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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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a complicated profession

Chapter One

This is one of the longest, most self-indulgent fics I’ve written in a while and it is entirely @ninjawhoa‘s fault (and i mean that in the best way possible but u know). So the full inspiration for Kai and Nya as Mandalorians goes to them <3

Honestly the best way I can summarize this is to explain that I started it out saying “lol there’s no way I’m gonna write Lloyd as baby yoda”. then 11k words later. Lloyd as baby yoda.

(while you don’t technically need to have watched the mandalorian to understand this, it will kinda help and you’ll probably guess who Cole’s gonna be. plus it’s just a Good Show in general, so u should watch it)

Kai’s not a heartless person, despite what some people might say.

But he’s not the kind of person that keeps many regrets, either. In his line of work, he can’t afford to be. Mandalorians aren’t known for their expressiveness in the first place, and the helmet has long hidden any grimace he might make at his and Nya’s less…savory jobs. But he’ll never show it otherwise, because they are Mandalorian, which means they’re the best of warriors or bounty hunters to be had, and you don’t become the best by regretting who you blast in the back and who you freeze in carbonite this week.

But there are some things — a precious few — that he does regret, and he does hold on to. And one of the more current, glaring ones is that he really should have pressed for more information on their target this time.

Specifically in regards to its age.

“I thought they said it would be forty-six years old,” he says blankly, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. For a moment, he’s glad that Nya’s still outside, covering him where he’s snuck in to the compound with the assassin droid. Because while the droid can’t tell that Kai’s gobsmacked, Nya absolutely could, and she’d never let him live it down.

The target stares up at him where it’s hidden itself beneath an old weapons rack, its eyes wide and curious on his helmet. It’s definitely their target, no question — Kai’s tracker hasn’t stopped going nuts since he got this close to it — but it’s also definitely not forty-six years old.

It’s a kid. No older than six, at most — a human boy, from appearance, but the red eyes staring back at him lead Kai to believe their target’s a lot more than just some human. That and the obscene bounty that’s sitting on it, and the ridiculous amount of guards they had to fight through to get this far.

The assassin droid takes a jerking step forward, the gear on the left side of its face glowing dark red, and the child curls back, the first movement Kai’s seen it make — though he can’t really blame it, after the shootout they’ve had right outside the door. It doesn’t speak, either, just continues to stare at him with those wide, crimson eyes, as if Kai’s the most fascinating thing it’s ever seen. Then those eyes flick to the droid, and the gaze turns frightened.

“Four to six,” the assassin droid clarifies, its voice as monotone as ever. “Species unknown.”

“It’s supposed to be older.” Kai knows his voice is too quiet, too young. He doesn’t sound as old as he’s pretending to be.

“A shame, that it will never be,” the droid clicks. “But its life ends here.”

The droid brings its blaster up, and the kid’s eyes clench shut. Kai’s moving before he can think, shoving the droid’s arm so the blaster isn’t trained on the kid.

“I’m supposed to bring it back alive,” he hisses.

“And I am supposed to bring it back dead,” the droid replies blandly, it’s glowing eyes staring at Kai’s helmet. “Step aside. It will yield less trouble for everyone this way.”

Kai stares at the droid, revulsion twisting in his gut. He hates droids.

But he also knows that this is an assassin droid for a reason, and that it’s proven a valuable ally as it is.

The droid pulls away, its blaster clicking back on. Kai turns back to the kid, all frightened eyes beneath its mop of golden hair.

The blaster levels with the kid’s head, and the fear turns to resignation. Kai knows that look.

For an awful half second, he sees another child huddled before him, another child alone in the world, tear-stained and hopeless and lost.

There’s a click of a trigger, and blaster fire flashes bright across the room.

***********************************

Nya’s just finished cleaning up the last of the stragglers who were guarding the compound by the time her brother finally emerges from it, scraping dark stains from the edge of her weapons with the gritty sand that drowns this planet. She scowls — she hates desert planets on a good day, because the sand gets all in the cracks of her armor and wears down the gears on their ship, but sand will always soak up blood better than anything else will.

She frowns at the bodies that litter the sand around them, scrubbing a hand over the plating of her helmet. They’ve gone through an awful lot of trouble for this job, more so than usual. Ronin wasn’t kidding when he said their client made a steep demand.

It had better be worth it, she thinks, as the familiar sound of her brother’s boots draws nearer. She blinks as he steps out of the compound, the absence of the CRY-11 droid he went in with painfully noticeable. Maybe there was a disagreement on who got the bounty…? The question is on her lips, when she finally catches sight of what’s in his arms.

Nya stares. Her brother is not dragging a struggling target to them. Her brother is holding a baby, the thing tucked close in his arms. Well — not a baby, exactly, if it’s big enough to cling to Kai’s armor like that, but — it’s a tiny kid.

“What is that,” she asks, her voice slow and measured through her helmet.

Kai tightens his grip on the shivering kid, who’s yet to unfurl his fingers where they grip tightly around his breastplate, face pressed into his shoulder. He’s silent for a beat, and the quiet feels loud, surrounding the two of them and the kid and the piles of dead bodies around them.

“Our payday,” Kai finally says, sounding eternally exhausted.

***********************************

It was supposed to be a simple target, if a difficult one.

Sure, their client was Imperial — or ex-Imperial, though either way is just as bad, in Kai’s opinion — but the guy was straightforward enough. A bit saccharine, a lot creepy, but clearly eager to pay for a target. And the payment — Kai hasn’t seen that much Beskar steel since their father’s smithy, and the prospect of winning at least some of it back, at least some of what the Empire took from their people, was too much to turn down (even if it did mean working with Imperials).

Not that he and Nya had been planning on turning him down in the first place. The downside about being the best bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy is that, eventually, they run out of targets that’ll earn them money. They’ve cleaned out all Ronin’s best offers, and they’d needed more.

It’s how they got this target. Not favoritism from Ronin — no matter what the other Hunter’s Guild members say — because as their planet’s head of local bounty headers, favoritism isn’t something he can afford showing. No, Kai and Nya got this target because they are the best, and they always follow through on a job.

But bounty hunting commissions are a two-way street, and Kai knew they should’ve pressed for more information than just “here’s a tracker, you’ll know the target when you see it”.

Then maybe they wouldn’t have ended up trekking across this awful desert with a kid in tow.

“What would a bunch of Imps want with a kid?” Nya asks again, brushing sand from where it’s collected in the corners of her elbow armor. “He doesn’t seem like he’s worth that much.”

“Tell that to the guard detail they had on ‘im,” Kai mutters, wincing at the new scorch marks on his armor. That steel payment is going to come in handy a lot sooner than he’d thought.

“Well yeah, but…” Nya’s helmet swivels toward the kid, where it’s yet to move from the patch of sand it’s claimed in their campground. It hasn’t said much of anything since Kai took it from the compound, but it hadn’t fought Kai either, so that’s something. Not trust, maybe, but the way the kid stares at them seems curious, which is a lot better than hostile.

Makes it easier for transporting it, and all.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Nya finally huffs, pulling her knees up to her chest, looking very much like the child she is, and a lot less like the callous assassin she’s supposed to be.

“You say that like Imperials have ever made sense,” Kai yawns, stretching his arms. “Look, our job is to bring the kid back, not to ask questions.”

“And to blast Guild assassin droids on the way?” Nya quips, drily.

Kai shrugs, his head tilting down. He wasn’t gonna let the droid just kill the kid. Even if the bounty hadn’t been a part of it, he’s not that heartless.

And he’d known the look in the kid’s eyes.

And he hates droids anyways, so it’s a win all around.

“I wonder what’s so special about him,” Nya murmurs, tilting her head at the child. It shifts under her gaze, almost anxiously.

Kai shrugs again, and turns his head as well. “Hey, kid. What’s your deal?”

He can feel the face Nya’s making at him beneath her helmet, but Kai ignores her, watching the kid intently. The kid stares back, blinking once at him.

Then it turns away, pulling the edge of Kai’s lent cloak tighter around its shoulders, and says nothing.

Kai bites back a sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s expecting anything more. It’s not like every quarry’s supposed to be jumping for conversation at being used as bounty. Heck, he doesn’t even know if the kid can talk. Or if it does, maybe it’s the wrong language…?

Kai doesn’t know why he’s trying to care.

“Eloquent as always,” Nya snorts. Kai throws her a gesture, and Nya retaliates by kicking sand up on him as she stands. “I’m gonna head back to the ship,” she says, shouldering her weapons. “Need to make sure nothing’s scrapped it yet. I’ve seen too many Jawas running around here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kai smirks. “Checking back in with Jay while you’re at it wouldn’t happen to part of the plan, would it?”

Nya’s foot connects with his side this time, and Kai cackles instead of sweeping her leg out from under her. Nya’s helmet shakes side to side, and Kai can picture the blush she’s sporting beneath it.

“You are going to check back in with Jay,” she huffs. “We’ve still gotta thank him for helping us out, and the kid probably needs to eat eventually.”

“There’s always frogs,” Kai mutters.

“You are not letting him try and swallow a frog whole again,” Nya snaps, clearly not over the earlier incident, in which the kid had revealed a set of unnaturally sharp teeth, apparently trying to snack on one of the planet’s tiny amphibians.

“Maybe it’s naturally carnivorous, like the Togruta,” Kai shoots back. Nya crosses her arms. Kai crosses his.

The debate between calling the kid him or it has been ongoing since they left the compound, but Kai’s not budging. If you give your target humanity, you start to get in trouble.

“I’ll meet you at Jay’s, then,” he finally relents. “Be back before morning, alright?”

Nya makes a sound of amusement, the dying sunlight flashing off her helmet as she shakes it. She knocks armored knuckles against his own helmet, sending mild reverberations around Kai’s skull.

“I’ll be back when I’m back,” she says, but he catches the undercurrent of a promise in her voice. She turns away, her helmet tilting toward the kid where he sits unmoving, still silent. Her hand twitches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to reach a hand to ruffle his tangled hair.

Her hand finally goes loose, hanging limply by her side, and her helmet dips.

“Take care of the kid, okay?”

Kai nods. He almost scoffs, makes a comment — they won’t get paid for a dead kid.

But somehow, he knows that thought isn’t what makes her say it.

***********************************

Kai didn’t always live his life under a helmet. Probably wouldn’t have chosen too, necessarily, if given the choice — he’s got some pretty great hair, he likes to think, and perpetually hiding it is a tragedy in and of itself — but, that is to say, he’s not complaining.

