Chapter Text
“Obviously I don’t want you to meet them right off the Phantom and tell them,” Hera said, leaning forward just slightly as she spoke, as though to impress the importance of the discussion upon him, “but you can’t wait too long. You understand that, right?”
Ezra perched on one of the stools at the near side of the holotable, elbows rested on the surface, staring across at Hera and Kanan who, either subconsciously or in a deliberate attempt to put up a united front, had sat together opposite him. He knew that wasn’t the intention, but it felt like an interrogation.
“Yeah, I understand that,” Ezra assured her.
Kanan nodded, apparently satisfied. “I’m thinking, let them settle back in for a while, file their reports, decompress, talk about the mission, take a shower, probably…”
Ezra smirked. “Yeah, get rid of that sulphur stench.”
Hera glanced sharply from Ezra to Kanan and back again, looking as though she wanted to say something, or ask something, but she remained silent.
“…then we’ll call a meeting.”
And then he would tell them, and then everything would change. Until then, he would be able to pretend, just for a few hours longer. He would be able to listen to their talk of the mission, waft a hand in front of his nose as though to dispel the odor that he would claim clung to them regardless of whether or not it was true; Sabine would probably attempt to hit him, and would definitely plan some kind of revenge art, Zeb would get probably make some kind of vague threat, or silently plan the opening gambit of the next prank war.
He probably wouldn't go through with it, whatever it was. Sabine probably wouldn’t make that art. If seemed almost cruel to act normal with them, then turn around hours later and admit that it had all been a lie.
Hera was looking at him, concerned. She had walked into the room with a slight limp from her fall, probably not noticeable to anybody other than himself, but very definitely there. “Unless you have a better suggestion?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly, then stopped. “Actually, yeah. I mean, sure, give them time to get the stench off of them, but can’t you tell them about the meeting right away? That way I can…” he shrugged. “I don’t want to have to pretend everything’s okay.”
He noted Kanan’s frown, and the way that Hera turned to look at him, to gauge his reaction. He knew what they were thinking; he had been doing exactly that for months, what difference did a few hours make? And they were right, but they were also completely wrong. Those particular few hours would make all the difference.
“I just… I don’t wanna lose my nerve,” he added.
Hera nodded. “If that’s what you want,” she said.
“It is.”
Actually, what he wanted was to forget about the whole thing and just continue on as normal, but that wasn’t an option; it had never been an option. The best thing he could do was keep the discomfort to as low a level as possible. It was the third time he was going to have to tell somebody. In theory at least, it should be getting easier.
He had a feeling that theory wasn’t going to pan out.
Hera reached down onto the seat beside her, and lifted a datapad. She switched it on, and scrolled through several pages. “I… finished the data file,” she said.
Ezra frowned, momentarily confused before he remembered the purpose of the interview she had conducted with him earlier in the week, trying to understand exactly what he could and could not see. Hera had spent much of the rest of that day and the following one locked away in her quarters when she wasn’t busy with her usual duties, working on this.
“I’m going to give one to Sabine and Zeb, and then to Sato, and anybody else that might need to know.” She looked up from the device to Ezra. “Assuming you’re still okay with that,” she added.
He shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
Anything that would cut down the number of questions he had to answer had to be a good thing. The less he had to actually talk about it, the better. In fact, that data file might be able to compress the act of telling Sabine and Zeb into one vague sentence and the handing out of a data chip. “So, I’ve got this thing, you can read all about it here. Okay, bye.”
“What’s it say?” he asked.
He noted Kanan’s head turn in her direction too, in obvious interest. Hera looked from one to the other and sighed. She scrolled through to the first page. “It says quite a bit,” she said. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to compress the information, but I think it’s all important, so I decided to leave it. Even…” She grimaced, reading the page. “Actually, I might take that bit out.”
Ezra resisted the urge to reach for the datapad himself. “But what does it actually say?” he asked. Before anybody else read it, he wanted to know. Information about Sacul Syndrome was easy enough to come by, if you knew where to look. He wanted to know what she had written about him.
