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The mission sucked.
Not the usual life-or-death-better-run-now sucked. More like boring-and-sitting-forever-for-intel kind of mission. For many rebels, that would be the dream mission. For Ezra Bridger, it was torture.
She leaned back into her seat, and crossed her arms, glaring at the ceiling fixtures. The air smelled like grease and spicy food. “Do you even know who this contact is?” They had been waiting an hour and Kanan had yet to give her details on their informant.
Kanan, sitting next to her, leaned forward just enough to hiss in her ear. “Quiet. And stop kicking the table.”
“I’m not kicking it,” Ezra lied as a waiter-droid rolled past them. She crossed her arms, and tried her best to stop squirming. The emphasis on tried. The lower half of her stomach ached, and she felt sweaty, despite the cool restaurant air. She blamed it on the suspicious-tasting tea Kanan had bought her earlier.
A Rodian entered the bar. He halted beside their table, hands clasped behind him. “Unfair weather today, is it not?” The code phrase they had been waiting on.
“Unfair for pilots, but ideal for farmers.” Kanan responded. The Rodian’s shoulders relaxed, and he slipped into the seat across from them. He waved the waiter-droid down and requested the ‘house favorite.” Ezra knew the game. Make things look casual and no imperial-lover would suspect them. It was the same strategy she has used during black-market deals when she still lived on the streets.
“I apologize for my lateness.” He glanced around, but none of the other customers were even looking their way. He pulled a small object from his pocket and slid it across the table. “This is the clearance codes you requested. No one saw me.”
Clearance codes for the next supply run, on a backwater planet storage unit of weapons. Kanan nodded in thanks, and quickly pocketed the object. The droid returned with the Rodian’s drink and the conversation devolved into casual, coded phrases.
“Did you spot the new white bird?” Did imperials see you?
“I didn’t. Tell me more.” No.
Ezra tried to pay attention. But the stomach ache crested, and she leaned forward slightly. The sweat had seemed to grow awareness, and collected at the seat of her pants. She felt Kanan’s eyes glance in her direction. Without stopping his conversation with the rodian, he tapped her wrist casually in the code they used when they couldn’t talk back on missions.
She did two rapid pulses that translated to I’m okay. She wasn’t. But even if she hadn’t been embarrassed to tell him that she was having ‘stomach issues’, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t will them away with the Force (she was pretty sure that would have come up in training). She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Another deep wave rose, and she bit down onto her tongue.
“Refresher,” she blurted, rising to her feet. “I mean…I need….I’ll be right back.” She darted away before Kanan could call her out. She would probably be in trouble later for her unprofessional manner, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The women’s refresher was blessedly empty. Ezra locked herself into the farthest stall, and sat on the closed toilet lid. The smell and stained walls didn't phase her; she had sat on much grosser places. She wrapped her arms around herself, and glanced down at the same time. Her heart stopped at a hint of red bleeding through her pant seams.
With trembling fingers, she unfastened her belt to check. She stared at the crimson stain. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears.
Ezra knew what a period was—the streets had taught her many things, many she wished she could forget—and Hera had sat her down for a humiliating, detailed conversation about what to expect. But none of the twi-lek’s soft words had covered what to do in a situation like this.
A lump formed in her throat, and blocked the panic from escaping. “It’s okay, Ezra.” She tried to tell herself. “It’s nothing. Just time to get creative.”
But the blood had soaked through the seat of her pants. She tentatively touched the stain; her hand returned dampened with red. Her stomach dropped, and her vision blurred. Her first instinct was to call Hera, but she had accidentally left her comm at the table with their informant and….Force….what would Kanan think? She couldn’t face him like this.
Ezra buried her face into her palms.
After a moment, the door creaked open. “Hello?” A female voice echoed off the walls. “Is everything alright in here?”
Ezra tried to control her sniffles. “Yeah, everything’s okay.” The tears leaked through her voice. She didn’t know what this stranger could help her with. It’s not like they could provide a new wardrobe.
“Are you sure?” The newcomer said gently. “If you need something….”
“I’m fine. Please leave me alone.” Ezra didn’t mean to whine. After a pause, the door closed and left her alone in her despair.
…
The rodian had given Kanan all the information he knew and had just risen to leave when the bartender approached. “Excuse me, sir?” There was a tone in the twi-lek’s voice that usually meant trouble. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you might want to check on your daughter.”
Kanan’s tapping fingers stilled. “Did something happen?” If anyone could manage to find chaos in the ‘fresher, it would be his own trouble-magnet padawan.
“I’m not sure.” The bartender admitted. “But I think she’s crying. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”
Kanan immediately brushed against their bond. Ezra had it locked down tightly, something she only did when she was hiding something. He rose to his feet. “I’ll check on her.” Women’s refresher or not, the kid needed him. He wouldn't let a simple sign stop him.
