Chapter Text
Ezra knew what was happening as soon as he heard the rushed footsteps in the corridor outside. He paused with the half-finished sandwich partway to his lips, then lowered it back to his plate. He was done eating for now. Probably for the rest of the day.
Hera’s gaze centered on him as soon as she walked into the room; her eyes appeared a little wider than usual, and her complexion was flushed, whether with the hurried rush to reach him, or nervous anticipation of what was to come, he couldn't be sure. “You weren’t in your room,” was the first thing she said.
That was true. Ezra waited. He didn’t reply; he couldn’t.
“We’ve received a communication from Sabine and Zeb; they’re heading back now, and they’re about three hours out.”
Oh. He had known that was what she had come to say, but he realized now how desperately he had been hoping that he was mistaken. He wasn’t ready. He had thought he was ready, but it turned out he had been wrong.
He took a deep breath, pushed his half-full plate away, and got slowly to his feet. His legs felt wrong, like they weren’t quite able to support his weight. He ignored it, licked his lips and forced himself to swallow. His mouth suddenly felt too dry. “Okay,” he said simply. “Thanks.”
It was always going to be today. He had known it since the moment he had woken up. In fact, the certainty had been so strong that he had half expected that when he peered over the edge of his bunk and into the one below, he would find Zeb already there, sleeping off the exertions of the mission. Or worse, up and moving around the room, forcing Ezra to make small talk and act normal.
He should be feeling relieved. Things were happening according to the vague plan he had had in his head; the message had come through in plenty of time, giving him as much warning as he could reasonably expect, and it had come at a time when he was awake, giving him the opportunity to ensure that he wasn’t around when the Phantom landed.
It was always going to be today. And there had never been any possibility of him being ready. If he had another month, he knew that he was still going to feel the same way.
“Kanan isn’t using his quarters, he said if you want to go there…” She tailed off as she noticed him shaking his head. He would go there, briefly, to drop off the few things that he would need for his planned stay that night, but he couldn’t stand to just sit there waiting. “Okay,” she told him. “Well, wherever you end up, keep your comm device with you, I’ll call you when it’s time.”
Ezra touched the device attached to his arm, feeling its familiar presence, and nodded.
Hera hesitated, then turned to leave.
He could still go to his room for now, for a couple of hours. Just as long as he was gone before they actually got back. He considered that possibility, and dismissed it. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do anything, and the thought of sitting there with nothing but his thoughts for company made him feel ill.
“Ezra, I…”
He looked up to see that without him noticing, Hera had turned back to face him again. Her expression was soft and sympathetic in a way that made him want to cringe. He couldn’t help but notice it was also a little difficult to make out; he felt as though he needed to take maybe half a step closer to see her properly. She didn’t continue whatever it was she had been about to say; instead, she hesitated by the door for just long enough that it started to feel awkward. Finally, when he thought he wasn’t going to be able to stand it any longer, she took a determined step forward, and another.
Before Ezra realized what was happening, Hera wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling him in as close as she squeezed him tightly, as though she could somehow protect him from what was coming.
She didn’t say anything, didn’t assure him it would be okay, or offer any advice to get him through either the next few hours or the upcoming conversation. Instead she squeezed him a little tighter, held him for a little longer, then, before she let him go, whispered in his ear, “Three hours, I’ll radio you when it’s time.”
Ezra nodded, still caught in her embrace.
She retreated quickly, releasing him, turning and leaving the room in a matter of seconds. Ezra stared after her for several moments, unable to move until his body sprung into action almost against his will and he left the room, following her but not chasing after her. He found the corridor empty, to his relief, and turned to leave, still not sure where he planned to go.
“What do you think he’s doing?”
Kanan, seated at the opposite side of the desk in her quarters, didn’t bother to turn to face her. He worried the corner of a stack of paperwork with his thumb. “I don’t know,” he said. “He has a few places around the base that he likes to go to hide, he’s probably in one of those. Or maybe he’s found some work to do, or… I don’t know.”
Hera took a deep breath and sighed. She thought of Ezra, alone in some secret hiding place with nothing but his thoughts for company. She hoped Kanan was wrong about that. She checked the time, little more than a few minutes had passed since she had last checked. She sighed again.
Kanan reached across the desk and took her hand in his. He squeezed it lightly, and she felt the dry warmth of his skin against hers. “He’s going to be okay,” he told her.
He was right, of course. But that was in the long term. She didn’t know exactly what Kanan meant, whether Ezra would be okay, today, or tomorrow, or three years down the line. “You didn’t see him when I told him they were on the way,” she said.