Living with his head beneath a helmet is better than the alternative, which Nya always jokes would be living without a head at all.

Kai’s lips curl into a half-grin behind the helmet, in the way he only does when Nya jokes. It’s a half-truth; they both know that had the Mandalorians not seen to take them on as Foundlings, had they not swooped in at the last moment to rain blaster fire on the battle droids, then well…

Well. The little that would be left of them would likely be scattered in the streets with their parents.

The half-smile has now long since disappeared from Kai’s face, but no one could tell. Nya could, probably — she has a way of knowing him like that, just as he does her, exactly what face he’s making behind the helmet — but she’s not here now.

There’s a shuffling noise beside him, and Kai is abruptly reminded at what is here with him.

…alright, calling the kid a what does feel like too much. He should give it who, at least. The kid’s quiet, but there’s enough sentience, and enough expression in its eyes to communicate that its…well, a person.

A bounty, Kai reminds himself. A quarry. At the end of the day, the kid’ll be in someone else’s hands, and Kai’s own hands will be full of well-earned payment. It won’t do to go getting attached, or anything so blatantly stupid. Kai hasn’t gotten this far on sentiment.

The kid keeps staring at him with those eyes, the odd red glinting in the dying sun as it trudges beside him. Not for the first time, Kai wonders what, exactly, type of being the kid even is. It looks human, certainly. Its hair’s gold enough to pass for the Mandalorian royalty of the old Republic, and the teeth could be attributed to mixed blood. The eyes, too.

But the price on its head, for a simple human? Not likely.

Kai glances back at the kid, and is hit with an unpleasant jolt when he realizes it’s no longer by his side. There’s a brief moment of panic before Kai finds it, trailing just behind him, a scowl on its face as it trudges through the thickening sand.

It’s more expression than Kai’s seen on the kid all day, and it almost makes him laugh.

“Having some trouble, there?” he asks, watching the kid struggle up the sandbank in amusement.

The kid looks up, red eyes narrowing, and — “Slow.”

Kai blinks rapidly. He’s been about ninety-nine percent sure the kid can’t talk. So the quiet voice that suddenly comes from it is enough to give him pause, for a moment.

“So you do talk,” he manages. “Wanna tell me what you are?”

The kid finally reaches him, puffing its cheeks out as it breathes heavily, looking exhausted. It probably is, with the pace Kai’s been driving them at.

He doesn’t feel a pang of guilt at that, he tells himself.

The kid blows a breath out. “Slow,” it says again, voice dull.

Kai snorts in spite of himself. “You are slow, huh.”

The kid glares at him. Kai shakes his head, then steps forward, scooping the kid up and settling it on his back, like he used to with Nya when she was younger. The kid goes rigid for a beat, then Kai feels tiny fingers digging into the grooves of his armor, clinging tightly.

“Don’t get used to this,” Kai warns, as he continues to make his way across the barren wasteland. “It’s a one-time thing.”

The kid says nothing, but Kai wasn’t expecting anything, either.

***********************************

Nya’s already made it back to Jay’s outpost by the time Kai and the kid reach it, and judging by her irritated posture, their ship probably has been scrapped. That or Jay’s said something incredibly stupid again, which wouldn’t be unusual, but Nya normally finds Jay’s stupid to be funny, as opposed to…whatever’s put her in a mood.

Kai, on the other hand, does not find it funny, like how Jay laughs for a full ten minutes when he catches sight of the kid. He’s more tempted to slug him in the jaw, or something, because that’s Kai’s approach to almost everything that annoys him.

“This?” Jay says between snickers, as he stares at the kid. “This is what’s been tearing the planet apart?”

The kid’s been shifted back to his hip by now, and it hides its face in Kai’s armor, shrinking away from Jay. Something in the gesture makes Kai’s chest feels weird, so he glares at Jay instead, before remembering that Jay can’t see it.

“Apparently,” Nya answers for him, her voice weary. “It’s not exactly our usual bounty.”

“I’ll say,” Jay snorts, laughter still in his voice. He tilts his head, studying the kid with his bright eyes. Kai lets him inch closer, reluctantly. Jay’s loud and obnoxious, but he’s also one of the cleverest people Kai and Nya know in their corner of the galaxy. Normally, he’s just their repair guy — no one knows ships like Jay, whether they’re in the sky or on the ground, and he hasn’t gained a reputation as an ace pilot for nothing.

Why he’s chosen to stake out here, with the other best mechanic on this side of the galaxy, is still a mystery to Kai, but he’s one of the closest things they have to a friend, and at the end of the day, Kai does trust him.

“Yeah, I got no idea what he is,” Jay finally says, stepping back and running an oil-stained hand through his auburn hair. His mouth quirks up. “Hey, maybe he’s a Sith. Y’know, with the eyes?”

“Like the wizard people?” Nya says, her voice twisting, as if she’s wrinkling her mouth.

Jay rolls his eyes. “Sure, the wizard people. Geez, this galaxy forgets everything—” he cuts off, as if feeling the gazes he’s getting from behind both helmets. “I’m joking. Sith eyes are yellow. I’d guess he’s a mixed human, if anything.”

“It’s worth a lot, that’s what’s important,” Kai grouses.

Jay blinks, staring at the kid again.

“You’re seriously delivering a kid as a bounty?” he finally asks. His voice is even, guarded, but Kai doesn’t have to look far to find the carefully censored judgement in his voice.

“Well, the Imps want ‘im, and you know how they are when they don’t get what they want,” Kai says, sharply.

Jay’s smile disappears. Nya’s helmet swivels toward him, and Kai bites his tongue, mentally cursing himself.

Jay might be the loudest chatterbox he’s met in the galaxy, so it’s easy to forget sometimes. It’s not easy to forget why they come to him so often, because again, no one knows ships like Jay and no one does repairs like Jay, but it’s easy to forget where he comes from.

But the scars are there, hidden behind the sleeves of the blue jacket he always wears, and if Kai looks hard enough, he might even be able to decipher the Imperial brand beneath the mess of scarring Jay’s made over it.

Jay might have made it out, but Imperial slavery isn’t something you just walk off. Especially not when it’s taken both your home planet and your parents.

Jay’s bright eyes shutter, darkening at the mention. Kai wants to kick himself. He wishes Zane were here, like he often is to help with repairs — he’s always better at talking to Zane. Probably because Zane is a whole lot quieter, and doesn’t try so hard to make him talk back.

He’s saved by the kid lifting its head, red eyes watching Jay with an undecipherable expression. Jay shifts, a bit uncomfortably, and Kai gets it. The kid’s eyes feel a bit like the ocean — there’s too much in that gaze, and if you look too deep, you’ll end up lost.

Or maybe Kai’s just being dramatic again. He’s been told he does that a lot.

So maybe he’s too busy being dramatic to miss what happens next, but the next thing he knows the kid has suddenly reached out and has one little hand on Jay’s arm, like it’s trying to comfort him. Or maybe it’s gotten fed up of the way Jay squints at it, and it’s finally decided to try and shut him up, but—

Nope, Jay’s eyes are going the kind of watery that mean the kid’s done something right.

He gives a ragged breath, patting the kid’s hand before pulling away. “Cute kid,” he says, flashing a brief smile. He shakes his head, and something like regret crosses his face before he speaks again. “Alright. Let’s get your ship back together, so you can get out of my hair already.”

***********************************

As it turns out, their ship has been scrapped by Jawas while they were gone after all — typical — and that’s why Zane’s been missing.

“I managed to track them until they stopped,” he says, brushing crusted sand from his hair as he dismounts the speeder. The kid eyes him curiously from behind Kai, where it’s taken to standing most of the time. Kai’s pretty sure that it likes Jay, and it definitely likes Nya, but for some reason it’s picked Kai to stick to like a barnacle.

Persistent little brat.

“Did you take care of them, then?” Kai asks, carefully maneuvering the kid out of his path with his boot as he re-shoulders his weapon.

Zane gives him a blisteringly dry look, and despite the helmet Kai feels his cheeks heat.

“If by that you mean, ‘did I murder them all’, then no, I did not take care of them,” Zane sighs. “I did, however, manage to bargain with them, if you’re up for the task.”

“We’re up for any task,” Kai says hotly. “It’d just be a lot easier if we—“

“Shut up and listened to Zane, who’s been very helpful,” Nya interrupts him. Kai’s helmet swivels to her incredulously, and Jay snorts. Kai finally crosses his arms, slumping down on one of the radiators with a scowl. He glances to the kid, who’s decided to settle on his left, his own arms crossed in imitation of Kai’s.

It’s almost enough to lift his mood.

“Can you believe this, kid,” he mutters instead. “Sold out by my own sister.”

“I didn’t sell you out,” Nya huffs. “I’m trying to get us our ship back. What’s the bargain, Zane?”

Zane purses his lips, suddenly looking a bit hesitant. “Well, that’s the difficult part,” he says. “You could pay them in credits—“

“Imperial?” Kai asks.

“New Republic,” Zane replies. Nya mutters a curse.

Kai exhales wearily. “And the other option?”

Zane winces. “There’s a Krayt Dragon egg,” he begins.

He doesn’t need to finish. Kai knows what that look on his face means, even if he knows little else about Zane.

While Kai and Nya know Jay’s past well enough, Zane’s is a mystery. Maybe it’s just because he’s quieter than Jay, and a lot less likely to blurt out his entire backstory after one glass of Corellian whiskey, but the most Kai’s ever been able to pick up about Zane’s past is that he doesn’t like talking about it. He was with the Rebel Alliance at some point, though he’s quiet about his experience in it, and it lead him to Jay, who he’s stuck with ever since. The two are formidable mechanics and crackshot pilots, and combined they’re solid allies to have on your side.

Except, of course, when they suggest tackling Krayt Dragons as means to win back their ship parts.

“No way,” Nya says. “Nuh-uh. We’d like to come out of this one alive, thanks.”

“Yeah, no offense, but that armor’s seen better days,” Jay says, looking pointedly at Kai. “I don’t think they’d be here to claim the ship parts after that, Zane.”

Kai’s common sense evaporates, as it tends to do when literally anyone underestimates him.

“Excuse me, we’re not the best bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy for nothing,” he snaps, glaring at Jay. “Armor or not. Some of us don’t need fancy tools to get the job done.”

