Chapter Text
“Keep up, Zeb!” Hera called, pushing her crate full of metal scrap along Capital City’s dusty streets. With his long stride, he caught up to her easily, hauling a plastic bin over his shoulder as well as a crate. They came across a wealth of abandoned scrap that Sabine noted might have value about a week ago after another tough op, and Hera decided to hang onto it until they had time enough to sell it for a bargain. The Ghost’s forward landing gear was showing signs of serious wear and tear- she was looking to replace it as soon as possible.
“Did we really have to do this now?” He complained petulantly. “I thought it was supposed to be our day off, y’know-” He shoved the crate forward, letting it roam before he caught up with it.
“-to relax.” Zeb grumbled.
“Don’t worry, big guy. This is the only thing I needed your help with today. Then you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do on our off days.” She chuckled and reached over, patting him on the arm sympathetically.
“Relaxing, Hera. I wouldn’ expect you t’understand that.” He teased with that deep-belly laugh of his. She chuckled, he wasn’t wrong. Being a workaholic was in her blood, after all.
Lothal’s spaceport was teeming with people today, and she couldn’t figure out why. Though, it could be for no reason at all. It was just nice to see the people out and about. While Lothal had a large population, many people kept to themselves now with the looming oppression of the Empire dampening much of the planet’s communities and culture.
It was winter now, becoming an arid-frozen wasteland with low concentrations of crystal-white powder blanketing the plains. Rocky ice and sticky snow capped the jagged peaks sporadically clustered on the planet’s surface, and completely encapsulated the staggered mountain ranges off in the distance. The rivers were full of jagged sea ice, foamy slush and deep blue glaciers. The freshwater inlet surfaces were frozen completely solid, allowing easier landspeeder travel over long distances.
She liked this side of the Capital, away from the smog-filled factory district emerging from the outskirts of the city like a cancer spreading along the coast. Lothal’s architecture was beautiful on its own, almost like a city reaching for the clouds with its tall and idyllic skyscrapers. The buildings in the Capital were made of a pure white durasteel, a color she hadn’t seen in many places at all. It gave an almost ethereal glow, especially in the light of the sunset, complemented by true blue oceans and pure white rolling hills that went on for miles. Lothal never failed to give her a modicum of peace in their chaotic and violent lives. A cool and quiet oasis in a never-ending, blisteringly hot desert.
They passed by a series of street vendors and shipyard-related businesses, repair shops and garages for landspeeders, mechanical equipment stands for agricultural purposes and the spaceport’s farmers and artisan market. There was only one place she had in mind- the same place she went to trade scrap for credits every time she got her hands on them.
Bogney’s Scrap & Spare Parts was a collection shop that appreciated the art of a good bargain. Wellard Bogney himself, a tall, elderly human with salt and pepper hair and a snowy, bushy beard, was a smart and kind man with a keen eye for valuable parts. He’d helped Hera on a number of occasions find good parts at a fair price on Lothal and even directed her to other places nearby when he didn’t have what she needed, like Garel.
It was a welcome sight when she saw his service window was open, the multi-colored neon sign flashing the letters in basic one after another with a big, goofy red arrow pointing to the open counter. Hera approached just as the last customer left with a friendly wave, directing their crates and the bucket to the ground conveyor belt that brought them around to the inside of the shop so they could barter.
“Missus Hera! Long time no see.” Bogney hollered, hunching over and planting his knobby elbows and thick, hairy forearms on the metal counter. “How are ya?” He asked, yanking one of the crates off the rubber belt while his employee took the rest, rummaging through the scrap and laying bits and pieces of it over the counter.
“I’m doing well. You?” She replied politely.
“Business is good, aye. Whatcha got for me?” Bogney asked, considering the pieces curiously. He took a look at the data pad given to him by his employee, already having scanned what was in the other crates. He would take it, no doubt, but Hera needed a good price in return if she could spare the extra for the Ghost’s repairs instead of digging into their usual expenses.
“A collection, of sorts. Mostly dated, but the material is solid and can be recycled for new parts. It should fetch you a good price with the local factories.” She knocked on one of the dented pieces, strong and structured durasteel, fashioned most likely from the Clone Wars, if she had a guess. They’d been sitting in the stowage of that dead ship for who knows how long. While she doubted the Imperials would consider aged durasteel, those who produced farming equipment on Lothal would jump at the chance for an easier import. Especially one so sturdy and reliable.
