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Ezra raised his arm just in time to catch it on Kanan’s, stopping the man’s fist as it sailed toward his face. Not missing a beat, Kanan grabbed Ezra’s forearm, shoving it down and twisting as he forced Ezra’s arm to straighten. He locked his upper arm around Ezra’s, forcing him down until he was bent over at the waist. Kanan’s grip tightened and Ezra gasped as he felt more than heard the crack that snapped up his arm, white hot pain following in its wake.
With his free hand, he grabbed the back of Kanan’s knee, digging his nails in and pulling with all his might. Kanan toppled backwards, his grip on Ezra’s arm loosening. Ezra stumbled back as his Master hit the ground, his uninjured hand grasping at his other arm. He winced, drawing his breath in sharply through his teeth.
“You okay?” Kanan asked as he got back to his feet.
“Yeah,” Ezra said with a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“That was risky,” Kanan told him. “In a real fight, your opponent probably wouldn’t care about taking you down with them and dislocating your shoulder.”
Ezra wasn’t about to comment on the irony.
“Let’s keep going,” Kanan said. “You really are getting better at this.”
The praise fell flat as pain ricocheted up Ezra’s arm once more. He nodded and shifted his stance, keeping his right arm bent against his chest. Kanan’s gaze flicked to it briefly.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Ezra said. “It’s just sore. Wouldn’t matter in a real fight, right?”
The rest of their sparring session went as smoothly as it could with Ezra trying to minimize the use of his arm. Still, he managed to keep the extent of the injury hidden from Kanan. When the other Jedi released him from training, Ezra rushed out of the cargo bay, searching for somewhere he could be alone.
He found his sanctuary on the Phantom. No one should have any reason to come up here today.
Slowly, Ezra pulled back his sleeve until his elbow was exposed. With a shaking hand, he prodded at it, feeling the joint sticking together all wrong. Dislocated, almost for sure. Ezra braced himself for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, before he tried to straighten his arm out. But all it took was about an inch of movement before searing pain shot through his arm again, so hard he had to clench his jaw until it ached to keep himself from crying out.
Come on, he told himself, trying to work up the nerve to try again. Just suck it up. You can handle this.
This had happened before. If he could manage to straighten his arm out, it might just slip back into place and everything would be fine.
Tears stung at his eyes as he tried to move his arm again. For a moment, his mind wandered to the painkillers Hera kept stored in the galley for emergencies, wondering if it was worth it to take just one dose. But this wasn’t an emergency, really. Just an injury he’d had before and knew how to handle. What if someone got shot or broke a bone and they didn’t have enough because he’d wasted them on this?
No. He couldn’t have that weighing on him. He’d have to make do without them. He’d done exactly that for nearly eight years, and he was still alive.
Ezra took another deep, shaking breath. He closed his eyes and gently pulled at his arm again, forcing it straighter. Searing splinters of pain cracked through his arm, but Ezra kept going, fighting through the pain as tears began to trail slowly down his cheeks. He felt sick, nausea twisting at his stomach at the feeling of his bones shifting beneath his skin.
He gasped as he felt everything finally slip back into place, another sharp jolt of pain accompanying it. Ezra crumpled against the seat, breathing heavily as he stared off into empty space. At least it was over now. In a few days, it would be like nothing ever happened. He didn’t need to bother Kanan or anyone else with this.
Slowly, Ezra slid onto the floor, inching into the small space below the ship’s controls. Taking slow, shaking breaths, he tried to center himself and steady his nerves. The pain in his arm had lessened to a heavy but manageable ache. With his good hand, he brushed away the last of the tears that still clung to his face.
He’d be okay. This was nothing compared to everything else he’d survived.
By the third day since his injury, Ezra’s arm was mostly starting to feel better, though some of the pain still persisted. When he crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, Ezra winced when he put his weight on his arm as he climbed down from the bunk.
Cradling his elbow with his other hand, he weighed his options. He was past the point of considering painkillers, but there were cold packs stashed away in the galley, too. Hera always made sure to keep their medical supplies well stocked. They were easier to replace than painkillers, too.
For a long moment, he stood there, doing the undefinable math in his head to try and figure out if this was worth it. It was just a hurt elbow. It wasn’t even dislocated anymore. And he’d done just fine the past two days.
But training with Kanan the past two days had left him bruised and sore, and this wasn’t going to just get better on its own if he kept sparring with Kanan without doing something else to treat it. And in the long run, he’d be useless to the crew if he didn’t manage this.
Even as he thought it, he felt a pang of guilt. He was just justifying taking something he didn’t really need.
As he dressed, his elbow throbbed, making him hiss sharply through his teeth. That made up his mind. As soon as he was dressed, he headed toward the galley, slipping quietly into the room and opening the compartment where Hera stored their medical supplies. He hesitated before forcing himself to grab a cold pack, activate it, and shove it into his sleeve, cradling his injured elbow.
With the cold providing a little bit of relief, Ezra grabbed a ration bar, eating it quickly as he hurried outside to meet Kanan. As usual, Kanan was already there when Ezra arrived. And Ezra knew he was on time today. He was starting to wonder if Kanan was getting up earlier and earlier just to screw with him.
Or maybe, he thought as he caught sight of the dark shadows under his Master’s eyes, he just doesn’t sleep.
“I’m not late this time,” Ezra said.
“Never said you were,” Kanan said. “Now, before we start, mind telling me what’s hidden in your sleeve?”
For a moment, Ezra ground his teeth in irritation. How was it that Kanan could seem to notice everything but hadn’t realized it when he’d hurt Ezra? He briefly considered trying to pretend he didn’t know what Kanan was talking about, but that ship had already lifted off. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to get into any trouble for this. After weeks of training with Kanan, he still wasn’t quite sure where he stood. How stable his place here was.
With an irritated huff, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out the cold pack, showing it to Kanan before shoving it back in against his elbow. He stood there in silence, half-glaring at the ground, as Kanan realized what he’d just seen.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s not that bad,” Ezra muttered.
“When…” Kanan stopped speaking abruptly, and Ezra felt that strange, unsettling sensation that he now knew to mean he was sensing someone else’s feelings. In this case, Kanan’s guilt. “Was it the other day, when I grabbed your arm?”
Ezra nodded mutely. He didn’t want to say anything. It was kriffing embarrassing. He’d been hurt worse than this before. Everyone on the Ghost had been hurt worse than this.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I was fine,” Ezra said. “I am fine. It’s just a little sore still, is all. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
He jumped when he felt Kanan’s hand touch his shoulder. When he looked up, he saw a kind, concerned look on his Master’s face.
“It’s never a bother, Ezra,” Kanan said. “You should tell me when you’re hurt. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”
“I can take care of myself,” Ezra said with a shrug. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
“I know,” Kanan said. “But you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Ezra crossed his arms, taking a step back and shying away from Kanan. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, and it always set Ezra on edge in a way that didn’t make sense to him.
“I’m sorry for what happened, Ezra,” Kanan said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”
“I know,” Ezra mumbled, his gaze dropping back to the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed the never, but he at least believed that this had been an accident. He swallowed before forcing himself to speak again, just wanting to move past this. “So, what are we doing today?”
“Definitely not sparring, that’s for sure,” Kanan said. He put his hand on Ezra’s shoulder, turning him around and leading him back toward the ship. “First, we’re getting you some proper pain relief, and then you still have a lot of work to do on your meditation.”
“Great,” Ezra said. “I’m sure the drugs will make it really easy for me to stay awake this time.”
“Think of it as a test,” Kanan told him.
His hand moved to the back of Ezra’s head, gently ruffling his hair. The gesture only lasted for a split second before Kanan pulled his hand back to his side, uncertainty emanating from him. Ezra ducked his head, trying to hide a small grin as a memory flashed to the surface of his mind. His mom, doing that exact same thing as he tried to help her with some chore he’d long since forgotten about.
“Bet you I’ll pass,” he said.
“I’m not betting against you, kid.”