#ezra bridger x Astra

[intergalactic-padawan]

For emergencies - Ezra Bridger

Requested: no, but i've had this idea for a while and decided to give it a go.

Warnings: none

A/N: I created this O/C, Astra, and she's probably going to be in more ezra fics in the future, who knows. I have no idea who she is yet, but i'll wait for her to come to life as i go!

Pronouns of O/C: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

AU where Ezra never went away and they have a cerimony in Lothal like at the end of a new hope. Astra is a rebel who has never met Ezra before, but has heard of him.

At the cerimony, Ezra couldn't focus on anything else other than his crew, the other spectres.

They had been by his side through thick and thin, and even when loosing one of the most important members of their family, they stood together to help liberate his home world Lothal and bring an end to the Empire's control over its citizens.

Now, they proudly looked at him while he walked down the Lothal Senate building's main corridor, ready to recieve a medal of honor and bravery for being, as the governor said, "an outstanding citizen and a beacon of hope for better days". Other rebels and sympathizers also got their medals while he stood on the side, misty-eyed as Hera tried her best not to burst out tears of joy; a dynamic that lasted for the rest of the afternoon.

At the party that came after, on the other hand, he quickly got separated form the group. Many higher ranking officers offering congratulations, a few friends from Chopper Base comparing the size of their medals and the invites for dancing to the sound of the cultural music of his homewolrd were exciting, but beginning to get very draining.

That's when he notices her. A familiar tug of the force indicating the way guided him to the drinks table on the corner of the big atrium where he was dancing just moments ago; and that's where she stood, drink in hand, watching the celebrations while he approached curiously. He was still coming up with the courage to say something when she notices him:

-"oh, hello there" - she smiles kindly, not turning from her privileged position but nodding at him in acklowledgement.

-"hey" - he squeaks out of surprise, clrearing his throat and trying again - "I mean, huhh- Hey. Hey. I-I'm Ezra" - he smiled, a little embarassed.

-"Nice to meet you Ezra. That's one shiny medal you've got there"

-"uh, thanks, it's...' he took it in his hand to examine the details - "it's kinda heavy, actually"

-"still, a nice medal" - she chuckled

Ezra took that moment to look at her a little closer. She appeared to be fully human, hopefully about his age. Her hair was tied up in a braid that crossed her head like a tiara, a look that fit her very well, he thought. Under her worn leather jacket, marked with the insignia of the rebellion, she wore a simple and elegant black jumpsuit: an uncommon look on Lothal, that made her stand out as someone whod never been there before.

She looked beautiful. So beautiful, in fact that Ezra got distracted and didn't get to brace for the impact of Zeb slapping his big hand on his back to congratulate him once more:

-"hey kid, there you are! Hera's been looking for you all over!"

Ezra smiled awkwardly; obviously Zeb didn't see the situation playing out, or worse: he did, and wanted to embarass Ezra in front of her.

-"yeah, hmm" he coughed and indicated the girl with a tilk of his head "I was... kind of in the middle of something here, Zeb"

She looked down, not able to hold back a smile as Zeb raised his eyebrow.

-"Well, If I know General Syndulla, it's best not to keep her waiting" - the girl offered him a smile and a warm cup of the same beverage she was been drinking earlier.

-"I believe this is what you came over here for, Lieutenant Bridger" - she raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful smirk when Zeb turned the other way to talk to Kallus for a moment.

-"Yes, this too" - he accepted the drink "thank you, miss...-"

-"captain, actually" - she moved her jacket to the side to reveal a shiny rank badge with two blue spots - "recently promoted, right before you entered the room to get your heavy medal".

-"oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see" - he panicked. Was he supposed to salute her now? Was it too late for that?

He took a quick sip of the drink to buy some time while he figured out what to do.

