hera said.

Heavy footsteps trailing away signaled the end of the conversation, and the hallway below was silent again. Ezra sighed. Maybe he should just leave now and spare everyone the trouble. Pushing his pillow and blanket aside, he rolled onto his stomach and kicked the vent loose.

“This ship is not a kriffing piece of junk, Chop.”

At the sound of the voice, Ezra jumped in surprise and hit his head on the ceiling of the duct. Suddenly, Kanan was staring up at him through the narrow opening, and he immediately felt like a child caught in the middle of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! I wasn’t trying to, at least! I promise!” he said as quickly as he could, throwing his hands up as if that would prove his innocence. Kanan just stared at him with an unreadable expression.

“What’s going on? We were looking all over for you,” the Jedi said. Ezra could hear the tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Oh, I—I couldn’t, uh…” No words came to him; there was no easy way to explain how he was feeling, and he doubted Kanan was interested in listening to him try. Instead, he swung himself back down into the hallway, pulling his blanket and pillow after him. “Sorry to make you regret all this,” he said as he shook dust out of his hair and turned in the direction of his bunk.

“Wait—Ezra.”

He dug his fingers into his pillow; whatever Kanan was about to say, he really didn’t want to listen. He already knew how everyone felt, and he didn’t need to hear it again.

“Is that your…pillow? Did Zeb kick you out or something? ‘Cause he should know better—”

Ezra shook his head. He knew the drill. Internal walls up, shut everyone out until he was alone, and then—and only then—let it all collapse. He just had to make it back to his bunk. Hopefully, Zeb wouldn’t be there.

“Sometimes it’s just hard to sleep, y’know?” he said sharply, avoiding eye contact as he took another step towards his bunk.

“Are you okay?”

He stopped, the sincerity of Kanan’s ask throwing him off balance. His guard dropped just as long as it took him to process the question before he doubled down.

“I said I’m fine. It’s just hard to sleep sometimes. And don’t worry—you can tell Zeb that I’m not going to steal anything. I wasn’t even planning on leaving. But since you all clearly don’t want me around, I’ll get going.”

But no matter how deeply Ezra tried to bury his hurt, Kanan had already seen the slip—that momentary lapse in his Padawan’s armor that revealed a longing for all the same things he had wanted when he joined the crew of the Ghost: a place to sleep, someone to share a meal with, being part of something that actually mattered. Ezra could deflect all he wanted, but now Kanan could see clearly.

“Ezra, wait. I—we didn’t realize you could hear us. We were looking all over for you. Zeb thought you’d gotten lost again. I’m—I’m sorry.”

They stood in stony silence, though Ezra loosened his grip on his pillow slightly, and he turned to face his Master.

“I’m glad we found you,” Kanan said. “But why were you sleeping in the ventilation duct?”

Ezra shrugged helplessly. A million reasons swam through his mind, but every time he opened his mouth to try and begin to explain, his thoughts scattered, slipping away from him. Eventually, as was so often the case, it was both the most painful and the easiest to just tell the truth.

“It’s just so…different being here. It’s hard to relax. I dunno—I’m not used to it.”

Kanan nodded. He understood completely.

“Well, wherever you want to sleep, you’re safe here,” he said. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Ezra sat cross-legged on the cool floor of Kanan’s bunk, his head angled forward and his eyes closed. To the outside world, he appeared stoic, a Padawan deep in meditation guided by his Master, but internally, his mind raced. Every creak of the ship, each gurgle of his stomach—all of it demanded his attention, everything except the one thing he was supposed to be focusing on. Kanan wasn’t pushing him, but Ezra could sense his Master’s gentle attempts to steer him towards connecting with himself. In order to let go, he first had to know what he was holding onto. But every time he tried to look towards his center, it felt like staring directly into the sun, and Ezra Bridger had been taught to never, ever stare into the sun.

The Force is everywhere, but only if you open yourself up to it.