“The first few pages are an overview of Sacul Syndrome,” Hera told him. “I’ve lifted a lot of it from the data I could find already written,” she flicked through a few pages as she spoke, “so don’t think I actually wrote this myself. The… early onset type, there is less information about that, so most of this is talking about the standard version, but what I could find about your type starts on page eight. Most of it’s just from what you’ve told me, or things Kanan and the med droid mentioned. There’s not going to be any surprises in it.”
She cleared her throat and flicked ahead a few more pages. “That’s here. So I’ve said it’s rare, I’ve talked about timescales, and how we’re not 100% certain yet how long…” She took a deep breath, “But probability, number of years, the progression, how long it’s going to be before you…”
Ezra gritted his teeth. She wasn’t actually telling him anything, and the fact that she could barely even bring herself to talk about it either really wasn’t helping.
“…because eventually you’re still going to be able to see, technically, but it’s not…”
“Yeah,” Ezra said quietly. “I know.”
Wordlessly, Kanan got to his feet, crossed the room and returned with a glass of water, which he set down in front of Hera. She picked it up gratefully and took a sip. She had been obviously upset, probably still reeling from the news, when she had spoken to him to collect data for the file. She had appeared mostly recovered yesterday, when she had taken him on her well-meaning but ultimately disastrous tour of the ship.
He was having good days and bad days, he supposed she might be going through something similar. As, presumably, would Sabine, and possibly Zeb too, though he liked to think that Zeb would at least hide it better. He had to, Ezra shared a room with him, and he didn’t know if he could stand it if he had to deal with that… Which was probably a very selfish thought, but he didn’t much care at the moment.
Hera put her drink down on the table and nodded at Kanan. “Thanks.” She turned back to the datapad. “So, I’ve written a little about what you told me, what you find difficult, what you can’t…” she sighed. “It’s brief, because I know it’s going to change, but that’s what people are going want to know, so I’ve put in as much information as I could, and then questions, things people might ask…”
She still hadn’t actually told him anything. This was taking forever; a long, drawn-out, excruciating explanation of the information she had included, without actually sharing what any of that information might be. He reached out his hand. “Hera, I can still read. For now.”
The words hung in the air as the whole room appeared to freeze, his imagination, he was sure. He glanced at Kanan, who didn’t have that option, and was left with no choice but to listen to Hera’s explanation of what she had written, or transfer it onto an audio-enabled datapad and sit and listen for, judging by the number of pages Hera appeared to have turned so far, hours.
He winced. “Sorry,” he muttered, and dropped his hand to the table guiltily. Hera responded by sliding the datapad in his direction. He hesitated before picking it up to skim the information. He didn’t need to read the whole thing, just get the gist of it, make sure there was nothing untrue in there, and more importantly, nothing that he didn’t want the others to know.
He blinked before he began the usual task of forcing his eyes to focus on the screen. He moved it away from his face, then slowly closer and closer until… nope. He blinked hard a few times and tried again, squinting noticeably, adjusting the relative position of the datapad. He couldn’t… He tried again, a vague sense of panic stirring somewhere within him as one by one, every one of his tricks failed; he couldn’t make himself able to read the font on the screen. He closed his left eye, the slightly worse one, and repeated it again with just the right. He could see that there were words there. He could see that they were black against a white screen, there was no problem with the contrast or the brightness of the thing, he just couldn’t read it.
Well, that just proved the thing he had said to Hera wrong, didn’t it?
He glanced up, feeling heat rising to his face. Hera had clearly noticed that he was having difficulty, but didn’t know what to do; Kanan… he wasn’t sure. He looked mildly concerned, probably picking up on the strong sense of awkward floating around the room.
That was okay. He had been adjusting the font size on these things for months, he could still… he had still been able to get by on the standard size until now, but it wasn’t a problem, he could just…
He pressed the button to load up the datapad’s settings, and hit another deflector shield in the form of the same font size in the settings. He frowned, still trying to force his stupid, uncooperative eyes to do him this one favor. They refused.
That was okay, he had done this before, dozens of times. He could remember where to find the thing he needed. Only, he couldn’t. If he had a few minutes to think; to try a few out and see what happened, that might be different, but he could practically feel both Hera and Kanan’s scrutiny, and it was making things so much worse.
He moved the pad closer and then further away from his face one last time in a desperate, pointless effort to see the screen, just a fraction of a second would have done it, but no.
He slumped in his seat. He couldn't do it for himself. He needed help.
This was it, the beginning of the end. It was only going to get worse from here on out, and there was nothing that he was going to be able to do, nothing but sit back and watch as the view from behind his eyes grew more and more indistinct. He resisted the urge to throw that datapad across the room, and instead placed it down on the table, slid it back in Hera’s direction and got to his feet. “I guess I’ll read it later,” he said, then turned and stalked out of the room.
He hesitated outside the room, not sure where to go, or what to do. He looked around and couldn’t see any noticeable difference in how the world around him looked; the corridor and bulkheads looked exactly the same as they had the day before, and the day before that.
That was what it would be like. The subtlety of it, creeping up on him so slowly that he didn’t notice; until something happened and he did. This was the first thing of many, the first major step along the road, the first thing that he wasn’t going to be able to hide. If he had to pull out a magnifier to adjust the font, that was going to be excruciating. But probably better than having to ask somebody else to do it for him.
Or maybe he would just give up on reading altogether. It wasn’t like he really needed it, and in a few years the ability would be gone anyway, might as well start getting used to it now.
Whatever. On a whim, he turned in the direction of the exit, and just about made it off the ship before Kanan caught up to him. Lost in his own thoughts, the first he noticed that he wasn’t alone was Kanan’s hand on his shoulder.
He turned, brushing the hand away as he did. “I’m fine,” he said. The words came out strangled and angry.
Kanan took a step back, and Ezra noticed the datapad clutched in one hand. He held it out, offering it to him. Ezra hesitated, before accepting it and switching it on. The font had been adjusted to something that he could read, a little larger than he needed, actually.
He switched it off and tucked it underneath his arm. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“Hera did it,” Kanan told him, unnecessarily.
Ezra nodded and turned away.
“Take some time, but then come back,” Kanan told him. “There’s a few more things…”
“No.” Ezra shook his head and looked outward over the desert landscape of the planet. How long would it be before that, too, faded from view? “I’m done,” he added. “For now, anyway. I just want…” he paused, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
He just wanted not to have to do this. He wanted it not to be happening, and if that meant for it just to be over already, he would take it at this point. He would take sudden, permanent and irreversible blindness over being forced to watch it happen slowly. It was a horrible thought, and not one he could ever say out loud, but at least that way he would have some measure of control.
“I just want to be alone,” he said, instead. “You and Hera decide whatever you want, tell me about it later.”
For a moment, he thought Kanan was going to agree, until the older Jedi stepped around, placing himself in front of Ezra, blocking his escape. “We can finish talking about this later,” he said, “but you should be there. In the meantime, I’m not sure being alone is the best thing for you right now.”
Ezra frowned. “I said I’m fine, Kanan.”
Kanan looked unconvinced. “I know,” he said.
Ezra forced out a sigh and shook his head. “I just… it sounds ridiculous, but half the time I still don’t really believe this is happening, you know? Like I know it’s real, and I can see it happening, but at the back of my head there’s still this certainty that it’s not really going to get to the point where…” he broke off and barked a sound that didn’t quite count as a laugh.
“Ezra…” Kanan began. He took a step closer, and Ezra moved further away. He could feel his eyes stinging now with unshed tears, and he couldn’t help but be glad that Kanan couldn’t see them. He turned away from him anyway, it felt like the right thing to do.
“And then something like this happens,” he continued. “And I think, that’s gone now. That’s something I’ll never be able to do again. And it’s going to be like that from now on, isn’t it? One thing after another, watching the world fade away a little bit each day, knowing that sooner or later it’ll all just be gone.”
Kanan’s hand touched his shoulder from behind and rested there, a gentle pressure, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. “It’s still there, Ezra,” he told him. “It’ll always be there, you just need to find another way to see it.”
Ezra shook his head and let out another not quite laugh. Kanan’s fingers gripped his shoulder a little tighter, and for a moment they stood in silence, Ezra looking out over the desert beyond the base, vision blurred further by the thin layer of unshed tears filling his eyes.
“I… found some places,” Kanan said, “on the planet, but away from the base. If you want, I can take you there.”
Still trembling, but curious, Ezra turned and looked at him searchingly. “What places?” he asked.
