atardisofourown | For fadedfool

For fadedfool

Ezra hadn't known what to expect, when he's stepped through the portal, but landing face first in a desert would not have been even close to his first guess. On the other hand, this is a desert he knows - or at least as much as one could, having stumbled around nearly blindly and nearly died. But he'd bet his helmet collection that this is Tatooine.

He had even thought he'd heard Master Kenobi's voice, as he'd fallen through whatever that in between place had been. Many other voices, familiar and not, had reverberated, but Master Kenobi is the voice he'd placed first.

Now he's plodding through the desert, possibly even less equipped for it than he'd been the first time around, sweltering in storm trooper armor; he's pretty sure he remembers from his brief undercover stints Imps talking up how versatile stormtrooper equipment is supposed to be, but that is clearly exaggerated propaganda.

And a lone stormtrooper, on this planet, is much more likely to be a target than not, come to think of it. He loathes leaving anything behind, now that he's on his own without many resources, but not overheating takes higher priority. Keep the boots, and under layer, leave the rest, he decides.

Then see how far he can get. Surely the Force didn't bring him this far, just to die.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His gaze does dart around, mid raising a spoonful of soup, taking in details. He works through another couple of spoonful before he actually twists around, visibly disconcerted, before swinging back and squinting at Master Kenobi.

"I sort of assumed this was, um. A rest stop?"

But it isn't, is it? Please tell him he's wrong, Obi-Wan.

"Well," he says, somewhere between amused and annoyed -- and both all at once, "we are here to rest."

He looks around, arms crossed and frown evident. "Is there something wrong with my cave?"

He hums, somewhere between thoughtful and doubtful.

"Ah. Well. It's a little bigger inside than my comms tower," he allows. "Although - that did have an actual door. And I think I, uh, scavenged more furniture by the time I was nine," he adds, more judgmentally.

Then he shrugs. "But then, this planet's so different, what do I know?"

There's a moment when Obi-Wan simply stares in Ezra's direction, expression blank. (Though, if Ezra is observant, he may take note of an undercurrent of something like amusement playing at the edges.)

"Perhaps I haven't found anything in my taste." Or perhaps he's been wallowing in despair for a decade and is just now slowly coming out of it.

It's likely the latter.

Ezra's expression wavers in uncertainty for a second, as he wonders if he's actually managed to offend his host. But that doesn't match what he's dimly feeling through the Force.

"If this were more my usual stomping grounds, I'd offer to see what I could rustle up," he replies lightly. "But it might get me more heat exhaustion or shot at, around here."

Obi-Wan allows a bit of a smile through, mouth quirking at the corners for the briefest of moments. Not offended, Ezra -- but okay, he gets the hint. (Bail had told him much the same.)

"All too easy here on Tattooine," he says. Both heat exhaustion and shooting, in point of fact. "Where are your usual stomping grounds, my young friend?"

"Other side of the Outer Rim. Lothal, like I mentioned until-" He breath hitches, but he presses on. "Until my new family took me in. And then a lot of traveling to stay under the Imperial radar. We were based out of Garel for a while."

But that base of operations was blown years ago, so it's safe to mention.

Obi-Wan takes a seat. Ezra's right; there's not much in the place, but he does have the occasional chair and cushion hanging about. His voice is gentle when he speaks. "Tell me about them. Your new family."

Ezra goes still for a moment, watching Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye. He lays his spoon across the edge of his bowl, and shifts to more facing towards the older man.

"Um." He clears his throats and swallows. "Kanan was my master." He eyes dart to looking directly at Obi-Wan and then drop down a little. "Kanan Jarrus. That was the name he took, after-" He presses his lips together.

"Before he...found me, he'd already been part of Hera's crew for, uh. Years. A couple of other people they'd taken in. Zeb - he's one of the surviving Lasat. Sabine's a little older than me. There's some others that- well I think of them that way, but-" He doesn't know what some of the other Rebels think. But the Spectres had used the word family for each for more than a few times.

"Anyway. Those are the people I've been living with for the past four years."

A name taken after; Obi-Wan could certainly make a guess as to why and when that would be. Old grief that never seemed to lighten flooded through him. Here and now he told himself, echoes of Qui-Gon's voice ringing in his mind.

