Chapter Text
Ezra sat outside the door. He couldn't hear the voices inside, but he just knew they were talking about him. He squeezed his eyes shut. Chin dropped down to his chest.
Hera was going to kill him. If he was lucky. Odds are he would receive a lecture to make his ears burn and shame him enough he would become deaf, forced to hear the same words repeating over and over.
"Stupid Ezra," He hugged his middle, hunching over as though to protect his vital organs as he scolded himself. "Why did you do it? You knew be....."
"Ezra."
He jumped. He hadn't even heard the principal's door open. Hera stood in the doorway. Blonde hair waved in front of her expressionless face. She was still in her favorite work outfit and he wondered if she had turned down a customer because of him.
His first foster home before he ran away at eight had punished him severely for that mistake. Apparently running a fever high enough to require the E.R was something under his control.
"Come on. Now." She crooked a finger and he jumped up.
He trailed after her through the crowded school hallways, hands in his jean pockets. He could feel the eyes of the other students burn into his skin as they passed. This would be all over the school by tomorrow. He cringed at that thought. They hated him enough as it is. Ezra, the ‘special’ kid that took ‘special classes.’
Special translated into ‘idiot’ in middle school terms.
Mercifully, Hera waited until they had loaded into the old van, out of sight of any witnesses, before tearing into him.
"Ezra Bridger! I cannot believe what you just did!" She lightly smacked the steering wheel at the end of each sentence for emphasis. "Breaking a classmate's nose? We've talked about physical violence solving issues. What happened to your promise?"
Ezra had forgotten about that one. Kanan and Hera had sat him down the first day he had come home with a suspension. If anything happened, no matter what, he was supposed to get a teacher’s attention. If that didn’t work…..well, Hera hadn’t threatened the principal to allow him to keep his phone on at all times for all reason. It was supposed to help them develop better ‘communication doors,’ the therapist had said in their group meeting.
"Sorry Hera," Ezra mumbled, looking out the window. "It won't happen again."
"I should say not," Hera sighed. "you'll be grounded for at least a month, if not more. You better hope they don't come after us for medical bills….." Her voice trailed off. Which was very unlike her.
When he finally gathered the courage to look over at her, he found that Hera wasn't even looking at him anymore . She was leaning back against the seat, hand against her forehead, and eyes closed. She looked like she had aged ten years in the past few minutes.
Ezra's heart dropped to his stomach. He hated being the reason for her stress. If it wasn’t for him, she would be at work. Instead, she was forced to lose money because of him. Money that they used on him for clothes and food and his literal existence. Money he couldn’t even pay back because he was too young to get a job. YOU'RE JUST LIKE WHAT HE SAID…..
"I'll make supper tonight. Maybe.....spaghetti?" Everyone loved pasta. Except Hera. She preferred protein drinks and whole vegetables. "You know what? I'll....do the dishes. Yeah, even the pans." Stars, but he hated how he rambled at the slightest inconvenience. Zeb had threatened multiple times to toss him out the window if he didn't stop the habit. SHUT UP SHUT UP...... His mind said. But his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
Hera didn't respond to any of his other ramblings, promising to do certain chores, and begging to be grounded.. It took another minute after he stopped talking for her to even open her eyes.
She finally pulled off her wristlet--a keychain photo hanging off it--to stick the keys in the ignition. "Let's...just talk about this later."
Ezra’s blood ran cold. She hadn't ever shelved a conversation before. It was one thing he had appreciated about Hera—once she became aware of a problem, she would immediately address it. He never had to sit in anticipation of her next decision, because she always knew what to do.
A part of his mind wondered if he had finally ruined his first real home in years.
....
The first foster home Ezra had been placed in after his parents had disappeared had been a joke. The house had already been dealing with another half-dozen screaming, snot-nosed kids. The parents, looking back, had clearly only been in it for the paycheck that came in every month. At the time, even Ezra had understood that they didn’t really want a grieving kid underfoot. Illness was an inconvenience; snacks were a bother. Tears and bed-wetting due to night terrors? The worst crime of all.
That meant no one even looked at the tiny seven year old that cried every night for a family that would never return. When nightmares woke him up crying, he was mocked by the older boys in the room. If he brought out his stuffed animal for comfort, he would find pacifiers stolen from the crib under his blankets.