Kanan’s lips twitched just slightly and she scowled.
“Not funny,” she told him. “He just looked so…” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “…alone,” she said.
Kanan’s grip on her hand tightened a little. “He’s going to be okay,” he repeated.
He was, but not yet. Not today. “I should have offered to do something with him,” Hera said. “To keep him company, give him something else to think about.”
“He would have said no,” Kanan promised her. “Trust me on this, he’ll have had some kind of a plan for how he was going to use these hours, and it won’t have involved hanging out with either of us.”
Still, she should have asked.
“He’s…” Kanan began.
Hera pulled her hand away. “If you tell me he’s going to be okay one more time, I’m honestly going to hit you.”
Kanan smiled indulgently and shook his head. “He’s not on his own,” he clarified. “I’m not sure where he is, but he’s with other people. He’s fine.”
The tension that she had been carrying around since she had taken that call dissipated slightly and she frowned. “Good. Sorry. I wasn’t really going to hit you.”
He smiled. “I know. You’d have missed.”
She shrugged. She didn’t doubt that he would have been able to dodge, she did wonder whether he would have bothered. “So,” she said. “What shall we do?”
“I’m not saying it’s fixed, exactly. It’s just…” The pilot shrugged and spread his hands widely, palms facing outward and an exaggerated look of uncertainty on his face. “That paint they use, it’s water based, that’s all I’m saying.”
Ezra planted his hands in his pockets and looked to the other pilot, Hobbie.
“I think you’re paranoid,” Hobbie said. “You just can’t stand the fact that you’ve lost the last couple of nights and you’re trying to work out who to blame.” He turned to look at Ezra. “What do you think?”
“Uh…” Ezra shrugged and shook his head. They were talking about the dokma races, and how easy it was to tell the previous champion from the other competitors the next night. “I guess… they could be washing the paint off and swapping the colors around,” he said.
“Ha! See?!” the first pilot exclaimed, fixing a victorious look in Hobbie’s direction. “They change them around so the one that looks like the champion from the night before loses and they collect all the winnings.”
Ezra shook his head. “I said could,” he said. “Maybe. But have you ever touched one of those shells? They’re pretty rough, I don’t know how easy it’d be to wash the paint off of there without leaving some behind.” He thought about it. “Actually, you should probably ask Sabine about that,” he said. “You know, if you really want to know. And if you don’t mind a half hour lecture on different kinds of paint and what’s good for what.”
“Or you could ask one of the mechanics,” Hobbie suggested.
“Those guys take care of our ships,” the other man reminded him. “Call me crazy, but I don’t really want to upset them.”
“Not crazy,” Hobbie corrected. “Like I said, paranoid.”
Ezra grinned at the slightly older man’s irritation and tried not to think that this might be the last time he did this for a while; just hung out with people without it being awkward. It wasn’t like the news was going to be everywhere today; he was telling Sabine and Zeb, that was it. Tomorrow, Hera was going to have a discussion with Sato, Kanan was going to tell Rex. None of those people were going to go out and start gossiping about him. It still felt like a lot all at once, like the exclusive club of people in the know was about to expand exponentially, and once that process began, it wouldn’t be so long before he had to start telling other people.
Once it was out there, things would get back to normal eventually, he knew that, but there would be that long period in between, where everything felt tainted. He wasn’t looking forward to that beginning.
“What?” Hobbie asked.
It took Ezra a moment to realize that he was talking to him. He turned to look at him. “What what?” he replied.
Hobbie shrugged. “You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The pilot shook his head. “No reason.” He turned back to his friend. “Anyway, the dokma get swapped every few days anyway, and when that happens you just have to pick one at random anyway.”
“Plus, they’re not exactly predictable,” Ezra added, “it’s not like they even know they’re supposed to be racing, when one wins, it’s only because it happened to wander in the right direction.”
The pilot sighed deeply and slumped against the side of his ship. “I guess,” he said. “I still think there’s some kind of a scam going on, the mechanics win far too often for it to be a coincidence.”
“Well, yeah,” Hobbie told him, “anybody’d think you never gambled before, you know the house always wins, right? What are you going to do, go tell on them to Captain Syndullla?” He laughed.
The other man scowled and turned away. “Guess not. I’ll see you later.”
Hobbie turned to Ezra and chuckled. “Good one about getting Sabine to give him a lecture,” he said. “She probably would do, too.”
