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fellthemarvelous · 11 months ago

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Without hope, we have nothing.

(Spoilers and speculation included a bit further down)

This is actually a post about the Bad Batch and not Star Wars Rebels, but this bit is important so...

Try not to cry when you remember that Tech is the one who taught Hera Syndulla how to mask her ship's signature, a move that made her a massive threat to the Empire and a move that she often used to her advantage. She was such a threat to the Empire that they wanted to capture her alive so they could make an example of her for her years of defiance.

And then also try not to cry when you remember that when Hera was taken prisoner by the Empire, Kanan Jarrus sacrificed his life to free her and save the future of the Rebellion. Try not to cry when you think about the fact that Kanan Jarrus aka Caleb Dume was the Jedi padawan the Bad Batch protected (except for Crosshair) from the Empire during Order 66 by claiming Hunter killed him.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Echo lied to the Empire to protect a Jedi.

And Tech taught Hera how to evade the Empire when the Bad Batch helped her family (Chopper included) escape Ryloth after being accused of treason.

Clone Force 99's actions had a direct outcome on the success of the Rebellion. They refused to commit treason against the Republic and all they did was commit treason against the Empire. They were strong enough to resist the effects of the inhibitor chip (Crosshair and Wrecker for awhile), outright ignored Order 66 (Hunter and Tech), or were tortured and turned partially into a machine against his will by the Techno Union and used as a weapon against the Republic who, upon rescue, immediately jumped back into Separatist territory and fucked their asses up (Echo). Luckily, with the help of Rex, they got their chips removed after Wrecker tried to kill all of them.

Everything under the cut is pure speculation. I'm having a galaxy brain moment, I just have no idea if it's pointing me in the right direction or not lol.

If you disagree with me, I don't need you to rudely tell me why.

After his time on Tantiss, Crosshair can now identify with Echo more than anyone else in the Bad Batch (and Tech if CX-2 is Tech).

When they went to rescue Echo, Crosshair is the one who snidely told Captain Rex that he would have left Echo behind too.

Which is exactly what happened to Crosshair when the Empire turned him into a weapon against his own brothers. He had no choice because the Empire attached him to a machine and amped up the effect of his inhibitor chip so he could not disobey orders.

Rex told Cody "I think Echo is still alive" and Cody told him that was impossible. Anakin accompanied him on this rescue mission with The Bad Batch (we know Cody would have too if he hadn't been injured).

I think that if Tech is CX-2, Crosshair already knows or highly suspects it. He's terrified of Tantiss. I think we're going to have a parallel moment of Crosshair possibly saying the same thing, knowing that he could never leave a brother behind again after what he went through, especially if CX-2 is Tech. (I also wouldn't be surprised if Omega suspected something after her trip back to Tantiss with CX-2.)

We never saw Echo's body after the explosion. Instead we got this image. An empty helmet and a droid arm.

Crosshair defected from the Empire when he witnessed the Empire tell him that Mayday was only a clone and not worth giving medical attention to. Those actions resulted in the death of Mayday and that's when Crosshair chose to shoot an Imperial officer between the eyes (similar to Dogma's execution of General Krell in many ways).

If Tech is CX-2, that is the second Bad Batcher the Empire has turned into an enemy against his brothers.

This is the last we saw of Tech.

Hemlock was fucking lying when he said that Tech's glasses were all they recovered. Why the hell would he have found Tech's glasses and not Tech? All we see below him are clouds. And this is the last bit of Tech we see. That gun is in the shot with his glasses for a reason.

I feel like this is going to parallel Echo's rescue from Skako Minor. Tech and Echo are both highly intelligent huge ass nerds (remember that the battle plans being used against the Republic were written by both Rex and Echo, and Cody acknowledged that Rex was one of their best strategists in the GAR) who always ended up working best together.

Part of me wonders if we are heading into a show centered on the clone troopers in a post Order 66 world going up against the Empire as they try to rescue more of their brothers. Enough to become a problem for the Empire.

Part of me also wonders if the inclusion of Force sensitive children in the Bad Batch means Rex will need to call Ahsoka into the fray. Wolffe has only appeared once so he hasn't even switched sides, let alone even started blocking Ahsoka's messages to Rex yet. During the Clone Wars she had to save Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. During the Rebellion, the saved more Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. It makes me wonder if she is also going to save Force sensitive children from this too? I might be reaching a bit too much here, but it could be a possibility! She seems to always show up when Force sensitive children need to be rescued from Darth Sidious.

No matter what ending we get for the Bad Batch, I know it's going to leave us with hope for the future because the message in Star Wars has always shown us that hope will always be stronger than fear.

A simple act of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.

Without hope, we have nothing.

These episodes are all relevant to Echo's journey. The Domino Squad was referred to as a bad batch and Echo was the one who seemed to struggle the most with orders that conflicted with doing what needed to be done. He is the one who memorized the regulations manual after all. And now the Bad Batch are on a similar journey because they have never trusted regs before, but now it seems they might have to trust the regs to come to help them the way they helped Rex and Echo before the war ended. The way they helped Gregor after the war ended.

If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but that's a fanfic I can always write!! I don't want to get into who I think is going to die or survive, but I have my suspicions there too and I'm already in too much pain to keep going.

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tarisilmarwen · 4 months ago

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Sabezra Week 2024, Day 1 - Swap

Cause you're the last of a dying breed Write our names in the wet concrete I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me I'm here in search of your glory There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones

-"The Last of the Real Ones" by Fall Out Boy

@sabezraweek

Went with something a little fun I think. Behold: Formative Childhood Trauma Backstory Event Swap!

In this AU, it's Sabine's parents who speak out against the Empire and get taken away when she's seven, leaving her to scratch out a living for her and her brother in the wilderness of Krownest. There's not much time for painting, she doesn't have access to the forges so she grew out of her armor pieces, and she learned very quickly that brightly dyed hair tends to attract predators, lol. But she managed to keep herself and her brother alive until the Ghost crew picked them up.