"Perhaps someday I'll meet them."

Ezra's gaze jolts back up, a little startled.

"I know Hera would like - well, she's never forgotten when you and your troops did for Ryloth." He laughs weakly, "Rex will understand why I never let slip that you're out here, I think."

The nostalgic smile is unbidden and unexpected. The war itself had, of course, been awful -- and all the things that went with it, and all the machinations behind it. But then there had been the people he'd met, the wonderful and courageous souls who had reminded him over and over again that there was still some things that were very good in the galaxy. An image of Boil and Waxer, a tiny Twi'lek girl clinging to plastoid armor calling them "brother" sprang to mind.

He certainly did live in the past sometimes, didn't he?

And, of course, the clones themselves are a complicated subject. Ezra had come here for some reason, which likely means that Rex he mentioned is the Rex that Obi-Want knew once upon a time. "All of our lives changed. He will understand, and I thank you for it."

"...of course. I didn't even tell Kanan," he tries to reassure Obi-Wan. "I don't know why you're here. But. I could - do - feel that this where you're supposed to be and it's important. So...I didn't need to."

"Peace, Ezra," Obi-Wan says, raising a hand and laughing a little. "I believe you... and honestly, if you had chosen to tell someone, I think it would have been all right. I trust in your judgement."

Ezra goes very still again, as Obi-Wan bids him to be calm. But it's the part about trust that makes his expression - composure in the Force - crack.

Part of him wants to demand why anyone should trust his judgement - he couldn't save his master. Or Ahsoka, for that matter. He swallows those words back. They'd be rude and ungrateful and he knows his teachers wouldn't want him to cling to guilt.

Beyond those fleeting thoughts, the realization slams into him that he's safe. Oh Tatooine is a generally terrible place. But here, in this alcove, a little sheltered from the elements, he's farther from the reach of the Empire than he's been in a long time.

He promptly bursts into hiccuping sobs. He has enough presence of mind to squeeze his eyes shut; he should at least try not to waste water. But he's never been ashamed to cry, when there's not a pressing reason to hold it together, so he doesn't really try to force himself to stop immediately, either.

Oh, Ezra. There's a moment of indecision, where Obi-Wan is still in the face of Ezra's sudden outburst. He's not necessarily caught off-guard -- Ezra's grief had been plain, both in the Force and in his general demeanor -- and Obi-Wan knew that some outpouring of emotion would likely be coming. It's a moment of uncertainty, not entirely sure of what to do.

But then the moment is over and Obi-Wan kneels in front of Ezra and puts his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You're safe here."

Not it's all right because it clearly wasn't. Not don't cry, not when Ezra's entire life had changed in an instant.

He slumps a little forward towards Obi-Wan, in relief at that little bit of touch, without putting his full weight into the hands on his shoulder. Takes another shuddering breath, and then another.

"I know," he whispers. It may take a while for that to truly sink in, but intellectually, he's aware.

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulders, then rocks back on his heels, offering Ezra an understanding... not quite smile but a softening of his countenance. "You are here for a reason, Ezra Bridger, but it is not so important that you cannot rest first."

He nods a little bit. "That-that would be nice." He glances over at the still half full bowl.

"So, um. I should probably eat. Not sure I can quite manage proper meditation after that, but just sitting and breathing sounds...good."

Obi-Wan follows his gaze to the bowl. "Perhaps you should." He reaches for the bowl, and presses it into Ezra's hands.

"If simply sitting and breathing sounds good," he says, "then that is good enough."

Ezra offers a tiny, sheepish smile, as he takes the bowl back. "I just don't want you to think I'm putting it off!"

He's mostly joking. Mostly.

For the moment, he turns his attention back to checking off physical needs, finishing off the stew.

"You're not putting it off," he says. He takes a moment to seat himself right on the floor, wrapping his robe around himself as he does. "You're prioritizing."

Ezra - who has perhaps internalized some criticisms from his elders about discipline in ways that maybe weren't intended - blinks at affirmation. "Yeah. That's true. Kanan was always big on - when you feel most spread thin is when you probably need it most, and I get what he meant-"

Another swallow of stew and he adds, "But then, there was at one period when he absolutely used meditation to hide and shut people out, so. Balance, I guess."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For fadedfool

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject