Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kasmir was pretty used to seeing Kanan freak out at this point in his life. Specifically, about his kids. Even more specifically, about his kids taking the kind of stupid risk that Kanan took without thinking. Unfortunately for Kanan, Jyn and Ezra (and now Sabine as well) had inherited his passion for helping others, and his ability to cause chaos.

Obviously, Kanan was proud of them. But he was also their dad, and knew the dangers they were facing all too well. This resulted in an attitude that could be construed as protective, and had been referred to as “hover-y” and “mother hen-ish”.

He’d been getting better at it over the years. In fact, as they waited for news on Sabine’s infiltration of the Imperial flight academy on Montross, Kasmir was surprised to note that he had some kind of Jedi chillfulness thing going on.

This could be because Ezra was absolutely losing his mind over the situation, though. The mini-kid really was starting to take after his dad, Kasmir mused with a smirk as he watched the pair quietly talking. Ezra looked like he was about to jump up and take off for Skystrike Academy at any minute, but he seemed to be calming down a little as Kanan spoke.

It’s good to see those two talking again, Kasmir thought. The past few months had been hard on everyone, but especially Ezra. Kanan had been the closest thing to a father that Ezra had after losing his parents, and Kanan pushing him away had to have stung. It was good to see things getting back to normal.

As he looked on, Kasmir saw Kanan put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, saying something Kasmir couldn’t hear. The mini kid responded, and Kanan nodded, a smile crossing his face before he turned and headed to where Kasmir was watching.

“How’s he doing?” Kasmir asked as Kanan approached. “Still ready to charge in guns blazing?”

Letting out a rueful chuckle, Kanan said, “More or less. He’s just worried about Sabine. I think it’s hard for him, being out of the field after being the one in charge for so long.”

“Which you can probably relate to,” Kasmir pointed out, and Kanan nodded.

“A little. It’s hard to sit by and let other people take risks instead of you. But it also provides a good lesson in letting go.”

“Getting all Jedi on us again, huh?”

Kanan grinned. “Only a little.” The smile faded away a second later, replaced by something more contemplative. “Since, you know, Jedha, I’ve been making the rounds, apologizing to everyone.”

Kasmir had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Oh, yeah?” he said, deciding to let it play out. “How’s that been going for you?”

“Not bad. Sabine took a little time to tell me that she’d murder me if I did anything like this to Hera or, for that matter, Ezra again.” A hint of sadness ran through Kanan’s voice as he said, “Those two have gotten a lot closer recently. I…I didn’t realize. I’m glad though.”

“Hmm.” Kasmir stayed quiet, which wasn’t something he was naturally gifted at. But, believe it or not, he’d learned from hanging around those Jedi, especially Kanan. Sometimes you just had to wait.

“Anyways, I’ve apologized to the others,” Kanan continued, his voice matter of fact and steady, “but I haven’t apologized to you yet. And you deserve it just as much, if not more.”

And there it was. Waving a hand, Kasmir said, “Eh, don’t worry about it. Water under the proverbial bridge—”

“Kasmir.” Kanan’s tone stopped him in his tracks. Determined, with a hint of command that he didn’t use often. “Let me finish.”

Kasmir obediently shut up, and Kanan continued. “When we argued, a couple weeks back, I was cruel. I was dealing with a lot of fear and uncertainty, but that doesn’t excuse it, and I’m sorry. What I said to you…I didn’t mean it. You’ve been around for longer than anyone else. You saved my life, and you’re family, Kasmir. I couldn’t do this without you anymore than I could do it without Hera or Ezra or Okadiah. So I’m sorry. And thank you for staying.”

For a long moment, Kasmir was quiet. For normal reasons, obviously. Nothing emotional or anything. He just had to get rid of a weird lump in his throat, and if there was some blinking involved that was no one’s business. Kanan didn’t say anything, just waited quietly, and Kasmir found himself valuing that. Guess those Jedi had to get some things right. Including this kid.

Clearing his throat finally, he said, “I forgive you, kid. Obviously. I haven’t dealt with your punk attitude for so long just to take off now.”

Grinning, Kanan said, “Thanks. And don’t call me kid.”

Oh, yeah. Things are back to normal, alright. “I’ll stop calling you kid when you end up older than me,” Kasmir informed him. “Although if you got a move on and proposed to that captain of yours, I might consider it.”

This was the part where Kanan scoffed, or made some sarcastic comment about how Kasmir wasn’t the boss of his love life, or told him to get karked.

But this time, the kid hesitated.

It was only for a heartbeat, short enough that some people wouldn’t notice it. But Kasmir did. Eyebrow shooting up, he said, “You got something to tell me, kid?”

“No. Well…not yet.”

Kasmir’s other eyebrow went up. “Kanan. Are you—do you—”

Holding up his hands, Kanan said, “Okay, calm down.”

“CALM DOWN???”

“Yeah, I’d like it if the entire galaxy didn’t know about this just yet,” Kanan hissed as the pilots of the ship and Ezra twisted around to look at them curiously. Kanan gave a quick shake of his head, and Ezra shrugged, turning back to his intense gazing out the viewport.

“But,” Kanan continued, his voice low, “in short…yeah. I’ve been thinking about asking Hera to marry me.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one of those completely soft, sappy looks that was reserved specifically for thinking and talking about Hera. “I haven’t figured everything out yet, obviously. When to ask her, talking to her father about it—”

“The ring and stuff,” Kasmir said, nodding. And then he saw Kanan hesitate again. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“So,” Kanan said, fighting back a grin. “Do you remember when I left to meet up with an agent right before Jyn decided to go out on her own? I was…not entirely truthful in what I was up to.”

“Unbelievable,” Kasmir said, shaking his head. “You’re just—you’ve had it for like EIGHT MONTHS now.”

Wincing, Kanan said, “Yeah. I wanted to ask her as soon as I got it. But the right moment never really presented itself. I was planning to ask her when we got back from Malachor—you can imagine how well that plan went.”

“Yeah,” Kasmir said, scowling. “Remind me to hunt down that Paul guy and hit him in the face. With a sword. Repeatedly.”

“...it’s Maul.”

“Whatever.”

Shaking his head, Kanan said, “Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure out when I should do it now. Like I said, I want to talk to Hera’s dad and brother. And things between us…we need a little time before we’re ready for that, I think. Just to get back into the swing of things.”

Kasmir heaved a massive sigh. “FINE I guess that’s valid. But you better do it soon, or the kids’ll find out. And Force only knows what’ll happen then.”

“Good point.” Pausing, Kanan said, “Considering the whole Chenni and Okadiah thing, I’m assuming I can depend on you to keep this quiet?”

Kasmir waved a hand dismissively. “What’s one more secret relationship? I’m sure this is far from the last one I’ll be in charge of pretending doesn’t exist.” Pausing, he added, “It’s about time, kid. I’m happy for both of you, I really am.”

“Thanks, Kasmir.” A smile crossed Kanan’s face, and he added, “Let’s just hope she says yes.”

Overall, Kasmir thought his response to that statement—laughing hysterically—was pretty rational.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted halfway through by Ezra. “Kanan! Sabine just called—she’s found some deserters and needs us to come get them.”

The mini kid was on his feet, watching them anxiously. Clearly he was in a hurry to get going— to no one’s surprise, Kasmir mused.

“We’re on it,” Kanan said. “Kasmir?”

“I’m with you, kid,” Kasmir said, following the Jedi to the front of the ship. Under his breath, he added, “Still think you should get a move on with the proposal.”

“You don’t get a vote, and don’t call me kid.”

Smirking, Kasmir said, “Good to have you back.”

Chapter Text

While she hadn’t been to many planets other than Coruscant yet, Mara could already tell she liked Ryloth. The towering spires of rock casting shadows over the canyons and the plains spoke of a time that was wilder, less controlled. It was a kind of beauty that she’d never seen on Coruscant, and it appealed to her.

But she wasn’t here for sightseeing, despite the fact she was currently riding in the back of an AT-DP walker down a canyon. She was here at the request of Admiral Thrawn, who claimed that there was a good chance her quarry would show his face today.

Ezra Bridger. Mentally, Mara reviewed the intelligence about him, which she could recite in her sleep at this point. Born 17 years ago on Lothal. Son of Mira and Ephraim Bridger, recently deceased rebels. Force sensitive and trained by the Jedi traitor Kanan Jarrus, also known as Caleb Dume, status unknown. Bridger is proving to be quite the threat these days, even without his master around.

Which is what I’m supposed to fix.

According to Thrawn, there was a good chance they saw some of Phoenix Squadron soon. Their leader, Captain Syndulla, had been raised in the recently occupied Tann Province. And with Slavin taking over her father’s house, it had to rub the whole family the wrong way.

Not, Mara had to admit to herself, that she could blame them. Slavin was a slimy little rat. She’d hate him taking over her home, too.

Although to her, home meant her small room in the Imperial Palace. And it was pretty unlikely Slavin would want to take over that.

Focus, she scolded herself. Narrowing her eyes, she gazed out of the viewport into the canyon they were trekking through, following the rebel convoy. There were four blurrgs, carrying eight rebels, weaving along the ravine as they evaded blaster fire. 

She could see four Twi’leks, and two non-humans—a Lasat and a Kalleran, she thought. She also was pretty sure she saw a Mandalorian. There was a lightsaber down there, too—Mara could see it, although the color was wrong. Bridger’s saber was green. So who was the one using the saber? Had Jarrus finally reappeared, or was it someone else entirely? With this particular group, one could never really be sure.

As she looked on, the blurrgs dove behind a set of boulders flanking the ravine. A few heartbeats later the riders appeared, sending blaster bolts flying their way. The AT-DP kept lurching forward, returning fire. And Mara stared out the viewport, watching the chaos unfold beneath her.

Well, she thought, there’s only one way to actually find out if Bridger is down there. And I’ve been sitting and watching for too long, anyways. It was time to stretch her legs.

“Stop the vehicle and cease firing,” she ordered. The helmet she wore modified her voice into a deeper, slightly more menacing tone, which she appreciated. Obediently, the pilot pulled it to a stop.

Getting to her feet, Mara headed for the hatch. By the time she’d made it out and to the top of the AT, the rebels had stopped firing too. She could sense them watching her as she stood above the viewport, looking down at them.

“Jedi,” she said. She didn’t need to shout—her voice echoed against the walls of the canyon, ringing out. “Show yourself.”

There was a brief pause, then one of the rebels stepped out. It was the human, who’d been standing next to two of the Twi’leks. Syndulla and his son, Mara realized. The man was dark-haired and bearded, dressed in green—which matched the description of Kanan Jarrus.