Ezra, meanwhile, was the one who got sent to the Imperial Academy and was a promising student until he got a little too close to the truth of why students like Dhara Leonis were disappearing. He spoke out but the Bridgers couldn't stand with him, too cowed by the oppression Lothal had been facing for years. Speaking out also immediately put a target on his head and got him a trip to the Inquisitorious. Fortunately he wasn't there long before he managed to escape to where Kanan could find him.

Had a lot of fun coming up with their designs. For Sabine I basically gave her lots of furs and pelts (from hunting) and stuff to keep her warm and with Ezra I kind of had the thought that after escaping he would try to repaint his Inquisitor armor. Not nearly as well as Sabine might, so it's a bit crude in places. She fixes it up all nice for him later and also helps dye the bodysuit. :)

#sabezra #star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabezraweek2024 #artwork #Headcanon

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 8 months ago

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The Impact of Tech's Death: Was it necessary? Was it in vain? Why did Tech have to die?

Disclaimer: This will be a very emotion fueled rant and I'm sorry if my personal feelings get in the way. I love my boys, but there are times when I just sit there and shake my head. I do my best to understand their circumstances, but sometimes the Crosshair girlie in me really can't make sense of things.

The short answer: NO, it wasn't necessary. With S3 now behind us and my rewatch of S2 at its conclusion, it hit me just how little weight Tech's death had on the overall plot.

Let's breakdown the finale a bit:

The lead up: Tech found out that his long-lost brother Crosshair was captured by the Empire and sent to a shady place where no good was to come. He also discovers that Crosshair sent a distress message, warning his brothers to hide. Realizing that Crosshair was in danger, Tech decided to rally the others on a mission to find and track Hemlock's ship, hoping it would lead him back to his brother. The mission is a complete failure, with Tech being forced to sacrifice himself in order to save his family.

The Aftermath: the Batch is discovered by Hemlock, Omega is captured, Hunter cuts his losses, and Crosshair remains a prisoner

Here's the part that really messed with me: Tech's death DID NOT affect Hemlock's capture of Omega and it DID NOT change the ability to track the ship. The only impact it had was that Hunter decided to cut his losses and pull an early retirement. And even when Hunter is like "we're going to get Omega back," he doesn't mention Crosshair once.

Tech died to save Crosshair. Period.

(and the others I know, but this mission wouldn't have happened if Cross wasn't in trouble)

Which brings us to S3 where Tech is hardly mentioned, Crosshair himself is never shown on-screen learning of what happened, and there is no moment where anyone (except maybe Cross) processes their feelings about it. Why kill off a beloved character when their demise has almost no impact on anything? The only thing it really impacts is the speed of which things get done and Crosshair's mental health. It makes no sense. I think there was an interview where DBB said they tried to keep Tech alive, but couldn't write a script where that was the case. Ok? Then go back and talk some more about the plot. Or if you can't avoid killing him off, then show the characters processing it or why Tech's death mattered. The cynical side of me says Tech died in vain. I'm being brutally honest here. Tech could've survived and Cid would still sell out the Batch and Saw's detonators would still destroy the ship and tracker. From a story POV, it's pretty bad when a main character's death barely leaves an impact.

In CW, Fives' death enabled Rex and Ahsoka (and Maul by extension) to all survive Order 66. Satine's death led to Mandalore being thrown into chaos, thus leading to the Siege of Mandalore.

In Rebels, Kanan's death crippled Thrawn's Tie-defender project, made Pryce look bad, and taught Ezra important lessons about sacrifice. For Hera, we got to see her grieve the loss of her lover. Kanan's death mattered. Also, the buildup to Kanan's sacrifice was him becoming Caleb Dume again after everything he went through.

The buildup to Tech's death was great too because it was about the Batch trying to find Crosshair. And while the mission is a failure, it showed that they were willing to go back for someone they lost. They hadn't given up on him. But everything after falls pretty flat and only makes Tech's death even sadder.

Why did Tech have to die? Because he probably would've found Tantiss a lot quicker than everyone else. I really think that's the case and that's pretty bad writing if you ask me. I still love TBB immensely, but I'm willing to call it out when it falls short.

It also really pisses me off as a Crosshair fan that Hunter just completely throws him under the bus. I will let my biases speak for me because it really bothers me and I'm sorry if you disagree. I value your opinion too. I don't know if Hunter subconsciously blamed Crosshair for Tech's demise, but I would've felt a whole lot better if he decided to honor Tech's wish of saving him. Hunter was always going to go after Omega, so why not add Crosshair to the mix? Was it because he still thought Crosshair could be lying? I understand cutting his losses in the moment due to the pain of losing Tech. I get that 100%. But after, he just doesn't bother to think about Crosshair. Would he even have gone after Crosshair if the original last-minute retirement plan came to fruition? Crosshair suffered immensely and who knows what would've happened if he just got left there with no one coming for him. Tech was the only one who supported Operation: Rescue Crosshair. No one else suggested that idea except him. (I know Omega also supports it, but I'm talking about the boys). Yes, I know I'm being harsh and perhaps unfair, but it hurts ok? I know Hunter has no clue what's going on with Crosshair.

But here's why it bothers me so much outside of Crosshair getting the short end of the stick again: It makes Tech's death feel even more in vain because the reason for why Tech died is just forgotten about.

Let that sink in. Tech's death doesn't leave ANY lasting impact on the plot post-incident.

It makes even more frustrated and just heartbroken because of how cruel and unfair losing Tech really was. Had we gotten more time of the Batch processing emotions or taking something meaningful away from it, then that's different. But no. That's not what we got and I am heartbroken by it. At minimum, we should've gotten one scene in S3 where Crosshair (or anyone really) talks about it in a meaningful way. (No, "CF99 died with Tech" doesn't count). Yes, Tech's legacy can be seen through Omega's actions but that's not enough.