-"hey kid, we really need to go now, hera's waiting"

-"On my way zeb" - he midlessly acknowledged the Lasaat and looked at her once again, searching for words to correct himself, settling for sincere congratulations instead:

-"Well, the rebellion is lucky to have you" - he offerd a hand for her to shake, whick she hapilly took. Ezra would never tell, but the way they fit together gave him a comfortable warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.

-"I don't know about that, Lieutenant." - she laughed - "But my team certainly is, though. You can call me Astra, by the way"

"Well, then you can call me Ezra" he winked as he finally felt himself take control of the situation, bringing her hand to his lips while mantaining eye contact. That gesture visibly caught her by surprise, but she played it off with another light chuckle.

"It has been a pleasure, Ezra. But you really shouldn't leave your general waiting" Astra squeezed his hand lightly, with a twinkle in her eyes that was going to be a constant memory in Ezra's mind. He could swear everyone in there was hearing his drumming heartbeat match the drums that played, but that was the least of his worries now: he needed to be sure he could see her again after this.

She seemed to think the same thing (hopefully), as he watched her do something to her comlink for a moment. When Ezra heard a blip from his own device, she explained:

-"there, my comlink number. It's always good to share these kinds of information with fellow rebels, make sure we can contact each other in case of an emergency, wouldn't you agree, lieutenant?" - Ezra quickly understood her idea, playing into her game with a boysh grin.

-"Of course, captain. In case of an emergency"

She hummed, placing her hand in a pocket of the jumpsuit. It may have looked like an ordinary and quick interaction to literally anyone else, but Ezra could feel it also meant something a little more exctiting to her. Maybe it was their relaxed minds after a significant victory, maybe it was the euphoria of a hard battle, or maybe the fun of interacting with an interesting person after years of tension; whatever the reason was, you didn't have to be a force sensitive being to see a connection had started to form between them.

But, lucky for him, Ezra was a jedi. He was the padawan of Kanan Jarrus, one of the bravest and most powerful Jedi Knights to ever exist. That thought alone brought him the confidence boost he needed to overcome the nervousness of something like talking to a beautiful girl at a party, and even more than that, flirting with said girl.

-"well, i guess i should be leaving then" - he snapped back to reality, feeling Zeb's towering and annoyed presence along with Chopper, who had been called as reinforcement at some point to hopefully drag him away from the spell he was currently in.

-"I hope we'll be seeing each other again?"

-"I don't plan on leaving so soon, Ezra. This drink is delicious" - he was now being pushed back by the droid, but refused to tear his gaze away from Astra.

-"And if i'm not here when you come back" - she added, pointing to his wrist - "You know how to reach me"

-"in case of an emergency" he stated, pretending seriousness

-"of course" - she saluted him lightheartedly - "in case of an emergency".

[veritascara]

The Signs

Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Teen/3.5k words A childhood lesson she hoped she’d never need comes back to haunt Hera, and she isn’t sure how she feels about it.

Set during “Family Reunion – and Farewell.”

A/N: Okay, here's part three for you wonderful, patient people. Enjoy! Thanks again to @anoray and @uhura-ismylastname for being my extra eyes!

More stories for this series are now in progress. All stories in this series can be read together or as stand-alones.

Read on AO3 | Part 3 of Ad Astra

*******

“Hera.”

“Hera!”

A sharp voice calling her name yanked Hera out of her daydream and back to the present, and she winced when she saw the frustration on the face of the face of the woman in front of her, the way her blue lekku arched stiffly behind her back. “Sorry. I got . . . distracted.”

The woman, Isval, Hera remembered belatedly, closed her eyes and took a breath. After a moment her lekku dropped back to a neutral position, and she focused on Hera again, much to her chagrin. Picturing herself on another training flight was so much more enjoyable than this . . . lesson—although really, pretty much anything would be.

“Now I need you to tell me, what are the three signs?”

The signs? Oh kriff, what were they again? Hera looked away and dug her nails into her palms. Wait. “Umm, something about my palms. And, uh, pain, somewhere?” She bit her lip and chanced a glance back up at the woman.

