Work Text:
“Ah,” Zeb said, cracking his neck as he crouched behind a crate. Shots flew over his head and an explosion rattled the ground, but he paid them no mind. “Nothin’ like a botched mission to start the morning.”
“I heard that,” Kanan replied over the comms. Ezra snickered as Zeb smirked his way.
“Told ya I could get under his skin quicker than you.” He rolled his eyes, and when the second explosion rocked the hanger, he was distracted enough to not mind, just like Zeb and Kanan. Maybe he was getting the hang of this rebellion business.
“How about a little more cover fire from the two of you?”
“On it, boss,” Zeb said again, putting away his comm and remounting his rifle on the top of the crate. Ezra followed suit with his own lightsaber hilt, propping it against the edge and firing at stormtroopers. It worked a lot better than his energy bolts from his slingshot; if he knew about kyber crystals earlier, it could’ve saved him a lot of trouble.
An explosion rang out, and Ezra flinched back behind cover, while Zeb cheered. Seeing the lasat continue to shoot, he peered up again. Across the hanger, the remnants of a fuel canister fell back to the ground trailing smoke, still burning the fuel seeped onto its inner surface. “How’s that for cover fire?”
“Not bad!” Sabine said over the comms. Ezra shook his head, knowing she was talking more about the explosion itself than any after-effects.
From the quiet streets of Lothal, where the loudest noise heard on a daily basis was the cry of loth-cats at dusk, it was a big adjustment being so close to explosion after explosion. Not that he would ever admit to it; he was just as capable as any of them to get the job done. But he wondered how Zeb got so comfortable around the blasts. How Sabine could actually see art in them. He pretended to understand every time she went on a tangent, which usually got him into some awkward spots when a week later Sabine would bring up something and he would have no idea what she was talking about.
“It’ll do,” came Kanan. “Get to the Ghost!”
“Let’s go kid, don’t fall behind,” he joked. He really was in a good mood.
“Maybe don’t shove me back,” Ezra shot, remembering their first time trying to escape an imperial ship together.
“Maybe don’t tempt me with a good time,” he said with a laugh, and Ezra frowned. “Come on!” He stood from his crouched position, firing more in the direction of the scrambling stormtroopers towards the Ghost.
Ezra hesitated, a shot whizzing by the edge of the crate in front of him. Finding the trooper, he shot his lightsaber’s energy orb his way, and the white armor glowed blue for a split second before he collapsed into a heap on the ground.
He looked back towards the Ghost, watching Zeb vanish up the ramp, past Kanan, who deflected every bolt.
Fear shot through his body.
They wouldn’t leave him again – would they?
Every shot he deflected pushed Kanan a step backwards on the ramp. He needed to move, now. Shooting up from behind cover, he raced towards the Ghost, towards safety.
Kanan turned, looking his way.
“Ezra!” he cried.
A flash of something gray clinked on the ground in front of him, metallic.
He felt Kanan’s push, throwing his body back and away from the Ghost.
For a split second, his worse fears were true; but when the explosion came in a flash of pure, white energy, Ezra didn’t flinch.
*
*
*
He heard ringing in his ears, a high pitched, subtle alarm dragging him up from the oblivion of unconsciousness. Opening his eyes, the blinding light faded back into sight. Stormtrooper helmets bobbed over him. Something heavy weighed down his wrists –
They snapped together in front of him. Cuffs.
Ezra gasped, noise flooding back in of the hanger, the garble of voices distorted by helmets, and a distant, ship alarm. How his chest felt tight and his throat burned, and how he knew he was in cuffs without having to look. He jerked, instincts taking over –
Something metal and heavy snapped around his neck, and the world faded back out.
Another gasp escaped him. Something was missing. A piece of him, something… everything was dulled, as if the world turned monochromatic; or was it always this way, and he was only now noticing?
A stormtrooper hauled him to his feet.
Further into the hanger, the spot he ran to moments ago was empty.
The Ghost was gone.
He was alone.
Again.
“No…” he whispered. A trooper shoved him back, trying to get him to walk the other direction, further to his own demise. “No!” he gasped, breathless, falling to his knees. Arms wrapped around his chest, hooking under his chained wrists and dragging him away. “NO!”
Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t care. He screeched in his arms, struggling against him, ignoring if it was futile. His body took over, limbs writhing like exposed wires charged by panic.
His parents. Tseebo. Zeb. Now, Kanan. Now, all the people who he thought he could trust. He was too afraid to hope they’d return. They did it once, when he was nothing more than a stranger; but they got him into that mess. Rescuing Kanan from the Inquisitor had to be done; he was a Jedi. An actual one, unlike himself, a half-baked, failing student. Besides, this was a part of the job of being an enemy of the Empire. This is what he signed up to do.
And who was he kidding, he wasn’t cut out for this anyways. The others were. They had seen war, they had lived through heartbreak and anguish, through destruction and death. They were stronger for it. They were braver for it. They didn’t flinch at explosions, they didn’t hesitate to run into battle, they didn’t have trouble making the right choice.
Ezra stopped struggling, gasping for air in the trooper’s arms as he continued to plead through his tears, his face itching.
The cluster of troopers stopped outside of the hanger, while one went to close the doors. Ezra stared past them, past the blue ray shield at the stars the Ghost disappeared into as the doors sealed his fate.
Blue light erupted in the darkened hall behind a stormtrooper, piercing through his chest, the familiar sound of a lightsaber.
Pulled out from plastic armor, the trooper crumpled to the ground as Kanan rose to his full height, blade drawn, looking pissed.
Ezra took a breath. He didn’t even care if Kanan was pissed at him for getting grabbed; he was here. He was here for him.
Red shots illuminated the room, all aimed at his master.
The trooper holding him turned and shoved him to the cold floor, landing hard on his shoulder. Screams from stormtroopers echoed off the corridor halls, and Ezra curled into himself.
No, he couldn’t do nothing. He needed to help Kanan.
Scanning the remaining troopers, Ezra spotted it: hanging off a belt was his saber.
Reaching his hands out, he pulled.
Weird. He pulled again –
No. Was… the force…
He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t… they took it away. They took away the one reason they had to keep him on the Ghost, to be useful to the cause Hera and Kanan and Sabine and Zeb all cared so much about. How could he help them if he couldn’t do this? How… how could he stay?
A trooper fell next to him, and he flinched back.
Deflecting a shot back at another trooper stood Kanan, his ponytail loose and messy, sleeves singed, and smelling of smoke. The man fell, and the last one was tugged towards him, impaling on Kanan’s blade.
The lightsaber retracted and the trooper fell as Ezra’s lightsaber ripped from the belt of the trooper’s body and flew towards Kanan’s other hand with ease.
Then, he turned towards him, and instead of anger on his face, he looked relieved.
“Ezra.” He hurried over to him, crouching down and igniting his blade once more for a split tick to cut through his cuffs.
“Kanan,” he said, voice raw. “You… I can’t…” words tumbled through his head, not knowing what to say, or if to say anything at all.
“It’s a force repressor,” Kanan explained, hands fumbling with the device around his neck. With a click, it broke into two, clattering to the ground. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I… it’s not gone?”
“No, just muted,” he said. “It’ll come back, slowly. I can already sense you again, very faintly.” He blinked.
“I… I can’t sense you!”
“It’s okay, you will,” he said, handing him his saber. “Come on, we have to get out of here.” Pulling him up by his arm, he stood with him. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Ezra shook his head.
“But the Ghost—”
“Circling back around,” he said, letting go of his arm. “Come on—”
“No!” Kanan froze. “No, please… please don’t let go.” Ezra reached for his hand, stopping midway, unsure.
Kanan nodded. “Okay. It’s okay.” He took his hand. “I got you.” Ezra swallowed, nodding, and there it was – a drip of the force returning as he could feel the truthfulness to Kanan’s words. The faintest whisper of his presence was readable to him again, the thin chord of their bond revealed.
With a nod, they turned and ran back through the hanger as the sounds of a ship approached. Blaster shots crossed their path, and Kanan deflected each one with ease, tugging Ezra closer or holding him further out to protect him from stray ones he himself couldn’t detect, and all while never letting go.
The Ghost appeared through the ray shield, lowering its ramp with the ship halfway through without landing, and Zeb rained down cover from his rifle.
“Ready?” Kanan called, giving his hand a squeeze. Ezra nodded, and Kanan pulled him closer, arms touching, and called upon the force.
They flew through the hanger, landing dead center on its ramp with a grace Ezra had yet to master, and Kanan tugged him the rest of the way up the ramp as it closed behind them.
Panting, Ezra didn’t let go of Kanan’s hand, leaning closer. He didn’t care how he looked. Kanan was the only real thing he could faintly sense with the force; there was no way he would let go and risk losing it.
“Geeze, kid, we almost got blown to bits because of you,” Zeb scowled. “What happened? I thought you ‘ere right behind me!”
“I… you left me, that’s what happened!” he snapped. “You left me, again! I… you didn’t…” he tried to hold onto his anger, but it slipped from his grasp. “I… you left me.” He wiped his face with his sleeve.
Zeb shifted on his feet. “Well… we came back for ya, didn’t we?” he chuckled.
“Whatever,” he huffed, ripping his hand from Kanan’s comfort and turning to leave.
“Ezra.” Kanan grabbed hold of his shoulder and gently turned him back around. “Is that what this is about? Is that why you were screaming?”
“What? I wasn’t. I didn’t.”
“No, it’s okay. I couldn’t sense you either, when they put the collar on. The explosion knocked me out too, and I thought… but then I heard you, and knew you were still alive. No matter what Ezra, we won’t leave you. We will always find you.”
He swallowed, glancing between them.
“But… what if I can’t use the force now? What if it’s gone?” Ezra asked.
“It’s not, I promise,” he said. “The force is everywhere. It surrounds us—”
“And stabs us, and hog-ties us all together, yeah I know, Kanan.” He frowned, closing his eyes in an attempt at patience.
“Even without all that wizard junk,” Zeb said, his voice softer. “We’d still need you around, kid. I mean, who else is gonna laugh at my jokes?” Ezra eyed him, and found the force trickling back through him, a stream growing into a river, telling him again it was the truth. He could feel Zeb’s warm presence grow, laced with feelings of sadness and regret.
Ezra huffed. “Your jokes aren’t that good.”
“They’re better than Kanan’s.” Ezra couldn’t help it – he snorted a laugh. “Aha! See?” Zeb shouted, and a smile crept onto his face.
“Okay. Just… stop leaving me behind.”
“I promise,” Zeb said. “I won’t get on any ship unless your orange butt is already buckled in.”
“You feel the force returning?” Kanan asked, and Ezra nodded. “Good,” he said, latching onto his hand. “You’ll be able to sense your way to the medbay with me.”
“What! No way!” he said, struggling as the Jedi pulled him forward. “Zeb! Save me!”
The Lasat chuckled. “This wasn’t a part of the promise. You’re on your own!”
“Traitor!” Ezra yelled from the hallway, hearing Zeb’s laughter even after the doors closed.