All and all, the only real weight Tech's death had was on Crosshair's mental health. And even then, it's only implied instead of said straight out. If Tech hadn't died, then Crosshair probably wouldn't have decided to enact Plan 99. (Or he would've due to other reasons).

In conclusion: Tech never had to die nor should he have died.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb meta

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licorishh · 22 days ago

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This is brought up alllllll the time in fics as, like, a moral dilemma or something, but think about it. Think about the butterfly effect of Ahsoka letting Maul out of his cell on the Tribunal.

If she hadn't done that,

1. She would be dead.

2. Rex would still have his chip and either be dead or a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

3. Every clone on the ship would either be dead or a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

4. Wrecker would've either annihilated the rest of the Bad Batch when his chip went off, or, if they'd somehow survived, their chips could've gone off at any time. We don't know that Tech's guess about them being immune was actually correct, especially since it was disproven at least in Wrecker's case.

5. Number 4 means that Omega would also be dead.

6. If the Bad Batch and Omega were dead by this point, then subsequently, Mount Tantiss would never have been destroyed, Hemlock would still be alive, and Project Necromancer would continue with no real setbacks.

7. Number 6 means that Emerie would never have had the opportunity to see firsthand why what she was participating in was so horrible, and thus, she would've remained a slave to the Empire for the rest of her life.

8. Number 5 and number 6 mean that Crosshair would never have escaped Mount Tantiss and he would've been a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

9. None of the clones Rex ends up finding and helping in the Bad Batch would've found out about the chips and removed them, thus rendering them slaves to the Empire for the rest of their lives.

10. Number 7 means that the children Emerie helps in the end would've continued to be experimented on and remained slaves to the Empire for the rest of their lives.

11. The clone cadets on that planet in the beginning of season 3 of TBB never would've made it off-world.

12. Wolffe never would've found out about his chip and removed it, and he would've been a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

13. Many years later, Ezra and Kanan would've died on Malachor, so nothing that they do after that for the rest of Rebels would've ever even happened. Kanan would not have been blinded because Maul would not have been there, but I'd argue being dead is a lot worse.

14. Number 13 means that Thrawn would have won, and if Thrawn had been present during the events of the original trilogy, the Rebellion would've stood no chance, and the Empire's victory would've been resound and indisputable. The deaths of Jyn, Cassian, Baze, Chirrut, Bodie, and all the other rebels on Scarif would've been for nothing.

15. Number 14 means that Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, and everyone else would've either died or been made prisoners of war.

16. Number 15 means that Vader would never have turned to the light side.

17. Number 15 also means that Palpatine would never have died, and the galaxy would have no hope.

Like... do you see where I'm going with this?? There's so much I didn't even mention because I can't just remember the entirety of Rebels off the top of my head, but... dude. If Ahsoka hadn't let Maul out, LOOK what would never have happened. Can you imagine???

#star wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #it just amazes me that people frame this like it was a bad idea. bro it was her only option #do not get me frickin' wrong it is insanely sad that all those clones died #bro i've watched those episodes probably easily ten times and i still fight the urge to full-on weep when jesse's helmet is in shot #but there was no hope for them. that was her only option and the repercussions for the galaxy if she hadn't #would've been ENORMOUS #i think ahsoka would feel serious grief over making that decision #but i honestly don't believe she'd blame herself and feel responsible as if she killed them

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monvante · 1 year ago

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persona non grata ╱ myg, 𝟏.

per·so·na non gra·ta: unwelcome or unwanted. not popular or accepted by others.

pairing: myg x f!reader

genre: suspense / noir / detective au

rating: mature | 18+

chapter word count: 3,067

content warings: crime, blackmail, missing person investigation, themes of violence and murder, 90's cult references, corrupt cops, mentions of physical fighting, cockroaches, depictions of dementia, substance abuse & addiction, reader is grieving a breakup;

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chapter i. goodbye, kanan.

Tuesday night, March 18th @ ViCAP Unit, Missing Persons Dept.

Your hands don’t feel clean. They just never do.

“It’s that same nightmare,” you rub them together, finding comfort in the heat.

Yoongi looks at you. He says nothing, because of course he doesn't. He already noticed the dark circles under your eyes this morning, how you looked at your cup of coffee with a bit more disgust than usual.

He admired your hatred, your devotion to your spiteful heart.

“Cockroaches.” Your sad chuckle is but self-mockery. Your gaze is crestfallen.

He’s left to calculate within the machinations of his mind whatever meaning there is in your nightmare.

Yet, Yoongi finds none whatsoever.

“Have you eaten?”

“Why?”

“Just asking,” he shrugs. “Take tomorrow off,” Yoongi hides his hands inside the pockets of his trench coat. His concern is disguised in his eyes, looking out the foggy windows of the department office. “You need it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Let it go.”

“He was eight years old! He was a child!”

The air tightens in your lungs and your throat thickens with silence. You didn’t mean to sound so exasperated, you didn’t mean to sound like anything, but you’ll have to be the first to face your emotional ties to the cold case of a young boy whose face is ingrained in the back of your mind.

Yoongi gulps ⎯ it’s the first thing he does when the truth’s engulfed in his stomach. You glare at him, but he doesn’t budge. Not for a few seconds at least, taking a few steps back as he still refuses to look you in the eye. All cops are cowards.

“You wanna know why we got this case?”

Your brows perk.

“It’s not because we’re good,” he scoffs. “Last year... I confronted McKinnon about the money. He called me a snitch… I didn’t- I didn’t tell him you were in on it, but I figured he knew. That bastard just.. kept looking at me with those filthy eyes and I- I hit him, okay? I got him good. He deserved it.”

“Is that why you kept avoiding me all those months?”

“Kind of. He said we wouldn’t come out of it alive if the ACU so much as dreamt of it… So I kept quiet. He gave us a case full of dead ends and shit evidence to keep us busy… Said we deserved it.”

The Anti Corruption Unit had been onto the agents’ tail that month. Not that it matters. Nothing was found.

“Why– why didn’t you tell me?”