Jay’s mouth screws up. “I literally make fancy tools for you to get the job done with on a weekly basis—“

“Zane,” Kai says, studiously ignoring Jay, who doesn’t know what he’s talking about at all, clearly. “Did they give you coordinates?”

Nya makes a muffled sound of agony, and the kid glances up at him curiously. The edge of Zane’s mouth tilts up, as if he’d known Kai would be on board from the very start.

“You won’t need them,” he says. “The sound will be enough.”

***********************************

The sound is enough. More than enough, in fact, Kai thinks, gritting his teeth as the Krayt Dragon’s screech reverberates through his helmet.

“Kai, get up!”

Nya’s screech of terror almost rivals it though, the panic in her voice triggering a rush of adrenaline in Kai’s battered body. He forces himself to roll just in time, the dragon’s sharp claws sinking into the sand where his head had been. Kai’s armor clanks as he moves, scrambling wildly to his feet, and he bites back a curse. It pains him to admit it — in more ways than one — but Jay was right. They’re going to need to put that Beskar steel right toward new armor, if they survive long enough to actually get their payment.

“Why won’t this thing go down!” Nya grunts, one of her curved knives flashing as the dragon’s tail sends it flying.

“Hit it with the flamethrower again!” Kai calls, fiddling with the controls on his own. He’s regretting having used his own flamethrower as much as he has — his fuel stores are dangerously low.

“Why is that your answer to everything!” Nya snaps, which may have less to do with irritation toward him than it does the dragon that just tried to eat her left leg. “It’s a dragon, this thing won’t burn, idiot!”

It hasn’t met me yet, Kai wants to bite back, but he’s forced to shut his mouth as his next shot goes ricocheting off the dragon’s skin, just before it bowls him over.

“Kai!”

Nya’s scream of visceral horror bounces around his battered brain as the dragon tries its best to trample him, Kai desperately flailing as he tries to stay alive. One of its legs hits his chest, and there’s an ominous crackling sound as he shrieks, fighting back tears of pain. Razor-sharp, dripping teeth flash in his vision, and Kai prepares to shut his eyes even as his brain kicks into overdrive.

He can’t die now, he can’t, he promised, Nya—

Then — relief, blessed relief as he can breathe again. Kai doesn’t dare to hope, but a beat passes. Then another, and another, and there’s no awful sensation of teeth tearing into him. Nya’s gone quiet. Kai frowns, then carefully lifts the arm he’s flung over his face, blinking.

He immediately wishes he’d kept his eyes shut, because that would make this whole thing much easier to explain.

Kai gapes open-mouthed at the Krayt Dragon where it flails mid-air, held hovering by some unseen force as it struggles. Nya’s dropped both her weapons, her arms swinging limply where she stares at the scene as well. Kai’s about to start questioning his sanity, when there’s a small grunting noise from beside him, and he turns.

Oh, that doesn’t help, either.

The kid’s got one arm outstretched toward the dragon, his eyes furrowed and his mouth all set and strained. His arm tremors, and the dragon wavers mid-air, before the kid catches himself, making a face and concentrating. The dragon’s limbs go stiff, as if held by invisible ropes, and it gives a screech of frustration, claws scratching uselessly at the air.

Kai begins questioning his sanity.

Maybe I am dead, he thinks, hazily.

“What,” Nya says, sounding utterly flabbergasted. “The hell.”

“He’s gotta be one of them,” she insists, after they’ve traded the Jawas their disgusting dragon egg for their ship parts. (They’ve left the dragon alive, if worse for wear, which was a lot more than it deserved, if you asked Kai.)

“Those — those wizard people Jay was talking about, y’know?” Nya continues eagerly. “I heard they were supposed to have crazy powers like that, mind stuff and levitation and — and he’s gotta be one of them.”

“What, a Jedi?” Kai scoffs, his eyes straying to kid where he’s slumped in his arms, solidly out for the count after the stunt he’d pulled. “Yeah, and I’m the prince of Naboo. The Jedi are dead, Nya.”

“No, they aren’t,” she says stubbornly, and Kai can imagine her lip sticking out. “There’s that Rebellion hero, the pilot? He’s a Jedi.”

“That’s a legend they made up to get people to join, Nya.”

“Then how do you explain him?” Nya finally says, throwing her arms out and gesturing. The kid’s eyes drag open blearily, and he stares at her in sleepy confusion. Nya’s arms immediately drop, and she lowers her voice.

“How do you explain what he did back there,” she says, less aggressively this time. “Because you can’t write that off as a legend.”

“I don’t know,” Kai says, for what feels like the hundredth time, and it grates at him. He doesn’t like not knowing things, but this is…beyond the comprehension he’s ever expected to need. “It explains why he’s worth so much, though.”

“I’ll say,” Nya mutters. “It’s ‘cause he’s a Jedi.”

“He’s Jedi bounty then,” Kai says flatly, as they finally reach their ship, still anchored near Jay’s outpost. “The important thing is, we got our parts back. Now let’s get them on.”

“You’re hopeless,” Nya huffs, but she complies, dropping her weapons and grabbing for a welding torch. “I’ll get started, you — no, you sit here with the kid.” She shoves at him, pushing him away from the parts and down onto an open patch of sand. “Jay’ll be out in a bit, and he can help me. You need to rest those ribs.”

“I’m fine,” he protests, but his ribs twinge as he sits, and the kid’s weight hasn’t been helping things. Nya’s helmet gleams in the moonlight as she tilts her head, and Kai can feel her judgement.

“I’m sitting,” he grumbles.

“Good,” Nya says, and he doesn’t miss the flicker of relief in her voice. “Keep the kid safe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai sighs, shifting the kid from his arms and setting him down next to him. He gives a breath of laughter, muttering, “Maybe he’ll keep me safe."

The kid doesn’t pipe up, pulling his legs up to his chest as he wraps his arms around them, yawning instead. Kai shakes his head, his eyes drifting to where Nya works on the ship, then back to the kid again. He thinks of the way the kid had held the Krayt Dragon earlier, of the power that might lie in that tiny frame.

“Well, you might not be a Jedi, but you’re definitely something, short stuff,” Kai sighs, wincing as his shoulder twinges again. He’s not likely to forget how vicious Krayt Dragons can be anytime soon, that’s for—

“Lloyd.”

The kid’s voice is so quiet, Kai almost misses it. He blinks, then turns to the kid.

“What?”

The kid shuffles, then jabs his thumb at his own chest. “Lloyd,” he repeats, firmly. “Name. That’s mine.”

It is, quite possibly, the most Kai has heard the kid say at one time. It’s also surprising, for some reason, that he’s got a name, though it shouldn’t be.

“Lloyd,” he says, running the name over his tongue. It doesn’t sound like a name from anywhere around here. “Where’s that from?”

The kid stares at him, then looks away, one of his shoulders jerking up in a half-shrug much like Kai does.

“Don’t know,” he says, and Kai barely catches the sad little thread of emotion in his voice.

Barely, but it’s there.

Kai bites his lip, grateful, as always, that his expression is hidden from the world. It makes his next gesture much easier to write off as casual — simply draping his cloak over the kid’s shoulders to ward off the cold of the desert night. Nothing more.

The kid’s fingers wrap tightly around the tattered cloak edges, pulling it close, and something in his expression softens. Kai feels unreasonably satisfied with himself.

He’s really not a bad kid, for an unreasonably high-priced bounty, Kai thinks to himself.

And yes, he’s fully aware that he’s switched from it to him, and he knows that this is more than likely going to end in pain, but hey. The kid pretty much just took down a Krayt Dragon to single-handedly to save him.

It’s the least he can give him.

Besides, it’s not like he’s about to start using his name.

***********************************

They get their ship repairs finished in record time. Nya argues that Jay and Zane get their ship repairs done in record time, along with Nya’s help, and Kai had zero contribution whatsoever — but Kai reminds her that he was the one to get trampled by a Krayt Dragon for this, so he’s put in more than his fair share of work, thank you very much.

“All you did was lie there,” Nya huffs, as they rocket through hyperspace. “The kid did more work than you.”

Normally Kai would have a snappy retort to give back, but Nya’s voice sounds dangerously…well, dangerous. There’s been a heavy cloud of gloom hanging over her since they waved goodbye to Jay and Zane, more so than there usually is. And, as much as Kai knows part of it is probably from having to leave Jay behind again, he’s not dumb enough to realize that a lot of Nya’s bad mood has to do with their destination.

It’s not like he’s thrilled about it himself.

He lets her words linger instead, the two of them falling into silence where they sit, pilot and co-pilot as always in their ship. There’s an ongoing argument over who fills what role, but Nya’s in a bad enough mood to let Kai take the lead for today, at least.

It’s a hollow victory. Flying with Nya is one of the few things about this job he enjoys, the two of them racing through the galaxy, untethered by anyone or anything. Set upon by the heavy silence as they are now, though, it’s more depressing than anything.

There’s a quiet rustling, and a mop of bright blond hair pops up at Kai’s side, the kid going up on tip-toes as he strains to peer over the ship controls. His mouth falls open as he catches sight of the blurring blue lights of hyperspace, the streaming lines reflecting in his wide eyes. Nya’s helmet doesn’t move, but Kai knows her eyes are on the kid. He turns his head, letting the kid know his are, as well.

“Never seen space before?” he asks, keeping his tone even.

The kid shakes his head, the lights shifting in his eyes as he does. “Don’t remember,” he murmurs, sounding awestruck.

Kai swallows uncomfortably. The kid looks dazzled, more emotive than he’s been since Kai carried him out from that compound. There’s a sinking part of him that’s trying to figure out what the kid’s gonna look like when Kai hands him over for the bounty, and he needs to go ahead and smother that.

He’ll find out soon enough, anyways.

The kid suddenly moves, a skinny arm reaching out across the controls, and—

“Hey, I need that!” Kai exclaims, as the kid steps back, the ball-like knob from the center stick he’d snatched grasped firmly in his hands. The kid dodges his grasp, prize held tightly to his chest, and Nya gives a muffled snort of laughter.

Kai takes a breath. “Kid—“

The kid ignores him, stepping back to the spare seat he’s been huddled in. He turns the knob over in his hands, eyes curious, before shifting so he’s sitting cross-legged. He then cups his hands around the knob, leaving the little ball to hover mid-air, suspended.

Kai wants to run a hand through his hair. Or hit his head against the flight controls. He does neither, groaning quietly instead.

“We’ve picked up a mutant freak.”