He’d felt it the instant he encountered the Spectres, stumbling accidentally into that pure nexus of I see you and you see me. At the time, he couldn’t even remember the last connection he’d felt to another person—not since his parents disappeared, at least—and he had initially chalked the feeling up to the prospect of scoring some high-quality Imperial loot. But now that he was conscious of what had happened, he found himself afraid of opening that box he kept so closely guarded. The more he felt Kanan relax and open himself up, inviting Ezra to do the same, the more Ezra resisted. What was even the point? ‘Letting go’, as Kanan kept calling it, just seemed like a good way to give Kanan a list of all the soft spots he could poke and all the ways he could hurt Ezra. It would be stupid to give that up willingly.

His mind continued to chug until he heard Kanan inhale sharply, like he’d just woken up or something, and stand up. Ezra opened his eyes.

“Let’s try something different,” Kanan said, heading for the door. “No point in forcing it.”

Confused but nonetheless an obedient student, Ezra followed him into the hallway, then down the ramp, and off the ship. They waded into the tall prairie grass that kept the Ghost camouflaged from Imperial aerial patrols, and Ezra struggled to keep up, unable to match Kanan’s longer stride. The grass was sharp on his bare arms, and razor-thin cuts began to appear on his skin. As he ran, sweat dripped into the cuts and stung sharply.

“Wait!” he called after the other Jedi, who had only increased his pace. “Kanan, stop!”

His foot landed awkwardly on a clump of roots, and he tripped, falling forward as his lungs burned. Kanan disappeared into the rippling grass without even looking back. Defeated, Ezra balled his hands into fists, pounding on the ground in frustration. Was this really Kanan’s idea of trying something else?

Go ahead and do something different, he thought. I don’t need you anyway.

He rolled onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, admiring the deep blue sky above him. Pillowy white clouds drifted carelessly, and the prairie hummed around him, the sounds of the wind whistling through the grass, insects chirping, and small animals scurrying all blending into a drone that soothed his mind. Ezra had grown up with this sound, and it remained inextricably part of him.

Abruptly, his ears picked up a single sound that rose above the hum: the sound of small footfalls deep in the grass. Ezra pushed himself onto his knees, crouching low as the hairs on his neck stood up. This low to the ground, he could only see a few inches in front of his face, but he swore he could feel something out there, pulling at his senses. He closed his eyes and searched, extending his hand in the direction he felt the tugging.

He sensed the creature’s presence for a split second before he heard it crash off to his left. A loth-cat, one of the solitary inhabitants of Lothal’s grasslands, sprang towards Ezra and eyed him through the grass. Though not particularly dangerous, a loth-cat could, if provoked, deliver a nasty scratch. Ezra sank deeper into his crouch and met the creature’s golden eyes. The loth-cat hissed once, slinking low and baring its teeth at him.

I’m not gonna hurt you, he thought, extending his fingers slowly toward the cat. I’m your friend. Can’t you feel it?

The loth-cat’s ears flattened against its head as it considered Ezra’s outstretched hand, and though he was afraid it might try to bite him, he held as still as he could, keeping his breathing deep and even. After a few tentative sniffs of his fingertips, the creature edged closer.

That’s right. This planet is my home, too. You and I have a lot in common.

The loth-cat’s ears perked up, and Ezra eased out of his crouch and sat back on his heels. Stretching first its front legs and then the backs, the loth-cat emerged from the grass and sat directly in front of him, its posture relaxed and friendly. From this vantage point, they were roughly the same height—different expressions of the same planet. Ezra reached out and gently ran his fingers through the creature’s tawny fur, and the loth-cat began to purr. He scritched behind its ears and under its chin, and soon the loth-cat was on its back, stretched out next to him.

Ezra couldn’t help himself; he smiled and began to laugh, rolling on his side as the loth-cat playfully batted at his hand. Ezra’s laugh carried across the prairie; he forgot all about the stinging cuts on his arms and his difficulty focusing. They began to chase each other through the grass, ducking low, then pouncing, playing off one another’s energy. He felt the Force everywhere. It radiated through him and the loth-cat and more. He knew every blade of grass, every flower in bloom, every fruit that had ever grown ripe while rooted in Lothal’s loamy soil, and every dormant seed biding its time.

He and the loth-cat came to a rocky outcropping, where they sat beside one another and surveyed the landscape below them. They’d been wandering for hours, and the light of the day was beginning to fade. The loth-cat stood and stretched, and with a flick of its tail, it disappeared back into the grass. Ezra smiled as the creature’s presence began to fade, and with his mind completely still, he began to slowly make his way back to the Ghost.

