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"When are you going to start teaching me?"
Kanan should have known. Some days, he felt like Master Billaba had cursed him with having a Padawan just like he was. One that was constantly asking questions, and usually, he could answer most of Ezra's questions. Most of Ezra's questions were about what they were going to do next or how things worked around the Ghost. Ezra had been mostly keeping to himself in the past days however, trying to stop from rocking the Ghost too much in his first few weeks and finding where he now fit into the crew he had just joined.
Kanan sympathized, remembering when he first joined and Hera and Chopper already had set things to do and trying to find a role for himself was a pain, but he was confident that she wanted him there. He couldn't imagine what Ezra was going through, not knowing if they all wanted him there. They all did. The Force had made that perfectly clear, guiding Kanan to Ezra, having Hera and Sabine search for him, Zeb learning Lothalian culture and language, and Chopper wasn't shocking the kid.
But apparently, he now felt comfortable enough to ask Kanan this question.
"When you're more settled." Kanan said slowly.
Ezra raised a thick eyebrow at him.
"That sounds like an excuse." The kid muttered, pushing his body away from the doorway he had been leaning against to stand upright.
It was an excuse. And it wasn't.
"Ezra, trying to help you open yourself up to the Force without you settling first is only going to end in disaster." Kanan refused to sigh. He would not sigh. Ezra could take that in the wrong way. Kanan wasn't upset at Ezra, he was upset at the Empire. If the galaxy was like it should have been, Ezra would be in the Temple and Kanan wouldn't have had to teach the kid the basics. But that was neither here nor there.
And now Ezra looked curious, leaning ever so slightly forward without entering the room.
Dammit. Master Billaba really had cursed him with a Padawan that was exactly like himself.
Kanan waved his hand, inviting Ezra further into his room. Ezra hesitated in the doorway, and Kanan didn't take it personally. He had also been a street kid, and being in close quarters with anyone was more than a declaration of trust. Hells, even falling asleep around Kasmir or in the common room had made the man more uncomfortable than anything else when Kanan had done so. Ezra hesitating to trust him, trust any of the crew when they had done nothing to earn that trust so far, was not personal.
It did sting a little though. Deep in Kanan's heart. In a perfect universe, where the Jedi were still around and Ezra had been taken to the Temple when he was young and taught the basics, Ezra wouldn't have to hesitate. He would know instinctively, like he did now, that Kanan would never hurt him. That Kanan would only ever look out for Ezra's best interests as he taught him.
This was not that perfect world, and while Ezra probably did feel that instinctive trust, it more than likely only made the Kid more wary. Years of being on the streets and his instincts, the Force, telling him to not trust people and now it was practically shoving him at Kanan. The Force certainly didn't understand people, but it also was so understanding at the same time.
What a pain.
Ezra took a singular step further into Kanan's room, and Kanan took the win for what it was.
"You're unsettled." Kanan started, and raised his hand to stop Ezra's immediate protests. "Don't even start, I can tell, I can feel you are. And without having a good foundation, a solid foundation, opening yourself up to the Force is only going to make you more, susceptible, to other influences."
The look in Ezra's eyes was only growing more curious. A thousand questions were passing in them, but his lips were pressed tight together. He probably didn't think he was allowed to ask before they started lessons.
Kanan was floundering for a start to lessons. At least he had a good reason for not starting them yet. But maybe he could start with this one.
"I told you that the Force is an energy field that binds the galaxy together. It's in everything and surrounds us all." Ezra nodded at his words, following along and curious enough to take another step closer to Kanan. "The problem is that at a young age, Force Sensitives are taught control. Not over their emotions, because that's not something that any one person can truly have control over. But over their reactions to things happening around them."
And here Ezra looked sheepish, clearly seeing where the lesson was leading.
"You've been, closed off. And I don't blame you." Kanan was quick to follow. "After. . . After the Jedi were killed, finding someone to trust took me a very long time. Opening up to Hera wasn't easy, even after she knew. Opening up to Zeb and Sabine even less easy. But ever since I've heard about Lothal, I've been opening myself up more again, because the Force has been trying to guide me to you."
Ezra nodded. "It's like Lothali. Trying to speak it when the Imperials are around. . ."
"Leads to consequences?" Kanan guessed, and Ezra's hands grew tight on his arms as he nodded.
"The Force is like that in a way. Consequences will happen if there is no proper grasp. Without a proper grasp on it, without a solid foundation, you're only going to flounder. You can string a sentence in any language sure, but who knows what you're actually saying, right?" Ezra shifted on his feet again, a slow nod and understanding dawning on him.