The twi-lek followed him to the door, carrying a red WARNING sign with her. “ I’ll put out the maintenance sign in front. It should keep everyone out.”
Force bless this lady. Kanan nodded his thanks before pushing the door open.
Inside, Ezra froze when the door opened, followed by Kanan brushing up against her in the force for the second time. She now regretted ignoring his first attempt. “Kid? What’s going on?”
Ezra wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Nothing. Just….stomach issues.” It was ironic: ten minutes ago, she would have died before admitting to something like that. Now here she was, using it as her cover story.
“Something tells me that’s not the problem.” Kanan’s scuffed boots stopped in front of her stall. “C’mon, spill it.”
Spill it. The same thing Kanan said last Empire Day. The same words he used when he thought Ezra was being particularly stubborn. It both infuriated Ezra and comforted at the same time. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Hera says I’m pretty empathetic.” The stall door creaked as Kanan leaned against it from the other side. She could feel him continuing to poke at the bond she was refusing to acknowledge. “How about you try me?”
“I can’t.” She hunched over as another cramp knocked against her insides. Her shields must’ve slipped slightly, because Kanan stilled. She would have assumed he had left, if it wasn’t for his slight breaths and stupid boots.
“Ezra,” Kanan sounded hesitant. If Ezra hadn’t been so humiliated, she would have laughed.“Is it...girl issues?”
Ezra squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to disappear. Kanan apparently had taken her silence as an answer, because he exhaled heavily. “Okay. Do you….kriff….”
“I don’t know what to do.” Ezra’s words choked up, despite her best attempts to sound calm. She was already wading in a pool of blood and her own humiliation; might as well dive all the way in. “It’s everywhere, and I don’t have anything, and I need new clothes and….”
“Okay…” Kanan interrupted her. “Just…give me a sec.”
The silence was suffocating. Ezra blinked back more tears. She could picture Kanan’s head rubbing his temples, like he always did when he was frustrated. He must be so disgusted that he didn’t know what to do.
Just when Ezra opened her mouth to ask, Kanan cleared his throat. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to call Hera on your comm and push it under the door. You’re going to talk to her while I go out.”
“Where’re you going?” Ezra sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Kanan didn’t seem grossed or mad. If anything, he sounded worried.
“To get what you need.” A comm beep. “Specter One to Specter Two, Come in.”
“Loud and Clear, Specter one. Did you receive the intel?”
“Yes, but I have another mission on hand. I need you to talk to Specter Six while I go out for some…feminine needs.”
Ezra could have sunk into the floor and never appear at the slight pause. Hera's calm, determined voice filled the space again. "Understood, Specter One. Now can you stop hogging the line so I can check on our wayward child?”
Kanan huffed. He reached under the refresher door, comm in hand. Ezra snatched it from him. “Comm if you need me, kiddo. I won’t be long.” His boots clicked away. The refresher door opened and closed, leaving Ezra alone again.
With trembling fingers, Ezra pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Hi.” She cringed at how congested she sounded.
“Hey love.” Hera said, warm even through the crackling signal. “Heard you’re having a rough night.”
“You can say that again.” Ezra sat down on the toilet lid. The blood was drying on her clothes and skin, making her feel sticky. Her insides still felt like they were twisting knots around her other organs.
“It could always be worse.” Hera said. “You could have been rooming with Zeb when it happened.”
Ezra cringed. Her shoulders slowly dropped. “Ugh, that would have been awful.”
Hera’s small laugh crackled through the static. After a moment, the twi-lek spoke again. “It’s going to be alright. The first few times are the hardest. In a few months, you’ll know the signs to look for, and how to be prepared.”
“Maybe.” Ezra sniffled. If every experience was this horrific, she didn’t think she could show her face ever again.
“The Ezra Bridger I know never backs down from a challenge.” Ezra could picture Hera’s hands on her hips, that soft look in her eyes she got when motivating the crew. “Don’t tell me that our feared padawan and stubborn-hearted rebel is giving up now.”
Ezra huffed. “I’m not giving up, just considering a tactical retreat.”
“Unfortunately, this is one battle that you’ll have to face. Just got to keep your chin up so you can see it coming.”
For the next few minutes, the conversation was practical-did Ezra know how to handle hygiene products, did she need to know anything else? Finally, Hera said. “It sounds like you know what you’re doing. I’m going to comm Kanan and make sure he doesn’t end up buying something ridiculous. Are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah,” Ezra wiped her nose on her sleeve. She did feel better. Sure, she still was embarrassed and didn’t think she would be able to look Kanan in the eyes for another week. But Hera's soothing voice made her feel like she could--maybe--survive this.