He runs a hand through his hair, slowing down his breath. In the same second, he fails himself and his fury comes out in full force.

“Fuck’s sake! And risk you being dead? Or worse?!”

There are drops of sweat down his temple. You can see them because the yellow street lights glisten against his skin and you figure he’s telling you the truth. Even if he wasn’t, you’d be inclined to believe him.

No one else in this godforsaken unit has a commitment to the truth like Yoongi.

Thursday morning, March 20th @ ViCAP Unit, Missing Persons Dept.

Agent Gerwig gives you a warm, tight-lipped smile when you pass her down the hallways. You hurry past the agents down the coffee machine, avoiding small talk and nearly tripping down the stairs on your way to Yoongi’s desk.

The insides of your stomach are twisting and turning as you rush inside, uninvited and breathless, waiting for him to acknowledge you behind his incessant typing and the meaningless emails he reads everyday.

Yoongi seems as still and lifeless as ever, which somehow comes as a comfort to you.

“Days off are supposed to make you look better, not worse. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He types as fast as he comes up with witty remarks.

“That’s because I have!” You spit back, fists closed tightly around the newspaper in your hands.

He quirks up one brow, enough for you to know you’ve got his attention.

“Here,” you toss it onto his desk. “Read it.”

November 27th, 1991. Solved case: Thanksgiving kidnappings linked to man apprehended by police.

“That’s Adam Bowen. He got arrested a night after Kanan went missing,” you huff, catching your breath. “They never considered him a suspect because… the timelines didn’t add up, apparently.”

Yoongi looks up at you from the large frame of his glasses.

“And?”

“Police always suspected he worked with his brother… but they never found enough evidence to prove it. They never even found said brother, the guy disappeared out of thin air and Bowen never told them anything. Not a word.”

He leans back, stretching his arms. His gaze diverts away from you or the paper altogether and he’s staring into space, seemingly at a loss for words.

“They got one brother, huh? Looks like it was enough for them to settle it,” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Sloppy as all hell.”

In your heart, there’s some feeble hope, but most of it has been filled with despair and a fierce jealousy towards anyone who still maintained a sense of normalcy. Your last seven years have been haunted by nightmares, tainted by the faces of all the missing person reports hanging on your walls.

“We got a second half of the story to figure out.”

Yoongi nods. He closes off his laptop and puts his hands around his gun belt.

Friday night, March 21th @ Agent ___’s home.

Circe’s orange tail swirls around your leg before she’s meowing next to her empty bowl, with cute and threatening eyes glaring into your soul. You can barely catch your breath on the couch ⎯ you got shit to do.

Her paws trail happily after you once you’re pouring the pack of Whiskas onto her tiny plate, making a mental note to throw nearly all the home decor away before Easter comes. The apartment is filled with portraits, vases and candles Yuri generously left you with.

Such courtesy of your ex-fiancée to have abandoned all your memories and stories behind.

You’re running out of coffee, hope and sugar.

Yuri was not a bad man. It’s what you told yourself, once. He wanted the kids and the white picket fence life, away from violent gangs and city lights, where he’d craft the perfect nuclear family, worthy of homemade apple pies and Sunday barbecues.

But you liked the urban loneliness, your shoebox apartment and the green subway lights on your way back home. You liked the comfort of knowing every neighborhood like the palm of your hand, the ins and outs of every highway and the thought of heartless strangers passing you by, not caring for your name.

You missed him. His warm body pressed against yours and his golden, brown skin; you missed him selfishly ⎯ your comfort zone walked away and resentment grew alongside the fondness.

You hoped he was happy without you, but not too much.

When your co-workers asked you about him, a few days after he packed his bags, all you gave them was a shrug and a poor explanation, the kind that everyone does: we were incompatible, it wasn’t meant to be, I wasn’t ready. The list went on and on.

The only one to not probe was good old loyal Yoongi. He was indifferent enough to other people’s personal lives not to ask. When you told him, he patted you on the shoulder awkwardly and placed your coffee by your desk with extra whipped cream.

Saturday afternoon, March 22nd @ Rosefell Nursing Home.

Violet Bowen was not, by any means, what you’d call a reliable witness. She seemed pale beyond human comprehension and her words mostly consisted of hummings or muttering. The moment you saw her, you felt a sting of empathy too strong to ask her of her missing, possibly outlaw brother.

She had no other relatives nor close visitors, except for a caring ex-neighbor who’d bring her flowers every Friday. With nails painted a deep shade of red, she looked to be around eighty, but you couldn’t quite tell. Violet was in poor condition, plagued by dementia and the loneliness of lost loved ones.

Her caretaker is a vibrant, blonde nurse. A blonde Southern belle whose name tag read in big, uppercase letters.

CAROLYN R. NURSING ASSISTANT

It’s Yoongi who interrogates Violet, remaining unaffected by her lost gaze and brown eyes. He flashes her a picture of her brothers back in the 80’s, sporting what looks to be fluffy mullets.

She smiles then and her shaky hands point at Adam, but nothing else comes out of her aside from a gleam of life in her eyes. Even if she knew where they were, she wouldn’t tell them a word.

Carolyn’s smile grows disconcerted. Her hands lay on Violet’s forearm as she pulls a thick chunk of her blonde hair out of her face in typical Southern charm.

“I think my girl’s had enough here, yes?” She forces a grin, glancing over at Violet. “If you’ll excuse us, it’s tea time.”

Carolyn helps Violet out of her seat and into the cafeteria. You’re not sure if it’s bad timing or a deliberate attempt from the nursing assistant to end this conversation, but you’re leaning on the latter. Off they go, taking slow, mindful steps away from both of you.

You refuse to look at Violet’s way. Something about her made you want to cry your heart out; the thought of loneliness being an imminent threat to you, too.

“It’s pointless, Yoongi,” you mutter in your seat, slouching your shoulders. “She’s not going to remember anything.”

He hates to agree. Yoongi tsks, fiddling with his watch.