“Be nice,” Nya warns, her helmet still fixed toward the kid. “He might turn his wizard powers on you, next.”

“They’re not called wizards, Nya, they’re called Jedi, and he isn’t one.“

“Maybe he’s a Sith, then.”

“Sith eyes are yellow, Jay said so, his are clearly red.”

“Maybe Jay was wrong, then.”

“Maybe Jay was wrong?” Kai repeats, incredulous. “Glad you’re finally seeing sense, but that’s a new one.”

“Shut up,” Nya mutters, and Kai can clearly picture the dark stain that’s spreading across her cheeks. “He knows more than you do, you — you nerf-herder.”

“Nerf-herder?!” Kai swivels in his chair, pointing a finger toward her. “You watch your mouth, you under-grown womp rat—“

“I will curse you out in Huttese—“

The tiniest of sounds cuts through their argument, soft and light. Kai blinks rapidly, turning as Nya does to stare at the kid, who’s exhaling on the end of a giggle, hand over his mouth and his eyes bright. The smile fades at their attention, and he ducks his head — but there’s still that edge of happiness in his expression, the slight turn at the corners of his mouth.

“…he laughed at us,” Nya says, blankly.

“Well,” Kai says, willing his voice to sound light and failing completely. “We’re funny people.”

Nya says nothing in reply, but Kai can feel her stare on him through his helmet. The kid makes a quiet humming noise, turning the little knob over in his hands again. Kai sets his jaw, then snatches the knob away from the kid.

“S’not a toy,” he says at the kid’s wounded expression, twisting the knob back in place. He doesn’t look pleased with this answer, but the kid doesn’t put up an argument either, sinking back in his seat and pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he stares out at the streaking stars.

Nya’s helmet swivels from him to the kid, then back again. “Kai—”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t, Nya. This is how we get in trouble.”

She makes a quiet sound of frustration. “This is different. We’ve never…”

Kai blows his breath out, long and slow. “I know. I know, but Nya, we took the job.”

Nya’s hands tighten on the controls. “Screw the job.”

Kai jerks his head toward her, wishing for once that she could see his expression. “Not with this client. They’re Imperials, they’re too dangerous.”

“They’re Imperials,” Nya repeats, emphatically. “That should make it worth the danger.”

Kai presses his lips together, but he doesn’t argue back. He knows, he knows. He knows why Nya wants to abandon the job right now, because he does too. The very idea of handing their kid over to the client is making his stomach turn.

And yeah, he has zero love for Imperials. He has love for blasting them, maybe, but that’s as far as it goes, and he wouldn’t lose any sleep over going back on a job for them.

But then they’d lose the job. They’d lose their payment, they’d lose their place in the Guild, probably, and they’d walk out with a price on their heads and hunters coming after them.

It’s not worth it. Kai feels for the kid, he really does, but Nya comes first.

She can argue all she wants, but they both know it’s Kai’s call that will win out in the end.

***********************************

They land back at the Guild only a few days after they’d left it, but it feels like years have passed to Kai. Nothing’s changed, the dirt-lined streets still filled with the same eyes, but now those eyes are turned toward the small straggler clutching the end of Kai’s cloak where he hides between Kai and Nya’s steps.

Nya steps closer to the kid, her hand holding his tightly on instinct, something protective in her stance. Kai fights the growing feeling of nausea in his gut as he leads the way, hoping his helmet conveys enough intimidation to keep any lingering Guild members from trying to snatch their bounty last-minute. They’ve come this far, and it’d be a shame to end the job with a firefight in the middle of the street.

Or maybe he just wants to stretch out the last bits of protection he can give the kid as long as he can, before he hands him off for who knows what.

Kai’s eyes stray to his side against his will, watching the way the kid takes in the town with wide, curious eyes. There’s still a marked tinge of fear in them, that Kai is beginning to doubt will ever leave, but he looks…less terrified. More trusting.

Trusting of them, and if that doesn’t scrub salt in a wound.

Nobody attacks them, and Kai finds himself almost disappointed. All too quickly, they’re retracing a familiar path to their client, and Kai can spot all the hidden cameras this time. The steps toward the hidden compound feel heavy, like his boots have turned to lead. Nya is silent where she walks beside him, the kid’s hand gripping her gloved fingers tightly. It’s the weighted kind of silence, the kind that means she’s upset.

Kai isn’t feeling ecstatic himself, but they took a job.

They’re Mandalorian. They finish the job.

This is the way.

The doors slide open with little prompting this time, and the kid shrinks behind Nya as the white-armored troopers threaten to crowd closer. Kai’s fingers twitch toward his weapon, and they edge off. They don’t leave his back though, following them through the compound, and the eyes on his back burn.

They finally reach the client and his hollow eyes, seated in his dim room as if he hasn’t moved since they left. His face stretches into a leering sort of smirk as his eyes land on the kid, and something gleams to life in his dead eyes. It’s a hungry look, one that makes Kai’s stomach twist and turn, his heart sinking further.

“Well done,” the client rasps, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Well done indeed."

He pulls their payment from below his desk, the Beskar steel glinting in the dim light. The brief thrill Kai feels at the amount is stifled as their client nods his head at the stormtroopers once, then to the kid. They step toward them, clanking steps echoing heavily, and Nya goes stiff. For a minute, Kai fears she’s going to make a scene. That she won’t let them get any closer, that she’s about to shove the kid behind her and run.

For a half-second, Kai fears he might do the same.

They don’t move. Years of bounty hunting don’t allow for that weakness.

The troopers take the kid, handing him off to a dark-haired scientist. For his part, the kid barely struggles, a myriad of expressions crossing his face before his head droops, something like resignation in his eyes.

From behind her helmet, Kai thinks he hears Nya swallow.

“Your payment, as promised.”

Kai takes it automatically, the steel heavier in his hands than he’d thought it be. He doesn’t like it as much as he thought he would.

“The kid,” he says, his mouth running before he can stop it. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Nya’s helmet swivels sharply toward him, and Kai ignores her. The client raises a single eyebrow, and the gleam in his eyes gains a cold edge.

“I didn’t know it was customary for your kind to ask after their bounty,” he says, carefully.

Kai doesn’t reply. The client raises his head, as if to stare at Kai down the end of his nose.

“What I do with the child is my business,” he says, his voice flat. “I suggest you return to your own.”

The stormtroopers around them adjust their hold on their weapons, just enough to be threatening, and Kai knows this conversation is over. He nods sharply, pushing away from his seat and taking the rest of the steel as he stands. Nya follows after a beat, her posture stiff and brittle.

The troopers part to let them leave, though Kai can feel the stares burning into his back as he goes. He doesn’t care — their business here is done. They have no reason to bother Kai or Nya anymore.

But Kai is a stupid, stupid moron, and he does turn back, once, before they leave the compound.

The kid’s eyes burn into his, hollow and heartbroken, and Kai struggles to breathe behind his helmet.

This is the way, he repeats in his head. He keeps telling himself that until his feet obey him again.

***********************************

Nya says nothing as they make their way back, her silence icy and biting. Her fingers flex over her weapons as she stomps up the ramp of the ship, but she stares resolutely ahead, heading straight for the cockpit. Kai follows after her slowly, dragging himself slowly through the ship and up the ladder. Everything feels heavy. Their new armor, freshly crafted by Mystaké from the steel, is beautiful. Stronger and sturdier than anything they’ve worn before, and they look more Mandalorian than they ever have.

Kai tries to find joy in that, but he can’t. The pauldrons weigh too heavily on his shoulders, and all he feels is tired. Bone-dry and wrung out, like he’s spent everything he’s had on this mission. Numb.

He swallows as he takes a seat next to Nya, then bites back a curse. No, he doesn’t feel numb — and that’s the problem.

Firing up the ship is second-nature by now, and he doesn’t need Nya’s help the bring the engines to life. He can pilot them out of the atmosphere just fine by himself, get them as far away from this stupid planet as possible. Maybe they can go to Naboo, or Felucia, or anywhere that’s not a cursed desert planet. Just as long as it’s far enough away from prying eyes that they can finish their next job in peace, without his insides tearing themselves to pieces like—

Kai goes still, the engine puttering. Nya’s head turns the slightest bit toward him at the hesitation. He should’ve taken off minutes ago, the ship’s ready, but Kai’s fingers just…freeze, right over the knob on the center stick.

He swallows again, and it sticks in his throat this time. Something inside him is burning, twisting and dying with every movement. His arms feel leaden where he’s left them, frozen stiffly over the little ball, and for a second he can’t breathe again.

Those eyes. The kid’s eyes.

Kai wants to curse. His helmet is too hot, tight and constricting. They should leave. They should leave now, with their armor gleaming and their record clean, Nya safe and their ship intact, they should leave.

But that will mean leaving Lloyd behind, in the clutches of the Imperials.

Kai is not a force-sensitive. He can’t be, because he doesn’t put stock in the Force. But he can imagine, if he did, that their fabled visions feel much like the scene he sees flash before his eyes now. The kid and his gentle eyes, his burning eyes, torn apart and broken by the Imperials like every other thing they touch.

Lloyd.

Kai’s fist squeezes closed, gloved fingers biting into his palms. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, he can’t, if he does he’s going to ruin everything. He’s going to wreck everything they’ve built to pieces and he’s going to put him and Nya in more danger than they’ve ever been in, hands down. They’ve got their payment, they’ve done their job, they’re legendary now. It would be stupid, it would be so, so stupid.

Unfortunately, stupid has always been one of Kai’s stronger points.

Kai swears out loud this time, and Nya jumps. Aw, to heck with it. What good is being rich if he can’t live with himself, anyways.

He kicks himself up from the seat, muttering under his breath. Nya snaps up beside him, looking to him as if she’s holding her breathe.

“Stock up on the good weapons,” Kai grumbles, already shouldering his heaviest blaster. “An Imperial compound’s gonna be tougher to break into than we’re used to.”

Nya lets out a loud, shaky breath of relief. Kai can’t see her expression, but he doesn’t need much to know that she’s beaming behind her helmet.

“I knew it,” she says, and the smile’s in her voice. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kai mutters. “I’m not heartless.”

“No,” Nya says, with entirely too much fondness in her voice for someone who’s pocketing miniature missiles. “You’re just a good person.”

Kai frowns, jabbing a finger in her face as he shuts the ship down. “That was uncalled for,” he says. “Watch who you slander.”