Isval sighed. “Darkened palms. Stomach pain. And swollen lips. All three of those together are the signs. One or two don’t really matter, just keep watching. But if you have all three—and our bodies are made to tell us quickly—you need to find a midwife or doctor or a medical droid right away, so they can take care of it.”

“Okay . . .” Hera said hesitantly. She thought she had an idea what ‘take care of it’ meant, but she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. There was one other part that confused her, though. “But why would my lips get swollen?” she said, reaching up to her face.

“Not those lips,” Isval said, “those lips.” She pointed towards Hera’s crotch.

Hera’s eyes went round, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She could only imagine how dark green they must be.

Isval’s face softened. “Listen, kid. I’m sorry I have to be the one to talk to you about all this. I know it shouldn’t be me. But Ashla knows your father never will.”

Hera pressed her lips into a thin line and shot the woman an angry glare at the mention of her father. He’d come—to visit her before she went to flight school, he’d said—and she’d barely seen him. And she hadn’t seen him for four whole months before that.

But Isval ignored her and continued on. “There are things you have to know. Cham’s kept you safe so far, but you are almost thirteen summers, a Twi’lek, and a girl. The galaxy is a dangerous place for us, and you have to know how to protect yourself.”

“I can fight just fine.”

“Sometimes fighting isn’t enough.”

Hera felt another angry retort at the top of her tongue, but it died away when she read the weary expression on the woman’s face, the limp droop of her lekku. Somewhere, beneath the battle scars and fierce, sharpened teeth she saw a glimpse of a young girl who had suffered. A girl who maybe was trying to keep her from hurting the same way.

She held her tongue.

“Please, tell me again what the signs are,” Isval requested.

“Darkened palms.” Hera thought hard, feeling the need to recall them more acutely. “Stomach pain.” She automatically wrapped her arms around her middle. “Swollen . . . lips.”

“Good. Now once more.”

“Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips,” Hera said, this time more freely. For the first time in their long, awkward conversation, she realized Isval felt more like a friend.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips. She repeated the signs to herself once more, committing them to memory.

Not that she would ever need them.

*******

Hera walked quietly through the living quarters of the Ghost. Its rooms reverberated with an unnatural stillness, an emptiness she hadn’t felt in years, as if the ship herself was mourning Kanan’s loss. Or maybe the emptiness was just inside of her.

She was probably cracking up, falling apart. Now really wasn’t the time for that.

With a quick glance at the desolate common rooms behind her, Hera entered the medbay and shut the door.

It wasn’t much of a room—never had been. Really, it was just a small storage closet she’d converted years ago, recognizing the need to have more emergency equipment on hand, as the nature of their missions became increasingly more dangerous. They had been lucky they hadn’t used it more often over the past few years, although maybe that wasn’t luck at all. She’d lived with Jedi too long to believe in luck.

A deep cramp starting low in her belly worked its way across her midsection, wrapping around to her back.

No, luck didn’t exist at all.

Hera sighed and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing and calm her emotions. She had to stop the tears before they threatened to fall again. Now really wasn’t the time for that either. She only had a few minutes, and she needed to do what she’d come for quickly.

Hera lifted the small, archaic triage droid off its shelf and set it down on the bench that counted for a bunk—she could barely have laid down flat on it, if she had needed to. It was a lost cause for anyone taller; they’d learned that the hard way once with Zeb.

Then she began digging around in the lower drawers for the test cartridge she needed. It took her a minute to remember its location, in the back of a drawer of miscellaneous things they never actually used—things like this.

She’d certainly hoped she’d never use it, but it was always better to be prepared. Pure paranoia had kept her from getting rid of it. And here she was, using it after all.