In the dying light of the day, he saw Kanan’s silhouette beside the ship, watching the sun recede beyond the edge of the horizon. Ezra envied how easy meditation seemed for Kanan.

“Sorry I’m not a very good student,” he said quietly, joining Kanan.

Kanan turned towards him and was silent, choosing his words carefully.

“A bad student wouldn’t have tried again.”

Ezra gave a small shrug of his shoulders, and a smile appeared briefly on his lips. After his encounter with the loth-cat, his vision seemed sharper and his perception deeper.

“I’m proud of you, Ezra."

But Ezra already knew that; he could feel it rolling off his Master in waves, and for once, Ezra did not retreat to the safety of the shore. He stayed in the current and swam. It was too beautiful not to.

Chapter Text

Though his helmet provided a buffer between the noisy din of the bar and his ears, it did not make inconspicuously sipping a drink easy. Ezra could barely hear himself think over the latest shouting match that had erupted from the pazaak table in the corner, but he had his orders—when the time came, interrupt the stormtroopers that patrolled the alley behind the bar long enough for Zeb, Sabine, and Kanan to connect the cargo crates full of proton bombs to their speeder bikes. In the best-case scenario, they’d slip out to the spaceport undetected, rendezvous with the Phantom, and be on their way back to base. Worst case? Well, hopefully they’d still score some proton bombs.

Hera’s contact—a surly Devaronian (no relation to Vizago)—had been unwilling to give them an exact time, but she swore she trusted him and that they’d find a way to make it work. And so here Ezra was, nursing his third revnog, his eyes increasingly strained from watching for any kind of movement in the back alley. Please, let there be anything other than the white armor of the stormtrooper patrol. He was bored out of his mind. He had long since decided how he was going to distract the stormtroopers—fire a couple of blaster shots in the opposite direction of the alley—and had planned his escape, too. He’d also tried practicing the meditation assignment Kanan had given him, and he’d also mentally rearranged the contents of the Ghost’s dry storage—twice.

Ezra was just about to order a stronger drink when he saw the purple flash of an energy coupler detaching from the alley. A stocky figure in an airspeeder had slowed down just long enough to park a string of dark crates behind a dumpster before disappearing back into the flow of traffic. His heart suddenly started pounding; that was his cue. He slipped off his stool and out into the alley, narrowly avoiding a pair of Trandoshans who seemed to be on the brink of brawling.

“Spectre 6 here. I’ve got eyes on the cargo. Alley’s clear for you,” Ezra whispered into his commlink as he watched the regular stormtrooper patrol disappear around the corner. “I’ll get you your distraction now.”

“Copy that, Spectre 6,” Kanan said. “We’re on our way.”

Ezra turned back towards the bar, mentally calculating where he’d intercept the patrol. Best to start somewhere out front and lure them a few blocks over. Kanan, Zeb, and Sabine certainly knew their way around an energy coupler, but the crates were bound to be heavy, and they’d have to split them between their three bikes. They could use all the time he could buy them. He wove his way through the crowd and was nearly out the door when he heard shouting behind him.

“Hey! You in the helmet! Stop right there.”

Fighting his instinct to run, Ezra froze on the spot. When he snuck a glance over his shoulder, the bartender, flanked by two stormtroopers, was pointing at him and frowning.

“He’s trying to rob me!” the bartender yelled, waving his arms wildly. “That guy right there.”

“You steal from bars often, kid?” one of the stormtroopers said, his blaster cocked as he approached Ezra. “Anything else you got there stolen, huh?”

Ezra knew he wasn’t drunk, but he was willing to concede that he wasn’t as sharp as he would have liked to have been, and it took him longer than it should have to realize that in his haste to collect their cargo, he’d completely forgotten about his bar tab. He’d weaseled his way out of stickier spots, though never when the stakes were this high.

“Not a habit of mine, no, sir.”

“You lying loth-rat, I’ve caught you in my dumpsters before,” the bartender yelled. ‘You think you’re some kind of big-time thief, huh? Well, not anymore, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” he said. “I swear, I have credits. Just a misunderstanding.”

He began to reach into his pocket, but the end of one of the stormtrooper’s blasters hit him in the center of the back.

“You blew your chance to pay, kid. You’re coming with us.”

One of the stormtroopers grabbed him by the arm and began to march him out into the street. Under his helmet, Ezra blinked rapidly to stop himself from tearing up. The impact hurt, but he’d dealt with worse. But getting caught forgetting to pay? He should have known better. He was a liability, and now he was never going to see his friends again.

A siren suddenly began to wail, coming from the direction of the alley. A garbled message played from the stormtrooper’s commlink, and he let go of Ezra’s arm.

“Guess it’s your lucky day, kid. Consider this your final warning.” The trooper gave him a shove that knocked him to the ground, then fell in formation behind the others, all rushing towards the siren.

“Don’t let me ever catch you in here again,” the bartender said, towering over Ezra. “Or I’ll make sure you’re never lucky again.”

Ezra nodded furiously, dumping a pile of credits onto the ground, and skittered towards the alley. He hadn’t seen the crew arrive, but judging by the firefight, they had been discovered midway through their pickup.

“Comin’ in hot, Spectre-2,” Kanan’s voice shouted through Ezra’s commlink. “We got what we could. See you at the rendezvous point.”

“Not what I wanted to hear,” came Hera’s response. “But see you soon.”

Three bikes suddenly burst out of the alley and onto the main street, with Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb each firing their blasters at the pursuing stormtroopers. Ezra leapt from his hiding spot and landed clumsily on the back of Kanan’s bike, nearly tipping it off balance.

“Where the kriff were you?” Zeb yelled at him. “Could have used a little more time!”

“Save it!” Kanan hollered as he steered them down another alley, trying to throw off the Imperial pursuers.

Under his helmet, Ezra’s cheeks burned. He couldn’t even make himself useful on the back of this bike, as he had dropped his own blaster when he fell to the ground. He was a burden, weighing down the bike’s already-taxed engine as it strained to pull the cargo container behind it. He held his breath all the way to the spaceport, then moved faster than anyone as they loaded the proton bombs into the Phantom. They abandoned the speeder bikes to whichever lucky street rat found them first, and they were airborne.

The trip back to the Ghost’s hiding spot was uneventful, free of any unwelcome interruptions or blaster shots, and they unloaded their cargo quietly and efficiently. Ezra wanted to disappear for a rotation or two, but Hera called a mandatory team debrief almost as soon as they had finished, and he knew there was no getting out of that.

Wordlessly, the crew gathered around the circular table of the mess hall. Ezra began to shut off the unnecessary circuits in his brain, preparing himself to autopilot through the meeting and recuperate from whatever damage it caused afterwards.

“What happened back there?” Kanan asked, breaking the silence and turning towards Ezra. “Where were you?”

“We nearly got killed. Those stupid stormtroopers started firing at us. Crates full of proton bombs! Could have taken down the entire block, and us along with it,” Zeb said, banging his fist on the table so hard it shook.

“Zeb! That’s not what we’re—” Kanan began to say, grabbing the Lasat’s wrist to stop the banging.

“Yeah, I know,” Ezra interrupted, swallowing hard. “I messed up.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Zeb shot back, and Ezra’s insides flashed with anger.

“Well, if you’re so kriffing perfect, maybe you should have been the one doing the distracting. You could’ve gagged them with the smell of your feet.”

Zeb made like he was going to reach across the table and grab Ezra by the collar, but he stopped the instant he saw Hera fold her arms and glare at them both.

“Ezra, it’s going to happen—everyone makes mistakes. There’ll be other missions. But we need to know what happened so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she said kindly but sternly before turning to Zeb. “And you should know better than this. Nobody’s ever going to learn if all you do is yell.”

No one spoke as Hera’s words settled over the table.

“It’s stupid,” Ezra said finally. “I got distracted and forgot to pay my tab. The bartender must’ve recognized me from somewhere, and he sent some stormtroopers after me. That’s why I couldn’t distract the patrol.”

He had to remind himself to breathe after he had finished talking, and the silence that followed seemed to last an eternity. Ezra waited, steeling himself against their worst judgment. At last, Kanan clasped his hands together and spoke.