“Did you check her records at the reception?” He glances over at you, mind brimming with some sort of nefarious idea.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I mean- I didn’t check if she had any funds… It looks like all her properties and money were confiscated by the government, but I should run a background check on her bank accounts, to be sure.”

Monday afternoon, March 24th @ Tech Unit, Information Management Division.

Jenny’s doodles lie by her desk, making the room feel like a high school classroom. You haven’t spoken to her since December; what was once a blossoming friendship wilted away thanks to your cowardice and the desire to protect her from Deputy McKinnon’s claws. If Jenny found out, she’d jump the gun.

And she didn’t have the best aim.

Her Naruto sketches have improved greatly since you last saw them, a massive improvement for just a couple months. Both of you used to laugh at her poorly drawn stick figures, now it looks like she’s ready to take her comics career seriously. You’re happy for her ⎯ she’ll find a way out of this hellhole.

The air is thick and humid in the early Spring, but filled with an extra layer of awkwardness when she sees you from across the room. Jenny’s strides towards her desk are heavy with grief and resentment, but she holds her gaze your way.

“Have you had enough space from me after not picking up my calls?” She slides onto her chair, scribbling a few notes onto her monthly planner. “Long time no see, idiot.”

You don’t have much to say for yourself, even when your chest pangs with her affectionate, yet sarcastic use of the word idiot.

“A lot happened, is all,” you gesture sheepishly, hands reaching for the insides of your pockets.

“I can imagine.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny… I didn’t mean to-”

She looks up at you, eyes drenched with irony and something.. something which you can’t name. If it’s hatred or love, you can’t tell.

“Wat’cha want?”

You swallow dry and uneasy, unfolding the paper on your hand with Violet Bowen’s name and address. It’s crumpled and a little thorn ⎯ you were ready to throw it away seconds before coming into the Tech Unit.

“I- I need a background check on someone,” you mutter, lowly. “Bank account activity… Credit cards… Anything you can find from the last… thirty years, maybe?”

Your attempt at a chuckle fails, denouncing your regret. Jenny notices the furrow of your brows and how concerned you seem, ripping the paper away from your hands.

“Sure.”

The seconds fill with silence. You stand by her desk, waiting for a snide comment, a spiteful joke, anything. She looks at you like she knows you want to apologize again.

“Nice sketches!” You smile as a desperate invitation to make friendly conversation.

Jenny doesn’t cave in.

“You’re dismissed,” she nods at the doorway and hops onto her laptop. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

Monday night, March 24th @ Agent ____’s home.

“Hey,” you mutter over the phone. “Just checking up on you and mom.”

“Finally!” Albeit sarcastic, your younger sister’s voice is nothing but chirpy, as it has always been. “We miss you, you idiot. You know that, right?”

Over the phone, you can hear your mom’s laugh and a few unintelligible words. It seems she’s adjusting to your dad’s absence. Somehow, you had stopped calling after the funeral. It’s not that you didn’t miss them back ⎯ you were sick of being flooded with memories every time you’d hear her voice. Like your dad was still there too, right beside her.

“Sorry, sweetcheeks. I’ve just been busy.” The explanations and apologies roll off your tongue.

“You know you can’t avoid us forever, right?” Her voice is so sober, it’s as if she’s older than you by a million years.

When you gaze out the window, loneliness overcomes you. The years spent playing hide and seek in your childhood home are long gone, replaced by miles of distance between you and your family ⎯ how you became so caring and so bad at expressing it like your father. You hate how much of you is made of all the people you love. And miss.

“You there?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m sorry.”

“I swear to God, you gotta stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This.” She pauses. “Acting like we don’t exist. Seriously. We miss you.”

A pang of guilt flashes through your chest.

“I know.” Your voice is small through the phone again. In between the anxiety and the seconds, you fiddle with your bracelet. “I’m sorry.. It’s been hell.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t tell mom about your breakup, but she keeps asking me. It wouldn’t hurt if you opened up for once.” She sounds more hurt than angry, vindicating your mother after all the months you spent avoiding calls and texts under the pretense of your busy adult job.

Even in the softness of her voice, her words feel harsh. You gulp down a threatening tear, staying silent on the phone. She was still right, though.

“Listen, we love you, okay? I don’t know what kind of shit you’re going through because you won’t tell me everything.. but dude, please, seriously just come visit us sometime. I know you’ve got your job and all, but act human for once. Please?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll try. I promise.”

“Good. I gotta go now. Mom wants to go grocery shopping for some french-whatever-pie and I promised her I’d help. Give Circe my love!”

You chuckle, sadly.

“Yeah… Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll see you guys soon.”

When the call ends, silence deepens. It’s your own doing, you know, but that doesn’t make it any less suffocating. Even when you crave solitude, you’re just plagued by loneliness.

Wednesday morning, March 26th @ Java café.

Today, Yoongi thinks you look a little better. And by better, it means rested. Of course, your gaze is still very much zombie-like, with glimpses of terror in your eyes when you look away.

But in this line of work, it ain’t all rainbows and sunshine.

It’s never rainbows and sunshine, he realizes.

“So,” you sigh.

“So.” Yoongi punctuates, giving you room to breathe.

Your eyes are distant, watching children play in the puddles from last night’s rainstorm. The weather has been cruel to this city, punishing sinners and saints alike with a dreadful fog in the mornings and plenty of humidity to drive your hair follicles to the brink of insanity.

“Bowen’s alive, Yoongi. There’s a big chance he just… got away with it.”

Your words aren’t met with so much enthusiasm. You suppose it’s the skepticism in this field ⎯ even the good news don’t feel like good news. Before his questioning and theorizing begins, Yoongi brings up a valid concern.

“Why didn’t his brother spill his whereabouts, though? It’s not like Adam had any reasons to protect his brother any longer.”

“Unless he did.” You counter-argue.

“Why, though? It doesn’t make sense. In ninety percent of the cases, you know what happens. So-called partners in crime turn against each other. It’s good ol’ politics.” Yoongi leans back in his chair, nodding at the waitress for more coffee.