Hera sat down on the bench next to the machine. She shifted a couple times, trying to find a comfortable position that put less pressure on her puffy, aching labia. It was a lost cause, as she already knew. Her hands tremble as she inserted the cartridge and powered on the machine, waiting for the ancient thing to cycle through its self checks and praying that it functioned at all. The seconds ticked by painfully. If she took too long someone would come looking for her and their mission couldn’t wait and–

“Hello. Multispecies chorionic gonadotropin test inserted. Please apply blood sample.”

Hera sighed with relief at sound of the metallic ‘voice’ coming from the droid’s speaker, and removed her gloves one at a time. Like a magnet, her eyes were again drawn to her palms, as they had been every day for the past three days. Holding her hands up, she stared at the dark green skin there, rich and fertile like the equatorial forests of Ryloth.

She shook her head to clear it and looked away. Quickly, she grabbed the autolancet and pricked her finger, then fed a drop of blood into the cartridge.

“Please wait. Testing,” the machine droned.

Hera leaned back to rest her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. The hum of the Ghost’s air systems buzzed around her, vibrating through the hull of the ship. She didn’t know what she wanted the result of the test to be. But she was pretty sure she knew what it was going to say anyways.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

The machine clicked and spat out the test cartridge, the tiny indicator lights on its surface still blinking as it processed its results.

“Hurry. Please,” she whispered. The tiny room felt overly hot, the walls closing in around her. She was struck by a sudden need to run, to escape to somewhere, anywhere else—a feeling she thought she’d conquered long ago as a child.

“Test completed.”

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

Hera held her breath, frozen in a singularity, her fate ready to swallow her up. Another deep cramp squeezed her abdomen.

“Chorionic gonadotropin level elevated. Pregnancy likely. Further medical testing and care recommended. Goodbye.”

A report spat out of the printer’s side, then without further elaboration, the droid shut itself off and went dark. Mechanically, Hera reached out and ripped the small piece of flimsi free. Maybe, just maybe, it said something different. But it was just the same—or essentially so. A meaningless number next to the test name, which she assumed to be her blood value. The normal range below that was far lower than her number. Not good. A couple lines of text printed below that were word-for-word the same as what the machine had told her already.

Pregnant.

Hera folded up the flimsi and stuffed it into her pocket.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

She stared at the bare gray door in front of her, longing for something, anything else to focus on. Why had she never told Sabine to paint this room? She dropped her head into her hands, as if shutting out the sights around her might change the outcome, change the situation. Which was what exactly?

Exactly what she’d allowed to happen.

If she blinked her eyes open, she’d see her palms in front of them; if she shifted, she’d feel the uncomfortable pressure on her nether regions; inevitably, the persistent cramping would return to haunt her; and now the printout in her pocket . . .

Kriff, she was pregnant, and she really didn’t know how to feel about that.

In another time, another life—one where Kanan was alive, where there was no war looming over the galaxy, she supposed the discovery would have been one of joy. Even now she longed to be able to grasp at that fleeting emotion and hold onto it with every fiber of her being. But Kanan  was  gone, and the galaxy  was at war—a war she’d been fighting in some way since she was seven years old. It had obliterated almost everyone she’d ever loved. What kind of life was that to bring a child into? A terrifying one.

Babies died in war. She knew that all too well.

Yet, she did not feel terror either. She simply felt nothing. A great, yawning emptiness consumed her from the inside out, and somewhere deep within that cavern was its source: a black hole that had taken up residence within her, its size infinitesimal, its mass infinite.

And now she had to do something about it—take care of it. Fifteen years on, Hera understood well the double meaning embedded in her father’s friend’s admonishment. She knew which meaning she might have embraced without hesitation even a couple years earlier, when her drive to save the galaxy and fight for the rebellion had still seemed so simple, so straightforward. But she also knew which meaning she would choose now, which path she had already chosen—on a night in Kanan’s arms in their camp, on a whole day spent on Yavin IV without visiting the medcenter, in a hundred tiny decisions in the two weeks since.

She had chosen, would choose to have his child. Kanan’s child. Nearly the only tangible thing he had left behind in the galaxy, certainly the most precious.