Kanan let his hand drop from Ezra’s shoulder again and folded his arms. “Hard to explain,” he said. “But they’re nice; peaceful. Places I go when I’m feeling down, and they remind me that there’s still beauty in the universe, and that you don’t have to be able to see to experience it.”
That sounded… he didn’t know how that sounded. “Okay?” he said, phrasing it as a question.
“It’s not really something I can explain. There’s this one place, a couple miles outside of the base, where there’s a stream. Only a small one, obviously, but it turns out not all the water here is underground. And as it runs over the rocks it makes this sound…” He stopped and shrugged. “One stipulation though; no looking.”
Ezra frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t show you that you don’t need to see to enjoy the world while you’re looking at it, it just wouldn't work. We do this, you need to promise to keep your eyes closed.”
“No.” The response was out of his mouth before he was even able to think about it. He felt himself blush. “Sorry. I just mean…”
Kanan shook his head. “I know. I didn’t really expect you to say yes yet. But just know the offer’s there, whenever you’re ready, just say the word.”
Ezra took a deep breath and held it. Would it really be so bad? It might be good for him to… hadn’t he just moments before been thinking about what it might be like to lose his vision fast, rather than watch it fade? He didn’t want that, not really. Of course he didn’t, and he was going to hold on tight to every single sight, treasure and cherish them, and use them up, until they were gone. But that didn’t mean he couldn't start to experience a different kind of beauty. One day, it would be all he had.
But not today.
“Let’s take a walk then,” Kanan said. “Just a normal walk. There’s some things we need to talk about.”
Without waiting for a response, he took off at a quick stroll, heading in the direction of the perimeter. Ezra hesitated, glancing back at the open door to the Ghost, then at Kanan’s rapidly retreating form. He made a decision, and jogged a few steps to catch up with his master, shoving the datapad into his pocket to read later. “Won’t Hera be wondering where we are?” he asked.
Kanan shrugged. “She’ll give us a couple of minutes, then give up and get back to work. She’s used to you disappearing on her by now.”
Their feet crunched slightly on the ground as they walked out into the wilderness, Ezra staying close to Kanan, knowing that his lack of a perimeter beacon was dangerous. Out in the distance, he thought he could make out the shape of the giant spiders moving on the horizon. He shuddered at the thought of them. Two of the tiny dokma crawled purposefully in the opposite direction, but aside from that the world was still and quiet.
“So,” Kanan said after a few minutes, when Chopper Base was a smear in the distance. “Tell me about yesterday. You and Hera, did it help?”
Ezra continued to walk in silence, listening to the sound of his footstep on the arid ground. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said after a while. It had been okay, and for a moment he had almost thought that it was going to be useful, and then it had gone wrong. “She showed me the bumps in the wall,” he added.
Kanan nodded, then as though sensing that that topic wasn’t one that Ezra wanted to discuss, fell back into silence. The sun was high in the sky and the spiders were thankfully far away. The weight of the datapad in his pocket was something that was impossible to block out completely, but he could ignore it for now. Anyway, when things got bad, there was still the audio function that Kanan used on occasion, and Kanan was able to switch that on and off himself using some kind of on-screen gesture.
He added that to his mental list of things that he was going to need to know about one day.
But there were better things to talk about right now, things that didn’t make his heart hurt, even things that felt good. He had had a whole day like that not so long ago, not one completely without setbacks, but one in which for some reason, despite everything, he had been sure that he could cope. It had started with an accidental discovery. “I found Zeb’s waffles,” he said.
Kanan actually stopped walking. He turned to face Ezra as though he could search his face for evidence as to whether or not he was telling the truth. “Zeb’s secret stash?” he said.
Ezra grinned. “Two whole boxes of the things.”
Kanan shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Zeb’s secret stash,” he repeated. “Honestly, I thought it was a myth.”
Ezra laughed. “Me too. Especially after I spent half a day looking for it last week, and found nothing. Then I stumbled upon it by accident.”
“You know,” Kanan told him, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “I like waffles.”
He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. They’re in sealed boxes, as soon as I take one, he’s going to know about it. This is a one-time only deal, then he’s going to move them. So I need to choose the perfect moment.”