“I think we asked too much of you this time. Sounds like you weren’t ready to be on your own like that. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

“It’s really okay. I’m the one who should be apologizing. It was my mistake.”

“Hey. We do things as a team around here.”

Ezra almost believed him.

Chapter Text

Ezra stretched and yawned, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to being awake. The absence of snores from the bunk below told him Zeb was already up, but he had no idea what time it was. Even with the ship’s lighting system set to mimic the cycle of night and day, it was hard to fall into any kind of rhythm while sleeping in a windowless durasteel room. Natural light: that was just about the only edge his old comms tower had over the Ghost.

Nimbly, he leapt from the upper bunk and landed soundlessly in a crouch on the floor. Kicking aside a small pile of dirty laundry with his bare foot, he began to get dressed. He fished his socks out of another pile of clothes and pulled them on. He slid his foot into one sock, and as he began to pull on the other, the fabric, flimsy with age, ripped across the heel. He grabbed onto a rung of the bunk’s ladder to stop himself from falling and winced as his heel sat exposed. The durasteel floor was less invigorating and now just cold.

This complicates things, Ezra thought. He preferred to travel light, which had come to mean owning one pair of socks that he washed whenever he didn’t mind being barefoot for a few hours. He might have been a street urchin, but even he had standards: bare feet never went in shoes. Someone else on this ship was bound to have a pair of socks he could swipe.

He scanned through his options. Chopper was easy to eliminate, as was Zeb, who did not seem to wear socks at all. Stealing (and then wearing) Sabine’s socks seemed wrong on principle, like she might take it the wrong way if she found out, and so Ezra ruled her out as well. Then there was Hera; his feet weren’t giant by galactic standards, but they were larger than hers, and anything he found in her bunk was likely to be uncomfortably tight, especially as his feet continued to grow. That left Kanan. Ezra exited his bunk, giving the hallway a quick scan before he slid open the doors to Kanan’s cabin and closed them quickly behind him.

Kanan’s bunk was sparse. The walls were unadorned, and his bedroll contained only a threadbare blanket and a nearly-flat pillow. Ezra scanned the room and began to methodically open drawers, some of which he recognized from the last time he’d rifled through Kanan’s possessions. But he wasn’t here to steal any lightsabers or holocrons. His needs were much simpler today, though based on the look of the first couple of drawers he slid open, it was entirely possible Kanan also only owned one pair of socks, and he appeared to have already gotten dressed for the day.

Ezra crouched down to check the drawers underneath Kanan’s bed, where he finally opened one that contained a small pile of clothes, including a pair of old, stained socks. Jackpot. His hand closed around them the instant he heard the door hiss open.

Even with his back to his Master, Ezra felt Kanan’s eyes on him. Still crouching, he let go of the socks and turned around. His mind desperately searched for a way to spin this that didn’t look suspicious, but he already knew that everything about what he was doing looked suspicious.

“I know what this looks like,” he said quickly, throwing his hands in the air to emphasize his innocence. I know it looks just like last time you caught me stealing, but I swear it’s not. He knew enough about their Force bond to know Kanan could catch glimpses of how he felt, but right now it wasn’t yet another form of communication between them so much as a haphazard deluge of emotions. Ezra and now Kanan were just along for the ride.

“If it looks like you’re going through my stuff, it’s because you are going through my stuff,” Kanan replied flatly from the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest. Ezra smiled weakly.

“So? If it’s not what it looks like, what is it then?” Kanan said.

Ezra sank back on his heels, opening and closing his mouth several times before he found the right words.

“My sock has a hole in it,” he said finally, pointing to his bare foot.

“Your sock has a hole in it,” Kanan repeated back. “And so you’re in my cabin, doing what? Looking for a sewing kit?”

“Well, no. It’s beyond that. I, um, I was looking for another sock.”

Now it was Kanan’s turn to hesitate. His eyes travelled from Ezra’s face to his bare foot to the open drawer several times.

“Why didn’t you just ask?”

“For what?”

“Another sock, Ezra.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

Kanan sighed and sat down on the floor beside his Padawan. Ezra did not need a Force bond to sense the gentle exasperation radiating from his Master.

“Don’t be mad,” Ezra pleaded. “I’ll never come into your room again, I promise.”