Hera wrapped her arms around her belly, as if that might stop the emptiness from growing even greater. It didn’t. A sudden wave of grief washed over her at what she had lost—her best friend, her partner, her lover, and now . . . her future child’s father.

And what a father Kanan would have been. She could picture without hesitation the joy, the excitement that would light up his sightless eyes at the knowledge of what they’d created. But she could also envision the anxiety, the uncertainty that would be on display there—the fear. Fear for her safety. Their lives were dangerous, and a pregnancy added so many more unknowns. What risks might she face carrying a human’s baby? She didn’t even know herself. Fear for the baby. What dangers had she already unknowingly subjected it to? But most of all, fear of her decisions. She knew without a doubt that Kanan would fear that she would refuse to bear his child at all, while he still wanted it desperately anyways. Her heart twisted knowing her own emotional distance to be the cause of that one. Why had she kept him at arm’s length so long? It had saved neither of them from pain or grief at multiple points. It had never really improved her focus on the rebellion. It had only hurt him and hindered–

A sudden beep from Hera’s comm cut off any further painful musings and startled her back to life.

“Hera, are you still on the ship?”

“Yeah, Zeb,” she croaked, trying her best to hide the roughness in her voice—probably failing. “Is everything in place?”

“Everything’s sorted down here. We’re bringing Pryce up now. Can you get Ezra and bring him with you? He followed you in a few minutes ago.”

“I’m on my way.”

Action was always easier than contemplation. Hera hopped down from the tiny bunk, tossed the triage droid back onto its crowded shelf, and pulled her gloves back on. But even when she left the room, neither her body nor her mind let her forget the changes within it. Instinctively, her movements became slower, more cautious than usual. Her pace lagged even more at the distant sound of Ezra’s voice echoing from the gun turret above.

“–but I’m afraid—not for me, but for my friends.”  

Another cramp, lighter this time, twisted Hera’s stomach into knots, and her hand drifted there without thinking, as much in response to what she now knew lay within as the discomfort. She listened to Ezra’s words and drew closer.

“They’ve fought so hard, given so much, and helped me understand why you stood up to the Empire and made the sacrifices you did.” As he continued on, she realized he was addressing his own parents, and she blinked back tears that threatened to encroach on her vision. Now wasn’t the time for that. But something in what he said resonated deeply with her fears, and with her hopes.

Hopes. She had hopes?

“I wish you could meet them, my new family.”

Hera smiled a little. She did have hope. Ezra embodied that hope. His parents had raised him from an infant to be a boy who loved, looked out for, connected with others, no matter his circumstances. She and Kanan had been privileged to raise him into the young man he was now, but his parents’ love had always been there, guiding and supporting him. And all of them had done so through a war, had given him everything they had, and not for nothing.

Painful as it may be, to raise a child regardless of the circumstances was to create hope.

“–I want you to know everything I have done and will do began with you.”

Hera’s smile grew and softened, and a blinking light flickered deep within her belly—a single, tiny star hanging alone in the vast blackness of Wild Space to guide her way. It illuminated the overwhelming darkness, filled the emptiness that had pervaded her being.

“Ezra,” she called up, her own voice still sounding shaky in her ears, “they’re bringing her up.”

Ezra startled at the sound and looked down. For a moment fear played across his features, but he climbed down the ladder quietly and put the data pad away on his bunk, while Hera waited in the corridor.

“Let’s go.” Ezra turned towards the lower ladder to leave, but Hera placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. She didn’t need the Force to read the measure of uncertainty in his steps, to feel the conflicts hiding deep inside. He had such strong faith and strength, it was easy to forget sometimes that he was still only eighteen.

“Ezra.” He stopped at her touch and turned towards her, and Hera met his eyes. “Whatever happens today, we’re all with you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, earnest and warm. He paused for a moment and glanced towards the cockpit, some memory of the past playing out in his mind. “You always believed in me, right from the start. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Hera.”