“Hmmm, perhaps. I see a few functional pieces here, that’s very good…” While Bogney looked through the rest of their haul, Hera caught a shock of blue that pulled her attention to the workers. She looked past Bogney’s shoulder, spotting a small figure in baggy brown work overalls, clad in a soot-stained white undershirt, scuffed leather boots, and a heat-resistant apron tied around his skinny waist. Wiry-muscled, copper-skinned arms, marred with new and old burns. Thick gloves covered his small hands, welding away at scraps of metal. He had goggles strapped around his head, bunching a familiar mop of deep raven-colored hair at the back of his neck. A welding helmet, meant to be covering his face, was flipped upward, not protecting him at all. The Captain’s instinct in her wanted to yell at him to put the damn thing down before he soldered his own eyes out of his head.
What are the odds? Hera asked herself, partially amused, partially worried… mostly relieved, though. She elbowed Zeb, glancing up at him and pointing over. She was trying to be subtle as Bogney began to separate their things into different bins for his employees, counting out the credits to pay them with. At this point, she didn’t care about the negotiation… she just couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll be damned.” Zeb muttered, completely surprised, ears twitching high.
She didn’t think she’d ever see Ezra Bridger again, the boy proved to be elusive enough in the two months since their first ever run-in with him. She kept an eye out when she was in the area, though he never surfaced. But fate seemed to have other plans.
She had found herself wondering if the kid was doing alright in random moments of silence after Kessel. Moments where she felt regret for not trying harder to convince the kid in not so many words that he needed something bigger than himself to finally feel whole. That he deserved a place to feel safe, and people that cared. If she had gone with Kanan that day, things might’ve been different.
But… maybe this was the universe, or the Force, giving her a second chance to do it right.
“Are employees so hard to find that you’re hiring kids now, Bogney?” Hera teased good-naturedly, knowing deep down that Bogney was the last person she suspected to resort to cruel child labor.
Bogney straightened up abruptly, banging his head into the metal frame of the service window. He groaned, rubbing the top of his head with a grimace.
“Ough, Miss Hera. Don’t do that! Who knows what'll happen if the buckets were hangin’ about?” He hissed, a little paranoid as his eyes flicked side to side, scanning the street. Zeb barked out a laugh, shaking his head.
“They wouldn’t do a thing, an’ you know it.” The Lasat jeered with a grin on his face, as if he found the notion funny. Well, he was right. They wouldn’t care. It was nice to know he cared enough about the kid’s employment, she supposed. For the brief time she knew Ezra, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that he shoehorned himself into this job.
“Sorry.” She apologized sheepishly. “We know that kid.” She explained with a vague gesture in Ezra’s direction, who was none the wiser. There was synth-rock blaring from the back of the shop, leaving the workers oblivious to the business up front so they could focus on their work. Bogney turned, looking around before he spotted the child. Kids worked all over the galaxy- oppressive authorities like the Empire and the Spice trade forced them into slavery every single day in brutal conditions. It wasn’t a rare occurrence to see teenagers or even children doing dangerous work, but she thought it was a funny way to catch the man off-guard. Besides, she wanted to talk to Ezra.
“Ahh, yeah. Bridger’s a good lad. I just hired him a few months back. Stays quiet, does his work. Quick as a whip and learns just as fast,” Bogney nodded, “want to talk to him?” He asked, still rubbing the top of his head. Before either of them could answer, he was already turned, calling out to the teen.
“Ezraaa… EZRA!” It took a few tries, with the noise of the welder, the rock music, and the ear-piercing, shrill whirr of powertools and sawblades in the background. More of Zeb’s taste than hers, she noted with a wince, her lek tensing close to her back at the unpleasant cacophony of sound. The boy shot up eventually, attention caught, flicking the torch off.
“Yeah?” He called back, not looking at them as he began to take the welding mask off of his head, pushing the goggles up.
“Yer’ on break. Be back in an hour.” Bogney said, digging around into what sounded like an ice chest hidden under the counter, tossing him a carton of water that he fumbled to catch. “Yer’ old friends want to say hi!” He said, dropping the accepted sack of credits into the Twi’lek’s hands, and busying himself with bringing back their spare parts. Ezra seemed confused for a moment, maybe even a little uneasy, brows furrowed at the old man, before he drew his gaze to the window. Shock and awe took over him, more internally than externally, though his mouth did gape open and then shut fast, unsure of what to say. He clutched the water carton against his chest.
“Hi, Ezra.” Hera said, a smile overtaking her face as she folded her arms over her midriff. “It’s good to see you again.”
“D’you want lunch? We were going to meet up at Lato’s.” Zeb offered up an invite before she could, taking her by surprise. She was sure he didn’t like the kid much, but he was clearly hungry. She nearly teased him for his secret soft-spot for kids showing itself again.