“I’m not mad. Not that you’re in my room, at least. Irritated, maybe. But not mad.”

Ezra sucked his breath through his teeth.

“Besides, if you had just asked, you would have known all my good socks are in the wash right now.”

Ezra’s giggle escaped before he could suppress it, and the harder he fought to stop it, the more he needed to laugh. Soon they were both on the floor cackling, the sound of their laughter echoing through the Ghost.

“So does that mean I can have one of your socks?” Ezra said seriously, gasping for air. “‘Cause my foot’s getting kind of cold.”

“Yes, Ezra. Obviously. Anything else you need?”

“My own lightsaber?”

“Anything else you need that I can get for you?”

Ezra stood up and shook his head. I think I already have everything I need, he thought as they made their way towards the sonic washer. I think I already have it.

Chapter Text

Capital City’s marketplace bustled with activity. Despite the increased Imperial presence on Lothal, buyers still had their choice of tables piled high with an assortment of local fruits and vegetables, all fresh from the fields and orchards of Ezra’s home planet. He was no stranger to the market, though today did mark a departure from his usual routine. Today, instead of stealing a little from each vendor or rooting around the dumpsters for salvageable fruit, Ezra was here to buy, and he had an ambitious list.

As far as he could tell, none of the other members of the crew had spent much time on Lothal, especially among the locals. Lothal wasn’t the only planet that celebrated the summer solstice, but the others were likely unfamiliar with the local custom of gift-giving that typically accompanied the longest day of the year. Under the long, late evening sun, it was tradition to exchange gifts that spoke to someone’s essence—who they really were. Long days brought out the best in people, and the solstice was a time to celebrate that.

And so Ezra, as the only native Lothalian, felt obligated to share this important aspect of his planet’s culture with his new crew. Obligated, sure, but there was more to it: underneath ran a current of how badly he wanted to celebrate the solstice—to share himself and his life with these people who had been strangers and who were becoming less strange as the days passed. How could they understand him if they didn’t understand where he came from? He had volunteered to visit the market that day to pick up some essentials, and it just so happened to provide excellent cover for his own mission.

Chopper was the easiest member of the crew to shop for. A popular children’s toy consisting of multicolored concentric rings that rotated pleasingly was sure to charm even the most choleric of droids. Sabine, too, was relatively straightforward: the natural choice was a small set of paints derived from various berries, ores, and roots of Lothal’s prairies and hills.

Zeb presented more of a challenge, in no small part because Ezra half-wished he could skip right over the Lasat or at least gift him a fist to the jaw. But this antagonism eventually leant itself to a more elegant conclusion: a hunting spear, made in the style of those used by generations of nomadic hunters. Yes, it spoke to Zeb’s heart, and if they were lucky, it might also help break up the monotony of their ration-pack-based meals.

He meandered through the market methodically. It took him awhile to find something for Hera, but when he saw the compass, he knew his search was over. On its metallic surface, it displayed the cardinal directions and so much more: the phases of Lothal’s moons and the constellations up above, and while the sun was up, it could be used as a rudimentary sundial. Efficient and straightforward, but not without personality, just like Hera.

And that left Kanan. Ezra agonized over what to give his Master. Everything he wanted to give felt ungiftable: his focus, his commitment to studying the Force, his eternal thanks for giving him a second, and then a third, and then a fourth chance to prove himself. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly against his hip, looking for inspiration. The sun had climbed high in the sky and now shone brightly, its heat radiating off the stones that paved Lothal’s streets. As Ezra reached to remove his jacket, his fingers brushed against the cord of his necklace—and he knew exactly what he was going to give to Kanan. Quickly, he purchased the rest of the requested supplies and loaded everything onto the back of his speeder bike.

Once he cleared the city streets, he took off, pushing the accelerator harder as the wind whipped through his hair. He soon left the central highway behind and made his way across the rippling sea of grass. Thanks to their efforts to camouflage the ship’s hull, he didn’t see the outline of the Ghost until he was nearly on top of it. A jolt of anxiety twinged in his stomach as he began to unload his cargo, and he was half tempted to stuff the gifts under his bunk and forget about the whole thing. Sharing how he felt; it was all still so new and strange to him. Zeb and Kanan appeared and began to help unload the crates.