“Maybe he had something to lose,” you purse your lips. The biting of your inner cheeks is such an instinctive habit of yours that it barely stings until you realize how much tension you’re holding in. “Or someone, you know?”

“Several someones.” Yoongi blinks. “Do you remember the Mormon Heritage cult?” His eyes narrow as he scrapes the top of his head.

Your back and forth is interrupted by the local waitress pouring hot black coffee onto Yoongi’s cup. He seems like he’s on a roll today ⎯ it’s his third cup. That you know of.

“Uhhh, kind of. They were a thing in the nineties, weren’t they?”

“Yeah.. well… the Satanic panic might’ve contributed to that,” Yoongi nods, slipping his mobile out of his pocket. His fingers are hasty, typing up a Google search so he can word vomit every single fact possible. “But we know that the Jesus believers can somehow always be worse.”

He sounds so snarky, it earns a laugh out of you.

“The Bowens were around that time,” he says. “I mean ⎯ the connection seems unlikely, but with these people, you never know.”

You sigh.

“McKinnon didn’t give us this case for nothing, huh?” Even with half a smile on your face, you can’t help but feel defeated.

“Cheer up, buttercup. I think we got a lead.” He smiles with his teeth for once in a lifetime, raising his eyes from his phone to meet yours. You know he is up to no good ⎯ and that can only be a good thing.

“Buttercup?”

#yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x yn #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts x yn #png: c001

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bikananjarrus · 4 months ago

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kanera week 2024 - day 2

prompt: reunion

rating: gen | word count: 3.5k | ao3 link

[note: sorry for the delay on this one! this was supposed to be much shorter than it is, but, well. you know how it is. this is a kanan lives au feat. post-battle reunion on endor (and more kanan + ghost crew feelings about the end of the war than expected, hence why this is about 2k longer than planned!). ezra is still missing and jacen has not been born yet in this au]

They stood together at the top of the Ghost’s lowered ramp, foreheads pressed together, Kanan’s hands resting on her waist, Hera’s curled into the lapels of his jacket. Kanan refused to think this was the last time he would hold her like this.

Base was alive and bustling around them. Officers ran back and forth across the landing bay, handing off reports, updating orders, some of them practically doing hurtles over droids that trundled through with supplies. Ground teams prepped for landing on Endor’s forest moon. Pilots rushed to their ships, readying to launch to their first jump point and wait for the go-ahead from General Solo’s ground team before following General Calrissian’s assault on the second Death Star. Hera was one of those pilots.

They had minutes left before Kanan needed to join Zeb and Kallus with their ground team, and Hera needed to ready the Ghost for take-off.

He knew that anyone could see up the Ghost’s ramp, see the two of them embraced as they were. It wasn’t exactly like his and Hera’s relationship was a secret. But he knew how much Hera valued keeping things professional in public. As a general, she had an image to maintain. He respected that. And at times, it made it all the more fun when they got a chance to sneak off for a few precious moments of alone time.

But right now, he didn’t care if anyone saw them. Hera must not have minded either, because she didn’t seem too keen on letting him go.

Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the front of his jacket. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” While he couldn’t see her face, he thought her chin might be trembling, because her next words came out in a wobbly whisper. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

Kanan pressed a kiss right between her creased brows. “I promise, love.” Another kiss to the tip of her nose. “I’ll have Zeb and Rex watching my back. Kallus, too, I suppose.” That made her chuckle and he smiled in turn. “I’m more worried about you.”

A firefight on the ground was one thing. Dangerous, of course. At times unpredictable, hard to navigate a battlefield, especially in unfamiliar territory. But, even with the odds stacked against them, a ground fight allowed more opportunities to turn those odds in their favor.

A dogfight in the blackness of space was another thing entirely. The whole battle map was laid out before you, with nothing to stand between you and the laser-fire of enemy ships except skill and the cold vacuum of the cosmos.

Hera was the greatest pilot he’d ever seen. But all it took was one wrong move and she would be nothing but stardust.

“You’ve got Zeb and Rex. I’ve got Sabine and Chopper.”

“We should’ve just offered to smuggle Chopper onboard the Death Star. He’d have that thing imploding in no time.”

Hera laughed softly again, sweeping one hand up to cup his jaw. Her thumb brushed over the apple of his cheek, then a little higher to the edge of the scar that ran beneath his eyes. She kissed him with sound reassurance. “I’ll be careful,” she vowed against his lips. “Promise.”

She kissed him once more, and then started to pull back. Kanan didn’t want her to—but if they didn’t separate now, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to walk away from her.

Kanan’s hands were still loosely gripping Hera’s when he heard the familiar rumble of Chopper’s wheels against the ramp, just a moment before Sabine announced her presence with a boisterous, “Who’s ready to blow up another Death Star?”

He chuckled, at last letting go of Hera to stretch his arms out for Sabine instead. She stepped fully into his hug. He ruffled the back of her freshly cut mullet (he’d sat in the ‘fresher with her while she’d cut her hair the other night, describing the process and the bright orange to buttery yellow gradient she’d dyed it with) and she swatted at his hand playfully, twirling out of his grip.

“You know, for some of us, this is a first time experience,” he pointed out, barely containing a grin. “Some of us were in a coma when the first Death Star blew up.”

He could practically feel Sabine and Hera rolling their eyes simultaneously.

Sabine gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah, we know. Please—tell us again how you very heroically almost got blown up.”

Kanan laughed, then reached through the air until he found Hera’s hand again. He joked about his near-death—very, very near-death—experience on Lothal years ago now; they were in a place now that they could all make fun about it. But he gave her fingers a light squeeze, silently conveying that, despite his joking, he knew how serious it had been. How close she’d come to losing him. She wouldn’t lose him this time, either.

She squeezed his hand back, thumb pressing into the back of his fingerless gloves and the burn scars underneath. “It’s time to go.”

His chest tightened at the words. “Yeah.”

Still, he didn’t let go. He could feel her gaze on him, drinking him in.

For the millionth time since Malachor, Kanan wished he could see her—really see her. He wanted to rememorize the exact shade of green of her skin, her eyes. He wanted to see the half-smile she got when she was planning something brilliant or devious or both. He wanted to see the way her cheeks flushed when he kissed her, wanted to see the exact way her mouth curved around the syllables of his name.

Since that wasn’t possible, he instead sank into the Force. It danced around her in a steady, but brilliant flow, and he grounded himself in that feeling, breathing easier with each of her exhales.

Kanan kissed her one more time. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she whispered back.

They stood close for a few precious seconds more. Then in one swift movement, he pulled away, striding down the ramp to put distance between them.

“Be careful,” she called after him.

With a two-finger salute and a cheeky grin, he replied, “Aye aye, General. See you on the other side.”

The next thirty-six hours passed in waves—time speeding by in the blink of an eye one hour and dragging onto eternity the next. The chaos and necessity of battle made it relatively easy to focus on the mission at hand. But that didn’t stop Kanan from casting his mind out into the Force whenever he got the chance, searching for Hera.

Over and over, he sensed that she was okay. He was sure, down to his bones, that he would know if something was wrong. Her presence in the Force was as familiar as his own; he would feel it if something happened.

But that didn’t stop worry from gripping him like a cold hand latched around his spine.

Especially when the battle ended. And it did end.

Blaster fire stopped whizzing past his ears and cheers—from rebel and Ewok alike—erupted around the battlefield. He could feel others jostling around him, sense their upward gazes, hear the affirmation from all around him, “Look! The Death Star! They did it!”

Kanan couldn’t see it, of course—but he’d already known. He’d felt it when it happened, the Death Star’s destruction. Countless lives snuffed out at once; Like the exhale of a giant beast. The sensation of a distant space explosion beneath his feet; but maybe that was actually the tremor of Endor’s moon, shaking with the force of the blast.

More than that—through the Force—light.

Kanan had never felt the Force like this. He didn’t realize how…muffled it had been up until now. Akin to suddenly having a great, downy blanket torn off in one’s sleep. The contrast was sharp, bright. But refreshing.

The Force was what it was. It wasn’t light or dark on its own; it just was. And while no one being could truly have so much power as to control the entirety of it, Emperor Palpatine must have been powerful indeed to cast so much darkness over the Force for all these years.

Kanan staggered under the lightness he felt. He sucked in a deep breath, lungs expanding all the way. The sensation stretched his face in a wide smile, tears of pure, unadulterated joy pricking at his eyes.

“We’re free,” he whispered.

He swore he felt the brush of a ghostly hand on his shoulder.

Master, he thought, closing his eyes. We’re free. For a moment, the smell of smoke dissipated from the air, replaced only with the greenery around him and the spiced floral scent that had floated around Master Billaba in days long passed.

Her presence drifted away on the breeze and Kanan’s heart lifted with it.

With one thing left to do, Kanan reached for his comm on his belt, toggling it to their crew’s private channel. “Spectre One to Ghost. Come in, Spectre Two.”

Silence followed for a few impossibly long seconds. His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow down the fear.

Maybe the Death Star’s explosion had overridden any other feeling in the Force. Maybe she had been caught in the blast and he didn’t even know—

A crackle of static. Followed by her smiling voice, “Ghost to Spectre One. We read you loud and clear.”

He sighed in happy relief. “Copy that, Ghost. You all good up there?”

This time it was Sabine’s voice over the comms, sounding more victorious than she had in a long time. At least since before the Empire destroyed Mandalor, Sabine having just barely gotten her family out in time. “Better than good. You?”

Kanan twisted in place, reaching out with the Force. He had gotten separated from Zeb, Kallus, and Rex in the fight. “I’m fine. The others—”

“We’re all safe,” Zeb’s voice sounded over the channel. “I’ve got Kal and Rex here with me.”

“Glad to hear it. We’ll be joining you planetside shortly,” Hera said. And then, even though they were still on comms with everyone else, she added just for him, “See you soon, love.”

While he waited for the Rebel fleet to start landing on the moon, Kanan busied himself helping with triage. Andor and Erso had been put in charge of setting up a temporary med station while they waited for their primary medical frigate to arrive in friendly space. He helped with getting the wounded to the tented off area.

After helping the team who was clearing major debris out of the way, Zeb found him, Kallus and Rex trailing behind. Kallus gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, but he was hauled into a hearty hug by Rex a second later.

“We did it, Commander,” Rex said, his gruff voice even rougher than usual, tinged with emotion as it was.

“We did it,” Kanan echoed.

Rifling in his pack as he pulled back, Rex grabbed Kanan’s hand and pressed something into it. “Here. Just in case you’re getting tired. I see yours fell off your belt.”

Kanan recognized the weight and feel of his extra probing cane immediately.

(Sabine had painted it, of course, telling him, “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t look nice.” Still, she’d taken care to layer the paint over and over in a design comprised of swirls and whorls, the paint just raised enough that he could make it out with the touch of his fingertips).

“Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile. He was a bit worn out, having relied on the Force to see the entirety of the battle. And the cane he kept attached to his belt had gotten knocked off at some point during the day, lost amongst the foliage of Endor.

For the moment, though, he hooked this one onto his belt too. He had one more person to greet.

Kanan turned to where he could sense Zeb, and no sooner was he facing Zeb’s direction before the lasat was barreling into him, enveloping him in a huge hug.

Zeb was one of the few people in the galaxy who understood what Kanan was feeling in a way that many others didn’t—the Empire that had almost entirely destroyed both their peoples’ in its rise to power. Though the fight against the Empire had been happening for over two decades, to have it finally snuffed out with one last battle…it was hard to put the impossibility of that into words. So Kanan knew he wasn’t imagining the way Zeb was quietly shaking, or the soft sniffles that punctuated the air near his ear.