Finally, after his teddy bear being ripped apart in front of his face, and a meeting with a social worker that ignored everything he said, Ezra decided it was no longer worth the hassle. If his parents were still alive, they would find him, like the book his teacher had once read to his class about the bunny rabbit that always found his way home.
So he loaded up his little backpack, and snuck out the door while everyone else was sleeping, out into the big wide scary world.
That first night, he slept in an alleyway. A cardboard box served as his shelter. It was scary, but also exciting. Like a big adventure. Until he woke up the next morning with his bag stolen, and only the clothes he wore on his back. Yet he still refused to return to the foster home. In his mind, anything out here was better than being in there.
And so the cycle began.
Time passed, trudging on in its never-ending cycle around the earth. The days turned into months, which turned into years. The small child grew from a wide-eyed dreamer to a cynical boy, wary of the horrors surrounding him. Hunger became his only constant friend—homeless shelters were his only source of clothes and bedding, when he could follow a large family in, and pretend he was one of them to prevent the volunteers from calling social services.
He was fine. He didn’t need anyone. He only needed himself. He repeated this mantra every night, both in warmth and cold. He reminded himself of this when his shoulders brushed the arms of strangers on the sidewalks, or when little kids would wave in his direction before their parents dragged them away from the ‘delinquent.’
That all changed when Officer Kallus had caught him pick-pocketing in front of the local Wal-mart. He had brought him to the police station, prepared to bring him to juvie when the identification came back, as the former foster boy declared dead six years prior.
His former foster family had lost their license, so he couldn’t be placed with him (which was fine with Ezra). Inquiries with foster families lead to denials, none of them wanting what would be a ‘feral’ child in their home.
That didn’t surprise Ezra. He had become used to being unwanted.
What did surprise him was when, after spending three days sleeping in a jail cell while calls were made, was when they found a willing home waiting for him in the next town.
Kanan Jarrus, the file said. A long-lost cousin, so distant that the relation wouldn’t normally even count in a kinship care case. This Jarrus man had apparently never even met Ezra or his parents. Never even knew that he had relatives on the Bridger side.
But no one would really want the street-rat with trauma and the fingers of a thief, Kallus had said in his stupid arrogant voice when he told Ezra the news. That if this Jarrus man was smart, he would stay as far away.
Despite what the officer had said, Kanan must have agreed without too much of a fuss. He had shown up within hours to pick Ezra up. He was clearly uncomfortable, with an awkward grin stretching across his face. But he still patted the kid on the shoulder.
"Hey kid. Ready to blow this Popsicle joint?" Had been the first thing Kanan had said to him. Within minutes, papers had been signed, phone numbers exchanged, and Ezra found himself in the seat of a trunk with a man he hadn’t known existed two hours ago.
Ezra had never found out why Kanan had taken him in. But he could never bring himself to question it; that if he voiced his insecurities, they would all come true, like a reverse wish on a shooting star.
Now, living in a one-story house that had seen better days, Ezra constantly found himself trying to find the line in the sand. He couldn't figure out where he fit in this motley group of people; between Zeb who was living there due to a injury he received from goodness -knows-where, Sabine; the next door neighbor who stayed over so often that Kanan and Hera considered her their own: Hera, Kanan's lover and the glue of the household. Each one completely different, but still blended together in a chaotic mix of family and love.
And then Kanan. The man who had never met Ezra before the police station. Who accepted the thirteen year old into his house and family without even blinking. Had taught Ezra what boundaries were acceptable when the kid’s touch-starvation had become so desperate that he constantly jumped into people’s personal bubbles. Who held his hair back over the toilet when Ezra didn’t know the limits of his stomach. Who made sure that, no matter what, Ezra knew he could come to him for affection and a shoulder to cry on.
But you didn’t grow up on the streets without being able to read people. Ezra could see the doubt on Kanan’s face on the bad days. The sadness in his eyes when Ezra did something that, it turned out, was not normal. The stress lines that hid in the creases of his eyes. Kanan was clearly terrified of the legal ties that made him responsible for Ezra.
And the boy could only wonder what it would take for his guardian to sever those connections completely.
.....
Chopper meowed as Ezra shoved the front door open. The mrrw sounded like a strangled bird was caught in the orange tabby's throat. He was perched on top of the bookshelf, as far away from Zeb's reach as humanly possible.