Nya huffs a laugh, sliding the now nearly-empty weapons cabinet closed as she follows behind him. They cut a quick pace, and it takes every fiber of Kai’s being not to break into a dead sprint as they retrace their earlier path.

We’re coming, you stupid kid, he thinks fiercely. We’re coming back, so you better not have given up, because we’re about to fight a battalion of Imperials for you—

Well. There weren’t that many stormtroopers in the compound, Kai assures himself, as they turn another corner, followed once again by too many eyes. It shouldn’t be that bad.

***********************************

It’s bad.

Kai should never make assurances to himself, ever. Or promises, at that, because he sucks at keeping them. Heck, he can’t even keep to a job, since he’s pretty sure burning down half the house of his employer goes against a couple of rules.

But still. It might not be that bad, but it’s definitely bad.

“—backup, we need backup, it’s the Mandalorians, you fool—“

The unfortunate trooper’s call for help is cut off abruptly as Kai’s laser blast catches him in the helmet, sending him slumping to the floor. Kai gets only a moment of victory before another smattering of blaster fire sends him to the floor, scrambling for cover.

“Left door!” Nya hollers at him, her durasteel blade whistling as she catches a trooper in the ribs. “Three — no, four more!”

Kai nods sharply, shifting his blaster aside as he reaches for his wrist instead. Taking a quick breath, and shoots up from behind the table he’d been hiding behind, flicking the panel on his wrist as he faces down the newcomers.

The room flares bright as a blast of superheated flames erupts from Kai’s wrist, sending the troopers screaming. He spins in place, setting the room ablaze along with any remaining enemies. A gleeful sort of expression twists his lips as the fire grows, the heat feeding directly into the adrenaline coursing through him.

Take that, you dirty Imperials—

“Kai!” Nya’s shriek cuts through his haze of pyromania, jerking him back to the present, which is apparently him burning the entire room down. “Would you stop with the flamethrower already!” Nya howls at him, from where she’s had to duck behind a stack of crates to avoid incineration. Kai almost scoffs. As if he’d ever hit Nya on accident.

…he should probably watch it with the flames, though. Maybe a bit. Nya’s cape looks like it’s smoldering at the edges.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hisses, switching the flamethrower off and batting at the edge of his sleeve, which is also smoldering from the heat.

“Get it together,” Nya snaps, darting out from the crates and plastering herself against the doorway, glancing around the corner. “We gotta find Lloyd before they try anything.”

Right. The remind of why they’re here sinks in Kai’s stomach like ice, and he shakes his head, following behind Nya as they race through the compound. So far, they’ve had the element of surprise on their side — no one’s expected them to come back after having been paid, that’s for sure. But their client’s quick on the uptake, Kai will give him that. He can already hear the sound of clanking footsteps down the hall over the blaring of alarms, which means their time window is shrinking by the second.

“Come on, come on,” Nya hisses, the tracker in her hand beeping quicker the further into the compound they get. They round a corner stained with blood and Kai feels sick, picking up the pace as the tracker starts wailing, signaling that they’re close.

“Here, he’s in here!” Nya yelps, kicking savagely at the sealed blast door. “Kai, the door—“

Kai doesn’t need to be told twice, already aiming his blaster at the lock. “Get back,” he warns — then the blaster flashes, and the lock explodes into pieces, the door sliding open.

Nya makes it in the room first, her hand waving frantically as if to clear the smoke crowing around them. Kai is immediately after, and he’s the first to spot the droid, gunning it down without hesitation. His eyes dart around the room, landing on the cowering scientist in the corner, the two stormtroopers scrambling to their feet, the blinking machines, and—

There.

There’s a figure strapped to the table, too small to be a trooper, a shock of blond hair—

Kai’s blaster is flashing before he can even think, and the two stormtroopers drop, dead on impact. He leaves the doctor alive, just in case, because he doesn’t know what they wanted with Lloyd and if they’ve hurt him—

“Kid, kid, wake up, come on,” he breathes, snapping through the restraints with his blade. He’s vaguely aware of Nya securing the scientist, her blade leveled at him and her eyes glued on Lloyd. The kid’s eyes are closed, and there are dried tracks on his cheeks that used to be wet that Kai will hate himself for later — but he shifts as Kai finally tears the last of the straps free, his brow furrowing as he brings his hand up to scrub at his eyes as they flutter open.

The kid blinks, wide red eyes focusing on his helmet, and his mouth falls open.

“Kai?” he whispers.

Kai’s chest constricts, because he knows he never told the kid his name, but he’s learned it anyways.

“Hey,” he says, weakly, because he’s bad with this, he’s bad at caring for other people, and admitting it might feel like it’ll kill him but leaving behind Lloyd almost had—

The kid freezes, his expression spasming, before he throws himself at Kai—

And squarely punches him in the chest.

“Oof — hey, kid, stop — kid — Lloyd—“

Kai grabs at the kid’s struggling hands in vain. Lloyd just tugs free and hits him in the shoulder, harder this time, tiny fists battering against his thick armor.

“You left me behind,” the kid gets out, his voice cracking in all the worst places, angry and hurt. It’s the longest sentence Kai’s heard him speak, and it makes him want to throw up. “You left me.”

“I know, I know,” he babbles frantically, alarmed at this turn of events. This isn’t — he’s bad at this—

He gives Nya a look, his shoulders jerking helplessly. Her helmet inclines dangerously, and Kai turns back to the kid.

To heck with it.

Lloyd goes in for another swing, and Kai catches his wrist this time and pulls it, trapping the kid to his chest and wrapping his arms around him, holding tight. He struggles briefly, but Kai can feel him weakening, the fight draining.

“I’m sorry,” Kai murmurs. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. I won’t. Ever again. I promise.”

It’s one he’ll keep, he swears to himself, slotting the promise right next to the one he made to Nya long ago.

And maybe Lloyd senses that too, with whatever freaky powers he has or not, because he finally goes limp, the fight leaving him completely as he clings back, sniffling.

The kid’s voice is raw and scratchy, but there’s a fierceness to it that makes Kai wonder if he wouldn’t have been able to get himself out eventually on his own. “Never again.”

“Never again,” Kai echoes.

“And you call me sentimental,” Nya mutters, but he can hear the smile in her words.

***********************************

They don’t kill the scientist, in the end. It grates a bit, but he really didn’t hurt Lloyd — kept him alive, actually, if his word is anything to go by — and now they’ve got the word of an ex-Imperial scientist that he’ll help them out once he’s in a better position to do so, as long as they can remember the name Borg, or whatever.

Kai hopes Nya listened to him, because he’s too busy trying not to dissolve into panic at the increasing amount of hostiles showing up on his sensors.

There are few troopers left in the compound to stop them on their way out, but they put up a fight. Kai feels a flicker of apprehension that they’ve yet to see their client again, but he shrugs it off as the doors come back into view, the dimming evening sky clear outside. They break out of the compound at a dead sprint, Lloyd tucked into the crook of his arm and Nya at his side — only to immediately skid to a stop. Kai swears.

He’s forgotten the sheer amount of bounty hunters that also wanted in on the kid, and are probably more than happy to get another chance. Apparently, they’re all here to claim it at once. Fantastic.

Nya’s the first to move, turning to the figure standing a the front of the pack, his eyepatch glinting in the dying sunlight.

“Ronin,” Nya says, weakly. “Please.”

Ronin almost looks regretful, something at the corners of his mouth creasing at Nya’s plea.

“Kid,” he says, heavily. “You know I can’t. There’s cutting you slack, then there’s this.”

Nya sucks in a breath, her eyes doubtlessly landing on the dozens of blasters trained on them. Lloyd remains deadly silent in his arms, but Kai can feel the fear radiating off of him in waves. He tightens his hold on him, hoping it’s reassurance.

For himself, somewhat, too.

Nya’s helmet swivels from Ronin to Kai, then back to Ronin. Kai holds his breath. If anyone can change Ronin’s mind, it’s Nya.

Ronin’s expression twists in pain. “Look, just hand the kid over,” he says, and it sounds like he’s the one pleading now. “Just give the kid back and I’ll sort the whole thing out, okay? I can swing it, I can clear you both. All you gotta do is hand the kid back, and you’ll be fine.”

Lloyd shudders in his hold, and Kai pulls him tighter to his chest, his stance defensive.

“You know we can’t,” Nya murmurs.

There’s another flash of pain across Ronin’s expression, before he steels it. “I’ll miss you,” he says, his voice void of emotion. “But there’s always someone else to take your place.”

The sound of the safety clicking off blasters echoes across the street, and Kai’s hand strays to his gauntlet, ready to unleash the flames once more. He’ll get the kid behind him, shove him off to Nya before telling her to run, and maybe — if he can cause enough of a fight — the two can get out of here. He’ll be breaking his promise, but at least Nya and Lloyd will have a chance.

That’s enough for him, he tells himself, fingers millimeters from unleashing the flames. That’s enou—

A bounty hunter to his left lets out a sharp cry, before dropping to the ground. Kai’s head jerks toward him, before there’s another scream, another hunter dropping.

And that’s all the warning they get before the street explodes into utter chaos, missiles streaking back and forth and the roar of jetpacks mixing with the screams. Kai throws himself into Nya, twisting last-minute so he’s covering them both, and hurls them toward an alleyway just as the street they were on explodes.

His vision goes hazy, ears ringing as the world spins sideways. This would be a nice time to take a nap, he thinks dizzily.

There’s a gentle touch at his shoulder, and he’s jostled as someone shakes him.

“Kai. Kai, get up.”

He blinks his eyes open at the kid’s frightened voice, and is met with a pair of red eyes staring down at him in open terror. The terror melts into relief as Kai groans, slowly pushing himself up.

“Okay?” the kid asks, insistently, as if the utter carnage exploding on the street next to them isn’t even happening.

“M’fine,” Kai moans, reaching for his weapon as he reorients himself. “What’s — where’s Nya—“

His eyes catch on her, and his heart almost stops.

Nya’s moving, pushing herself up with a light moan, her forehead creased as she scrubs a hand across her face, dark hair falling in messy tangles around her head. Lloyd stares at her, his eyes wide, and reaches a careful hand to touch her hair.

“You do have a face,” he whispers.

Nya blink rapidly, looking at Lloyd, then up to Kai. And oh, his heart squeezes something painful at her eyes — it’s so rare he gets to see them — but he quickly reaches for her helmet, handing it to her.