"So you need to regain your own grasp on the Force before you start to teach me, and I need to be more settled before you start to teach me. Otherwise, we're going to be talking in Lothali and Basic, and not being able to understand each other?" Ezra asked, and it was a pretty good analogy.
"Pretty much. I need to teach you the basics before we go anywhere fast."
Ezra pulled a face at that.
"Don't even start." Kanan snickered. "We're both humans, we have to crawl before we walk."
"Fiiiinnneee." Ezra rolled his eyes upwards.
Normally, someone would be upset at the sass Ezra was showing. Most teenagers were bratty and constantly being around that attitude made for a grating experience. Kanan however, was not normal and Ezra sure as hells wasn't a normal teenager. No, Kanan rejoiced in the show of sass. He probably wouldn't in the future, but for now he was pleased to see it.
After all, this was the most personality Ezra has shown in the weeks he's been on the Ghost. They were finally getting somewhere. Small hints of the façade Ezra held up, aloof and hidden, were breaking.
Kanan hoped that one day soon, his Padawan would allow them all to see what his actual personality was like.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sabine let out a huff as she sat down heavily on the common room couch, glaring at the box she had set on the table beforehand. Well, she had thrown the box onto the table. But not really thrown it, because Ezra was sitting on the other end of the couch, and she didn't want to startle him away.
Sabine hadn't really had a lot of time to talk with Ezra. She wanted to. But there was so much going on, finding out where Ezra would sleep and who would go where now. Luckily, or perhaps Ezra was too much of a people pleaser right now, he was perfectly fine with bunking with Zeb for now. Kanan had offered the kid to stay with him, but Zeb pointed out that Kanan probably needed the space with all the changes, and Zeb wasn't that affected, so it made more sense for the kid to bunk with him.
"What did the box do to you?" Ezra joked lightly, looking up from the Stormtrooper helmet that he had snatched from the Star Destroyer when they met him. From the looks of it, he was taking out the communications system. Sabine idly wondered what he was going to do with it.
"It refused to open." Sabine glared at the damned box.
"Want me to take a crack at it?" Ezra offered, already reaching for his backpack.
Sabine debated it, before pushing the box over to him across the table. "If you wanna. I've tried every trick I know, so maybe you know something different."
Ezra gave a little grin and then pulled something out of his backpack, a roll of fabric, and set it on the table and unrolled it. A bunch of tools were tucked into the small pockets in that fabric, and Sabine raised an eyebrow as Ezra picked one, seemingly at random, and started messing with the box.
He let out a little hum, switching out the tools once or twice, before settling on two and and hunching over the box.
It only took a minute, if that, and there was a little click!
"There we go!" Ezra cheered as he pushed it back towards her, and she let out a triumphant, gleeful sound as she pulled out the pigments that had been locked in the box.
"Thank you! These are going to be so much fun to use!"
"You're welcome." Ezra replied, putting his tools away and rolling the fabric back up and sticking it into his backpack again. Sabine eyed the backpack and then the Imperial blacks that Ezra was still wearing. Ezra hadn't worn anything else yet. . .
Nothing with color.
"Ezra, do you have any other clothes?" Sabine asked bluntly.
Ezra flinched backwards. He didn't really have anywhere to go, as he was still in the seat. So all he really did was hit the seat behind him.
"Wait no, stupid question." Sabine sighed. "We haven't had the chance to get you any more clothes. What did you wear before they dressed you in black and devoid of color?"
"Uhhhh," Ezra looked at her with wide, blue eyes. "I found an orange jumpsuit in the clearance section of one of the stores on Lothal in Capital City. It was on the larger side, which was great." He looked wistful. "I could have grown into it. No need to look for more clothes for a few years. Just thread to patch it if I tore it."
Sabine couldn't relate to that, but there was something that she could relate to.
"Want me to color that orange then?" She pointed to the Imperial blacks. "It'll probably take a day or two to bleach then dye it, but I'll get it as close to orange as I can. At least until Hera and Kanan get you some clothes."
Ezra stared at her.
She stared back.
"I– could you?" Ezra asked, and Sabine was nearly insulted that he would even think she couldn't add color to something. But then again, he's been stuck with the Imperials for who knew how long. Being stuck in an iron holding cell with no colors would have driven Sabine insane, there was no telling how Ezra would react to the lack of colors. What was Ezra's culture like anyways? Did Lothalians like color? They weren't going to get along if Lothalians didn't like color.
"Easily done." Sabine said, and it would be. Especially with the pigments that had been locked in the box that Ezra had unlocked. It was only fair that Sabine use it on him and his clothes.