But there was a difference. The man wore a mask covering the upper half of his face. Covering his eyes. On it was etched a symbol that Mara didn’t recognize. She tapped at the side of her helmet discreetly, taking a holoimage. She’d research it later.

“You’re not Bridger,” she said thoughtfully. “Which means you’re Jarrus. Where have you been for the past six months? A lot of people thought you were dead.”

“You seem to know enough without me sharing that,” he said evenly. “But you have the advantage on me. Who are you?”

“Your Padawan didn’t tell you? I met him on Reklam Station.”

The shift to his attitude was obvious. “The Emperor’s Hand,” he said, a frown tilting his mouth. “I’m surprised you made it out of there safely.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Mara said coldly. “Where is your apprentice?”

Shrugging, Jarrus said, “He couldn’t make it this time. You’re gonna have to make do with me.”

Finally. Anticipation thrilled through her. Mara hadn’t had a proper saber fight since Reklam Station. And she liked to be challenged. Without pausing to think, she leapt from the AT-DP walker, landing lightly a few yards in front of him.

She saw the group behind him tense up—the Lasat bristling, the Mandalorian’s hand dropping to her blaster. “Kanan,” she said quietly. “Bad idea.”

“It’s okay,” Jarrus told her quietly. “I can handle this.”

“Six months ago, yeah. But now—”

“Sabine. Trust me.”

Clearing his throat, Syndulla’s son said, “Not to put my oar in, but this would be pretty awkward timing for you to die.”

“It’s not like there’s a good time for that,” the Mandalorian said impatiently.

“No, I just meant—”

“What does she mean?” Mara interrupted, her curiosity getting the better of her. “About six months ago?”

The entire group went dead silent, the Lasat and the Mandalorian exchanging a loaded look (or at least the Lasat’s end was loaded. It was hard to tell with the helmet.) and the Twi’leks looked uncomfortable. Jarrus, however, was unmoved. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll show you if you take off your helmet.”

“What? Why?” Mara demanded, confusion rippling through her.

“Pure curiosity,” he said with a wry smile. “I’d like a better sense of who I’m facing. Well?”

For a heartbeat, Mara hesitated. She didn’t like showing many people her face—or rather, the Emperor didn’t like her showing her face. Compromising her identity was frowned upon, and Bridger had already seen her face when he’d damaged her helmet.

So how big of a deal is it if his master sees me too? She internally pointed out to herself. And she was really curious.

“Deal,” she said, reaching up for her helmet. It hissed open, and she pulled it off, clipping it to her belt where it would be out of her way during the fight. Mara looked up just in time to see Jarrus remove the mask that had been covering his upper face, and a jolt of surprise went through her.

Oh. A dark scar ran across his eyes, which were filmed and opaque. “You’re blind,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “Well, that’s interesting. Are you sure you still want to fight m—what?”

Jarrus had the oddest expression on his face—shocked, and a little shaken. “You’re a kid.”

“Excuse me?” Mara gave him an offended look before realizing he couldn’t see it. Hopefully she was radiating enough offense in the Force that he could sense it. “I’m sixteen.”

Behind him, the Kalleran let out a long groan. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Kid, don’t you dare, we don’t have room for anyone else.”

“Shut up, Kasmir,” Jarrus said, lifting his arm. Mara tensed, her hand moving to her lightsaber—and then she realized he was activating a comlink on his wrist. “Specter Six, come in.”

There was a short silence, then— “Kanan?” Bridger’s surprised voice crackled from the com. “Uh, can this wait? We’re kinda in the middle of something.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was a kid?” Jarrus demanded.

“Tell you who was a kid?”

“The Emperor’s Hand!”

“WHAT?” There was a loud thump on the other end, then Bridger demanded, “She’s here? Why is she here? Are you fighting her?”

“Ezra, I think you’re missing the point here,” Jarrus said, exasperation coloring his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me that she was a kid?”

“She’s not a kid!” Bridger said. “She’s like my age.”

“Yeah, that’s still a kid, Ezra!”

“No, it’s not! Besides, she’s super evil, remember?”

Bristling, Mara said, “I didn’t ask for your commentary—either of you!”

“ARE YOU STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO HER?”

There was a “ssh!” on Bridger’s end, and he muttered something Mara couldn’t hear. “Okay—I gotta call you back, Kanan. Kasmir, tell him not to get attached or anything.”

“Ezra—” the comlink clicked off, and Jarrus let out a sigh. “Unbelieveable.”

The Mandalorian snorted. “Really? Seems pretty believable to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Mara said, “Okay, I’ve been patient long enough. Defend yourself, Jedi, or prepare to suffer—”

Her words were cut off by a chime emanating from her helmet—her comm was going off. “Are you KIDDING ME?” she growled.

“...I’ll wait?” Jarrus offered, looking a little too amused for Mara’s liking. Ignoring him, she stalked a few yards away.

Grabbing her helmet, she shoved it on and activated the interior com. “WHAT.”

“Emperor’s Hand.” She recognized the calm, accented voice almost immediately—Thrawn. “Return to the ship.”

“What? No, the Jedi—”

“Will be dealt with in due time. For now, we must let this particular experiment run its course. Return to the ship immediately and allow Captain Slavin to speak to the rebels instead. That is an order.”

The com switched off, and Mara clenched her teeth, holding back a scream of frustration. She was supposed to outrank these Imperial Navy bootlickers, not be bossed around by them. Arrogant overconfident karker.

But if she ignored him, she knew it wouldn’t end well. She’d faced the consequences for that far too many times by now.

So she gritted her teeth and turned on her heel to face the rebels again. “It looks like you’ll have to wait,” she said coolly. “Captain Slavin wants to speak with you.”

Spinning around, she stalked towards the AT-DP, not turning around as the holocaster activated and Slavin began speaking. This whole situation was no longer her problem, not even the Jedi—for now. 