Nya stares at it, then swears violently as a blast erupts just to their left.

“You saw nothing!” she yelps, pointing at the kid and jamming her helmet back on, fumbling once in panic. There’s a note of fear in her voice, because they technically have sworn an oath, not to let any living thing see their face—

But who’s the kid gonna tell, anyways.

Besides, they’ve got much bigger problems, like the entire Mandalorian faction on the planet going to war with the bounty hunter’s Guild for them in the street nearby. Mystaké’s risking everything for them right now, so Kai quickly decides that they had better make the best of it.

***********************************

“Well, I guess we’re fired now.”

Nya lets out a wheezing laugh at his dry statement, the sound echoing across the ship as they speed through hyperspace, putting as much distance between themselves and any bounty hunters as they can. Mystaké beamed them one last transmission before they’d taken off, assuring them that no, the other Mandalorians stepping up to save their skins last-minute was not a mistake, but that they had better clear off for a while before they tried to contact her again.

Which was just fine by Kai. He wasn’t too eager to get his head blasted off by a bitter bounty hunter anytime soon.

“I mean, technically, he didn’t really fire us,” Nya argues, slumping into the co-pilot’s seat beside him. “He just fired at us.”

“Yeah, that’s practically a goodbye hug by Ronin’s standards,” Kai says, and Nya snorts.

Lloyd looks between them both where he’s seated behind them, Kai’s cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders. “Weird,” he mutters, shaking his head. Kai blinks, and Nya stifles a giggle.

“You should talk, you could write the book on being weird,” Kai scoffs. He eyes the kid in concern, looking him up and down. “And hey, you should catch some rest. S’probably been a rough time for you, with all the, uh….stuff.” Kai cringes as he trails off, feeling Nya’s glare on him.

Lloyd purses his lips, then shakes his head silently. Kai narrows his eyes at him.

“Alright, kid, nice try, but I know you can speak full sentences,” he says. “We’re gonna prioritize communication here, okay? First rule on board, you gotta talk to us.”

“Kai,” Nya sighs.

“What?” He says, throwing his hands up. “We’re stuck together now, kid’s gotta go with the flow.”

Nya’s helmet twitches, as if she’s rolling her eyes at him, which she definitely is. “You don’t have to talk unless you’re okay with it, Lloyd,” she says gently, turning to the kid. “You’re safe here, we promise.”

Lloyd stares at her, the edge of his mouth quirking up in something that’s not quite a smile, but something trusting.

“And part of being safe is not dropping dead in exhaustion, so rest,” Kai orders, firmly.

Lloyd meets his stare dead on, then the edge of his mouth curves down, making a face that looks dangerously stubborn.

“Next planet,” he says. “Then rest.”

Oh, for—

“This is your fault,” Kai hisses at Nya, as she smothers a laugh. “We have a kid now, do you realize that? We just adopted a freaky wizard kid, we have to raise him now, we’re not even adults—“

Nya leans back in her seat, giving up and laughing freely. “Whatever,” she says, scuffing the kid’s hair. “I always wanted a younger sibling to gang up with you on. How about the next two planets, then rest?”

Kai sputters as Lloyd beams, realizing his critical mistake too late. He finally gives up, sinking back in his seat and sulking.

“Ungrateful brats,” he mutters. “You rescue one kid, and this is the thanks you get.”

He will admit though, to himself at least, that it’s rather difficult to keep sulking when Lloyd’s soft laughter fills the cockpit. And yeah, the kid’s definitely going to crash after passing one planet, but it’s been a pretty exciting day, Kai figures, tossing the knob from the center stick at the kid, unable to stop the grin tugging at his mouth at the expression of delight on Lloyd’s face.

He can let them have their fun for now. They’ve earned it.

Besides, he can always rub it in their faces tomorrow, when every other bounty hunter in the galaxy is after them.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #nya smith #its a long one u guys and its not even done yet #i didnt get to cole dune and im very sad about that #i should probably add 'mandalorian au' somewhere on here #mandalorian au #there we go #anyways nw i love u i hope ur happy #my fic

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prepare4trouble · 5 years

Text

Star Wars Rebels fanfic - Hypotheticals

Part of the Little By Little AU

(Thank you to @lessattitudemorealtitude for talking through titles with me)

Three quiet taps on the door of Sabine’s quarters interrupted her creative flow mid-spray of her paint can. She finished the line she had been painting, then reluctantly tore her eyes away from her wall and lowered the can. She waited, finger still poised to press the valve. If it was important, they would knock again.

Nothing happened. Five seconds passed. Ten. She took a breath. Twenty seconds, still no second knock. That was long enough. She looked critically at the painting, raised the spray-can and aimed it, then lowered it again.

Whoever it was either didn’t know she was in, in which case they would assume she was somewhere else and waste time trying to find her, or they did know she was there, and they knew she was ignoring them.

Either way, she was going to have to answer.

With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the spray can onto her bed where it hit another that she had left there earlier. She opened the door.

There was nobody there.

Puzzled, she stepped through and looked left and then right, just in time to see Ezra’s retreating form walking slowly away from her door.

“Ezra?” she called after him.

He froze in place mid-step, then turned slowly. As he did, a nervous grin spread across his face. He raised a hand and brushed it through his hair. “Oh, uh… hey Sabine. How’s it going?”

She frowned. Apparently whatever he had wanted wasn’t urgent then. “Fine,” she told him. A questioning tone slid into the word, but Ezra either didn’t notice, or chose to ignore it.

He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. “Great,” he said. “So, uh… what’s up?”

Sabine looked him up and down, trying to work out what was happening. He was acting as though he hadn’t just knocked on her door, and meeting her here was a total surprise. There was nobody else around, so it must have been him that knocked. That meant that unless he had decided it would be funny to knock and run — and if so he was incredibly bad at the game because she had given him ample time to flee — he had wanted to talk to her.

“Not much,” she replied. “How about you? Did you need something?”

Ezra looked thoughtful for a moment, like he was mulling over his options. He glanced behind him, in the direction he had been walking when she had stopped him, then to her again. Finally, he made a decision, and strode back toward her. “Mind if I..?” he said, indicating the door to her quarters.

Sabine shrugged and walked back through, Ezra followed her.

As the door closed behind him, he folded his arms and went to lean against the wall. The freshly painted wall, still glistening with wet paint.

“Hey, watch it!” she shouted, anticipating the disaster a fraction of a second before he ruined both her work and his clothing.

He flinched in surprise at the unexpected outburst, but it stopped him. He turned and saw her unfinished art on the wall. “Oh. Sorry.” He looked again, appreciatively this time. “Were you working on this just now?”

“Yeah, trying to,” she said, and winced at the impatience she heard in her own voice. It hadn’t been intentional, and she definitely hadn’t been trying to make him feel unwelcome. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just, it’s not finished. You know I don’t like people seeing them before they’re done.

“Right.” Ezra averted his gaze from the half-finished design on the wall and continued not to speak.

Sabine folded her arms and gave him a moment to say something. He remained silent.

“Not that it isn’t great to have you here Ezra, but was there anything you needed, or…”

“Yeah, I uh…” He glanced around the room, selected another patch of wall, one that was also painted but long-since dried, and leaned against that instead. There was something awkward about the way he was standing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but there was something wrong. He was being too careful; almost as though he was trying to make it look casual. The result — exaggerated nonchalance to the point where it was almost funny — probably wasn’t exactly what he was going for.

She waited.

“So…” he said after a few moments of silence. “Here’s something I was just thinking about.” He adjusted his leaning position to something that looked marginally more comfortable. “What would you do if you couldn’t fight the Empire?”

She blinked. That… wasn’t the question she had been expecting. “If I couldn’t… what do you mean? Like if they defeated us? I’d be dead, Ezra. We all would.”

“No. Like if…” Ezra scrubbed at his face with his fingers and shook his head. “Like if you couldn’t for another reason. If… if all the weapons in the galaxy stopped working or something, so you had to do something else. Then what would you do?”

This had to have something to do with his sight. She couldn’t figure out exactly what yet, but it was the only explanation that made any sense. Something to do with him feeling that he couldn’t fight anymore. “You can still fight the Empire, Ezra,” she assured him. “Just give it a little time.”

He tensed noticeably, and she knew that she had been right. Realizing that he had given himself away, he made a visible effort to relax and continued to lean awkwar… casually… against the wall. He waved a hand through the air as though he was brushing away her words.

“Yeah, I know I can,” he told her. “This isn’t about that. I just want to know what you’d do. Just, y’know, out of interest.”

He was lying. And he wasn’t even lying well.

“You want to know what I’d do if all the weapons in the galaxy stopped working?” she asked.

He nodded. “But the Empire is still there, you just can’t fight it.”

Sabine’s mind was already working through the various possible consequences of the hypothetical scenario Ezra had presented her with, and if that was really what he wanted to talk to her about, she had plenty of answers she could give him. She just wasn’t sure how useful they were going to be.

“Okay,” she told him. “First, I would still be able to fight them; I don’t need weapons to fight. Especially if the other side isn’t armed either. I’m assuming ‘all the weapons in the galaxy’, means the Empire doesn’t have any either, right?”

Ezra frowned. “Oh. Yeah, I guess not.”

“If the Empire didn’t have weapons, they wouldn’t be much of a problem anymore. The only reason they manage to hold onto power is that they have the firepower to keep people in line. Take away their weapons and we win, whether we’re armed or not.”

“They still have Stormtroopers and Inquisitors, and… other things.” He shivered slightly, almost imperceptibly, at whatever thought or memory had struck him.

“We have powerful people too,” she told him. “Come on, what’s this really about, Ezra?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just making conversation. Humor me, okay?”

She was humoring him. But if he wanted to keep going with this, she had more. “Fine. If nobody had any weapons, the Rebellion would actually have more chance of beating the Empire,” she said. “Plenty of people are trained in hand-to-hand combat, and I don’t just mean Mandalorians. Plus I bet most Stormtroopers don’t get that kind of training, because the first thing the Empire does is stuff their recruits into bulky armor and hand them a blaster.”

Ezra nodded. “True, I guess.”

“Defections from the Empire would probably go up too,” she said.

“Yeah, that makes sense. People don’t leave because they’re worried about what the Empire will do to them and their families.”

Taking away the Empire’s weapons wouldn’t neutralize the threat, of course, but it would make it easier to get people out before the Empire got to them. “All this adds up to a weaker Empire. Forget not being able to fight them, we’d probably defeat them by the end of the month.”