"Okay, but what would I wear while you're dying it? I don't have my flight suit anymore to change into." Ezra's brow furrowed, and Sabine froze. Oh that was a good question. No one had any clothes that would fit Ezra. But maybe. . .
"I'm sure Kanan wouldn't mind lending you a shirt and some pants." Sabine waved her hand. "Besides, it gives us a good baseline of your size if he does."
Ezra squinted at her.
"You just want to laugh at me while I flounder around in clothes that are too big for me."
"That too!" Sabine said brightly.
Ezra tilted his head, pursing his lips, before sighing and nodding.
"Anything is better than this terrible jumpsuit." He grumbled, glaring down at the Imperial blacks. Sabine felt her artist heart soar. So Lothalians did like color! Or at least Ezra did. That was good to know.
"Tell me about it. The Imperials never allow for any sort of color in their lives. It's ridiculous, no appreciation for art either."
"Being in that cell was so boring." Ezra groaned. "All greys and blacks. No chronos either, so I felt like I was going mad in there. Breaking out was the highlight of my days. Especially when I could get Kallus all angry when I would answer with nonsense."
"Why were you captured by the Empire?" Sabine asked as she tested pigments. Oh there was an orange one. She might create her own, just so she could bleach and dye Ezra's current clothes. "Like, why were they after you?"
Ezra shrugged, going back to the bucket that he had stolen from the Empire.
"Something along the lines of me being Force Sensitive? Kanan explained it a bit, but we haven't gotten to talk about it much. But thanks to that, Kallus and the rest of the Imperials he was with couldn't hurt me as much as they wanted to."
Sabine felt a pinch in her stomach. She remembered her time in the cadets, in the academy. How cutthroat everyone was to get places. How much worse was that for people who were prisoners?
"Could you. . ." She trailed off, trying to articulate her words. "Could you feel how much they wanted to hurt you?"
Sometimes Kanan could sense things like that. How people they traded with wanted to harm them. How some people wanted to kill them and take the credits.
"Probably?" Ezra's eyebrows scrunched as he finally ripped the rest of the communications array out of the helmet and started fiddling with it now that it was in the open. "It's not something I've really paid attention to before. I've just always called them instincts. People are weird, I feel how weird they are, and I bounce."
Sabine let out a hum as thought that over. It made sense. If Ezra wasn't taught in it at a young age, there was no reason for him to know, like Kanan did. Ezra would of course just chalk it up to good instincts and then be on his way.
"So, why orange?" Sabine changed the subject.
Ezra shifted in his seat, and she wondered if she hit a sore spot.
"It's a family color." He said simply.
Sabine let it lie.
"Well, you'll fit in around here then. Hera and Chopper also wear orange!" Sabine tried to save it, and it must have worked, because Ezra's lips quirked up.
"Good to know I'm going to at least not stand out around here."
"Please, we have a Jedi, a Lasat, one of the best pilots in the galaxy, and a murderous droid. Not to mention me, who is an explosives expert. You're going to be fine."
~~~~~~~~~~
Unit C1-10P had no doubts that the new organic on board the Ghost was going to make things exciting. If nothing else, unit C1-10P had calculated that unit C1-10P could shock the new organic and create havoc and chaos to such a degree that the new organic would get more chores than he already had.
Rolling through the Ghost, unit C1-10P was wanting to come across the new organic. Unit C1-10P did not have a name for the organic quite yet. Unit C1-10P had: Captain-Mother, Mother-Stealing-Jedi, (which was often abbreviated to Mother-Stealer on missions,) Bucket-Crusher-Stupid, and Baby-Mando-Sparky.
But unit C1-10P had no name for the new organic yet. Unit C1-10P had yet to observe them enough to gift them a name to call him on missions or aboard the Ghost. For now the name unit C1-10P had gifted him temporarily was Baby-Organic.
Going into the Phantom for unit C1-10P's assigned tasks, unit C1-10P found Baby-Organic there, tinkering with something. Using his occipital lenses, unit C1-10P computed that Baby-Organic was messing with a communications system that was foreign to the Ghost's. It did not seem that the communications system was attached or connected to anything, so unit C1-10P beeped out a question as to why Baby-Organic was messing with it.
"Ah! Uhm, hi. You're, Kanan called you Chopper, right?" Baby-Organic greeted, hiding the communications system in his lap. Unit C1-10P warbled out an affirmation, and then immediately questioned about the communications system that was in the baby organic's lap again. Baby-Organic looked down at it, face pinching as he studied it.
"It's stupid. No reason to question it." Baby-Organic dismissed. Normally, Unit C1-10P would agree, as all organics were highly emotional and prone to stupidity. Even Captain-Mother had her moments, especially in her younger years. Unit C1-10P was allowed to remember these parts in its hard drive, mostly because of the sensitive information still stored away there, and because unit C1-10P has grown accustomed to having that part of its hard drive.
But Baby-Organic had been captured by the Empire-Scum when they found him and helped Mother-Stealing-Jedi, Bucket-Crusher-Stupid, and Baby-Mando-Sparky escape. And Baby-Organic was instrumental to the plan to help the Wookies. That all pointed to Baby-Organic being a calculated organic, at least somewhat. So unit C1-10P asked again, in different whistles, in a different question, what Baby-Organic was planning to do with an Imperial communications system.
"Ah, um." Baby-Organic fiddled with a loose string on the shirt he was wearing, a spare of Mother-Stealing-Jedi's, before he dropped it quickly. "It's just a thought. I was hoping that maybe with this communications system, I could get an inside ear into what the Empire was up to on Lothal. Tanaath taught me a bit about communications arrays, when I was hanging around them. It's a ridiculous idea."
"Tanaath" must be referring to someone from the Warrior crew, a Rebel cell, that had been assigned to Lothal before the Ghost crew. Privately, unit C1-10P calculated in its servers that Baby-Organic was better off with the Ghost crew than with the Warrior crew. Another Spectre was better than another Warrior. Even if it meant that unit C1-10P had to share more space on the Ghost with a new organic.
Unit C1-10P whistled out that Captain-Mother would be helpful if Baby-Organic wanted to continue his endeavor with a communications array to listen in on Empire-Scum. Baby-Organic tilted his head down and fiddled with the communications array further.
"I don't want to interrupt her if she's busy."
Unit C1-10P calculated the percentages of Captain-Mother being interrupted by Baby-Organic, and the percentages were low. In fact, Captain-Mother would most likely enjoy helping Baby-Organic if Baby-Organic simply asked. It informed Baby-Organic of such percentages, and Baby-Organic nodded, still fiddling with the wires and hissing when a spark ignited on his fingers.
"I'll keep that in mind." Baby-Organic muttered. Unit C1-10P rolled over to the open port in the Phantom to run its diagnostic scan on the shuttle, and rumbled out a question asking if Baby-Organic liked creating things. It was calculating the chances of Baby-Organic creating chaos with unit C1-10P for Bucket-Crusher-Stupid.
"I do." Baby-Organic nodded as he twisted the wires carefully. "Splicing through wires has been something I've always been good at. And lockpicking. And creating something new from new parts. Mikhail had to keep creating new locks for me to slice through."
Unit C1-10P let out a calculation hum and came to a decision in the servers.
["You're not Baby-Organic anymore."] Unit C1-10P told him, and the kid scrunched his face up.
"Didn't know I was, but thanks. What am I now? Do I want to know?"
["You're Baby-Technician-Jedi. Baby-Tech for short."]
~~~~~~~~~~
Zeb wasn't terribly close to their newest member. He knew closeness was going to come in time, and definitely that some members of the crew were going to be closer to the Kid than others. Especially Kanan and the Kid, as they would have some weird, Jedi-Force-thingie sharing going on.
Not something that Zeb really understood. Hells, Kanan never talked about that part of his life. At all. He had told Zeb about it in passing, explaining that he understood about the destruction of people and their culture. Kanan and Zeb understood each other, they got each other, in a way that Hera and Sabine just didn't. There was really nothing more uniting that losing your people and your culture to the Empire.
The Kid was some weird sort of middle ground between Kanan and Zeb.
He had lost his culture like the Lasat and the Jedi. He had lost his people like the Jedi and the Lasat. He had been alone like the two of them. The Kid had somehow survived for Ashla-knows-how-long on his own. Judging by how tiny the Kid was, Zeb's bet was at least three standard years.
Lasat kits grew up quick, but they had gangly paws that they didn't know what to do with. They stomped around, not knowing how to walk as quietly as they used to. Zeb didn't really know how human kits grew, but he was betting that Ezra wasn't as grown as he should be. Despite Ezra having the gangly limbs, he still walked quiet as a Lothrat, maybe even quieter around the Ghost. Once he got used to the noise that was being made by the Ghost and how the Spectres walked and the damn droid rolled.
Zeb wasn't stupid. He had trained for the Honor Guard, he had been the Captain of the Honor Guard. He noticed how the kid watched everyone. He noticed how the kid always scanned the room for the exits. He noticed how the kid always put his back to a wall or something else solid so no one could sneak up on him, or had quick access to a vent cover.
Kids, kits, shouldn't know these things. These are things that soldiers should know about in enemy territory. Kids shouldn't know these things, try to figure these things out, about their allies or their soon-to-be close friends.
But Ezra did.
And Zeb didn't know how to fix that.
Many kids, many kits, were just that. Kids. They were allowed to be kids.
Ezra probably hadn't been allowed to be a kid for a very long time. Ezra probably hadn't allowed himself to be a kid for a very long time.
For maybe about three years, by Zeb's idea, but he hadn't the faintest idea if that was actually true. It could be more, it could be less. People's minds were terribly fickle after all, there was no telling just how long the kid had been alone until he told them.
And that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. The kid was locked tighter than that damn holocron that Zeb had seen in passing once. Getting secrets from him was only going to happen in time, and Zeb was seriously at a loss on how to get the kid to open up. He couldn't order the kid around like he could a soldier under Zeb's command back in the Honor Guard. He couldn't order the kid around as an older member of the crew.
Zeb wasn't dealing with a new member of the crew that was older and knew how to acclimate, for all that Ezra seemed wise beyond his years in the street dealings that they had taken part in so far (Kid had the mind of a merchant and a trader, maybe along the lines of a black market dealer. A little worrying, but helpful). He wasn't dealing with a soldier, for all that Ezra acted like one that was in enemy territory. Ezra was just a kid. And he wasn't one that was trained like Sabine either.
So Zeb legitimately had no idea of what to do.
That was until Zeb heard some humming in the vents. His ears twitched, and he flicked his eyes towards the nearest vent opening. There was no way that anyone else heard it. He had probably the best hearing out of everyone in the Ghost Crew. There shouldn't be anyone in the vents, but with how small their latest Spectre is. . . .
Zeb reached up and tapped on the side of the ship with a curled paw. It was a gentle tap, nothing that should have surprised anyone. But whoever was in there, and Zeb had a feeling he knew who, yelped loudly and sharp bangs occured as the Kid smacked around in the vents at the shock of someone finding him.
"Easy Kid." Zeb tried to soothe. "Didn't mean to startle ya none. Just didn't expect anyone to be in the vents."
A few seconds of silence, soft shuffles and a soft shriek of metal as the vent cover came off and Ezra's face appeared in the darkness.
"No one really expects anyone in the vents." Ezra said. "'T's how I got around and into the Imperial complexes on Lothal."
A flashfire of anger flared through Zeb at the mention of the Imperial Complexes and Lothal. The kid shouldn't have had to be there and in the complexes in the first place. But of course, there was no way that the Warrior cell could have done that. Not without Ezra, and Ezra wouldn't have offered if he didn't want to do those missions in the first place. The kid had a heart of gold under the streetrat façade. So the anger came and went, and there was a flicker of something that flashed across the kid's face, before it mellowed out into another mask. This one of curiosity.
"How did you know I was in the vents? I've been up here for three hours and no one else knew. Not even Hera, and she seems to know everything."
"I heard you." Zeb twitched his ears on purpose, and Ezra's face filled with understanding. And then filled with more curiosity. He leaned his head further out of the vent, and Zeb was almost worried the kid was going to fall out.
"Now I've got a question for you."
Ezra tilted his head like a mooka kit. With the hair being as long as it was in that messed up bob, it certainly emulated the ears.
"What exactly is that song that you were hummin'? I keep hearing it around the marketplace on Lothal, but I haven't gotten the courage to ask." Zeb asked, and then immediately regretted his decision in asking. Because the kid's expression shut quicker than an access point to a window when it was in danger. Where there had been curiosity and light and maybe a hint behind the façade the kid held up, there was only wariness and cold detachment.
"It's, it's an old Lothalian lullaby." Ezra said haltingly. "Most likely you're hearing parents singing it to their kids."
Ah, Zeb had really stuck his paw in the rancor's nest, didn't he?
"It sounds nice." Zeb said awkwardly, trying to clear the air. "What are the instruments that are used by Lothal? I know some of the language, but that's barely a starting point for, ah, anything."
The icy look in Ezra's eyes was slowly melting as Zeb asked more questions. Seems the kid liked being matched in curiosity. Although Zeb didn't think anyone could really rival the kid in the curiosity department, but someone had to try.
"Typically Lothalians use whatever the land gives them to create an instrument." Ezra looked slightly wistful. "An old friend of my parents used to play an instrument that has reed fibers from the harvests stretched thin across the wood, and they would strum great tunes with it. I haven't seen him in forever though. Others use the wood to create pipe-like instruments to blow air through, and any modifications that are needed for whatever species are simple enough to make. And of course when we hunt animals, the leather used from their hides could be used to make into an instrument that you would bang your hands on to create a beat for people to dance to."
Ezra looked lost in the reminiscing.
"There used to be city-wide dances held in the squares. Until," his face dropped again. "Until the Empire decided it was wrong. And stopped all dances."
Zeb's heart ached.
Of course. It always came back to the Empire deciding that something didn't fit with what they thought was best and stamping it out. Why wouldn't they see something full of joy and happiness and stomp that into nothingness too?
"On Lasat," Zeb started, and Ezra's eyes flicked back to his face, "we had instruments that were specifically made for our claws. No need to use whatever you Lothalite's use to pick at the reeds. And our bodies created the music too, stomps and yells that became our song."
Ezra nodded, intrigue splashed across his face, but also respect and understanding. He understood, as well as Kanan, what it was like for someone else's culture to be gone. Wait, did Ezra even know about the Destruction of Lasat? He might not. Zeb didn't want to be the one to teach him, but he might have to be.
"I wish I knew more." Ezra sighed, crossing his arms and staring at the floor of the Ghost. "So much of Lothalian culture was lost. All thanks to the Imperials. I can remember a lot, but the loss of history. . . ."
"It's hard to reconcile." Zeb nodded. He hesitated, before nodding again. This time to himself.
"Do you want to relearn with me?"
Ezra looked surprised. Staring down at Zeb with wide blue eyes.
"What?"
"I'm trying to learn a lot more about your planet. Want to learn with me?"
Ezra studied him for a few seconds. And each second felt like it was so terribly long, but all Zeb could do was stand tall and radiate sincerity. He needed Ezra to understand he was serious about this.
"Sure." Ezra said softly.
"That sounds, good."
~~~~~~~~~~
Hera was unhappy. Livid, in a true sense. But she couldn't let herself dwell on these feelings, because her newest member of the crew was Force Sensitive. Which meant that she couldn't allow the kid to feel her feelings.
Which, was a little hard.
Because it was Ezra that she was unhappy with.
Not because Ezra had done something. Never something like that. Ezra has been a truly perfect houseguest so far.
And therein lay the problem.
Ezra was acting like a houseguest. He was rarely eating. Hera knew, because she kept an eye on the supplies. Sure, Ezra was drinking water, and Hera was so grateful about that. Humans needed water. But Ezra wasn't eating as much as a teenager should. Ezra needed to eat more. And he needed to interact more.
And now, Hera didn't know where to find said teen. He should be easier to spot now, his Imperial jumpsuit now bleached and then dyed orange by Sabine. Hera wondered if there was any cultural significance to the color, but there wasn't any way she could ask.
Because the kid would often just hide away unless his presence was requested for a chore.
Hera would not be upset. She would not be mad.
So she went to Kanan. He was Ezra's master now, and while she didn't understand the significance of such a thing, she knew it was far different than a master and slave relationship. She knew that at least one aspect of this Master-Padawan relationship was that Kanan would care about Ezra, a lot.
So she leaned on the doorway of Kanan's room and tapped on the frame, although he probably already knew she was there.
"What's wrong?" Kanan asked, his eyes still closed from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Apparently he was meditating? That was something Jedi did, right? Even Hera's father did that sometimes to clear his head, but she had a feeling it was a little more than just "clearing the mind" for Jedi.
"Ezra's not eating." She said plainly.
Kanan's eyes snapped open, and then hissed as his took in light too quickly. He snapped a hand over his eyes, a sigh escaping him.
"What do you mean, Ezra's not eating?" He asked, his tone a little harsh. Hera would be nice to him this once, because he was probably really worried about the kid. But she was also going to give him the worst jobs this coming standard week for talking to her like that. Just because she could.
"Exactly what I said." Hera sighed, turning to have her back on the doorframe. The metal was cool on her lekku and she briefly thought about taking her flight cap off when she went to bed tonight. Or at least before she collapsed before the night cycle tonight. "Ezra's not eating. I've been keeping watch on the stores, and while he has been eating enough to get by, it's definitely not enough for a human boy."
Kanan groaned, standing to his feet with a stumble.
"Of course he's not eating. He grew up on the streets. He probably doesn't know that he's allowed to eat." Kanan paused. "And he probably doesn't know he's allowed access to the other amenities either."
Frustration bubbled up in Hera's gut, but she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Their newest member was something that was needed. There was no if, and, or buts about it. The Force had clearly stated that Kanan and Ezra were supposed to be together, and Kanan was a member of her crew. Kanan wasn't going anywhere, which meant that Ezra was joining the rebellion. But that means that they have to teach him far more than what they were expecting.
Not that Hera wouldn't take this challenge on wholeheartedly. No, she would immediately take this challenge on, any day of the standard week. There was no way that she was letting this kid go now. Ezra Bridger was hers now and he wasn't escaping her crew. The kid would have an easier time escaping a rancor's claws than escaping Hera Syndulla.
No, Hera was just frustrated.
Frustrated at what? She wasn't exactly sure. Maybe at the galaxy for daring to orphan Ezra? Frustrated at the Empire for targeting her new crew member and making him feel unsafe? Frustrated at the past for making the Jedi die and for changing Ezra and Kanan's future?
Maybe it was a mix of everything.
Hera just knew that she was frustrated.
But not at Ezra. Which meant that she needed to cool down and find a way to connect to her newest Spectre. And fast.
A chance arose when their stores of food ran low, and they were on Lothal. While Zeb had been a favorite in the markets so far thanks to his attempts to learn the language and culture, Hera immediately assigned the task to herself and Ezra. She needed this. She needed to spend time with her newest crew member, her newest member of the family. Otherwise, they were never going to get anywhere.
"Are you ready?" She called up the ladder, and Ezra peered over the edge at her. For a second, she marveled at the color of his eyes. She wondered which parents he got it from, or maybe it was a mutation of their genes. Or maybe he was just special. It would make sense. Kanan's eyes were just as beautiful and he was Force Sensitive as well.
"Uh, yeah." Ezra whispered, and moving quickly, he slid down the ladder.
Hera took in her newest Spectre as he stood up from the gravity. His Imperial jumpsuit was now a muted orange, thanks to Sabine. He may need a haircut soon, but Hera would leave that to the crewmates that actually have hair to decide. He stood taller now, but he picked at his fingers. No, not at his fingers. A scab on his fingers? Hmm, maybe Hera could find him some gloves in the market?
"Let's get going then." Hera smiled warmly and turned to walk down the ramp. She kept her ear cones open for the sound of Ezra following, and was rewarded with the softest of footsteps following her. Ezra was a very quiet walker. She could barely pinpoint him in a room sometimes, and truly, she hated that he knew how to blend into a room so well. She was grateful that he could do it. Her heart broke that he had to learn to do it.
She tilted her head back, catching Ezra looking up at the Lothrows flying overhead with wide eyes and a peaceful smile on his face.
How long had it been since he had been on his home planet? Since he was taken by the Empire? They were going to have to be careful being in public, but that was fine. Ezra was worth it.
"Ezra, you can walk beside me, if you're comfortable with that." She offered, going to the flimsi in her hand that held the list. It wasn't much, but it was enough that Hera could rope Ezra into coming with her without anyone raising an eyebrow.
Ezra was quiet, but he did walk a little closer to her.
"Do you know where to find most of this?" She asked, reaching out slowly and holding the flimsi out by a corner. Ezra reached out, carefully, as if he could make a mistake, and took the flimsi as if it would rip if he touched it. Hera let go one she was sure he had a good grip and he retreated with the list, scanning it with his lips pursed.
"Uhm, most of it. I know a few people I can haggle with if you want some lower prices. But I don't know if the market will have meilooruns. Those are really. . ."
Hera chuckled. "We don't have to get those. I just want them is all. I like them, so I like to keep an eye out for them."
Ezra made a sound of understanding and held the flimsi back out to her, and she took it a little faster than she gave it to him. He didn't flinch, so Hera took it as a win and cheered in her head.
"Ezra, I don't think we've talked all that much, despite you being on my crew for about a week now." Hera started as she tucked the flimsi away. "What do you like to do?"
Ezra was quiet.
"Mess with the Empire."
Hera laughed loudly. It echoed on the plains, and she was glad no one else was around.
"Yes, I'm sure you do." She said, managing to not make it a wheeze after she regained her breath. "But have you managed to find any hobbies? Chopper mentioned that you were splicing that Stormtrooper helmet."
"It was the communications array in the Stormtrooper helmet." Ezra huffed, crossing his arms and looking every bit the fourteen year old he was. "I, hm, Mikhail would help me learn how to splice through some locks. So I like to do that too. I helped Sabine get to her pigments, which were in a locked box."
