Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ezra no—”

The glass vase shatters to the ground. Sometimes they forget how easy it is for Ezra to knock stuff down. It doesn’t matter how high up it is, if their son has the slightest interest in it, it’s sure to come crashing down.
Ephraim knew going into this that most children are a handful. Ezra was no different, but… Ezra certainly is different. It’s not a bad thing, nothing in a million years could convince him anything about his son was bad.

Ezra is on the kitchen floor, once again having escaped his crib. He rushes to scoop him into his arms to keep him from getting into the broken glass. Another one of Mira’s glass sculptures gone. At least this time it wasn’t one of her glass animals. 

 His son was wonderful, in every way possible. The brightest blue eyes, his tiny little smile, Mira teases him sometimes about how he gushes over the tiniest things. Even his tendency to get into things he shouldn’t can make his heart soar. His little adventurer.

Still, there are things that he wasn’t prepared for.

“Mira, can you grab a broom for me dear,” he shouts. “Ezra’s made quite a big mess this time!”

He can hear her giggle from the other room, despite the tired sigh that came just before. All kids make messes, their kid just makes them differently. Baby-proofing a house is hard, but baby-proofing a house when said child is force sensitive is definitely quite the challenge.

Mira steps into the kitchen with a knowing look and trades him the broom for a delightful Eza.

“Remember when we only had to worry about the nursery having anything breakable in it?” Ephraim laughs at that. The moment Ezra could crawl there was nothing that could stop his escapes. He’s starting to think there was a lot more to why Jedi took in force sensitive children then he used to think.

That being said, Ezra is force sensitive. There’s no way around that, not with his strange quirks and how easily he makes it known. If he can use the force to do it, he will and it’s led to Ephraim’s near constant worry.

It’s odd at worst. Endearing mostly. And that terrifies him.

Mira smiles, but it’s only a smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s only going to get worse as he gets older. Schooling is going to be a nightmare. The Empire’s already looking for us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that…” Ephraim trails off. “Not permanently, but homeschooling. Limiting his time outside. I know, it’s not a perfect solution dear—”

“Ephraim, that’s not…”

“Listen, please. I don’t like it either. It's not going to be good for him, and I know it’s not a good solution, but what choice do we really have?” He doesn’t like to think about it. He wouldn’t trade anything in the world for his son.

It’s just difficult.

It wasn’t the perfect time to have children. They knew that, but accidents happen, and Ezra was the best damn accident the world could have given them. The end of the clone wars may not have been close, but the light was drawing near every passing day. 

He remembers sitting in the hospital, watching the news only hours after Mira had given birth. His son would not know a world without the reign of the empire. He wants to think that they’d have done what was best for Ezra, that when the time came for Jedi to ask if they’d surrender his care to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant they would. It’d have been heartbreaking, but he’d grow up with everything they wouldn’t, aren’t, able to provide.

The Jedi are gone now. There’s no more time for what could have beens.

“It won’t be forever,” he gently reminds. “We’ll help make sure of it.”

Ephraim thinks he can spot a few tears in her eyes.

“I know. I should put him back to bed. We do still need to finish scripting the broadcast.”

“Take him down there with us. Get an early start to his rebellious phase.”

“I guess it’d be easier to work without worrying about his next great escape.”

It won’t be forever. Ephraim Bridger will make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Ezra thrives under the night sky. Mira remembers how brightly he shined on his second birthday, his face lit by the light of Lothal’s moons. It felt natural to see her son that way, that this was how he was always meant to be found—laughing under the stars. It’s symbolic in a way, that a child thrives so much under the night sky only to be sheltered indoors for most of their life.

It’s not forever, she reminds herself every time Ezra gets fussy. Lots of toddlers are fussy for many different reasons. Ezra’s a very well behaved kid all things considered. He doesn’t talk, not even just nonsensical babbling, but he acts like he understands every word Mira says. He’s got a lot better control over his more odd tendencies and no longer breaks everything he wants when he tries to grab it with the force. He’s not even a picky eater. Ezra vacuums up anything put on his plate.

He just hates being stuck inside. If he was a normal child it would have been fine. But he’s not. He’s her strange, wonderful child and sometimes she can’t bear the thought of losing him.

She can’t blame him, she hates being cooped up inside all day too. Sometimes she wishes her mom never sold the farm, and kept it in the family. It would have been less risky to be farther out from town nowadays, with the broadcasts and Ezra. He could have run around to his little heart's content and tire himself out.

But life didn’t work out that way. When Mira’s father had passed her mother had been too stricken with grief to properly manage it and couldn’t bear the reminder it had become of those she had lost. Mira had taken it for granted as a child; running through the fields of grass and basking in the sun.

Life in the city wasn’t awful. She was no longer homeschooled, got to go out to meet new people and make plenty of friends. It’s one of the big reasons she’s not keen on homeschooling Ezra; her boy would thrive with the community he’d get from it.

She has faint memories of a force sensitive girl whose parents whole-heartedly believed the Jedi were baby stealers. The girl was quiet and kept to herself. Mira likes to think they were friends, but it’s been years. She had told Mira that the Jedi who had informed her parents of her force sensitivity had offered to raise her in the temple. They had described a place filled with other people like her. She’d be surrounded by community and warmth it’d bring.

When her parents had refused, the Jedi did not fight against their decision. That girl had mourned a life that could have been. Mira is starting to think she finally understands why.

Ezra needs a lot more than they can give him. There’s no Jedi to ask for advice, no nonoutlawed book for parenting a force sensitive child. There’s not a large Imperial presence on Lothal, the Empire can’t be too bothered by an outer rim planet, but it’s become an overbearing presence in Mira’s worries. The fate of the girl she used to know isn’t something she thinks about too much anymore, much like the fate of the entire Jedi order. She’s a lot more preoccupied with taking care of her son, and the messages that Ephraim and her broadcast.

Ezra has his own bright, shining presence. Sometimes Mira could mistake his smile for a star in the sky, his laugher for a howling Loth-Wolf.

Maybe she isn’t the best mother. She knows her own mother wasn’t. But for her little miracle, she’ll do her best.