“Wait,” Ezra said quickly, placing his hand on top of the container with his purchases. “Not that one.”

Zeb gave him a strange look but didn’t press the issue. Between the three of them, they unloaded and sorted the cargo smoothly.

Thanks to Ezra’s market run, ration packs were not on the menu tonight. The crew sat around the table, adding the finishing touches to their home-cooked dinner, complete with fresh fruits and vegetables. An extra napkin here, a fork and a spoon there; they shuffled around, making room for one another. Hera had just dipped the serving spoon into a pot of stewed jogans when Ezra stood up.

“Wait, can I say something first?”

“Sure. Go ahead, Ezra,” Hera said, looking wistfully at the bowl of fruit. “What’s up?”

His ears burned red as he sat down again, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Um, well, this place has always been my home. And I know you guys aren’t from here, but today is kind of a big deal here on Lothal. The solstice, you know, like, the longest day of the year. And, uh, we celebrate it by—” he paused, shifting awkwardly on his stool. “People give each other gifts. And so I got you each something.” He reached under his stool and pulled the bag of gifts into his lap.

“This planet’s my home, but now so are all of you. So thank you. For putting up with me and giving me a chance. A bunch of chances, really.”

He’d wrapped everything in what loose papers he could find in town, which mostly consisted of Imperial Wanted posters from a smattering of worlds, and he handed each member of the crew their gift.

“You don’t have to open them now,” he said quickly, hoping, in fact, he wouldn’t be around, but he was too late. Zeb and Sabine had already ripped the paper off and were examining their gifts.

“Whoa, Ezra, these are amazing,” Sabine said, holding one of the vials of paint up to the light. “I’ve never seen a color like this before.”

“This for chasing you with?” Zeb said, running his finger along the tip of the spear. Even through the joke, Ezra could tell he was impressed; Zeb knew craftsmanship when he saw it.

“I got you something, too, Kanan. Don’t worry. But I have to give it to you somewhere else,” Ezra said.

“Should I be worried?” Kanan said, narrowing his eyes.

“No! I just didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten you.”

“This is so thoughtful, Ezra,” Hera said, a smile beaming across her face. “We’d have never known about today without you. We really should be eating outside, shouldn’t we?”

A warm feeling of weightlessness spread across Ezra, flowing through his veins and circulating in his lungs. For years, he had resisted calling anywhere home, afraid that it would snuff out the already-dim memories of his parents, the home he grew up in, the home he knew was gone and never coming back, but that he still dreamed about nearly every night. But sitting here, now he understood—home could grow and change, expand and contract, but it could never be replaced. What he had now did not replace his parents, and it didn’t need to—the space this crew, this family, occupied was entirely their own, and his heart had room enough for it all. All he could do was smile softly.

As dinner wrapped up, they began to drift away from the table. Sabine retreated to her cabin to paint, and Zeb mentioned something about testing his spear—safely outside of the ship, as per Hera’s instructions. Ezra found Kanan sitting in the turret, looking at the last rays of light fade over the horizon.

“Can we take a walk?”

His Master nodded soundlessly, and they made their way off the ship. In the dark sky, Lothal’s twin moons had begun to wander. The prairie buzzed with the sounds of life: the scurrying of small rodents, insects calling to one another, and the wind rustling through the grass. As they crested a small hill, Ezra stopped. He unclasped his necklace and handed it to Kanan.

“I want you to have this,” he said. “It’s the tooth of a loth-wolf. Lots of people don’t believe in them anymore, but—” He paused. “I don’t know. Before I met you, I didn’t know what the Force was or that it could be controlled. I just thought it was this feeling I got sometimes. The first time I ever felt it was the day I found this.”

Kanan held the tooth in his palm. It shone white in the moonlight, almost glowing, and he ran a finger down its edge, worn dull with age. He brought the band around his neck and re-hooked the clasp.

“This planet has a special connection to the Force,” he said. “And you have a special connection to this planet.”

“Thanks for being my teacher. I mean it. Without you, I’d never know why I felt that way. It kind of makes me think I was supposed to find you, you know?”

“You’ve taught me a lot, too.” Kanan paused and looked toward the sky. “And yeah. I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.”