So Ezra liked to pick locks? That would be good for missions. But that didn't tell Hera what Ezra liked to do, not really.
"Do you like to read?" Hera asked, thinking of downloading some holos onto a datapad for Ezr–
"I didn't– I can't really read."
Hera's head snapped around, her neck twinging and lekku flying. Ezra was staring down at the ground, kicking rocks and picking at the buckles of his backpack. And Hera wanted to hit herself. Kanan had told her that Ezra was a street kid. Of course they didn't know how long, but with how tiny he was, it was highly likely he had been on the streets of Capital City for a long while. Longer than he had an education.
"I can read." Ezra snapped his head up, eyes wide and earnest. "I promise I can. I just, simple words, like a list, are easier."
A list. Like the one she had shown him. That why they hadn't picked up on it.
Karabast. This needed to be fixed immediately.
"I can still help I promise, I'm good at mechanics and I'm really good at math if someone says it out loud or I figure it out in my head, I promise I'm good stock, I just–" Ezra rambled, and every word hurt Hera's heart more until she couldn't take it anymore.
She stopped walking and reached her hands out, catching Ezra's hands, making him freeze on the spot.
"Would you like Kanan or I to teach you?" She offered plainly. She had a feeling that flowery words and pretty promises would mean nothing to Ezra. Words meant nothing to a child of war. But actions? Those held all the power.
Ezra's eyes darted to her hands and then to her face, her eyes, searching. It kind of felt like when she first met Kanan. She wondered if it was the feeling of a Force Sensitive searching for an answer from her.
"I'm good stock." Ezra whispered, insisting. "I can help. I promise."
"I know you can Ezra." Hera dropped her eyes to Ezra's hands, and noted the scars there. His small hands, smaller than a fourteen year old hands should be. Full of scars, more than a fourteen year old should have. There were two matching scars on his palms, and they were too purposefully placed to be anything other than inflicted by someone onto Ezra. Hera briefly wondered if she would be allowed to meet the schutta who did it and put a blasterbolt in their brains.
"But not because of your Force Sensitivity. But because you care. You love. You have hope." She squeezed his hands gently. "We want you here, Ezra Bridger. I know that might seem weird and scary at first. But it's true. So, in order to prove it, would you like Kanan or myself to help you learn?"
Ezra studied her with wide, bright eyes.
"Could you both help? I don't know. . . Where exactly I am. In schooling."
"Easily done." Hera gently untangled their fingers, letting go of his hands reluctantly. As much as she'd like to keep holding her new Spectre's hands and make sure he wouldn't run away after that emotion explosion, she was sure that he was feeling overwhelmed right now. It was better that he had a little space to breathe.
"Thank you." Ezra whispered softly as they came up on Capital City.
"You're more than welcome Ezra." She pushed her luck and reached out, squeezing Ezra's shoulder. He spasmed in place, almost leaning into her touch and almost leaning away.
And if she found some green gloves that matched with Kanan's dark green shirts and accents of Ezra's new orange jumpsuits that she bought? Well, obviously it was because Ezra didn't feel confident about his hands, the way he kept pushing them into his pockets and hiding them away. And they were protection for missions too. So a double win.
Ezra was a hell of a haggler though, and Hera was definitely assigning him more missions like this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra stared up at the ceiling of his cabin.
The cabin that he shared with Zeb. One that Zeb didn't have to share with him, but he offered anyways, and it was so kind of him. Just like he had offered to help Ezra relearn his language together.
He stretched his hands in front of him, flexing the tough material of the gloves and feeling himself smile. Hera had gone out of her way to get double-weave, insulated gloves for missions for him. And they were green. A green that nearly matched his past gloves.
He dropped his hands back onto chest, that was clad in a colored imperial jumpsuit. One that Sabine had bleached and dyed for him, just because he missed the color. It was close enough that Ezra was concerned that he had met Sabine in the past and he just didn't remember. But no, that wasn't the case. She was just that good, and was already promising to add more to his jumpsuit if he wanted.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the hum of the ship, the rolling wheels of Chopper as he made his rounds. He would power down soon. But the droid had been friendly enough, and Ezra liked the lil guy so far.
Keeping his eyes closed, he tapped on the door in his mind, one he only realized was there because of Kanan. The Force hummed, flowing around him and letting him know that everyone was alright. Kanan was still up, probably doing that meditating thing, and he responded to Ezra's light tap with an easy knock of his own, before leaving the door cracked with a simple message of "Go to bed, Kid."
Ezra huffed a laugh.
Fine then.
His eyes were already closed, so sleep found him easily enough.