“Okay.” Ezra shifted his weight to the other foot, still leaning against the wall, but standing much more normally now, like he had forgotten about his attempt at nonchalance. “You seem to have a weirdly huge number of ideas about this. Have you thought about it before?”

She shook her head. They had occasionally done thought exercises like this when she had been at the Academy, but the themes had been vastly different. “Nope,” she told him. “I’m just smart. Oh, and ‘weapons’ doesn’t just mean blasters and lightsabers. Even if they did all stop working, there’d be nothing to stop people reverting to swords or bows and arrows. Even a tree branch or something could be a weapon if you knew how to use it. Which I do, by the way.”

Ezra frowned thoughtfully. He stepped away from the wall, hesitated, then leaned again. “Okay all good points. But what I meant was more like what would you…” he paused. “Okay, try this instead. The weapons stop working, everyone rises up and we kick the Empire’s butts out into Wild Space or something. They’re not a threat anymore. What would you do then? Just around the base.”

“So… in peacetime?”

He nodded.

What he was really asking was what she would be doing with herself if she was in his position. Not necessarily exactly his position, but unable to contribute to the war effort, however temporarily. He didn’t need to think about that. He was going to be back on duty before he knew it.

“You do realize that if we defeated the Empire we wouldn’t need a base anymore, don’t you?”

He pressed his lips together. “Sabine…” he said. There was an almost pleading note in his voice that she didn’t like.

She wanted to help, but she didn’t have an answer for him. Not one that he would be able to use, anyway. What she might to if and when they won the fight against the Empire was not relevant to his situation now. She hesitated, torn between answering his question honestly; what would she do if the war was over, and answering the question he was really asking; what should he do, now?

“We wouldn’t be on the base,” she said. “We’d be back on the Ghost, doing what we always used to do before we were here, minus attacks on the Empire. But if I did end up staying here, I guess I’d have more free time, so I’d be able to work on my art. It’d be a good idea to work on my hand-to-hand skills too, I guess. I mean, I’m good, but if the weapons aren’t working and can’t be fixed, I’d want to be the best I could. Just because there’s no Empire and no weapons doesn’t mean there won’t be people who want to fight.”

“I guess,” Ezra said. He looked agitated. What she was saying wasn’t helping him. Of course, she still wasn’t clear on exactly what he wanted help with.

“What about you?” she asked. “What would you do?”

He shrugged and this time slumped rather than leaned against the wall, no longer looking awkward but simply defeated. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Ezra…” she began, but stopped. That was honesty at last, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t know what he needed from her. Nothing about this conversation made any sense; it was like she was missing a piece of a puzzle, some vital piece of information that would make everything click into place. Why was Ezra suddenly talking, however cryptically, about doing something other than his usual role within the Rebellion?

“Has someone said something to you?” she asked.

People had said things about Kanan.

In the months that followed Kanan and Ezra’s return from Malachor, it had taken time for Kanan to recover and to learn the skills he had needed — skills that he was now trying to pass on to Ezra. For months, he had been distant as he had tried and failed to cope with the sudden and permanent loss of his sight. This time had coincided with their first few months on the base, getting things up and running, and beginning to bring in new people. People that they didn’t know, and that didn’t know them.

Some of those people had had opinions about someone living on the base, but not appearing to contribute to the fight. Some of those people had been stupid enough to voice those opinions where Sabine could hear them.

They had only made that mistake once.

Ezra hadn’t answered her question. If anybody had said anything like that to him, she was going to hurt them.

“Ezra,” she said, more firmly this time. “Has anyone said anything? Anything like they sai…” She hesitated. She didn’t know whether Ezra knew about that, and if he didn’t, she didn’t want to bring it up. Especially not now.

“Like they said about Kanan?” Ezra shook his head. “No.”

So he knew. She wished he didn’t.

“I’m the one that said something,” he continued. “To Hera, I mean. She agreed with me — well, she kind of agreed with me — but that’s all that happened.” He paused and his lips twitched into a hint of a smile. “Please don't punch anybody.”

It was only then that Sabine realized her hands were clenched into fists. With effort, she relaxed them and lay them flat on the table in front of her. “What do you mean? What did you say to Hera?”

He folded his arms tightly. “You knew then,” he said instead of a reply. “About Kanan; what people were saying?”

Sabine winced. New people had been arriving daily back then. They were people who weren’t a part of the family, people who had never seen Kanan in action. People who knew him only as a blind man that the Rebellion was supporting; someone who even after he was as recovered as he was going to get, persisted in spending his days in quiet meditation. That didn’t excuse what she had overheard someone say.

“It only happened once when I was around,” she said. “They learned not to say it again.”

Ezra gave another small smile. “Same,” he told her.

“You’re sure nobody said anything to you?” she asked.

“I’m sure, Sabine. But if they had, I could deal with it myself.”

Of course he could. Whether or not he would was another question. Ezra was more than capable of looking after himself, but he was also fragile when it came to the issue of his sight. He seemed to have been doing marginally better recently, but an overheard comment like that could easily set him back.

“So what’s going on then?” she asked. “Really?”

“Nothing.”

She glared at him. If he thought he was going to get away with that…

Ezra sighed deeply and tore his eyes away from the painting on the wall. He crossed the room in a few steps and sat down opposite her. “I mean it,” he said. “Literally nothing. I’m bored. I need something to do.”

She could understand that. She had been feeling it herself. It had been weeks since her last off-world mission, and she was itching for something interesting to do. It had to be so much worse for Ezra, because he didn’t have the next mission to look forward to. Until Hera and Sato approved him for duty again, he was essentially trapped here with nothing to do but think about, and plan for, the future.

Forget being bored; that would be enough to drive someone crazy.

“So you asked Hera for a job,” she said.

He nodded. “I asked to go on the general duty roster.”

Sabine winced at the idea. “Really? You want to do droid work?”

“It’s not droi… well okay, it is on some worlds, but we don’t have a droid for every job so around here it’s people work.”

Okay, he had a point there. “But I thought you wanted to be less bored, not more. You really think spending your days picking up trash is going to make things better?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Hera said too. I mean, she didn’t put it like that, but she thinks I should pick a real job.”

“Good.”

Ezra didn’t respond.

“Isn’t it?”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Sure. I guess. She wants me to think of something I can do.”

And suddenly the conversation earlier made a lot more sense. “And you’re trying to get ideas by asking people what they’d do. You’d probably have better luck if you asked them what they think you should do.”

“Yeah, I figured that from your spectacularly unhelpful answers,” Ezra said with an eye roll.

She shrugged. “Hey, you asked a question, I answered it. But now you’ve asked another question, so let’s try to figure out an answer to that one too, huh? What do you like doing?”

Ezra hesitated. “It’s not as simple as that.”

Sabine waited for him to elaborate on that, but he didn’t say anything else. She sighed. “Ezra, if you want me to help, you’re going to have to…”

“It needs to be something I can keep doing,” he interrupted before she could finish.

She frowned. She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that — whether he needed to pick something that he would be able to continue doing rather than constantly changing his mind, or whether Hera was hoping that whatever he picked would still be useful to him after he was back on duty — but she could tell that the idea was bothering him. She didn’t understand why. It made sense that he should pick something that he could stick with, rather than odd jobs that would change every day. He needed something that he could concentrate on, get good at. Maybe even something that he would enjoy doing until he was ready to go back to his real job.

“Okay,” she said. “So definitely something you think you’d enjoy, then.”

Ezra shook his head. “You don’t get it. She want me to think of something I’ll still be able to do when…” he paused. “You know.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. It made sense, she supposed. But for some reason it had never even occurred to her that his sight might be a consideration. “Right. Okay.”

“But I don’t know what I’ll be able to do then,” Ezra said. “I’m still learning how to do stuff, and right now it’s all just walking around and… normal stuff, you know? Nothing specific to some job I haven’t even thought of yet. And because I don’t know what job to pick, it’s not like I can even get an idea of what I’ll be able to do from Kanan. And anyway, if I could do everything Kanan can do, I’d be back on active duty and this whole thing’d be irrelevant.”

He had a point.

“So she wants me to have a backup job, in case I’m never good enough to go on missions again.”

“That’s not it.” Sabine shook her head. Hera wouldn’t do that.

He shrugged. “She said I could go on the general duty roster if I really wanted, but she thought something else would be better. And she said ‘alternate role’, Sabine. What else could she mean by that?”

“She didn’t mean it like that. She just wants you to think about something you’d be good at doing. She probably doesn’t want you changing your mind every five minutes. She might have phrased it wrong, but there’s no way she meant it like that.”

Ezra seemed to relax a little, convinced by Sabine’s certainty. “Maybe you’re right. But…” he hesitated and looked away from her again. “I’m not picking up what Kanan’s teaching me quickly enough. It’s hard. But it’s not like the other Force stuff, I can’t figure it out in own time because whether I learn it or not, I’m still going blind at the same speed.”

Sabine wasn’t sure she had ever heard him say it like that before. He had hesitated before he spoke, but once he had started, there had been no attempt to dodge the subject, it was simply a statement of fact. She bit her lip. “I’m sure you’re learning it just fine. It took Kanan time too.”

“Kanan had to figure it out for himself.” His hand moved to something attached to his belt, something she hadn’t noticed before. A folded white object. His fingers rested there for a few moments before moving away again. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was obviously significant somehow. He shrugged, “But I guess he got more practice; he didn’t get to stop after the lesson finished.”

Sabine took a deep breath. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Practice more, I guess. But covering my eyes up isn’t exactly how I want to spend my last few years of usable vision.”

There was more honesty coming from him in this conversation than the last few months combined, which was why she was reluctant to tell him that hadn’t been what she had meant. She had been asking whether he would opt for the duty roster, or a specific roll. He did bring her to another point though. “Do you even have the time to be starting a new job? I mean, if you need to study, shouldn’t you be spending your time doing that?”

He couldn’t study with Kanan all day, of course, but he was right, he could practice for himself. He could go over the things they had done in his lessons, come up with exercises that he could repeat until he got them right. It was how she had learned when she had been at the Academy. Lessons with a tutor, followed by study by herself. There hadn’t been time to learn how to do some random job, there had been more important uses for her time.

“I am concentrating on that,” he said. “I just want to do something else too. It’s not going to be all the time, just enough that my whole life isn’t about my stupid eyes.”