Strangely, as she walked, she could almost swear she felt him watching her. Impossible, she reminded herself. But even that thought didn’t truly shake the feeling.

~~~

“Kanan?”

Hera’s voice and her hand on his arm pulled him out of his thoughts. “You alright?” she asked quietly. He could feel both her and Cham watching him as they sat around the table together.

“Yeah, sorry,” Kanan said, catching hold of her hand as she released his arm. She gave it three quick squeezes, and Kanan felt himself smile. It faded away seconds later, however, as he added, “Just…thinking about our encounter with the Emperor’s Hand.”

“There wasn’t anything you could have done, love,” she told him, her voice gentle. And of course she knew exactly what he was thinking, like she always did. “She wouldn’t have trusted you enough to leave the Empire, even if you had the opportunity to ask. Not yet, anyways.”

“She’s right, Kanan,” Cham agreed. “Those who’ve been brainwashed by the Empire will not turn from their path easily. You may not be able to reach her at all.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “I know. But I’m not giving up that easily.”

“I don’t think that surprises anyone, dear,” Hera said, her smile clear in her voice, and Cham laughed.

“No, it does not. The man who my daughter fell for could not be anything less than her match in stubbornness.” Letting out a sigh, he rose to his feet, pushing his chair back with a dull scraping sound. “Well, I should collect my crew members and prepare for our return to Ryloth.”

“Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner?” Hera asked.

“Thank you, but no,” Cham said. “But your hospitality is appreciated. It’s been good to see you, daughter.”

“You, too, father.” Hera’s voice was warm and genuine, and she released Kanan’s hand to rise and hug her father. “Safe travels.”

“To you, as well. And Kanan—” here, Cham hesitated, for just a heartbeat. “Good luck, to both of you.”

Standing, Kanan offered Cham his hand, and the Twi’lek man clasped it. “Thank you, Cham. Same to you,” he told him.

Cham chuckled a little, but didn’t say anything else before he turned and headed for the door, calling for his crew members. Kanan returned to his seat, but Hera stayed on her feet for a moment, presumably watching them go.

“Did he seem a little…off to you?” she asked, dropping back down next to him.

Shrugging, Kanan said, “I don’t know him as well as you do, but I don’t think so. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Hera said slowly. “Did you two talk at all?”

“A little, yeah,” Kanan said, keeping his tone casual. “It’s always good to make sure your dad doesn’t hate me. Good news, I’m still on his good side.”

She laughed. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad it went better than last time.”

“Not that it could go worse,” Kanan said wryly. 

“Hmm.” Hera leaned against him, and Kanan slid an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’ll do everything we can to help the Emperor’s Hand,” she told him softly. “No matter what my father says, we’re going to help her.”

Kanan grinned a little, despite himself. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me to hear you say that. But I’m still glad.”

“Good.” Leaning over, Hera pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, making his smile widen. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t plotting anarchy or something—they’ve been suspiciously well behaved since we got back, especially with Dev around.”

“Good call,” Kanan agreed. Settling back in his seat, he returned to his caf with a lighter heart. They couldn’t do anything about the girl he’d met today yet—but that would change.

The Emperor’s Hand wouldn’t stay with the Empire forever. Of that much he was sure, in a confusingly confident way. The sort that he could only really attribute to the Force. Let’s hope that’s a good sign, he thought.

Chapter Text

As far as bad situations he’d gotten himself into went, Ezra thought, this one was about mid range. Definitely worse than the time he and Zeb stole a TIE fighter, but better than facing Vader on his own on Malachor.

He glanced up at the Mandalorian in Imperial white, glowering down at him with an expressionless helm. The blasters he held did most of the talking for him, unlike his leader, who’d been interrogating Ezra. Unsuccessfully—so far.

Okay, it might have been closer to the Vader end of the scale.

This really wasn’t how they’d planned on this mission going. They’d finally gotten word, through Kanan’s agent King Harvest, that the Empire was moving against the Protectors. Word had been sent, and that was all they could really do. But Fenn Rau had been freaked out, and with a little convincing from Sabine—who’d been striking up an unlikely friendship with the guy—Hera had approved a mission to Concord Dawn to sweep for stragglers and make sure everyone had gotten out safely.

So Ezra, Sabine, and Rau had gone to the moon where the Protectors lived. The camp had been decimated—burned out structures standing ghostlike in rings. And while it was clear that a few lives had been lost, it looked like most of the warriors had gotten out safely. Ezra had seen Rau’s tension ease, just the littlest bit, even as it warred with his grief.

They’d been just about to leave when the Empire, as it often did, showed up at the exact wrong moment. Except it wasn’t just any Imperials— it was Mandalorians, clad in white and red armor. The same Mandalorians who’d destroyed the camp.

It had been close. They’d almost made it out safely—but then Sabine and Fenn Rau had been stuck and about to be caught, and Ezra knew they couldn’t let that happen. If they discovered Rau had survived, the full force of the Empire would drop onto their heads.

But just some random kid who stumbled onto the camp? Surely he’d get cut a little more slack.

So Ezra had popped up out of nowhere, and allowed himself to get caught, after leaving his saber where Sabine would find it. Unfortunately, he had definitely overestimated just how much slack the Mandalorians were going to cut him. Right now, he was just doing whatever he could to keep them from blasting Chopper’s circuits to bits—spinning lies about being Lando Calrissian and searching for lost treasure.

It was clear their leader didn’t buy it. Striding forward, blaster resting on his shoulder, Gar Saxon studied him. “Every lie you tell holds a shred of truth,” he said coolly. “You’re giving me what I want to know, whether you realize it or not.”

Well, here’s hoping that’s just him being dramatic, Ezra thought.

Before he could figure out a response, some way of throwing the Mandalorian off the scent, there was a shout from the doorway. “Sir! We found another rebel.”

Sabine. Oh, no. Ezra’s heart nearly stopped—but when another of the group of commandos came into view, Sabine wasn’t his captive. Instead, he was dragging a teenage boy, maybe a little older than Ezra, with dark hair and light brown skin. He wore worn clothing, along with a bantha hide jacket, and looked familiar in a way Ezra couldn’t quite place.

Directing a cold look at Ezra, Saxon said, “I thought you said you were alone.”

“Uh…” Ezra glanced at the boy as he was shoved to the ground next to him. He looked scared—not the petrified, shaking in your boots kind, but the “I have to do something to fix this RIGHT NOW or probably die” kind. The kind that made you determined to cling to life by your fingernails. He met Ezra’s eyes, his gaze not pleading, but questioning. And Ezra could tell he needed help.

“I mean, I was,” he said quickly. “He wasn’t supposed to follow me—were you, Tevrok? He wasn’t even supposed to be here, but he followed me, because…”

“Because I couldn’t let you get all the treasure for yourself,” the boy cut in. Shooting him a passably realistic glare, he said, “You’re not cheating me out of my fair share again.”

Saxon did not look impressed by their performance. Turning, he stepped over to his other man, speaking with him in low tones. Ezra took the opportunity to slip a little closer to the other boy. “Way to play along,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for covering for me,” the boy said. “I’m Kad.”

“Ezra. Should I ask what you’re doing here, or should we just pretend like it doesn’t matter?”

Kad grimaced. “Let’s just say I’m not supposed to be here, and I’m gonna be in a lot of trouble when my family finds out.”

“Been there,” Ezra said wryly.

“Yeah. So, do you have a plan on how to get out of this?”

“So far?” Ezra shot a look at Saxon. “Sit tight and wait for backup to arrive.”

“Who’s your—”

Kad cut himself short as Saxon spun around to face them, his expression tight with anger. “Planning something, rebels?”

“We’re not rebels,” Ezra protested. “I told you, we’re smugglers. You have to believe me.”

“I believe,” Saxon snarled, “you’ve run out of lies.” Lashing out, he kicked Ezra to the ground. Ezra bit back a cry of pain as he heard Saxon order, “Blast the droid first! Perhaps its memory circuits hold the secrets I want.”

OH, no. Not Chopper. Chopper was annoying, but he was family—and Hera would murder Ezra if anything happened to him. Rolling over, Ezra pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching out to catch Saxon’s attention. “Okay, okay!” Time to play his last card—and it was a desperate one. “I was sent here by the Protector, Fenn Rau.”

That changed things. Ezra could see it in the way Saxon’s eyes widened, curiosity flickering through them. He waved for the Mandalorian next to him to halt. “You know where he is, then?”

“I don’t,” Ezra said, and almost laughed at the ironic truth of his words as he added, “but I sure wish I did.”

He felt Kad watching him as Saxon eyed him closely. “Is that so?” He continued, but Ezra tuned out the Mandalorian’s monologue. It was starting to seem like he might have to figure out how to get out of here without Sabine and Rau’s help—clearly, Saxon wasn’t feeling very patient.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Saxon’s voice growing sharper. “But now,” he said, “I have you.”

Uh-oh. Before he could move, Saxon did, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him into the air with terrifying ease. “And I think you know exactly where Rau is!” he growled. “And you will take me to him.”

Yup, definitely not patient anymore. Ezra twisted in the man’s grip, trying to free himself. “Hey!” he heard Kad shout. “Let him go—” a cry of pain cut off his words as Saxon threw Ezra to the ground.

“Where is he?” he shouted.

“I don’t know!” Ezra shouted back, anger and fear mingling in his chest.

Yanking him upwards again, Saxon tossed him to the side almost contemptuously. As Ezra pushed himself upwards, wincing at the pain lancing through his shoulder, he saw Saxon raise his blaster, leveling it at Chopper. The droid beeped in panicked binary.

Forgetting about the pain, Ezra closed his eyes, reaching out in the Force instinctively. I just need to keep him from hitting Chopper.

And so he did. Once, and then once more—and then he wasn’t shooting anymore, because the blaster was being aimed at him. Ezra opened his eyes to see Saxon looked at him with a little too much satisfaction.

“You just became a much more valuable captive, Jedi,” he said, sneering out the last word.

Ezra sensed a stab of shock going through his companion. Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about that.

This was officially edging closer to the Vader side of the “stupid situations he’d gotten into” scale.

He started to open his mouth to protest, to say anything—though he wasn’t sure what exactly he would say. But then, finally, there was a light clatter as a duo of grenades rolled into the room, and went off, releasing a cloud of smoke.

Finally. Moving quickly, Ezra reached out and grabbed hold of Kad’s arm, just as the slightly blurry shape of Sabine appeared next to him and grabbed him. “Come on, let’s go!” she ordered.

Pulling Kad along with him, Ezra bolted for the door, following Sabine out with Chopper on their heels. “What took you so long?” he demanded as she activated his lightsaber, cutting his bonds with a single stroke. She tossed it back to him, and he secured it on his belt, feeling a knot of tension in his chest that he hadn’t even really realized he had ease.

“I was using strategy, it takes longer!” Her helmet tilted, and Ezra could almost see her frown. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, right. Sabine, this is Kad,” Ezra said hastily, glancing at the other boy. His expression was a little stunned, which Ezra couldn’t really blame him for. “Kad, this is Sabine. She’s the back up I was talking about.”

“Pretty good backup,” Kad said, giving Sabine a nod, which she returned warily.

“Great. Ezra, we’re gonna have a discussion about you picking up random strangers later. For now, come on. Rau’s on the ship.”

As she spoke, a white-clad figure went flying out of the back of the Phantom, sitting a few yards before them. Ezra frowned at the sight—and then his eyes went wide as the rear hatch slid shut, and the ship lifted off. Without them.

“Uh. Sabine?” he said, skidding to a stop with the others.

“Hang on,” she said, tapping a hand against the side of her helmet. “Rau? Where are you going?”

There was a short silence, as Sabine presumably listened to Rau’s response on her internal com. “Okay,” she finally said. “Well, make it quick.” Turning to Ezra, she said, “He caught some of Saxon’s men sniffing around the Phantom , and had to take off so they wouldn’t find anything on the ship. He’ll circle back around for us.”

“Great,” Ezra said, shooting a look over his shoulder. “But Saxon’s literally right behind us, so what now?”

“Now? We improvise.” Darting over to the white clad Imperial commando laying unmoving where Rau had thrown him, Sabine detached the jetpack from his back. “Kad, right? Any chance you can use one of these?”

A grin crossed Kad’s face. “Oh, I can. And I’m really liking the way this is going.”

Tossing it to him, Sabine said, “Glad you’re happy. Ezra, stick with me.”

“Wait—you have a jetpack now?” Ezra asked. “When did that happen—”

“Ezra? Let’s focus.”

Chopper let out a bwomp of fear, catching all of their attention. Ezra turned at the same time as Sabine to see three of the Imperial commandos heading towards them, blasters at the ready. And with them was Gar Saxon.

Grabbing his lightsaber, Ezra ignited it. Here we go.

“Sabine Wren,” Saxon said. He didn’t seem surprised, exactly, and Ezra shifted a little, preparing himself for a fight.

“I don’t know you,” Sabine said flatly, and Kad snorted a quick laugh. 

“Well, I know you,” Saxon told her, “and all about how you’ve joined the Phoenix Squadron.”

Letting out a low whistle, Kad said, “Kriff, and I thought I’d just fallen in with your average trouble makers.”

Saxon ignored Kad as he continued, “I also know your mother is looking for you.”

Ezra’s first, foolish thought was about Hera. But that didn’t make any sense—why would Saxon be talking about her? Oh. Oh he means her birth mother. But if that’s true—

“Don’t believe him,” Sabine said firmly, like she’d known what he was thinking.

“Sabine never told you about her family?” Saxon said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He’d hit a nerve and he knew it. As his soldiers moved forward to surround them, he continued, “Well. She lies as well as you do, boy. Her own mother stands with me and the Empire now.”

Kad swore softly under his breath as Sabine spat back, “I doubt you gave her much choice, traitor.”

She drew her blasters, and there was an instant response, blasters clicking into readiness. Saxon barely flinched as he said, “She came around herself after you abandoned the Imperial Academy. Your cowardice shamed your family name and standing. Had you honored your commitment, you could be wearing this armor now.”

“Sorry, Saxon,” Sabine said. “I like a little more color.”

Ezra couldn’t hold back a grin, but Saxon didn’t seem amused. “You think yourself a loyalist? The Empire will make Mandalore stronger than ever before.”

“Sounds like a load of dar’manda osik to me,” Kad told him, disgust creeping across his features. Ezra shot him a sideways glance, frowning.

“Wait—are you Mandalorian, too?” he asked in an undertone. “Did I know that? Where’s your armor?”

“Let’s talk about it when we’re not about to die,” Kad suggested.

“Good plan.”

“Sorry, Saxon, I’m with him on this one,” Sabine said, her voice tight with anger. “The only one getting stronger under the Empire is you.”

Saxon’s voice went cold. “Out of respect for your family, I’ll give you a choice. Give me Fenn Rau and swear allegiance, or you and your friends die.”

Ezra braced himself, and he saw Kad eyeing one of the nearest commandos, squaring his shoulders. Sabine seemed ready to fight, too—and then she straightened up. “I yield.”

What? “Sabine, don’t,” Ezra protested.

“We have no choice,” she told him, pulling off her helmet. Ezra felt dread twisting in his chest as she turned to pass it to Chopper, and then heard her whisper something to him.

Something was up. She had a plan—which really shouldn’t have been surprising. Now it was just his job to be ready for whatever that plan was.

So he stepped back, switching off his saber, and let Sabine kneel in front of Saxon, setting down her weapons. The Mandalorian strode forward, holding his blaster at the ready, and there was a distinctly pleased tone in his voice as he hissed, “Say it,”

“I swear,” Sabine said, and paused for just a second. And that second was long enough for Ezra to know that she definitely wasn’t surrendering. “That you’re a fool. Chopper, now!”

Chopper beeped an acknowledgement, and Ezra caught a shriek of feedback seeping out from under Sabine’s helmet, balancing on top of his dome. It was enough to make him wince—but it brought the Mandalorians to their knees with pain.

Catching her helmet as Chopper tossed it to her, Sabine stepped forward and threw her arms around Ezra. “Whoa!” he yelped, eyes going wide.

“Hang on,” she ordered. Her jetpack roared to life, and the two of them shot into the air, Ezra letting out another cry of shock. He spotted Kad zipping into the air behind them, a delighted grin on his face as the trio, along with Chopper, cruised away.

The escape wasn’t that easy, obviously. The Mandalorians were after them in a few minutes, firing blaster bolts and chasing them down through the skies. But by the time they were after the group of four, Sabine had already come up with an alternate plan. Find the ship the Mandalorians had taken here, and either disable it or steal it, depending on when Fenn Rau showed back up. But first, they needed to lose their followers.

The next few minutes were a chaotic swirl of deflecting blaster bolts and perilously close calls. Ezra spent a lot of the time dangling from Sabine by one hand, trying not to fall. Which, predictably, he did at one point, barely landing on Chopper instead of the ground far below.

Eventually they lost the majority of the group in the canyons, and located the ship they’d been looking for. Which was when Saxon showed back up to ruin their day, along with two of his men. He knocked them out of the sky, and they hit the ground together—only a few yards away from the ship.

But then Saxon and his men dropped out of the sky in between them, and Ezra almost groaned. So close. Yeah, Kanan’s not gonna be too happy about this.

“Finish the boys,” Saxon told his companions. “Wren is mine.”

Okay. Finally time for that fight. But even as Ezra thought it, the rumble of a ship’s engines caught his ear, and cannon fire split the air. Ion bolts slammed into the ground around them, sending the Mandalorians flying. Ezra heard Kad shout something he couldn’t quite hear, his voice delighted, as the vague shape of what had to be the Phantom appeared through the stirred up clouds of dust.

The hatch slid open, and Sabine shoved Ezra forward. “Come on! I’ll be right behind you.”

Obediently, Ezra charged towards the ramp, leaping on board as the ship started to move. But as his feet hit the metal, he heard Sabine let out a cry of shock, and spun around. Saxon had grabbed a hold of her, pulling her back.

“Sabine!” Ezra almost jumped down to help her—but if he did, he’d just be putting them both in danger. She could hold her own—as could Kad, who was busy taking down one of the other commandos. The best thing he could do was stick with Fenn Rau.

Turning, he said, “Thanks for the pick up, Rau. Hey, we have to go back for—”

He stopped short, making eye contact with a man who was definitely not Fenn Rau. For one thing, he was considerably shorter. And older, with scruffy gray hair and sharp blue eyes. And the armor he wore was gold, not blue.

“Uh,” Ezra said. “You’re not Fenn Rau.”

“No,” the man agreed. “And you’re not my grandson.”

“He’s not?” The voice came from up front, probably in the cockpit of the small freighter Ezra had found himself in. “Well, who the shab is he? And where’s the kid?”

“I’m Ezra,” Ezra offered. “And, well, I don’t think I know where your grandson is—”

“He’s down there.” The voice came from another Mandalorian warrior, this one still wearing his helmet as he stepped out of the shadows. Both Ezra and the older man looked as he pointed down, towards where Kad was landing a final blow on the commando he’d been fighting.

WAIT. Ohhhhhh— “You guys are Kad’s family,” Ezra said, grinning. “That’s awesome! Wait, you are his family, right?”

“We are,” the older man said. “And now, we need to get him out of the trouble you got him in.” Before Ezra could protest, he put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

Kad looked up, and a smile split his face. Waving, he turned towards Sabine, who was in the process of kicking the crap out of Gar Saxon, and shouted something. She nodded, landed a final blow that knocked Saxon backwards, and the two of them launched themselves in the air, jetpacks blazing.

Ezra let out a sigh of relief as the voice from the cockpit, now considerably closer, remarked, “It seems we have a couple of guests. And who exactly—”

He stopped short, and Ezra shot a quick glance back to see the older man and a taller man, with craggy features and black armor, staring at him. Or more appropriately, the saber he wore on his belt.

“ Jetii, ” the taller man hissed with a look of distaste, and the shorter man’s expression tightened.

Uh-oh. “Uhhh… yeah,” Ezra said. “Yeah, I’ll deal with this in a second.” Turning, he stepped back out on the ramp, eyes locking onto Sabine. He reached out a hand as she moved closer—and then a blaster went off, and she dropped, sparks spewing up from her jetpack.

Lunging forward, Ezra grabbed her by the hand, catching her just in time. Heart pounding, he hauled her upwards and to safety, an arm going around her almost instinctively as the ramp slid shut. She’s okay. We’re all safe, he thought. Well. I sure hope we are.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” Sabine growled. “He shot my jetpack.”

“Right, but other than that?”

“Yeah, just annoyed.”

“Good,” Ezra said. “So, two things. First, turns out Rau isn’t actually flying this ship.”

Sabine snorted as she straightened up. “Yeah, I kinda figured. What’s the other thing?”

“The tall guy knows I’m a Jedi and I think he wants to shoot me in the head about it.”

A laugh sounded from next to them, where Kad had landed near Sabine. “He’s not going to shoot you,” the other boy promised.

“Really?” Sabine said, her eyes narrowing over Ezra’s shoulder. “Then why is he holding Ezra’s lightsaber right now?”

Ezra spun around, hand going to where his saber was supposed to be instinctively. And sure enough, it was gone. I must have been distracted by Sabine getting to safety. Yeah this isn’t good.

The taller man looked completely unrepentant as he clipped Ezra’s lightsaber to his belt. “Just a precaution, jetii. You shouldn’t have a problem with it if you don’t mean us any harm.”

Ezra opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by the shorter man. “Venku Kad Skirata,” he growled, directing a stern glare at Kad, who looked sheepish. “What were you thinking—taking off like that? You gave us all a heart attack.”

“Sorry, Ba’buir, ” Kad said, offering him a tentative smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. You probably meant to be back before anyone realized you were gone.” Shaking his head, the shorter man said, “You’re lucky your buir isn’t here, he’d be losing his mind. I’m about ready to ground you for the remainder of your natural life.”

“Wha—come on, Kal’buir,” Kad protested, and Ezra frowned. Wait. Why does that name sound familiar? “You can’t do that! I’m sixteen—”

Clearing his throat pointedly, the taller man said, “Not to interrupt, but why don’t we try and avoid airing our dirty laundry in front of our guests, and figure out what we’re going to do with them?”

All eyes turned to Ezra and Sabine, who stiffened. “If the real question is where you’re going to dump our bodies after you’ve handled us,” she said flatly, “don’t bother. We can take you.”