“Uhm. Sure,” he coughed. “Yeah, that sounds great. Sorry. Hi?” He answered nervously, pausing for a moment to collect himself. He shucked off his gloves and untied the apron, tossing both at the workbench, swiping his carton of water and exiting the shop through the side. When she finally saw him, a foot away from her, she fought the urge to frown. It looked worse up close.
The kid was… not looking so good. Despite the healthy color of his skin, he was covered in minor burns, but that wasn’t really it. He was just… so skinny. He looked exhausted. She wondered what he’d been up to these past few months, besides working. But that might just be it. He partially zipped up the too-big worksuit as the chilled breeze swept across the district, reminding them of Lothal’s harsh winter bite. He shoved his bare hands into his pockets and dug his chin into the high collar.
“Come on. Let's get you something to eat.” She said, reaching her arm out. He let her put a hand on his shoulder, the three of them heading toward Lato’s. He didn’t really know what to do with himself- awkward, unsure, but he stuck close to her. Almost avoiding Zeb like he carried a deadly plague. Well, after last time, she didn’t blame him. The Lasat didn’t scare her- he never did, but to a kid like Ezra? Unlikely. He was pretty tall.
“Ay… well, kid. How’ve you been? Turned yerself into a welder, now? Gonna go work for th’ buckets?” Zeb teased, elbowing the boy in the ribs, knocking him into Hera.
“As if!” Ezra retorted quickly, offended by the mere idea. “I just need the money to get through the winter. Who knows what’ll happen next.” He explained, folding his arms as they filed into the cantina, the rich smell of roasted meats and spices flooding their noses. Hera frowned at the implication of his words, but decided not to address it for the sake of his pride.
“Well, it’s honest work.” Hera said, a bit blandly as she observed Ezra wave to the bartender as if they knew each other well. Making money this way, he was probably able to eat real food more often than not, but obviously still struggled. “The others should be coming soon.” She said as they claimed a booth big enough for the rest of them. Ezra took the edge, leaning against the table and setting the water carton down. His leg began to bounce. Zeb let Hera pass by, taking a seat in the middle between them. He let his long arms stretch across the back of the booth.
“How’s your, uh… that thing, going?” He asked, attempting to be subtle. Hera chuckled, pushing her lek over her shoulder.
“It’s going well,” she nodded. “We’ve had a few more successful jobs since we last saw you.” A few more arms deals with Vizago that put lead in her stomach, more relief work, nothing too out of the ordinary for them.
“I get t’beat the kriff out of some real nasty sleemos on a regular basis, so I think it’s going great.” Zeb grinned wickedly. Hera pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing Zeb could just be normal for once.
“That’s pretty much all you do, Zeb.” A new voice joined them at the table, Sabine. Kanan and Chopper were not far behind her. She saw Kanan pause, as if stunned, meeting Ezra’s gaze. The boy looked away, probably feeling really awkward now. Kanan looked at her, as if asking- why?? But she didn’t have an answer for him, shrugging.
“Yeah, well, can you blame me?” Zeb shrugged.
“I wasn’t judging!” She put her hands up in defense as she slid into the booth, elbowing the Lasat in the ribs. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to bug him.
“It sounded like you were.” His ears flicked in annoyance, crossing his arms and glaring at her. She went to respond, and Hera rolled her eyes-
“Behave, you two.” Kanan’s voice cut through the bickering. “I’ll get us some food.” He nodded when Hera looked at him expectantly. He disappeared over into the crowded cantina.
“It’s nice to see you again, kid.” Sabine greeted slyly with a two-fingered salute and a wry smile.
“Yeah, likewise.” He replied half-heartedly.
There was an odd silence that fell over the table. She had a lot of questions for Ezra, ones he probably wouldn’t answer. But most of all she just wanted to shake some sense into him. He would be safer on the Ghost than he would be alone, but she couldn’t convince him that he could trust her when they were the reason he was likely being monitored now by Imperial forces on Lothal. He had said that an ISB agent recognized him, and that was terrible news. It was one of the reasons she had beat herself up so hard after Kanan failed to convince him. When she couldn’t find him in the Capital, she had grown worried that he had been snatched off of the street.
A kid like him, alone, untrained and ignorant of his own power? That was dangerous- not only to him but to others around him. Kanan had said he left him the Holocron to learn from, but if Ezra didn’t want training, he couldn’t force him… Well, maybe Hera could convince him. Somehow.
“Have you been bothered?” She asked, resting her chin on interlocked fingers. Ezra blinked, surprised by the question. Maybe surprised that she cared.