“Good. Now let me check on our fearless leader before he decides you need every useless item in the aisle.”
Ezra laughed as the line ended
…
Kanan’s comm beeped as he found the hygiene aisle in what felt like a Courasant-sized market. “She’s fine.” Hera said before Kanan could ask. “She just needs rest and supplies.”
“I know she’s fine.” Kanan rubbed his forehead. His head pounded at the large display of feminine needs in front of him. He knew the basics, but not enough to tell the difference between extra-absorbency and complete coverage. “I’m not cut out for this.” He muttered under his breath.
Hera’s hearing still worked amazingly well. “Specter one, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bloo….”
“Of course it’s got nothing to do with that. This is a good thing.” Kanan had grown up in the Jedi Temple creche with others of all species, and lived with female crew members. He was actually relieved that her period had started.
When a very malnourished Ezra had come aboard last year, filled with enough spite to fuel a star destroyer, her growth had been so stunted Kanan had spent months convinced she had lied about her age. Force, she had been so tiny; twelve years old, and hadn’t looked older than eight. Her eyes had been larger than her face, and her spine protruded through her flight suit.
As they snuck very expensive supplements into Ezra’s meals, and tracked down rebel-friendly medics, Kanan had been secretly terrified that the streets had damaged the child’s normal development in ways they still hadn’t predicted. So for her to start her period within the normal ranges for the human species (which Kanan had spent too much time researching) was nothing short of miraculous.
It was her reaction just now that was the problem.
Kanan swallowed. “It’s just….I don’t know what to do, Hera. I’m a horrible--father, guide...master--I’m going to mess her up. ” Ezra’s choked “I don’t know what to do” haunted him. He was supposed to be the person that Ezra could trust to help, the one she could reach for any problem. Instead, she hadn’t wanted to even tell him what was wrong. He had failed her.
“Because you didn’t predict her first period?” Hera sobered quickly. “Love, you’ve done more for Ezra than anyone else in the galaxy. She’s like your second shadow; she follows your examples, and copies everything you do, even your terrible plans…”
“Hey, my plans haven’t failed us yet.”
“Only because of luck, dear,” Hera teased lightly. “Point is, she adores you. But you know more than others what scars the streets leave, especially someone like her. Once you’ve experienced trauma, its difficult to trust safety when its offered.”
Kanan did. He remembered the hunger pangs, the fear that every shadow hid danger, the helplessness of not being able to change your situation. He also remembered the street girls with haunted eyes, and torn clothing.
Ezra had insisted that nothing like that had ever happened, after a disastrous mission when someone had tried putting hands on her before the others could intervene and Kanan had been forced to ask. But she was more than aware of that danger, and he mourned that she had learned that danger so young at all—assuming she was telling the truth. The fact she trusted him at all as humbling.
He was terrified he was going to ruin her somehow; Jedi philosophy, her health, or even(Force forbid) her life. But every time he was about to give up, the look in her blue eyes gave him courage; he had a responsibility to this street urchin to provide and protect her. It went beyond Jedi training into something deeper, something Kanan was almost afraid to name.
“Right as always, Specter two.” He grabbed the nearest package, then paused. “Should I buy her the breathable cotton or the extra long? Wait, what about a heating pad...?”
Hera’s sigh was audible over the comm.
…
Ezra was scrubbing her legs with the course toilet paper when the refresher door opened again.“Kid? You still breathing in there?”
“Yeah,” Ezra’s voice was small. Her skin was still streaked red, and now pink from friction.
“Good. I’ve got your stuff right here,” A plasti-bag was shoved underneath the stall door at her feet. “I’m going to be just outside the refresher waiting on you. Take your time.”
Kanan had bought the basics; pain tablets, cleaning wipes, pads, and—her ears burned—new undergarments with the tag. There was even a fresh pair of pants, black and soft and blessedly clean. It made her feel guilty. Credits were hard to come by, even if Kanan and Hera did their best to hide financial troubles from her. Not to mention that Kanan had been the one to grab her stuff. She could only imagine how to the conversation with the clerk
went.
Tentatively, she reached out through the Force to brush against their bond, trying to gauge how upset he was.
She wasn’t subtle enough. Kanan tapped back, letting his emotions leak from his side. There was worry, and fear? But overarching was his affection, wrapping around her like a cozy, heated blanket. It reminded Ezra of her parents. She blinked the dampness from her lashes and blamed it on the hormones as she cleaned herself up, and started the daunting task of figuring out her first pad.
Kanan was leaning against the wall when she emerged, pink-cheeked with the bag. He looked her up and down as though scanning for injuries. “How’re you feeling?”