Only, it was. Even putting aside the fact that it must be impossible to forget because he could see the damage everywhere he looked, Hera was making him consider his sight in whatever roll he chose to take on around the base. It made sense from one point of view; if he was going to train in a new job it would be a waste of time to pick one he would be unable to do in a year’s time. On the other hand, whether he could do the job without his sight should be irrelevant because by the time he was blind, he would have all the skills he needed to be a full member of the team again, just like Kanan did.

She hoped.

What he said made sense though; she could understand him wanting a break. She could understand him not wanting to spend every waking moment between now and the day his eyes completely failed him thinking about and practicing for the future. Even though the more time he spent doing exactly that, the faster things would be able to go back to normal.

Some semblance of normal, anyway.

She nodded, then tried to make her question clearer. “So, what’s it going to be; duty roster or real job?”

Ezra shook his head. “Still trying to decide. I guess you’re right though; if I want to not be bored, I’d be better off doing something not boring. So if you have any suggestions, let me know.”

She considered it, but nothing sprung instantly to mind. It wasn’t just trying to think of something that Ezra would want to do, but something that he would still be able to do without his sight. She couldn’t think of anything. It didn’t help that she had no idea what he would be capable of then.

“Yeah, exactly,” Ezra said in response to her silence.

She swallowed. She wanted to help, if only because he had come to her, but she wasn't sure why he had picked her when there were people better qualified to advise him. “I’m not the best person to ask about this. Kanan will have a better idea of what you’ll be able to do. And if it was Hera’s idea, she probably has something in mind that you could do.”

“I know,” Ezra told her. “I’m supposed to talk to both of them tomorrow, and Hera already said they’d help if I couldn't think of anything.”

“Then why…”

“But what if she suggests something I don’t want to do?”

Sabine frowned. “You say no,” she told him.”

“Well, yeah. But I have to do something, so if I’m going to say no to a suggestion, it’d be better to have another one instead.”

He didn’t really ‘have to’ do anything. Not if this whole thing had been his idea. But he was right, if he wanted something to do, turning down suggestions without any alternative probably wasn’t the best plan. “Okay,” she said. “So let’s think it over. What do you like doing?”

“Getting one over on the Empire,” Ezra said. “Undercover work. Piloting…”

Not exactly helpful, and Ezra knew it. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know, Sabine. I’ve never done anything else. Back on Lothal all I did was try to survive, and if I could hurt the Empire a little bit while I did it, great, even better. Then I met you guys, and we’re all still trying to survive, only there’s so much more at stake now than my own life. Other than that, the only difference between then and now is I know how to use the Force now. I don’t know what else I like doing.”

She stared at him. She could understand his point, but he was wrong. He had done more than simply fight the Empire and learn about the Force since joining up with the Ghost crew. “You like the dokma races,” she said.

“Uh,” Ezra frowned at her. “So you think I should become a professional gambler? I dunno, I’m pretty terrible at it. And all we do is gamble for ration bars and helmets anyway, so I couldn’t exactly make a career out of it.”

As much as she loved Ezra, there were times that she wanted to slap him. “Funny. Okay, yeah, that wasn’t the best example, but my point is that you have done other things. Think of some of them.”

Ezra rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. “He smirked. “You know, the whole point of asking you was so I didn’t have to think of something for myself.”

“Yeah, and you were so subtle with your whole ‘let’s pretend’ scenario. However did I figure it out?” She threw in an exaggerated eye roll to make sure he picked up on the sarcasm, and he grinned but at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “There must be something you’ve done before that you enjoy.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about ‘enjoy’, but like I said to Hobbie, I’m pretty good at pickpocketing and lock picking. Can’t think of any use for it around here though.”

Neither could Sabine, pickpocketing was definitely something he should be able to do without looking. She was no expert, but she knew that one of the tricks of that particular trade was misdirection, and that didn’t work if you were staring at your victim’s pocket while you stole his wallet. If Ezra already had that skill, maybe there were other ways to use it that might help him in other jobs.

She smiled, “You know, pickpocketing might not be much use, but lock picking might come in handy. When someone gets locked out of their quarters you’d be able to help them get back in.”

“Great. That’s something I could do maybe once a year.”

“I think you’re underestimating the ability of drunken idiots to forget their access codes after a night at the races,” Sabine told him. “It happens at least once a month. Probably more.”

“Still not exactly a stable career choice.”

True. But he wasn’t looking for a career, just something he could do until he was approved for duty again. She hadn’t really been serious anyway, although there had been a few times she had heard of people forgetting passcodes and finding themselves locked out of their room.

“What kind of locks can you pick? Digital, or ones with a key?”

He shrugged. “Both, I guess. Why?”

“Because you’d have to pick a key lock by touch, you can’t see inside the keyhole. I’m just thinking that’s a skill you might be able to use elsewhere. Digital locks are about bypassing the lock, you use the wiring, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“So that’s a transferable skill too. If you know how to short circuit a lock, maybe you’d be good at fixing them too.”

Ezra frowned. “Fixing locks? A bit specific, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “Not just locks; fixing stuff. You know, maintenance. I mean, you’d need some training, but you know a lot of it already, we all did a bit on the Ghost. You could probably decide if you wanted to concentrate on what you already know or learn more, and it’ll be different things every day, so it won’t get boring. Plus if you do pick up more skills, it’ll be useful on the Ghost in the future.”

He appeared to mull it over, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’d be fine for now, but not when my sight gets worse.”

“How do you know?” Sabine asked him. “Have you ever tried to repair something without looking?”

“Uh, no. Of course not.”

Sabine grinned triumphantly. “Well then, how do you know you can’t do it?”

Ezra stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Because it’s obvious.”

“If you say so.” In fairness, she hadn’t tried it either, but depending on what she was repairing, she figured she might have a chance. “So what if we were in space, on the Ghost, and the lights went out. How would we repair that?”

Ezra appeared to consider it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nice try. We’d just get a flashlight.”

That was true. “Okay, what if all the flashlights had stopped working too? Chopper’s light included, before you say that.”

Ezra stared at her in confusion for a moment, then shook his head. “Why would all the flashlights stop working?”

“I dunno, same reason the lights did. What would you do then?”

He shook his head. “This is never going to happen.”

“It’s more likely than your weapons scenario,” Sabine told him.

Ezra shrugged. “Okay, that’s fair, but…”

“Think about it,” she interrupted. “What would you do?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I’d try to figure it out, but I have no idea how. Even working out what’s wrong would be difficult, and I’m pretty sure one wire feels the same as another. Also, I’m no expert, but even I know it’s not a great idea to stick your fingers into faulty wiring without looking.”

“Fine. So maybe it’s nothing to do with the wiring. But whatever it is, I bet we could come up with some way around it.”

Maybe they could use the tactile alphabet. They could label things before he needed them, then when he did need them, he would be able to identify them. But that would require him to learn the tactile alphabet, and she didn’t want to push, not if he wasn’t ready. She was still convinced that he would see the benefit one day, but today was not going to be that day.

Ezra shrugged again, looking unconvinced. “Yeah, I guess we could.”

He wasn’t going to do it. She understood why. He was right, maintenance would be fine for now, but difficult later. And in her ‘lights going out’ scenario, there would come a time when he wouldn’t even be able to tell whether his repairs had been successful. That thought provoked a deep sorrow in her and she tried to push it out of her mind.

“Sabine?” She noticed that Ezra was looking at her, his eyes full of concern. Either the emotion she was feeling was written plainly on her face, or he was picking up on it through the Force. Suddenly she felt very exposed.

She shook her head quickly. He was going to be fine. Whatever job he ended up choosing, he wouldn't be doing it for very long, because he was going to be back on active duty before he knew it. She had watched him pick up everything Kanan had taught him so far. There was no reason for this to be any different. Right? “Okay, not maintenance,” she agreed.

Ezra shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea, he said. “It’s just, I need something more simple. Maintenance can be fiddly, so can mechanics. And yeah, maybe I could learn how to differentiate things by touch, but what if I couldn’t? Or if I made a mistake, and instead of fixing something I made it worse? We’re in a war. I mean, reliable equipment is kinda important.”

“So you want to do maintenance with big objects instead of fiddly wires?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

It could be a thing. There was no reason he couldn’t be given certain kinds of maintenance jobs, but he probably didn’t want special treatment. Although, there were specialists within every department, so there was no reason why being given specific types of jobs would be a bad thing.

She decided not to mention it. Not yet. Later, if he was still struggling for ideas, she could bring it up again. “You could help out with construction,” she suggested instead. “We’re building a new barracks at the north side of the base, I bet the team could use the help. You wouldn’t have to worry about the long-term since it’s only one project.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. Not like he was thinking about it, more like he was trying to find fault with it. There were certainly faults to find. It wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, but then as far as Sabine could tell, he didn’t know what he was looking for.

“That might actually work,” he said after a few moments. He hesitated. “I mean, the Force is great for heavy lifting.”

That was another point, one that she hadn’t considered. Ezra would have an advantage that would make him a sought-after member of the team.

“As long as Hera doesn’t mind that it’s temporary, that is,” he added.

The way he had told it, this whole thing had been his idea, so Sabine couldn’t imagine why she would mind. She shrugged. “It’s still something you’d be able to do in the future,” she said. Just because it’s only one project now doesn’t mean there won’t be something else to build in a few months time. If you still need another job by then, that is.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. He nodded, appearing more enthusiastic about the idea now. “Yeah, that’s true…” he smiled. “Hey, if nothing else, it’s something I can suggest instead when Hera tries to convince me it’s a great idea to work doing inventory for AP-5.”

“Why would she…” Sabine shook her head. It was probably a joke. That was the last thing he would be able to do when he couldn’t see. Making lists of inventory, reading, writing, checking things off. She wasn’t even sure Ezra would be able to do it now. “Yeah,” she said. “True.”

Ezra got to his feet. “I gotta go, I was supposed to meet Kanan for a lesson about five minutes ago. I’ll let you get on with your painting.” He headed for the door, stopped, then turned back to face her. “Thanks, Sabine,” he said. “Really.”

She shrugged, she wasn’t sure whether she had actually been of any help, but at least she would be able to keep thinking of suggestions for him. “Any time,” she told him.

Ezra opened the door and sped out into the hall. The sound of his running footsteps echoed through.

Sabine sighed, got up, and reached for her spray paint.

#star wars rebels #swr fanfic #ezra bridger #sabine wren #little by little

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