The taller man threw back his head and laughed. “I seriously doubt that. But you’ve got plenty of guts for thinking so. You don’t get as old as we did by losing to young little whippersnappers like you two, did we, Kal? Least of a jetii’ika who wasn’t born before his kind went extinct.”

Sabine bristled, but Ezra spoke first, his mind whirling. He was putting together pieces that he should have connected earlier. “Your name is Kal?” he said, staring at the shorter man.

“It is,” he said, his voice matter of fact with a hint of wariness.

A slow grin crossed Ezra’s face. “You’re Kal Skirata, aren’t you?” Turning to look at Sabine, he said, “Sabine, remember? From Teth—this is the guy who found that clone cure! He kept Rex all young looking, and he’s Fi and Mereel’s dad.”

“Oh,” Sabine said, a little of her defensiveness seeping away. “Right.”

Turning to look at Kad, Ezra said, “And I’m guessing you’re Fi’s nephew or something?”

Kad nodded slowly. “Yeah—but how do you know Uncle Fi? And Mereel, of all people?”

“Teth,” Kal said, his expression thoughtful. “That means—”

“Oh, this is the charmer who blew their cover,” the taller man said. “Yet another reason to keep this jetii around. I’m positively delighted to have him.”

Frowning, Ezra said, “Okay, one thing I don’t know is who you are. Or your friend—you don’t sound like a clone,” he told the man with the helmet.

“Walon Vau,” the taller man said. “I’m shocked they didn’t mention me.”

“So am I,” murmured, the third man, sounding a little too amused. “I’m Bardan.”

“And,” Kal cut in pointedly, “he’s not your concern. Right now we’re focusing on my concern, which is what you two kids are doing out here on your own, and what you mixed my grandson up in.”

“And how bad I should feel if I do kill you,” Vau offered.

“Try it,” Sabine said, sending him a glare. “Just try it.”

Ignoring them, Kal raised an eyebrow at Ezra. “Well?”

“Right,” Ezra said. “First of all, I’m Ezra, this is Sabine. Second of all, we’re not alone out here.” Quickly, he summed up what had brought them to the Protector’s base, and what had happened once they arrived. At least, a slightly edited version. He left out Kanan being Maurice and Rau being one of their agents. The others may have been convinced he trusted everyone, but that was only like 80 percent true. He knew what information not to trust to just anyone.

Skirata and his companions listened with varying expressions—Kad with interest, Vau with a look that somehow both read as inscrutable and sardonic. Kal was mostly just grave, his expression fairly unreadable. When Ezra finished his story, the older man nodded slowly. “So this was something of a big mistake.”

“Pretty much,” Ezra said. “So if you’d just let us go on our way, or drop us off with Rau, that would be great.”

Letting out a pointed cough, Vau said, “Kal. A word.”

Kal nodded, and the two older men moved into the cockpit together, out of sight. Letting out a sigh, Ezra looked at Sabine. “So, is this gonna end with some kind of lecture, do you think?”

“Probably,” Sabine said. “Kanan and Hera do really like to lecture us, after all.”

“True.” With a grunt, Ezra dropped down into a sitting position, his back against the wall of the ship. Looking at the two who’d stayed behind, he said, “Is Vau convincing Kal to kill us?”

Kad’s pause before his response was decidedly not reassuring. “Probably not,” he said, joining Ezra on the floor. “Don’t take it personally. Kal’buir and Vau just…don’t really like jetii too much. Most in my family don’t, really.”

Nodding, Ezra said,  “I did get that impression from Mereel. He and my master did not get along.”

A curious look flashed across Kad’s face. “Your master…you know, I always wanted to meet more Jedi. I met some when I was young, apparently. Too little to remember. But other than—well, I haven’t met many.”

“There are more left to meet than you’d think,” Ezra told him. “You’d like my master, Kanan.”

“I have to admit some curiosity,” Bardan said. Removing his helmet to reveal thin but good natured features and messy blond hair, he sat with them, setting his helmet next to his knees. Sabine made no move to follow, but shot Ezra a “don’t do anything stupid” look. Which, considering he was on a ship with a bunch of Mandalorians who were probably debating whether or not to kill him, seemed a little late.

“I haven’t met many Jedi who survived,” he continued, “and I don’t remember a Kanan from the Order—though I suppose I didn’t know everyone. Was he part of Altis’s group?”

Ezra frowned. “I don’t know who that is, so I’m gonna go with no. You’re a Mandalorian, though—how would you know about the Jedi Order?”

Bardan and Kad exchanged a look. It was quick, but it was startlingly familiar—almost like one he would have shared with Kanan. Wait—oh, no WAY.

“A lot of Mandalorians worked with the Jedi during the war,” Bardan was saying in a distinctly evasive way as Ezra reached out with the Force. And there it was, plain as day—the bright glow of a Force sensitive.

Wait. No.

Two Force sensitives?

Ezra’s eyes went wide. “Whoa. Wait—you’re a Jedi?”

“Former Jedi,” Bardan said wryly, his expression amusedly resigned. “I should have known you’d realize—”

“No—well, yeah, actually,” Ezra said. “But actually I was talking to him.” He nodded at Kad.

The ship went dead quiet, both Bardan and Kad staring at him. Ezra saw Sabine tense, her hands drifting to her blasters, and followed her gaze. Skirata and Vau had reemerged from the cockpit, and were looking on with expressions that were concerningly unreadable.

“Say again, son?” Skirata’s voice was terribly calm, and Ezra knew, immediately, that he’d said something really dumb. Uh-oh. 

“Um, I was just talking about Kad?” he said, getting to his feet to stand next to Sabine. The others rose as well. “Being…Force sensitive?”

“Now do you want to kill him?” Vau said.

Sabine’s grip on her blasters tightened, and Ezra was officially confused. “Whoa, whoa—why are we killing me? It’s not like I’m going to turn you in to the Empire.”

“People aren’t supposed to know I’m Force sensitive,” Kad said, his expression tight. But not nearly as bad as Skirata and Vau’s, both of whom looked like they were ready for the ship to blow to pieces at any minute. 

“Because of the Empire?” Ezra said slowly. He was definitely still missing some pieces here.

Nodding, Kad said, “Yeah. And…because of the Jedi, too.”

Probably noting Ezra’s confused expression, Bardan said quietly, “Kad’s father has elected to raise him as a Mandalorian, not a Jedi. And should any other Jedi come along, they might not want to honor that wish.”

“Ohhhh,” Sabine said. “This is about the old “Jedi steal kids” thing? I thought that was Imperial propaganda.”

“They do WHAT,” Ezra said, jaw dropping. “Yeah, no they don’t. Uh, no offense, Bardan. But none of the Jedi I know would ever do that.”

“I’m sure that’s what you want to think,” Skirata said. “But we’ve all heard to the contrary, and we were alive while the Jedi Order was. Which you were not.”

“And generally, Jedi are not the most trustworthy group,” Vau said flatly. “Which is why I’m still not ruling out killing you.”

“It’s not always true,” Skirata said. “After all, Kad’s mother was a Jedi, as was Bard’ika. And we’ve known a few others. But my issues with the Jedi are too big and too messy to just throw aside because one kid disagrees with them.”

Folding her arms, Sabine said flatly, “It’s two of us, actually. And this one would definitely like to know what exactly you’re planning to do in order to keep Kad’s Force sensitivity secret.”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “Um, are you implying they’re gonna kill us?”

“Vau’s suggested it like four times now.”

Looking unfazed, Vau said, “Until I find a reason to trust you. Which I won’t.”

Crap. “Okay, listen,” Ezra said quickly. “We’re not going to—OH MY SWEET FORCE WHAT IS THAT?”

Rolling his eyes, Vau said, “You know, jetii, if you thought we were going to fall for the oldest trick in the book, your master has a lot of work to do—”

“No, no, that,” Ezra said, staring at the creature that had slunk out of the cockpit and was now sitting behind Vau’s legs. It had six legs, vicious teeth, floppy ears, and overall looked like an incredibly more adorable version of an akk hound. 

Dropping to his knees, he held out a hand to it, and the creature tentatively stepped towards him. I’m a friend, Ezra thought, projecting the feeling through the Force.

“Wha—that’s a strill,” Vau said, eyeing him like he’d lost his mind. “My strill.”

“It’s ADORABLE,” Ezra said as the strill sniffed his hand, then gave it a lick. Gently, he stroked the thick golden fur. “What’s its name?”

“Lord Mirdalan. Mird for short—okay, what are you doing to it?”

“Petting it,” Ezra said, scratching it under the chin affectionately. Judging by the amount of drool it was producing, Mird was enjoying it. “Sweet FORCE you are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, except maybe my loth cat Gwanda. Sabine, I want a strill.”

“Absolutely not,” Sabine said.

Shaking his head, Vau said, “This is some kind of jetii devilry, isn’t it?”

“I just told it I was a friend,” Ezra said. “No mind tricks or anything. Bardan, what’s so funny?”

Grinning, Bardan said, “Nothing. Vau?”

“This changes nothing.”

“Hmm.”

“IT CHANGES NOTHING, JUSIK.”

Somehow, the appearance of the strill had seemed to cut some of the tension. Kad was grinning as much as Bardan was, and even Skirata’s expression had softened a little. “Well, Mird seems to trust you,” he said. “And while I wouldn’t have always taken that as a guarantee, I can’t think of a better one at the moment.” His expression growing serious, he added, “But. I need both of you to swear that you’ll tell no one about Kad. I watched his father and uncles go through enough, and this boy will not live in more fear than he has to.”

“Absolutely,” Ezra said instantly. “We won’t tell anyone.”

All eyes switched to Sabine, who nodded. “As long as you’re not killing us? I won’t say anything, ori’haat. ”

The three older men exchanged glances, and Bardan shrugged. “I don’t sense any deceit in them, Kal’buir, if you’re willing to trust that.”

“I’m always willing to trust you, son, jetii osik or no.” A flash of wry amusement crossed Skirata’s face, and he nodded. “Alright. Let’s get in contact with your ride.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Sabine said breezily. “Chopper and Rau have been monitoring us for the past three minutes. He sent a message to my internal com.”

Skirata’s eyebrows shot up, then he laughed. “ Mando’karla , indeed. It’s Wren, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sabine said, a hint of wariness re-entering her voice.

“Well, Sabine Wren, I owe you a favor,” he told her. “You looked out for my grandson after he wandered off for no conceivable reason, and I appreciate it. If at any point you need something—within reason—come calling and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Unless it involves helping out the Rebellion, validating jetii , or your Death Watch mother,” Vau offered. “Then we’re completely useless, I’m afraid. Shall we contact your ride now?”

Sabine looked very much like she’d like to pick a fight about any one of those comments, but instead elected to follow him into the cockpit. Skirata went with, as did Bardan, after a final glance at Ezra.

“Wow,” Ezra mused, stroking Mird thoughtfully. “They’re really not a fan of me, huh?”

Kad knelt next to him. “It’s not you,” he said quietly. “It’s just—they lost someone. We lost someone, because of the Jedi. Well, overall, Mandalorians have lost a lot to Jedi, and vice versa. But this was…personal.”

“Oh,” Ezra said quietly, shooting a glance at Kad. “Who was it?”

For a long moment, Kad didn’t speak, his gaze locked on Mird. Finally, he said, “My mother. It happened during Order 66—she was trying to prevent a Jedi from hurting a clone, and…they hurt her instead.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said. “I know what that feels like.”

Kad shrugged. “I was really little, so I don’t remember much. Just a feeling.” Letting out a long sigh, he said, “They talk about her a little. Mostly Uncle Bardan and Fi, and my dad. But not the Jedi stuff much. Not really. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen—I’ll have strange dreams or something. Like the one I had about Concord Dawn.”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “That’s why you came here.”