“Make that definitely,” Ezra amended. “Seriously, don’t ask her about anything art related unless you really want to know the answer.”
Hobbie grinned. “Noted,” he said. “So, will you be there for the races tonight?”
Ezra hesitated. He didn’t want to think about tonight. By that time, Sabine would know. Zeb would know. He folded his arms. Maybe he could be there. It would give him something to do, and the others rarely attended the races, so the chances of awkwardness was pretty low.
He probably wasn’t going to feel like it. But then, he wasn’t sure how he was going to feel. “Probably not,” he said.
“No? How come?” Hobbie stared at him, clearly curious, and Ezra felt himself shift awkwardly.
“Well, Sabine and Zeb are coming back today, they… You know what they’re like after a mission, they’ll want to… talk. About it. About the mission, I mean.”
Hobbie frowned and Ezra was certain he saw right through him. “Yeah, I figured you meant the mission. What else would they want to talk about?”
Ezra laughed, and surprised himself by how natural it sounded. “Sorry, distracted. But yeah, if they finish with the stories in time, I’ll come by. If not…”
“If not, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Only, would he? Would he be in the mood for the races then either? He grinned regardless; he was well practiced at that particular pretense “Yeah, I’ve lost the last three nights, I’m due a win any time now.”
Hobbie laughed. “Well, the mechanics, they wash the dokma every night just to trick you into betting on the wrong one, you know.”
Ezra grinned and shook his head.
“Well,” Hobbie told him, “Better get back to it.”
Ezra nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll s… I’ll see you later.”
“So,” Hera said. She turned and walked back across the center of the room, passing directly behind where Kanan was seated. “The lounge is the obvious place to tell them, there’s room for everyone to sit, so at least they’ll all be comfortable.” It wasn’t the most important consideration, it wasn’t like physical comfort was going to be anybody’s primary concern at the time, but it was still something to consider. More importantly, it was something to focus on, because her brain certainly wasn’t going to let her think about work right now
She reached the wall, turned, and walked back again, brushing the back of Kanan’s chair as she did. “You might as well go straight there,” she added. “When they arrive, I mean. That way if one or both of them decide to go straight to the meeting without heading to their quarters first, they’ll find you there already.”
Kanan turned around to face her. She continued to pace, noting the way he almost, but not quite, tracked her movements, turning his head as though following her with his eyes.
“I’ll meet them directly off the Phantom if I can,” she continued. “They should send a communication before they come in to land, so I just need to make sure I receive it and get to the designated landing spot before they exit the ship. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Barring unforeseen complications, that was, but generally speaking there was no reason she wouldn’t be able to get there in time.
She stopped when she reached the wall, turned again, and walked back. “If I miss them for whatever reason, they’re going to come looking for me anyway, so it shouldn’t be a major problem. Then as soon as I see them, I’ll tell them there’s a meeting. They’re going to ask why, of course… I’ll have to tell them I can’t say, which they’re going to find strange..."
Kanan took a deep breath before he finally spoke. He pressed to stop the audio playing on his datapad. “You’re overthinking this,” he told her.
“I’ll try to get a feel for how long they’re going to need to get themselves ready, then tell them what time to meet. What do you think, ten minutes? Twenty? I don’t want to leave Ezra waiting too long.”
Kanan pulled out the earpiece that he used to listen to audio, and placed it in his pocket. “Tell them to get there when they’re ready,” he said. “I’d tell Ezra it’s happening right away, they’ll probably go drop their stuff off first, maybe get changed or something, then head right there, Ezra will drag his feet and dawdle, and they’ll probably end up arriving around the same time.”
Hera thought about it. “Should they arrive at the same time?” she asked. “Or would it be better if Ezra was already there when they arrived. Or if he came in last?” She paced across the room again.
“It won’t make any difference,” Kanan told her.
Hera frowned.
“Seriously, it won’t, Hera. You need to sit down, relax, and stop trying to control everything.”
“I’m not trying to control…” she stopped, because actually, yes she was. Well, not control per se, but understand how things were going to go, so that she had a plan in place if things started to go wrong. “Fine, okay. But I don’t see you or Ezra planning things out, someone’s got to do it.”
Kanan shook his head. Still seated, he turned around to face her again. “No,” he said. “They don’t.”
Hera slowed her pacing to a stop, then walked around to the other side of the desk, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him expectantly. “Okay?” she said expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
The chair opposite him, on the other side of the desk, pulled out a little, inviting her to sit. She thought for a moment that he had moved it using the Force, until she noticed his foot moving, disappearing back underneath the desk. “What’s the worst thing that could happen today?” he asked.