"Hey kid, aren't you supposed to be at school?" Zeb called over the couch cushion. A wrestling match was on the television. Must have been Zeb’s day off.
Ezra wondered shortly why he didn’t pick him up, before remembering that Kanan had forgotten to sign him off on the pick-up list. Hera had been nagging him on that one.
"Or didja decide to skip?"
"Shut it Zeb." Ezra toed off his shoes at the door. Leaving his backpack on the floor, He ran down the hallway to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door before Hera could follow enter the house.
"What happened?" Zeb sat up as Hera sunk into the arm-chair. Chopper left his perch to climb onto her lap, purring. Her hands stroked the soft fur. Orange hairs stuck out like a sore thumb on her green dress.
"Ezra got into a fight at school. He's suspended for the rest of the week."
"Karabast, that's not good." Zeb said. "Anyone know the reason why?"
"Well, the teacher claims it's unprovoked. Ezra won't say a word, and the principal won't ask the right questions, so take your pick." Hera sighed. She had first taken the teacher’s word on the matter. Ezra was a bit rough. Most days he was caught between fight and flight mode, watching every movement anyone made with the intensity of a cat stalking its prey.
But despite that, Ezra had always worn his heart on his sleeve. He was affectionate and outgoing, and would talk to anything (or anyone) that crossed his path. If he had been accused of something that he didn’t do, he would make sure that they all knew it, sometimes for days afterward.
So after he didn’t tell her the details in the car, she didn’t know what to believe. There had been no waves of guilt on his face; only a hint of fear lurking underneath the surface.
Kanan couldn’t come home soon enough; out of all of them, he had the strongest bond with Ezra. When he was home, Ezra would follow him like an extra shadow. It would get better with time, Ezra’s therapist had reassured them. It was part of his touch hunger. Once he processed everything that had happened, his attachment would improve with time and age.
Even with Kanan’s presence, the odds of success was questionable. Ezra had been living there for five months. Some days, he was eager and cooperative. Others, he shut down completely, unwilling to open to anyone. It was discouraging, Hera had to admit. She had come to love the boy as her own, and it hurt when he shut down completely.
"He's not violent for no reason," Zeb rose with a groan. He picked up Ezra’s school bag, tossing it on the couch. "I betcha someone said something. Kids are cruel."
Hera remembered him saying once that he used to be bullied for his unusual accent and his abnormally tall height. Her heart warmed. Zeb and Ezra fought often—more than once she and Kanan had been woken up over the ruckus--but he loved the kid like a younger brother.
"We'll see what Kanan can find out." Hera glanced at the clock. Please Kanan, hurry home.
.......
Ezra could hear the rumble of Kanan's truck—the Phantom, Sabine jokingly called it, since it was super old and beat up and shouldn't be running—pull up into the driveway before shutting off. He closes his eyes, burying himself deeper under the orange comforter as though he could hide.
He didn't have much longer. Would this be the last time sleeping in his bed? He hoped Kanan would at least let him keep the comforter.
His guardian had taken him to the store the same night he brought him home, to pick out hygiene products and pajamas, and everything he needed to get immediately until he got his paycheck and could take Ezra shopping for all the essential.
But the blanket—it had been his favorite, sitting on the clearance shelf due to a small stain in the corner. Kanan hadn’t hesitated to pull it off the shelf when Ezra’s eyes had flicked toward it, then away. Had laid it in Ezra’s hands once the bill had been paid. Pretended not to notice when the boy hugged it to his chest the rest of the way home.
It had been a desperate move; a peace offering to make the boy more comfortable? To show Ezra he wouldn’t turn him away for little things?
Ezra didn’t know; but still, five months later, it was still the most favorite thing he owned. It felt like that moment in the store—awkward and fresh and unfamiliar—had been woven into the very seams of the fabric; the first real gift Ezra had gotten in years that hadn’t been charity or stolen.
So caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed the soft rap on the door. When he didn't answer, he heard it creak open, followed by Kanan's soft "Ezra?"
Ezra couldn't face him. One of the few rules that Kanan had for him (no fighting or violence) and he had completely failed. He made sure the blanket blocked him out from the rest of the world. This would be a great time for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, bed and all.