“Not really, no.” Her brows furrowed, wondering why they hadn’t come after him harder after that ISB Agent identified him. Ezra said that the man had wanted to take him away. Why would he stop pursuing now?
“Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.” He chuckled disbelievingly. “I’ve seen that colander-head freak everywhere in the Capital. I think he’s stationed here.” He looked to the door, and around the cantina. He leaned against the table, arms folded. It was clear that the fact bothered him. Hera worried about whether or not he was being watched, followed. Maybe they wanted to see if he would interact with her crew again. After Kanan revealed himself to the Imperials, she would expect them to crack down, but it had been eerily quiet. It was unnerving for her, she couldn’t imagine how the kid felt, out on his own. But shy of kidnapping, Hera had to let him go. There wasn’t much choice.
“They’re cracking down here, you know. Because of you guys. Setting up checkpoints. Shaking people down.” He said, his gaze crawling over them. Hera frowned.
“They haven’t hurt anybody?” Sabine inquired, eyes hard. Zeb seemed a bit insulted at the notion. Hera stared down at the table, her mind whirring about potential ways to draw attention away from civilians.
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “It’s not that bad, thankfully. But you know, be careful when you’re out there. In the city, I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck, straightening up when Kanan came back with food. He set down two trays with five bowls of Lato's signature stew. Hot and steaming and way more tasty than bland ration bars. They each grabbed a bowl, though Ezra was more hesitant, eyes darting around the cantina again. He was nervous. He had the same look on his face as he did before that Star Destroyer showed up all those weeks ago. She met Kanan’s eyes, who seemed concerned.
Hera nudged a bowl toward him. He was broken from whatever was distracting him, and nodded at her in thanks. He held the bowl close to his chest, legs crossed in the booth. Chopper began to poke at him purposefully, trying to get him to spill the stew over his lap. Ezra did his best to ignore it, but as his mechanical arm practically stabbed into him he kicked his leg out, pushing the droid as far as the length of his leg with an old, withered boot, trying to eat his meal in peace. Hera chuckled.
“Huh. He must like you.” Sabine tilted her head as the droid protested Ezra’s block, unable to freely annoy him.
“Do not electrocute him, Chop!” Hera ordered sharply, holding a finger up. The droid grumbled, pushing Ezra’s foot off of his dome. The boy curled up in his seat, sneering at the astromech, who flailed his arms and rolled away. Hera shook her head, amused.
“Anyway, I was surprised to see you working at Bogney’s. I thought they weren’t hiring around here.” She returned to normal conversation, swirling her spoon through the stew.
“They’re not. I kept bothering him until he did. I have a very effective sad puppy look.” Ezra nodded seriously. It earned him a round of chuckles, even an amused little huff from Kanan.
“I don’t believe tha’ for a second.” Zeb goaded with a chuckle.
“Me neither.” Sabine snickered.
Ezra raised a brow at the challenge, before steeling his face into concentration. He looked over at Zeb with the saddest, softest face he could muster. Hera had to admit, it was effective. Not exaggerated in the slightest. It would definitely work on her. She watched as the Lasat’s ears folded back after a moment, the mere glance causing him discomfort the longer it went on. He flicked his eyes to the table, scowling. She snorted, shaking her head. Ezra’s face fell back to normal, looking a little smug as he turned back down to his meal.
“Alright, alright, I believe you.” Zeb put his hands up. Ezra hummed, smiling around his spoon briefly. He ate like a starving Tooka, trying to actively not appear too desperate as he finished his bowl, setting it down quietly when he was done.
“What are you guys up to today?” He asked politely.
“Just downtime. We don’t have another job for a few days.” Sabine chimed in, who had also just finished with her stew, in record time.
“Taking in the wonderful winter weather.” Kanan remarked dryly, pushing his stew around absently.
“Oh trust me, this isn’t the worst it can get.” Ezra shook his head. “We’ve only just gotten into blizzard season.”
“I thought Lothal didn't get much snow?” Hera asked, still unfamiliar with the intricacies of the planet she’d pledged herself to guard from Imperial scum behavior. They’d only been using the breadbasket planet as a home base for barely a year. Then again, she’d worked on many planets without knowing much about them.
“It depends on the winds from the coast,” Ezra shrugged, “last year we saw a lot of dry snow, this year they’re saying it’s going to be mostly ice. There’s always snow in the mountains, though, and the forest.” He explained, fiddling with the soft plastic cap of his water carton. “Old Jho could explain it better. He’s smart.” He added quietly, averting his gaze.