“It’s probably a little weird,” Kad said, shooting him a self conscious grin. “But I had to look, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Ezra assured him. “Hey—look, I know you have Bardan. But if you ever want to ask about Jedi stuff, or just talk…I’m here. But don’t tell Vau cause I’m pretty sure he’d gut me for offering.”

Laughing, Kad said, “Definitely. But thanks. And if you ever need someone to trick some dar’manda di’kut with again, I’m here.”

“Sounds good,” Ezra told him with a grin.

It wasn’t long before the Phantom arrived, and the two ships locked onto each other. Fenn Rau appeared on board not long afterwards, radiating disapproval. “I cannot believe you accidentally met Kal Skirata,” he told Ezra.

“You can’t?” Ezra said.

“Fair point.” Directing a nod at the quartet, Rau said, “Skirata, Vau. Skirata’s assorted offspring.”

“ Suy cuy’gar, Rau,” Skirata said wryly. “Thanks for taking these two off our hands.”

“Pleasure. Come on, Syndulla is going to skin us alive if we don’t get the new shuttle back safely,” Rau said, shooting Ezra a pointed look.

Sabine snickered, and Ezra rolled his eyes. “That happened one time!”

“And once was enough,” Sabine assured him. “Ready?”

“Yup.” Waving to the others, Ezra said, “Bye, guys. Thanks for not killing us. Vau, pet Mird for me.”

Vau eyed him without speaking, and Bardan coughed out what was clearly a laugh. 

“ Ret’urcye mhi, Wren, Bridger,” Skirata said, giving them a nod. “Safe travels home.”

“You, too,” Sabine said, and with that, they parted ways.

As they headed into the cockpit of the Phantom , Ezra asked, “What does that mean? What Kal said?”

“ Ret’urcye mhi, ” Sabine said. “It means, “maybe we’ll meet again.””

“Huh. Is it weird if I hope we do meet them again?”

“Mmm, a little bit, yeah.”

Ezra laughed as he dropped into one of the seats. But as they took off, and he shot a look out the viewport at the departing freighter, he had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last he saw of the Skiratas.

Chapter Text

“That sounds like a kid.”

Kanan felt a bolt of shock go through him as he uttered the words. Out of any of the things they’d expected when they came to Mykapo to evacuate rebel sympathizers, a bunch of kids fighting the Empire wasn’t one of them.

“AbsoLUTELY NOT,” Kasmir bellowed from down below where Kanan was situated in the top gunner’s turret, and he rolled his eyes. “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.”

“Will you calm down?” Kanan said. Reaching out, he ignored Kasmir and let the Force flow through him—the Force that showed him what his surroundings were, and showed him the bright specks of life nearby.

Sure enough, the cluster of three that were aboard the YT-2400 were young. There wasn’t a proper way to describe how he could tell—their light was almost…clean. Fresh and new, like the smell of growing plants.

He could also sense more beings—the approaching TIEs, dark with violent intentions. Time to do something about it.

There had been a little skepticism when Hera let him take the gunner turret. Kanan had had a moment of apprehension himself, but he’d been doing pretty well so far. And trusting in the Force—and Hera—was generally a better idea than picking apart all the reasons you couldn’t do something.

Pivoting the turret, he focused, then fired. One of the lights flickered out, then another, torn to pieces by Ezra’s fire. Kanan felt an odd flash of regret. He’d never used to feel that way—and it wasn’t guilt, exactly. He knew that he was doing what he had to, to protect his family.

But things were different when you didn’t just see them as armored troopers. When you saw your opponents through the Force.

Inhaling deeply, Kanan released a deep breath. Death, yet the Force. Below him, he heard Hera talking to the occupants of the freighters, urging them to escape. From the sound of things, they weren’t listening.

And then—a flash of surprise from his Force bond with Ezra, and an exclamation from below him. “They just bombed the Imperial transport with…cargo?” Sabine said, sounding shocked and very, very slightly impressed as cheers erupted from the comm system.

Huh. Not bad, Kanan thought.

“Don’t. Even. Think about it,” Kasmir growled like he’d been reading Kanan’s mind. Kanan sighed as he got to his feet and slid down the ladder leading out of the turret.

“Will you drop it, Kasmir?” he told his friend, sensing Zeb approaching behind them. “I don’t adopt every kid we meet.”

Kasmir’s disbelieving laugh was cut off by Ezra. “Wow—the Empire’s retreating!”

“Nice work, Iron Squadron,” Hera was saying as Kanan, Kasmir, and Zeb headed into the cockpit. She was using her captain voice, Kanan noted. Treating them like one of her pilots. And considering the fact that Wedge, Hobbie, Jamie, and the others were basically her kids, that meant Kanan wasn’t the one doing the adopting this time. Suck it, Kasmir.

“We’ve been battling the Empire for a while now,” the kid’s voice said. Male, and stridently confident. Oh, boy. “Why don’t you come over? We could probably show you a few tricks.”

Kanan didn’t laugh, mainly because he was busy practicing the “emotion yet peace” part of the Jedi Code so Hera didn’t smack him. Luckily, she didn’t seem too annoyed. After all, she’d put up with him when they’d first met.

“Sounds like an invitation,” Ezra suggested. Kanan could sense his eagerness—to make new friends or meet someone who could make the Empire retreat. Which one, Kanan wasn’t exactly sure.

“I have to report in first,” Hera said, which was basically her version of “we’ll see.” Getting up from her chair, she turned to face Kanan, who was standing right behind her. “Kanan, why don’t you take a team to the surface? Assist the evacuation.”

“Oh thank the sweet stars above,” Kasmir whispered. “He can’t adopt these ones.”

Ignoring him, Kanan told her, “All right. Good luck with Iron Squadron.”

“Sounds like a ship full of Ezras,” Zeb said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They headed to the Phantom , accompanied by Kasmir, who said he had absolutely no intention of interacting with new young people because he already had enough of those around. Joined by their two A-wing escorts, they headed down to the surface of Mykapo.

Kanan vaguely remembered seeing the planet on holos years and years ago. The only lasting impression that he’d gotten was that it was full of green grass and winding rivers. The rich sense of living things as they headed towards the surface seemed to corroborate that.

They put the Phantom down next to the Hammerhead corvette which had preceded them, on a landing pad just outside of the city. Civilians were already arriving, in small groups, as Kanan and the others approached.

They went to work right away, guiding the Mykapans onto the Hammerhead, answering questions and helping them carry the few belongings they’d been allowed to bring. Kanan fell into the rhythm of it easily. It reminded him of the days before, when he and Hera had just started working together. They’d done a lot of milk runs and a lot of distributing food and supplies, comforting frightened refugees and the like. It was almost familiar.

They’d loaded the corvette with what had to be a few hundred people when someone called out, “Sir! Uh, Mr. Jarrus!”

Kanan recognized the man’s voice as he finished helping an elderly Twi’lek woman and her grandson onto the corvette. It was Jamie Naetson, aka Phoenix Three. He’d been flying one of the A-wings, and was also currently living in one of the extra rooms aboard the Yellow Submarine, by Okadiah and Hera’s invitation.

He didn’t know him well, but Hera liked him, and Kasmir claimed he was terrible at sabacc (which really just meant he refused to cheat as much as Kasmir did), so he was probably a good guy. Turning to face him, Kanan said, “What can I do for you, Mr. Naetson? And call me Kanan.”

“Jamie, sir,” Jamie said, sounding a little flustered. “Um, I was talking to one of the locals, and he has something to say I think you should hear.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “Alright, then. Lead the way.”

He followed Jamie, Kasmir on his heels, a little ways away from the crowd, where a man was waiting for them, nervousness bubbling up around him through the Force. Projecting calm through the Force, Kanan said, “Jamie said you have something to tell us?”

“Yes,” the man said, “if you’re the Jedi.” There was a beat where he paused, and Kanan could picture him looking at the mask, then at the saber hanging at his hip.

“That’s me,” he said mildly. “What can I do?”

“Well—we’ve all been hiding out in the abandoned city over there, you know? Waiting for the rebels to come and pick us up,” the man explained. “It wasn’t very comfortable, but, you know, whatever it takes to avoid the Empire. My brother lived on Naboo when they started their occupation there, and he said—”

Kasmir cleared his throat pointedly. “Maybe get to the point before I die of old age?”

“Right, sorry. Um, so we were all supposed to be out here, and I was one of the last ones to leave. And I thought I saw someone staying behind.”

Frowning, Kanan said, “It could have just been someone who forgot something.”

“No,” the man said insistently. “I didn’t recognize her. Besides, the building she was going into was dangerous—no one who lived around here would go into it. And she was wearing all black, and…she had something like your lightsaber.”

Kark. Next to him, Kasmir muttered a curse. “Okay,” Kanan said, keeping his voice neutral. “I’ll check it out. Thank you—you should board the ship now.”

As the man headed towards the corvette, Kasmir said, “Well? You think it’s the Emperor’s Hand?”

Rubbing his beard thoughtfully, Kanan said, “It could be. That lines up with the message Brightside sent us.”

An hour before leaving for the mission, Kanan and Hera had received a missive from one of their newest agents—Mr. Brightside, who Kanan didn’t actually know the true identity of. Nor did Hera, for that matter. Fulcrum had connected them, and all they’d been told was that Brightside was placed deeply enough inside the Empire that to reveal their identity would get them killed very, very quickly.

But Hera and Fulcrum trusted them, and their intel had been solid so far. So Kanan was willing to trust what they got from Brightside. Including the latest message, which had implied that there was already an Imperial operative on Mykapo, and to stay wary.

Wary would only help to a certain degree, though. “I’m going to go investigate,” Kanan told his companions.

“I don’t like this,” Kasmir muttered. “Feels like a trap.

“Maybe. Jamie? Thoughts?”

“Oh.” Jamie sounded startled, like he wasn’t used to being asked that. “I don’t know whoever Brightside is, so…I’m not sure. Is it dangerous to not investigate?”

“It’s actually safer for him to not go, considering this kid wants to kill him,” Kasmir said. “Like, a lot.”

“Kid?”

Kanan nodded, the memory of the first time he’d met the Emperor’s Hand flashing through his mind. “She’s about Ezra’s age.”

“And the Empire is using her?” Jamie was quiet for a moment. “You should go. Uh, if that’s what you want to do.”

Kasmir let out a long groan. “GREAT. Fine, I’ll start looking for more rooms. Trilla’s should work.”

Letting out a long sigh, Kanan said, “I’m going to investigate, not immediately adopt her, Kasmir.”

“You’re not?” A flash of embarrassment came from Jamie as he spoke, and he quickly said, “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say that, please.”

“You’re earning leeway with me again, Naetson,” Kasmir said approvingly. “Let’s go help so we can judge Kanan together.”

“I wasn’t really judging,” Jamie said. “And it’s Jamie, if you don’t mind.”

Letting out an annoyed huff, Kasmir said, “Fine. I’ll judge him, you can be annoyingly supportive. If you die, kid, you get to tell Captain H what happened.”

Without waiting for a response, he stomped away, and Jamie hesitated. “Uh…”

“It’s his way of being worried about me,” Kanan said, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m going to go investigate. If I’m not back when it’s time to go, have Zeb call me, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Giving Jamie a nod of thanks, Kanan turned and headed towards the nearby town.

The town in question wasn’t far away. Kanan found his way to the roadway that the refugees had taken to meet them, and followed it until the buildings started popping up around him. It wasn’t a big town, he could tell that much. Small apartment buildings and storefronts were clustered together, with assorted other buildings here and there, most of them hollow and empty.

As he reached the middle of town, Kanan cautiously reached out with the Force. While it was a little less effortless to find his way around in a place with buildings, or fewer actual living things, the living Force surrounded everything. So he could still find his way, and hopefully he’d still be able to find the building he was looking for.

It took him a few minutes, but then— there. A tall building, filled with metal gears and ancient clockwork. As Kanan reached out, he could sense the danger that the Mykapan man had mentioned. What exactly it was, he wasn’t sure, but the building wasn’t totally sound.

And then, as he searched, he sensed her. The Emperor’s Hand.

Her Force signature was young, but didn’t quite hold the light-hearted cleanness that Iron Squadron did. It was shadowed, woven with strands of the Dark side, and pain and anger burned like black fire.

But that wasn’t all. There was a determination that Kanan recognized and respected. And, despite everything, there was Light. Light that he wouldn’t have sensed before Malachor, buried deeply as it was. But he had to look at things differently now. Which meant he looked more closely, and he saw the tiniest embers of hope. Goodness, even.

They were there. All they needed was a little encouragement.

(And yes, Kanan was aware he was just proving Kasmir right. But there was a time to prove Kasmir wrong, and there was a time to try to save a kid from the Empire who was exploiting her and her Force ability, and using her as a weapon. This was the latter.)

Taking a moment to pinpoint the location of the tower he was looking for, Kanan finally started down another street. Weaving his ways through the alleys and streets, he finally came to the building.

The automatic door in the back was broken—frozen, halfway open. With a little difficulty, Kanan squeezed through the gap, wishing briefly Ezra was with him. Unfortunately, his apprentice still wasn’t quite onboard with redeeming the Hand yet, so it was probably for the best that he was busy dealing with Iron Squadron.

Inside, he found himself in a small room, with a flight of stairs spiraling upwards. Cautiously, Kanan started upwards, one hand resting on the wall. The stairs gave the occasional creak, but seemed solid enough, for the most part.

He was fairly certain that the Hand was somewhere near the top. He was also sure that she would figure that he was here before he made it to her. But there were enough stairs that it didn’t make sense to hurry—Kanan would handle the situation when he reached it. Also, he wasn’t convinced that the stairs wouldn’t give out underneath him if he ran on them.

So he made his way up slowly but surely, keeping his mind steady and calm by leaning on the Force. And eventually, he ran out of stairs.

The room he ended up in had a high, domed ceiling and curved walls. There was a large window to his right—it was slightly open, and he could feel the breeze coming from it. And next to the window stood the Emperor’s Hand.

She’d expected him. Kanan could sense her satisfaction and lack of surprise as she stood. “Jarrus,” she said. “You know, when I was sent here, I thought it would be a waste of time. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

“Glad to be of service,” Kanan said, stepping away from the stairwell. He sensed the Hand tense, her hand going to her lightsaber, but he didn’t react. “Why did you come here?” he asked. “Mykapo isn’t exactly the most dangerous target the Empire’s going after.”

“I go where I’m sent, Jarrus,” she said. “I’m loyal to my Empire, unlike some I can mention.”

“So you don’t know why you were sent here either,” Kanan guessed, and the flash of irritation he sensed from her confirmed it. “You seem a lot more annoyed than if the Emperor himself had sent you, though. Maybe another Inquisitor?”

“Stop guessing,” the Hand growled. “And stop implying I’m just some lowly Inquisitor.”

“Sorry,” Kanan said, holding up his hands. “I’m used to dealing with Inquisitors, not Emperor’s Hands. I’ll remember, I promise.”

“Now you’re just patronizing me.”

“I’m trying to be respectful!”

She let out a scoff. “Enough of your tricks. Defend yourself, Jedi.”

Kanan heard her lightsaber blaze to life, but didn’t reach for his own. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Well, too bad,” she told him, starting forwards. Kanan heard the wooden floor beneath her creak, and felt a pulse of alarm. Alarm that wasn’t his own—it was a warning.

“Kid, don’t move.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

“This is serious, don’t—”

Another step towards him. And then a rending crack and a cry of shock. Kanan lunged forward, grabbing for anything he could, trying to catch the girl before she fell.

He missed.

Wood shattered and metal creaked horribly, and another cry rang above them all. This one was of pain, and Kanan flinched. He clamped down on his immediate instinct, the one telling him to jump down into the yawning pit at his feet, to check and make sure she was okay. There was no way the floor opening up beneath them would be the only repercussions here. The building was dangerous, and he had to be careful, or suffer the same fate.

“Kid?” he called, reaching out through the Force at the same time, trying to assess the situation. “Kid, are you okay?”

“Mmfff. Stop…callin’ me that.”

Her voice was a little slurred, but Kanan felt a surge of relief. She’s alive, at least . Biting back a laugh at her response, he said, “Stay where you are.”

The Force hummed at his touch, responding to the unspoken questions in his mind. The floor had broken away, and several supporting struts had been damaged in the resulting destruction. The tower was wobbly beneath his feet, and Kanan knew they couldn’t stay here long.

The Emperor’s Hand had fallen a few feet beneath him. Most of the space underfoot was empty—other than the stairs, and plenty of support beams. She’d landed on one of the horizontal ones, and it was nothing short of a miracle she hadn’t fallen farther.

Breathing out a silent thank you to the Force, Kanan dropped through the hole, landing on another horizontal beam lightly. It creaked under his weight, and he grimaced. Not good. We better move fast.

The Hand shifted a little as he approached. Pain pulsed through the Force, and she let out a stifled cry. “Don’t move,” Kanan told her, crouching by her side. “What hurts?”

“Think I…hit my head,” she said. “And I cracked a couple ribs. I recognize the feeling.”

Kanan told himself now wasn’t the time to ask why she knew how that felt. “Okay, stay calm, kid. Let me think.”

“I am calm,” she growled, sounding as irritated as she always did. “And don’t call me kid.”

This time, Kanan couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh, if you knew how ironic that was,” he said. “But you haven’t given us a name, and I’m not calling you the Emperor’s Hand.”

“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

“Then kid it is.”

She let out a growl of frustration. “Can’t believe I’m stuck here with you, of all people. A Jedi. Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

“Because I don’t want to kill you,” Kanan said. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

Scoffing, she said, “You’re a Jedi, and I’m a servant of the Emperor. If you don’t kill me, I will kill you.”

“You might surprise yourself,” Kanan said, frowning thoughtfully. Okay, getting out of here. I probably can’t make it back up to the top of the tower without making a mess. But I might be able to make an exit through the walls…

Rising, he moved along the beam carefully, holding one hand in front of him. When it brushed wood, he pressed it against the wall, testing the sturdiness carefully. Nothing a lightsaber can’t handle.

“What are you doing?” the Hand demanded.

“Getting us out of here semi-intact,” Kanan said, grabbing his saber and activating it. “Okay, this…probably won’t drop the building on us.”

“WHAT?”

With a deft movement, Kanan plunged his saber into the wall. The wood barely resisted—it was almost too easy to slice a hole in the structure. Completing the circle, he switched off his saber, returned it to his belt, and called on the Force. A quick push sent the circle flying away, and Kanan heard it crash to the ground several floors below.

Moving cautiously, he headed back to where the Hand was trying to sit up, pain sparking through the Force. “Hey, take it easy,” he told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

She jerked away with a growl of anger that twisted into a gasp of pain. “No—you’re not—I can do it myself—”

“No, you can’t,” Kanan said firmly. “And you don’t have to. Stay still, and let me help.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to protest again. But he heard a sigh, one that communicated defeat. “Fine.”

“Okay. Stay still, I’m gonna pick you up.”

“You’re gonna what—”

Slipping an arm under her legs and another around her shoulders, Kanan lifted her into the air with a light grunt. She weighed surprisingly little, and he wondered if she was eating enough. Force knows the Empire probably doesn’t exactly look after her.

He could also all but hear Kasmir making fun of him, but he didn’t really care.

As Kanan headed for the opening he’d made, he heard the wood beneath him creak, and felt the Hand stiffen. “Jarrus…”

“I know,” Kanan said, picking up the pace a little. “I got you, kid. Don’t worry.”

“You know, this is the part where any sane person would leave me,” she said.

Kanan snorted. “I’m far from sane. Ask anyone. Force, ask Kasmir.”

She started to reply, but a loud crack split the air, cutting her off as Kanan sensed a thrum of warning. The beam underfoot was about to give.

He moved without stopping to think. Vaulting off the beam, he launched himself forward and straight through the opening he’d carved in the wall. The Hand let out a choked cry as for a moment, they seemed to hang in midair.

And then they were falling. Breathing deeply, Kanan called on the Force. And it answered, like it always did. He managed to slow their fall, but they still hit the ground hard.

Twisting to protect the Hand from the gravelly street, Kanan bit back a groan. Ow. Yeah, I’m gonna be in trouble if they find out about this one.

He settled the girl on the ground gently, keeping her head propped against his shoulder. “You okay, kid?”

“I told you not to call me that,” she growled, and Kanan grinned.

“If Ezra was here, he’d say that meant you were getting a nickname, and he’d choose something really obnoxious. How’s your head feeling?”

“Still hurts.”

“Hmm. Well, I have a feeling your bosses are gonna be here soon, so you’ll be able to get to a medic.” Kanan hesitated. He probably knew the answer, but… “Or you could come with me. I can get someone to fix you up, and—”

“And what?” Her voice was heavy with irony. “I’ll just join your merry band of rebels? Betray the Emperor? Sorry, Jarrus, but loyalty means something to me.”

Kriff. He’d known she would say that, but that hadn’t kept him from wishing. “Okay. Let me help you to your ship, then.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I’ll be fine.”

Kanan let out a long sigh. “Kid, you’re stubborn, and that’s not exactly the best attribute to have right now.”

He could sense her glare, and she jerked upright and away from him, despite the pain he sensed through the Force. “Just leave,” she snapped. “I can handle myself.”

For a minute, Kanan was silent. “Okay,” he said finally. “But be careful, okay? Just…do me that favor.”

He got to his feet at the same time as she did. Wincing a little—the gravel had dug into his forearms, and the stress of the past few minutes had made him sore and tense—Kanan slowly turned towards where the others were waiting. Well, figuring out an excuse for this is gonna be fun.

“Mara.”

Kanan turned at the Hand’s voice, surprised. “What?”

“Mara,” she said, her voice quiet. “If you have to call me something… may as well use my name.”

Whoa. Maybe I made more progress than I thought. “Mara,” he repeated slowly. “Good to meet you, Mara. You can call me Kanan.”

“Don’t count on it.” And with that, she turned and strode away, not looking back. But Kanan could sense a little softening, a hint of the dark fire fading away. It was a step in the right direction, and he smiled as he headed back to the landing platform.

Kasmir and Jamie were waiting when Kanan made it back—concern radiating from both of them, with a little more grumpiness from Kasmir. “Took you long enough,” the Kalleran growled. “We’re about to leave—what the kark happened to you?”

“Do I look that bad?” Kanan asked with a tired grin.