Kanan sighed. Soft footsteps approached. The bed dipped as he sat down, right against Ezra's back. The weight was normally comforting. Now it just left him on edge.
"Ezra, we need to talk." That was an ominous way to start. Kanan only used that specific phrase when Ezra was in trouble or they had to talk about his ‘feelings.’ " Hera told me what happened at school."
"What a surprise." Ezra muttered.
Kanan cleared his throat, but continued. "You know violence is wrong. We've talked about it. So, tell me. What happened?"
"What does it matter?" Ezra curled up tighter. "I hit him, I shouldn't have. Just give me whatever punishment I deserve and let's move on." His stupid mouth would get him kicked out for sure. He heard Kanan's small exhale of breath. He braced himself for Kanan declaring that this was the last straw. That Ezra was too much of a burden to remain in HIS house.
But Kanan did none of those things. His hand landed on Ezra's covered side, trailing all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He squeezed, just enough to ground him. Despite himself, Ezra felt tears spring to his eyes. Stupid touch starvation.
"You gotta give me something kid. You can have all the angsty secrets you want. But not when it affects other people."
Ezra squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't, Kanan."
"Can't? Or won't?"
When Ezra didn't answer, Kanan gave a long sigh. "we'll talk about this later. And come to supper this time. I don't fancy another lecture from the pediatrician." One more brief squeeze and the hand was gone.
It was all Ezra could do to not beg him to come back. He instead buried his face in his pillow and willed himself not to cry. I’m not weak, he told himself over and over.
It was too bad his mind disagreed with him.
.....
It was the middle of the night when Ezra finally emerged from his room.
He had spent the entire day under the covers, ignoring everyone. Supper has been placed on the side table. He had eaten a few bites reluctantly, only because Hera wouldn't hesitate to rip off his sheets and threaten him if he didn't (once was enough, thank you). He ignored Zeb when the man crept into the room. Mercifully, the man must have realized that any amount of talking would make Ezra burst. So nothing was said.
Now, Zeb’s snores were keeping him up. And that was when Ezra seized his opportunity. He rose silently, and crept out into the darkened room, into the now silent house.
He had tossed his backpack down on the floor on the way in. His phone was still inside, and despite everything in him telling him it was a bad idea, he had to know if it was already online. He had to know what he was up against when he went back to school.
The light from the street lamp through the windows was enough to locate his bag, now on the couch. He hefted it up onto the side table, sticking his hand down the front pocket.
Instead, his fingers only closed around air. Just as a lamp flicked on.
"Looking for this?"
Ezra jumped. Sabine had been standing in the corner of the room, invisible in the shadows. Frick. He had forgotten she was staying over while her mom was out of town.
"Sabiinnnee...." He drawled out, leaning back. Trying to pretend he wasn't staring at his phone in her hand.
"Fancy seeing you here...." Act cool act cool act cool…..
She rolled her eyes. "Ever gonna drop the act?"
"Drop what?" Ezra widened his eyes in mock innocence, spreading his hands. Diversion was his specialty. "I'm just saying hello."
"Sure. If you were going for the tone of ‘creepy stalker’ mode, you succeeded." She hesitated. "Tristan told me what happened."
Frick. Ezra had forgotten that her brother went to the same school. He would have been friends with enough people on social media to know what happened.
"Great," Ezra smacked his forehead. "Of course he would."
"As he should." Sabine’s hands went to her hips. "Kid, you've got to tell Kanan about this. This can't keep going on."
"It's not that big of a deal," Ezra's voice rose.
"Look, I promised I wouldn't say anything as long as it didn't get dangerous." Sabine stepped closer. "But this, today.....it went too far. You either tell Kanan and Hera, or I will."
"Tell me what?"
They both froze.
Kanan was leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows quirked. His rumpled sleep shirt and sweatpants made it plain that he had just gotten out of bed. But the circles under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t made it to the ‘sleep’ portion of the night.
Sabine gave Ezra a look. He glared back, pointing at her. You're dead, he mouthed.
Sabine shrugged, patting his shoulder on her way past. She wouldn’t be concerned; even if Ezra had gotten mad enough to do anything, she had enough martial arts trophies and medals on her walls to say that it would be a very bad idea.