Kanan thought about it, and nodded. “Or,” he suggested, “alternative suggestion? Take them all, hide them somewhere else, they become our secret waffle stash, and deny all knowledge if he ever brings it up. Which he won’t, because that would mean admitting the stash exists.”
Ezra laughed. It was perfect, equal parts hilarious and mean. The perfect prank, and as a bonus, he would get waffles. “How did I not know until now that you were an evil genius?” he asked. There was only one problem. “But Zeb would still know, and he’d get his own back somehow.”
Kanan nodded. “Might be worth it.”
He would think that. He didn’t have to share a room with Zeb. “How about this,” Ezra countered. “They stay where they are for now, but when the perfect time does come along, I’ll make sure I share.”
“Hmm,” Kanan made a show of considering the proposal, then nodded. “Deal,” he agreed, and thrust out a hand. Ezra hesitated, momentarily confused, them shook the hand with a small smile.
They walked on in silence, no particular destination in mind, at least none that Ezra was aware of. Once they were a good distance from the base, they turned to the left and looped around, walking a lazy ring around the perimeter. The spiders didn’t bother them, and somehow, every step he took left Ezra feeling a little… not better, but less bad.
They came to a stop under the shade of a large rock formation and sat on the ground for a moment. Ezra stretched out his legs and rested back against the jutting rocks. “So, when I… we tell Sabine and Zeb. You or Hera will be the one to tell them there’s a meeting or something, right?”
Kanan turned to him, surprised. “I… yes, one of us will meet them off the Phantom, if we can. Or get to them as soon after as possible.”
Ezra nodded, satisfied. As long as he didn’t have to do that part himself. “Then, I guess I’ll be hiding out somewhere,” he said. “Not in my room, because Zeb’s gonna go there right after, but somewhere. You’ll call me on the comms when it’s time?”
“We should really have this discussion when Hera’s around,” Kanan told him.
Ezra nodded. He knew that, but that hadn’t worked out so well the first time, and it wasn’t Hera’s fault, it was just easier to do this on his own terms, feeling in control of when and how to talk about it; by the time he got back to the base, the unexpected wave of not-quite-positivity might have dissipated and he wouldn’t want to think about it again. “Let’s just do it now,” he said. “Then you, or both of us, can tell Hera what we decided when we get back, okay?”
Kanan considered it, then nodded. “I’m not sure how Hera will feel about that, but okay,” he agreed. He shifted on the dirt, finding a comfortable position. “So, tell me what you were thinking,” he said.
Ezra ran a hand over the rough ground, watching his fingers leave patterns in the dust. “I’m thinking I’m not going to want to stick around afterward,” he said. He would stay to tell them, but he didn’t intend to hang out for the after-party, share the hugs and see the tears and answer a million questions. And that extended into the rest of the day too, and the night that followed.
Kanan nodded. He had noted Ezra’s tendency to leave when a situation became too difficult, he probably agreed that it was better to have that planned in advance.
“The thing is,” Ezra added. He cleared his throat. “I have to share a room with Zeb, and, well…” He left it at that. Kanan would understand.
Kanan took a slow breath, sitting very still on the ground. “Yes you do,” he said carefully. “And you’re going to have to continue to do so. You’re right, it’s probably going to feel awkward at first, but that’s not going to be made any better by putting it off.”
Ezra tried to imagine the mood in the room that first night. Their ongoing argument about the overnight light level would probably be permanently ended, but it would be replaced instead by… what? Awkward silence? Questions that he didn’t want to answer?
Kanan was probably right; putting it off wouldn’t help. Maybe if he got into the room early, got into bed and pretended to be asleep before Zeb even made it back? He could wake early, when Zeb was still sleeping, and make himself scarce.
“One night,” Kanan said.
Ezra looked at him in surprise and confusion.
“The day you tell them,” Kanan clarified. “I have a spare bunk, you can take that. But you need to go back the next day, or it’ll get more and more difficult to do.”
Ezra felt himself relax, releasing tension that he hadn't even realized he was holding. “Thanks,” he said.
Kanan got to his feet and dusted himself down, patting off some of the dirt that clung to his clothing from the dry ground. “Come on,” he said, “we should be heading back. We can talk more on the way.”