“You mentioned that old bag before, how do you even know ‘im? He’s miles from here.” Zeb’s brow raised. Jhothal, the tiny village settled around his cantina, was hours from the Capital region. Hera wasn’t sure Ezra got that far away from the city, but she supposed she couldn’t be surprised. This was his home.
“It’s Old Jho. Everyone knows him.” He sniped, rolling his eyes as if it was a stupid question. Hera huffed a quiet laugh at Zeb’s affronted reaction, sneering at his attitude.
“How did you meet him?” Hera prodded carefully, before the Lasat could snap back. Old Jho’s was well known on Lothal for being unfriendly to Imperials, but he was also known as an under-the-counter taskmaster. He knew plenty of contacts. It wasn’t a slummy place unlike the cantinas in the Capital’s downtown where one could get away with pickpocketing, so she couldn’t imagine why he would have a reason to go out there, unless…
“He’s an old friend.” Ezra looked away, tight-lipped on the exact circumstances of that friendship. Maybe Jho helped him out one time or another, and the kid had returned a favor. Hera put it out of her mind, for now. She didn’t need to know if he didn’t want to share, and he seemed uncomfortable enough just having lunch with them. She checked her watch. It was just half past noon, time was flying. She didn’t have much time left if she wanted to actually talk to him, and she still had to find that gear for the Ghost.
Her eyes met Kanan’s, and they narrowed a fraction when he subtly shook his head. Of course he didn’t want to bring it up. He never wanted to push, not like this. But Hera didn’t agree this time.
“Ezra,” she started softly, shooting a chastising look to her crew members if they dared to protest. “You should reconsider our offer. There’s still a place on the Ghost for you, if you want it. I think it would be really beneficial for you… and Kanan.” She finished, trying not to say too much, given that they were out in a very crowded lunch spot.
“I figured that’s why you wanted to talk to me.” Ezra chortled, curling in on himself, looking out amongst them with a guarded expression. He was distrustful, and anxious. No doubt a life like his was full of hardship… she wouldn’t be surprised if he declined again, but it would make her sad. She had really thought she had gotten through to him, with the Wookiee rescue mission.
“Well, this isn’ a bribe, if that’s wha’ you think.” Zeb peered down at him, ears flicking as the noise level in the cantina fluctuated. It wasn’t supposed to be. The kid was skinny, obviously hungry. She just wanted to help him.
“I know, I know- you feed the needy, save the weak.” He droned, clapping his hands together and giving each of them a short bow across the table, bangs falling over his face. “Thank you, for staving off starvation for yet another day, my saviours.” He thanked them mockingly, reaching back into the small pouch on his belt and slapping a credit down with a sharp clang, the smile falling from his face as he stood from the table. He actually seemed a bit insulted at the notion of trying to bribe or guilt him into joining with promises of food and safety. Hera wasn’t really sure what he wanted from her, at this point.
“Will you at least think about it?” She asked. Ezra folded his arms, tense and protective. Of himself. He was afraid, that much she knew. After how badly the mission went the first time and how much he had been knocked around, Hera supposed she couldn’t blame him for being wary, despite the noble goal behind their intentions. His brilliant blue eyes flicked from Hera to Kanan, and he gave her a short nod.
Victory. She grinned.
“You know where I’ll be.” He shrugged, making his way out of the cantina. Hera sighed, sinking back into the booth, her lek falling over her shoulders. Thank the Goddess, she thought in relief, scrubbing a hand down her face.
“What a brat.” Sabine huffed, collecting the empty bowls and stacking them for easier cleanup.
“He’s not a brat,” Kanan snapped, catching them all by surprise. "He's got no reason to trust us. Or me.” He muttered, folding his arms. His meal was hardly touched. It was obvious the surprise visit wasn’t sitting well with him.
“We have no reason to trust him-” the young woman argued, silenced by a sharp look from Kanan. Hera’s eyes narrowed, following him as he stood.
“I’m heading back to the Ghost.” He said quietly, eyeing the credit left on the table and heaving a long-suffering sigh. Hera took it when he left, frowning. She tucked it into the designated pouch on her belt and pursed her lips, deep in thought.
Kanan hadn’t been himself since they had left Ezra behind in his tower. He was tense, snappy, and moreover full of guilt. She knew that he had wanted more, hoped for more, and saw a future in Ezra just like they did with Sabine. He didn’t feel so alone, knowing there was another like him out there. But being separated had obviously affected him. He was just a kid- and the way the Empire went after Force Sensitives, he had been fretful that the boy had been killed, or worse… and she knew that he would blame himself. His past was already one he never spoke of, with any of them. But with this opportunity…
Ezra would reconsider, she was sure of that.