Ezra shrugged one shoulder. The crack in the wall near Kanan’s shoulder was fascinating. Her master sighed, but just pushed himself off the wall. “C’mon, let’s go.”
The bartender was wiping the counter as they walked by. “Wait,” she called out. She pushed a disposable glass into Ezra’s hands. Ezra could smell something fruity. “On the house. Everyone says sunshine is the best thing to chase the blues away.” She winked, and waved off Ezra’s gratitude. “Don’t thank me. Customers leaving with a frown is bad business.”
Kanan drove the speeder back to the Ghost so Ezra could sip on her drink. She was still humiliated, but the chilly sweetness of the drink and the wind chased away some of the lingering heat in her cheeks.
The moment Kanan parked by the Ghost, Ezra was gone. She ran up the ramp, clutching her small bag against her chest like a stolen artifact. Zeb was gone, so she was able to safely tuck the pads away in her little hidden nook above her bed. After a quick shower, she curled onto her bunk, hands tucked under her shirt to press against her tender belly.
That was the same position Hera found her in an hour later. “Are you planning on hiding permanently?” Hera sounded amused.
“No, just until everyone forgets what happened.” Ezra sat up, and swung her legs over the side.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Hera tapped her knee, her other hand on her hip. “Others have been in your boots many times. I bled through my sheets my first time, and my father thought i was dying.
"Now come on, Kanan wants to see you." It wasnt a request.
Ezra wanted to sit and wallow in her own self-pity. She didn't want to train at all. But she reluctantly pushed herself off her mattress, and padded out into the hallway. She hesitated in front of Kanan's door.
"Go on," Hera squeezed her shoulder, then turned toward the cockpit. Ezra waited until she was alone to knock on the door.
It opened to reveal Kanan sitting cross- legged on his bunk. Another plasti-bag in his lap. “C’mere.” He patted the bed. When Ezra hesitated, he wiggled the bag. The plastic crinkled. “I got something for you.”
Ezra's curiosity won over her shame. She padded over and sat gingerly on the bed, leaving an inch of space between her and Kanan, who reached into the bag. There was a rare mischievous glint in his eye, and Ezra was immediately concerned that training would involve something very unpleasant.
“First, Plush attack!” He threw something and Ezra snatched it out of the air before she was was bonked in the nose.
She blinked down at the small, rather flat tooka-cat in her hands. "Um...."
“It’s a heating pad,” Kanan rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a small switch on the back. The clerk swore that it was the best thing for cramps. Second, snacks.” Before Ezra could protest, he upturned the bag, and the contents spilled out over her lap; cheap items from salty munchies to sweet pastries. It looked like he had raided an entire vending stall.
“Where did you get all this?” Ezra sorted through them. Some of her favorites were in there; dried fruits and nuts, but also exotic foods she couldn't pronounce.
“I went back out after you laid down.” Kanan busied himself by sorting the items, avoiding her eyes with a sheepish expression.“On some planets, the first blood is actually considered a celebration. It didn’t seem right not to do something.”
“You didn’t have to,” Ezra squirmed, but there was a glow in her chest. She had always heard that men hated periods--that they turned their heads away and pretended that blood-soaked clothing, and cramps didn't exist. But here was Kanan, who, despite the awkwardness, despite the strangeness, wanted to celebrate instead of shame her. Like she actually mattered.
“But I wanted to.” Kanan snapped a candy bar in half. He wiggled part of it under Ezra’s nose.“I’ve been told that chocolate helps with cramps.”
They shared several selected items together. Kanan took a bite from almost every one, even though Ezra knew that he hated most of them. She could see the grimace he tried to hide with every swallow. But he kept eating to encourage her.
It was an habit from the early days on the Ghost, when Ezra would stare at the untouched meal, stomach growling. She had been afraid--of them taking it away, of being poisoned, of literally any scenario her mind could create. Kanan and Hera had learned quickly that if they ate the same thing as her, showed they were comfortable eating in front of others, that food was always available, her own hunger would eventually win out. Now, it was almost a ritual; something that reminded Ezra that things would be alright, even when they weren't.
He knew that she knew what he was doing. It still worked on her.
Ezra licked her fingers clean. The embarrassment had faded under the warm glow in her chest—the reminder of what it felt like to be loved and cared for. “Kanan?”
He hummed questioningly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Hera would kill him later for staining his last clean shirt.
Ezra's chin dropped, and she peered at him through her bangs. “Thanks. For this."
This included more than the pads, and both of them knew it. Kanan's face softened, and he ruffled her hair, ignoring her squeak.
“Anytime, kiddo.” Sugar dust coated his goatee and full-lip smile. It reminded Ezra of her Dad, affectionate and warm, and everything she had dreamed about during her street years.
It felt like home.