Hera wanted to protest, but another unanticipated wave of emotion crested over her, and she fought back tears to give him a watery smile. “Kanan would be proud of you,” she said.

Ezra stared at her, his gaze suddenly reminding her so much of Kanan’s—the way he’d always seen straight through her, whatever their situation. Then abruptly, Ezra threw his arms around her. The childlike gesture took Hera by surprise, but she welcomed his embrace all the same and pulled him close, basking in the warmth and physical contact she’d hardly known she’d needed. But no sooner had she relaxed into the hug when another cramp gripped her insides. Hera closed her eyes and fought the urge to stiffen against the mild pain.

“Kanan would be proud of you too,” Ezra whispered against her shoulder, squeezing her a little tighter. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she pulled back to wipe it away with her sleeve and regain control.

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions while Ezra waited, his steadying hand still on her shoulder. When had the child somehow become the parent? When had all the clear cut lines they’d once known blurred into oblivion? she wondered. Four years had passed in the blink of an eye. And this was what had become of the self-centered boy she’d once begged to warn the others of a deadly trap. This was the young padawan who had struggled so much with darkness after his cumulative losses. Now he was a shining light striving to set his homeworld free, ready to give everything he had so that others might live free of the darkness he’d grown up under. Of course Kanan would have been proud, but she was proud of him too, so very proud.

“May the Force be with us,” she said, once she trusted her voice again.

A half-smile appeared on Ezra’s face, and Hera watched his confidence bloom as he took her statement to heart. “It will be,” he said with assurance. “Come on. Can’t keep our guest waiting.” He cocked his head toward the ladder to the hold and climbed down before her, glancing up to watch her progress as she followed him down. Hera smiled a little at his sweet gesture and his gentleness with her after her emotional outburst. The poor kid had been taking care of her far too much lately. She’d have to make it up to him when this mission was over.

Hera followed Ezra down the Ghost’s ramp, and she stepped back to lean against it in the shadows, her mind wandering while he did his work. If she never saw Pryce again, it would be too soon, but she still derived no joy from the other woman’s fear. Her stomach churned again, whether from the cramps or from the memory of the awful day she’d spent as Pryce’s captive, she hardly knew. And she crossed her arms across her chest to keep from touching her belly, fearful of drawing attention to her discovery in front of anyone who might wish her harm.

A horrifying thought crossed her mind then. What if Pryce had known? Even worse: what if Thrawn had known?  Could they have known so soon? She didn’t know. But even in her pain-induced haze, Pryce’s twisted glee and Thrawn’s veiled threats against her future had etched themselves into her mind. Hera’s heart pounded, and she felt bile rising in her throat. She shot a look at the other woman, now groveling on the ground in front of a wolf, so easily cowed by a few minutes of pressure, and wished for a single moment that they didn’t need her—that they could simply end her.

But revenge wasn’t their way. It never was.

Hera shook her head and banished the dark thoughts from her mind. Whether they had somehow known or not, she was free now and safe. Well, as safe as she could be in the midst of a dangerous mission for an active rebellion in a galaxy preparing to go to war.

What was she going to do? The overwhelming impossibility of it all again threatened to overwhelm her. Making one choice necessarily led to another and another and another, all the choices piling up until they built an unscalable mountain to be conquered. No, not conquered, survived. But how could they do it?

The cramp eased, and Hera released a breath and closed her eyes. A remembered warmth settled itself on her right shoulder, and she lifted her hand to the spot where Kanan had so often laid his hand when coming into the cockpit to greet her, offering his reassurance even when she would have denied needing it.

I wish you were here, she thought. You’d know what to do.

No reply came into her mind, not that she expected one. This was her battle to fight. It was one of those days where she just had one small hope dangling in front of her, and she’d take it or die trying.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

One choice made. Thousands more to go. She’d do her damned best to stay safe today, and deal with the others later.

For herself and the baby. And for Kanan.