"I'm going to bed. You all sort this out." She pushed past Kanan to the hallway. One thing Ezra could appreciate; she would never get in someone's business that wasn't her problem. Unlike him.
Kanan dropped down onto the couch. He leaned back, arm propped on the back with one leg tucked underneath him. He inclined his head beside him.
Ezra dropped near the other arm, leaving an empty couch cushion between them that might as well have been a brick wall. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to self-soothe. He knew it made him look vulnerable. But Kanan had already seen him at his worst.
"It's time to spill, kid."
Ezra really, really, didn't want to. He opened his mouth to say as much.....
"I didn't start it. Not this time." Ugh, he was already rambling. "....I was just trying to study, honest. In the library....." He looked up. Kanan’s expression hadn’t changed from the gentle, focused look. So Ezra got a bit bolder.
"Anyhow, my tutor......Luminara.....she had just left after our session...." That had been one of the deals. Ezra had scored high enough on his tests to not be held back completely. If he spent extra study time with the school librarian, then he could retest at the end of the year and join his classmates. "....and some kids walked in. At least four of them."
"Wait, four?" Kanans posture changed slightly. "The principal only said there was one."
"The others ran once I started throwing punches," Ezra shrugged. Sabine had given him pointers on throwing a mean left hook.
"What did they do?"
"The usual. Taunting, threats, all the normal bully stuff." Ezra had meant it to be light-hearted tone. But based on Kanan's horrified face, It didn't have the intended effect.
"You didn't tell us you were bullied."
"Well, I've dealt with worse living on my own," Ezra brought his knees up on the couch. "I didn't think a few kids would do anything worse."
"Maybe not, but it was still enough that you snapped," Kanan pointed out. "So then what happened?"
Ezra couldn't bring himself to say it. He grabbed his phone. Before he could lose his nerve, he unlocked it and went to his social media page--the video was already up. Like he knew it would be. If it involved Ezra, it normally went up within minutes.
He tossed the phone on the couch cushion between them. He buried his face in his knees. He heard the rustle of Kanan's clothes, before the video started to play.
"...Welcome, viewers, to a new day of Imperial middle school." The speakers voice was garbled, modified with some downloadable program. The bully knew better than to have it tracked back to him.
Coward.
"Ugh. This place seems to be an even worse dump. And we have a new addition to the place. Can you say hi, class retard?"
Ezra heard the rustle of papers from the video. He didn’t need to see it; the image played out like a movie in his head. This was when the bully had grabbed his papers from his workstation.
"Hey!...." Video Ezra's shout was drowned out by one of the bullies.
"Look at the writing! Are you even trying, retard," the sound of papers being ripped in half. "Come on, you can do better than that. Try again."
"Hey, how about you keep your nose out of my business!" Ezra had snatched the papers back then.
In real time, Ezra dared to peek up at Kanan. His guardian's jaw was tightened. Ezra hoped it was at the bullies and not him.
But no matter who he was angry at; if he was already pissed, he definitely wouldn't like what happens next.
"I would, if your business stayed out of my way," the boy leaned closer. "If it wasn't for your precious mommy and daddy, my dad would still have a job at the factory. But no, they had to go and 'expose...." Ezra could hear the air quotes. ".....the so-called dirty laundry of the finances when I was a kid.
"But I guess karma does catch up to you. So retard, I just wanna know......how does it feel knowing that your parents left you once they knew how worthless you were?"
Even over the video feed, the sickening crunch of a broken nose could be heard. A yelp of pain and a few shouts to run.
Then the video ended.
Kanan had went perfectly still. Ezra could see the white-knuckled grip, so strong he worried that it would break his phone. The man had apparently stopped breathing; at least Ezra thought so. He couldn’t hear anything over the thrumming pulse in his ears.
The man's voice was very soft when he finally spoke. "Why didn't you tell the principal?"
"I tried. He wouldn't listen to me." Ezra curled up even tighter. He felt Kanan's eyes on him now and wished the cushions would swallow him whole. Entering Couch Heaven would be so much better than this conversation.
"Then why not Hera? Or me? We would have listened. We would have helped. With this video, we would have won."
"You had enough to worry about." Ezra fingered an old stain on the couch arm. A coffee cup that had spilled, based on the brown ring.
“Besides, he hadn’t posted the video yet. That’s why I came out here; to see if he had.”
"But you weren’t planning on showing us.” Kanan shuffled slightly. “You believed what the....brat...said."
Ezra didn't answer. He had been hoping that he wouldn't figure it out. But that had been an impossible wish. The man may be dense when it came to some things (it had taken him two days to figure it out when Hera had been mad at him over putting the cast iron in the sink), but he understood Ezra when it came to big things, putting labels that the adolescent didn't even understand himself.
He suspected Kanan and his therapist were secretly talking behind his back.
Kanan inhaled. This was different from the one earlier, when Kanan had come home from work. This one was sad, laced with grief and an emotion Ezra didn’t recognize. "Come here."
"I'm good, thanks." No he wasn't. But accepting meant that what Kanan said was true. Ezra would rather die right now on his hill.
"Not a request." Kanan moved closer. The couch dipped, naturally leaning Ezra against him. The arm that had been on the couch draped across his shoulders, pushing him into his side.
"Listen to me," Kanan shook him slightly for emphasis. "Your parents didn't leave you on purpose. They loved you more than anything on this earth. Whatever happened to them, it wasn't their choice."
"How do you know?" Dampness formed on Ezra's lashes. "You never even met them."
"But I met you. And that's all I need to know."
Silence reigned. And Kanan somehow sensed what else weighed on his mind. "Ezra, I'm not going anywhere. As long as I have a choice, I'm staying right here."
"You don't know that!" Ezra jammed his palms into his eyes. He tried to swallow back the lump. He felt so stupid getting emotional like this. "All I do is cause trouble. And I'm stupid, and I can't even do things right and....." He had to stop talking, for fear that he would let the sob that was stuck in his throat loose.
Kanan's arm draped around his shoulder. A hand stroked his hair, sending tingles to the roots, and making every muscle in Ezra’s body relax.
"You're none of those things." Kanan pulled him into a one-armed hug, tucking his head under his hairy chin. Ezra felt like he was seven years old. Another wave of grief crashed with the thought. "And I will tell you every day until you believe me."
Ezra didn't know how long they sat there, waiting for Ezra to get his emotions under control, and to push back the tears trying to form. But it was long enough that his throat was scratchy from the swallowing and he felt like throwing up.
But a weight was eased; maybe the rest would never leave: that one day he would be too much for Kanan and would be discarded. But for now, the promise was enough. If Kanan hadn’t left him yet, when he had already seen Ezra at his worst, he probably wouldn’t now.
He finally sat up, rubbing his eyes.
Kanan kept a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "Better?" Ezra couldn't speak. He just nodded.
"I'm taking the video to the principal tomorrow," Kanan told him, in a no nonsense voice. "I'm demanding for them to check the cameras and find those kids. They should have done that when you first went to them. Once Hera finds out, they’ll never make that mistake again.”
Ezra nodded. His insides had been hollowed out. He couldn't care about anything at the moment. The sky could fall in, and he would feel nothing.
"I'm also going to ask what it would take to start the homeschooling process."
Okay, maybe not nothing. "What?"
“You’re smart kid. Scary smart,” Kanan gestured to the phone, now sitting on the coffee table. “That idiot right there wouldn’t have survived as long as you had on the streets. Only the bravest and the strongest can do what you did, and still make it out alive. We just gotta…modify and figure out what works for you."
“Really?” Ezra felt like it was cheating. But the possibility of not going back and facing his classmates….it sounded like a dream come true.
“Yes, really.” Kanan squeezed. It was warm and comforting in all the right ways. “And I’m not going to sit back and let some kids tell you what you’re supposed to think about yourself.”
“Oh…okay.” Ezra couldn’t think of anything to say. The only thing he knew to do was lean forward and wrap his arms around the man’s middle, face buried in his shoulder. Large arms wrapped around him again in a tight hug.
Ezra had learned years ago to never trust what people said; words were meaningless, used to lure in prey. No matter how much Kanan assured him, Ezra could never bring himself to believe his words.
But right now, the embrace conveyed everything that Ezra needed to know. The hold was too strong, too close, too personal to be anything else. He may always doubt, always struggle with the idea of being enough. He may always question why his parents left him alone.
But Ezra knew, no matter what had happened in the past, he was wanted now.