Hera hesitated before sitting down. “I don’t really want to think about that.”
“Well, just think about it anyway. Is anything that happens today going to make the situation worse? Is it going to make Ezra go blind any faster?”
She felt herself flinch at the word in a way that she hadn’t for months. She forced herself to stay still, to actually think about that. “No,” she said. “Of course not.”
“Then nothing you do is going to change what’s happening, which means that organizing the perfect time to have everyone meet and trying to control who walks into the room first isn’t going to make the news any easier to hear, it’s just going to make things more difficult for you.”
“I don’t care about me; I’m trying to make things easier for Ezra.”
Kanan nodded. “I know. But — and you can hit me if you like — Ezra really is going to be okay. And I don’t just mean in the long term. He knows what he’s doing, this will be helpful,” he indicated the datapad on the desk in front of him, where he had been listening to the file she had created, “and all he really needs from us is for us to be there with him, and not to make it into a bigger deal than it already is. Who walks into the room first doesn’t matter, and even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to script it, so you might as well let it happen.”
Hera rested her head in her hands and sighed deeply. “I know,” she said. “I just need to feel like I’m doing something to help.”
“You are,” Kanan assured her.
She wished she could believe that. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her chest expanding as it filled with air; she counted as she breathed in, and again as she exhaled slowly, through pursed lips.
Kanan touched her lightly on the arm and she looked up to see the concern on his face. “You are helping,” he repeated. “But you’ve done everything you can. Now you’ve just got to sit back and hand it over to Ezra, and if he needs our help, we’ll be there for him. Okay?”
Hera sighed shakily and nodded. The truth was, she knew this already, but that didn’t mean it was going to be an easy thing for her to do.
“Hey, you.”
Ezra didn’t exactly ignore the voice, he just barely noticed it; it faded into the background as he walked by, lost in his own thoughts.
“Hey, you. Moody Jedi kid.”
He noticed that one. He stopped and spun around searching for the speaker. He found her at the top of a ladder, near to an open exterior panel on a battered-looking fighter ship. She stared down at him. He looked up. “Me?”
He couldn’t make out her expression from that distance, but she sounded like the moody one. “Yes, you. You see any other Jedi kids around here?”
Despite himself, Ezra looked around, confirmed that the area was free of crowds of Padawans, and shook his head. “Not right now,” he said.
“Well then, I must’ve been talking to you,” the woman said.
Ezra folded his arms and squinted slightly as he stared up at her. She was human, older than average for the base, maybe in her late forties or early fifties, her dark hair was graying slightly at the roots, and she wore the dirt-stained jumpsuit that had become the unofficial mechanics’ uniform.
“Pass me that plasma welder,” she said. She indicated the ground below the ladder with a wave of her hand. Her other hand was inside the panel, possibly holding something in place. Probably whatever it was that she wanted to weld.
Ezra glanced at the tools on the ground by the base of the ladder, stepping a little closer to check which one she actually needed. He looked back up at her; her hand was still stretched downward, her fingers making some kind of impatient, gripping or beckoning motion in the air.
She was kind of rude. He could probably be forgiven for walking away and letting her climb down the ladder to collect her own tools. On the other hand, maybe she was having a bad day, he had certainly had his share of those recently, and he knew that they didn't exactly leave him eager to be polite and thoughtful to other people. He sighed, picked up the welder and tossed it in her direction.
It was a good throw, and an easy catch for her. She glared down at him. “Throwing it?” she said. “Really? This is delicate equipment.”
Ezra frowned. She had expected him to lift it to her using the Force. It was a reasonable expectation, he supposed, but it wasn’t like he couldn't have used the Force to catch the welder if she had missed. She hadn’t thanked him, he noticed.
Feeling vaguely annoyed, he turned to leave.
“Hey!” She clicked her fingers. “Wait there a minute, I might need something else.”
Ezra shook his head; there was letting a few things go, and there was letting someone walk all over him. He opened his mouth to say something he was probably going to regret, when his wrist comm came to life. Hera’s voice. “Ezra? They're back.”
He glanced up at the woman on the ladder, then back at his comm. “Uh, sorry,” he said, waving his wrist in her direction as though she was going to know what that meant. “More important stuff to do.”
He turned and fled, half relieved to have an excuse to get away despite what that excuse was.
It wasn’t until he turned the final corner and saw the Phantom landed on the ground not far from the Ghost that he realized he was shaking.