“Eh, you’ve looked worse. I’m just glad you’ve got all your limbs. You found the Hand?”

“Yeah—it’s a long story, I’ll explain later. Has Hera checked in yet?”

“Yup. Apparently Iron Squadron is turning out to be kind of a handful. Guess Zeb wasn’t wrong about the “ship full of Ezras” thing.”

Kanan snorted. “Well, we better go see how we can help her.”

As the three of them headed back to the ship, Jamie asked, “How did it go? Talking to the Hand?”

“Good, I think,” Kanan said reflectively, thinking over their encounter. “I think I made some good progress.”

“I’m glad,” Jamie said quietly.

“I am not,” Kasmir said. “Do I have to say the “we don’t have enough rooms” thing AGAIN, kid? Because we don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Kanan said, “Calm down, old man. You’re just worried you’ll get attached again.”

Kasmir sputtered indignantly, and Jamie laughed.

Yep, Kanan thought, wishing he could look back and see Mara’s ship as it took off. Definitely a successful mission.

Chapter Text

Despite the fact he’d been with Kanan and his crew for almost seven at this point, Ezra had never actually done one of those “undercover at a party” missions. He’d helped with the comms on a few of them, but he’d never been on the actual team—it was usually Kanan, and these days, Hera.

Ezra wouldn’t mind going on these missions, necessarily. Although he didn’t love the idea of getting dressed up, that was something he’d have to get used to eventually. But Kanan and the others claimed he lacked a certain subtlety that was required for these. Including unimportant stuff like manners, and clothing that wasn’t bright orange.

Whatever. At the moment, Ezra was plenty happy where he was—perched on the glass roof of an Imperial senator’s house on the outskirts of a city, watching the tiny specks of color that were the party-goers hundreds of feet below.

“Hey, have you ever been undercover on one of these missions?” he asked Sabine, who was crouched next to him. They were supposed to be the lookouts and emergency backup, but when it had become clear that Kanan and Hera were going to be down there a while—and had no intention of not flirting with the comms on—they’d tuned them out. Ezra was checking his messages on his wrist comm, and Sabine was scrolling a datapad she’d brought with for that very purpose.

Glancing up, she said, “Once, when Zeb and I were only working with Hera. I was a rich heiress, and she was my governess. But fancy crowds aren’t really my scene. Plus, these two have a lot more fun than I could ever have.”

Ezra snorted. “You can say that again.” He looked down at his wrist comm, and his eyes widened as they locked on the next message. “Whoa. He messaged me back?”

“Who did?” Sabine asked absently as she studied her datapad.

“Mr. Brightside!”

Sabine’s gaze snapped back up to him. “What? You messaged Maurice’s top secret agent? The one none of us are supposed to contact or find out the identity of? The one who not even Kanan knows the true identity of?”

“...yes?”

“Why am I surprised?” Sabine said with a sigh.

“Hey, I wanted to ask him about our project,” Ezra said reasonably.

“You realize that if Kanan and Hera find out, you’re gonna be in huge trouble.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Ezra said, “They won’t. He won’t tell on us.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing—you keep saying “he”. We don’t even know if Mr. Brightside is a he.”

“He’s called “Mr”, Sabine.”

“It could be a way to throw us off the real trail, Ezra.”

Ezra shrugged. “I don’t really think so. But regardless of that, he actually messaged me back! Don’t you want to know what he said?”

He saw Sabine hesitate, clearly struggling. “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Show me the message?”

Grinning, Ezra opened the message and shifted over so Sabine could read it with him. There was a long moment of silence as they read it together. “Huh,” Sabine said thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“Yeah. What’s a patron-sponsor?”

Shrugging, Sabine returned to her datapad. “No idea. Ask him.”

“I will.” Ezra started typing out a return message. Halfway through, his comlink chimed.

“Yo, mini-kid, are you still there?”

Tapping at the comm button, Ezra said, “Hey, Kasmir. Yeah, we’re still here.”

“Uh-huh. Actually doing your job?”

“Uh…yeah. From a certain point of view.”

The Kalleran snorted on the other end. “Don’t try your Jedi crap on me. Eyes on Spectres 1 and 2, or I’m sending Zeb over to babysit you two.”

“We got it,” Ezra said hastily. “I promise.”

“You better. No flirting, you two.”

Kasmir switched off the comlink before Ezra could even begin to formulate a response. Feeling himself flushing brightly, he shot a glance at Sabine to see if she’d heard. Judging by her distracted expression as she studied her datapad, she hadn’t, and he let out a quick breath of relief.

Quickly, he finished sending his message, then crawled over to peer down into the room below again.

The ballroom was elegant, with glass walls and white marble floors veined with gold. The many guests mingled in clusters along the edges of the dance floor, while some couples moved in graceful tandem across it.

It only took him a few minutes to spot Kanan and Hera. Among the group of largely humans, Hera’s vibrant green skin stood out sharply. She wore a sleeveless aqua blue dress, with silver and darker blue beaded patterns across the torso and skirt, which hit just below her knees. A sash was knotted at the waist, and she was wearing, to both Ezra and Sabine’s surprise, elegant silver heels.

Kanan was wearing a clean cut black suit and a tie the same color as Hera’s dress. His hair was in a top knot and he wore a pair of glare shades that, according to Sabine, were right in between fashionable and weird. He moved in step with Hera as they danced, their movements graceful and smooth.

“No sign of Fleetwood yet,” Ezra told Sabine. “I don’t know why he’s always the one they meet at these things—he hates parties, according to Kanan.”

“Yeah, but isn’t he one of our few Imperial double agents?” Sabine pointed out.

“Good point.”

“I know. Hey—look at this.”

Obediently, Ezra turned his attention to her. “What’s up?”

Tilting the datapad screen towards him to show an image of a sleeveless dress with a fluttering skirt, Sabine said, “Would I look good in this?”

Now Ezra could definitely feel himself turning red. “Uh—yeah,” he said, quickly looking back at the crowd beneath him. “I mean, not that I would actually know. I’m not really an expert—oh! Leather jacket.”

“Huh?”

“Fleetwood always wears a leather jacket. He just showed up.” Ezra squinted down at Kanan and Hera. He saw Hera’s head tilt towards where Fleetwood, a dark-haired man in a leather jacket, was standing on the outskirts of the dance floor. Her hand resting on Kanan’s shoulder fluttered slightly, fingers moving, and Ezra saw Kanan lift his head, just a little. “They spotted him,” he told Sabine as the couple moved off of the dance floor together. “They’ll pick up the intel, now we just gotta wait in case they need any backup.”

Letting out a sigh, Sabine said, “You know, when I said I needed more free time to work on this project, I didn’t really mean sitting on top of a building waiting for Kanan and Hera to start a fight.”

“What are you working on right now?” Ezra asked, craning his neck towards her datapad.

“None of your business,” she informed him. “Stick to your job, Bridger.”

“Okay, okay.” Ezra glanced back down at the ballroom briefly—then froze. “Uh-oh.”

“Oh, what now?”

“Yeah, we don’t have to wait for them to start a fight anymore,” Ezra said. Far below him, stormtroopers had flooded the ballroom, flecks of white sharp among the colorful partygoers. Kanan and Hera were trapped.

Lifting his wrist comm, he keyed it on. “Hey, Kasmir?”

“Let me guess,” Kasmir drawled. “Stormtroopers just busted in? Captain H and the kid are seconds away from a firefight? Near death experience likely?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Ezra winced at the sound of blaster fire echoing beneath them. “Sounds like we’re going with plan B. How soon can you be here?”

“Two minutes.”

“See you then.” Switching off the comm, Ezra turned to Sabine. Her datapad was clipped to her belt, and she was already donning her helmet. “You ready?”

She scoffed. “Obviously. Let’s get this done!”

They carefully clambered across the glass ceiling, towards a spot closer to where Kanan and Hera were. The fight beneath them had already started—blaster fire and the hum of a lightsaber echoed faintly below them, the sounds dulled by the glass. But Ezra could see bright flashes of green and red, and the steady glow of Kanan’s saber as he batted away blaster bolts with ease. Hera was crouched next to him, returning fire over the top of a flipped table they were using for cover.

As they came to a stop right above them, Ezra reached out with the Force. It was easy enough to reach Kanan’s mind—after the incident with the spiders, their Force bond had been back stronger and better than ever. Kanan’s mind did feel a little different, though. More alert to the Force around him, more aware of it. And the way he took in input was more…vague. It was confusing and completely logical, at the same time. Not unlike the Force itself.

His master registered the brush of Ezra’s mind against his almost instantly. Ezra?

Yup! Plan B is in action—Kasmir’s on the way. Two minutes.

Got it.

As Ezra opened his eyes, he saw Kanan drop a hand onto Hera’s shoulder. She lifted her head, but only barely as she continued to shoot at the troopers. “They’ve got the message,” Ezra told Sabine.

“Good,” she said. “You wanna do the honors?”

Grinning, Ezra plucked the saber from his waist and switched it on. With a smooth flick of his wrist, he cut an “X” into the glass panel directly above Kanan and Hera, and shoved it with the Force.

It shattered, sending glass shards tinkling down to the ground below. Kanan and Hera barely flinched, but the rest of the party goers screamed in shock. Sabine snorted with disdain.

“Rich people.”

Ezra held back a grin as he glanced around them, making sure there was no sign of Imperials yet. There were no TIEs on the horizon—but he did hear the roar of engines as the familiar red shape of the Kasmiri cruised towards them.

He looked down again in time to see Kanan resting a hand on Hera’s shoulder. While Ezra couldn’t actually see from the distance, he harbored a sneaking suspicion the two of them had developed some kind of code they could use without the others understanding what they were saying, to make subtle communication easier. Plus, it meant they could hold hands. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any proof of that yet. But times like these made it seem pretty likely. The two of them rose from behind the table as one, Kanan replacing his lightsaber on his belt. As Hera provided cover fire, he thrust out one hand and sent the table flying towards the stormtroopers, scattering them.

Stepping forward, Kanan swept Hera into his arms and jumped, higher than any human should have been able to. Instinctively, Ezra reached out with the Force and gave him a little boost, and the duo soared through the open roof panel, landing lightly nearby.

“Nice timing,” Ezra said as the Kasmiri came to a sharp stop next to them.

“Thanks,” Kanan said, setting Hera down, but keeping a hand on her arm as she carefully found her footing on the glass roof.

“Just like Rion all over again,” she said.

“You and I remember Rion very differently,” Kanan said, but he was grinning. “Since when can you run in heels, by the way?”

Hera shrugged. “I thought it would be useful to learn. Besides, I like to keep you on your toes, love.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not objecting to that,” Kanan said, his grin widening. Ezra let out a gagging noise, and Sabine groaned.

“Okay, it’s great that you two are back together, but can we please get a move on? I have projects that need my attention.”

“Urgent art?” Kanan teased, but he headed towards the Kasmiri, his arm still around Hera.

As they boarded the ship, Ezra checked his comm. There was a new message from Mr. Brightside, and he quickly opened and read it. Huh. Interesting. Well, that could be pretty helpful.

“Kid, what are you doing back there?” Kanan called, and Ezra quickly switched off his wrist comm.

“Nothing,” he called back, jogging up the ramp. As it hissed shut behind him, he shot the others a smile. “Let’s head home.”