“Me too, big guy, me too,” Kanan said, voice muffled by Zeb’s shoulder. There would be more time later for them to sit down and properly honor both the Jedi and Lasan. For now, he just squeezed one of his oldest friends back tightly.

It was Zeb who pulled back with a quiet, “Kanan.” Then Zeb was putting his hands on his shoulders, turning Kanan away from him—towards something else. “The Ghost is coming down.”

With Zeb’s hand on his back guiding him, they headed for the wider part of the clearing that Zeb had helped clear out for the ships coming planetside. As they got closer, close enough that he could pick the familiar rumble of the Ghost’s engines out from the rest, Kanan picked up his pace, leaving Zeb and the others behind.

New voices and shouts of excitement and victory rose up as others finished their landing cycles, and pilots descended from their ships, running to reunite with their own friends.

Kanan stopped where he was sure he wouldn’t be in danger of getting squashed by the landing ship, and waited, heart thrumming in his chest.

He heard the Ghost land, felt the shudder under his feet as the freighter touched down, followed by the low whine of the engine’s powering down. The scent of fresh carbon scoring was faint in the air. There was a gentle whir as the ramp lowered.

From the second he sensed Hera at the top of the ramp—right where they’d stood together early yesterday—Kanan was moving. Her feet touched solid ground and he was instantly there to scoop her into his arms.

She clung to him, burying her face into the crook between his shoulder and neck. Overjoyed, her laugh echoed around him as he spun her.

They were here—they were alive.

Somewhere behind him he heard Chopper warbling and Sabine letting out a surprised yelp as Zeb pulled her into her own bone-crushing embrace.

But everyone else felt far away compared to the woman in his arms, radiating joy and laughter and utter relief.

Kanan set her down but kept her close. Close enough to kiss her soundly, cupping her face between his hands. Her cheeks were wet with tears, lips salty with them.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, touching his forehead to hers the way he had yesterday. “I’m here. We’re here, we’re safe. It’s over, Hera. It’s over.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “We did it, love.”

“We did it,” she sniffled. She laughed again, the sound watery with her tears. One of her gloved hands was tangled in his half-down hair, the other caressing his jaw.

She kissed him again, before wrapping him up in another hug. Kanan closed his eyes and just held her, his heart content.

Celebrations took place later that night, and Kanan barely left Hera’s side. He spent most of the night with his cane in one hand, and holding Hera’s hand with the other. He gave and received more hugs than he ever had in his life; they cheered and danced and sang; he smiled and laughed until his cheeks hurt and his ribs were sore. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this much joy at once.

At one point, a bunch of them gathered around a radio one of the pilots had carried into the Ewok village. They listened as the news carried across every available channel in the galaxy: the Emperor was dead and the Empire along with him. The galaxy was free.

After hours of music and fireworks and celebration, Hera tugged him away from it all, off to a distant, quiet platform of the village. Some of the rebels were slumbering in the village that night. They had already decided they would make their way back to the Ghost eventually to sleep in their own bed.

Hera sat down against the tree trunk that jutted through the center of the circular platform. She took his cane, and he heard her folding it up as he settled down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him immediately, taking his free hand between her own.

Kanan took a deep breath. As much as he relished the celebrations, the quiet was a relief. He let himself drift for a moment—listening to the rustle of leaves all round them, soaking in the cool night breeze, the scent of distant fires tickling his nose.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Hera murmured.

Kanan hummed in agreement, rubbing his thumb back and forth against her index finger.

Mirthfully, she scoffed. “I have no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow.”

They both knew there would be plenty to do—too much, even. The Empire was finished, but the work wasn’t. But he knew what she meant; it was the principle of the thing. After spending the last twenty-three years under the thumb of Imperial rule, the future was frighteningly full of possibilities.

“Sleep in for once?” he suggested. He was an early riser naturally; he liked doing his meditation in the morning. Hera’s early schedule was all thanks to her alarms and the strict schedule of a rebellion leader.

“Mm, sleeping in would be nice. Maybe breakfast in bed afterwards. When’s the last time we did that?”

“Too long ago to remember.” He nudged his foot against her own playfully. “I could be persuaded to do breakfast in bed. Depending, of course—” he stroked his fingers down the one lek curled pliantly over her shoulder, delighting as she shivered against him, “—on what’s on the menu.”

“Oh, I don’t know, dear, you tell me.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she twisted to nip at his earlobe lightly.

He chuckled, turning his head to capture her lips with his own. They kissed until the tips of his ears warmed and they were both a little breathless.

With a last peck to her temple, he leaned his head back against the tree trunk, willing his heated blood to cool and Hera tucked deeper into his side.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Another bout of fireworks started lighting up the sky again, and Kanan had to imagine the bright colors as their booms filled the night.

The thought popped into his head unbidden, I wonder how they’re celebrating on Lothal right now. It was like being doused with cold water.

It’s not like this was the first time he’d thought of Ezra, even today. His thoughts drifted constantly to his padawan—really, former padawan; Ezra had more than done enough to prove himself worthy of the title of Jedi Knight.

But the ache of missing Ezra and the sudden longing to be on Lothal—the closest planet they could call home—dug sharply into his chest.

“Kanan?” Hera asked. He didn’t realize how tense he’d suddenly gotten until she was smoothing a hand over his chest. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m okay. It’s—tonight’s been perfect.” He exhaled through his nose. “Except…”

“Ezra,” she finished for him quietly. Quickly; like she’d been thinking about the missing member of their family, too.

“Yeah. I just…I wonder if he could sense it, where he is, the Emperor dying or the Death Star. Or if he’s just too far away from us that he doesn’t know.”

Hera squeezed his hand and pressed a soothing kiss to his cheek. “He knows we’re out here. That’s all that matters.” He nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to speak. She pressed on, “We’ll find him, we will. I really believe that.”

“I know we will,” he responded, the words heavy on his tongue.

All their leads on Ezra’s whereabouts had turned into dead-ends over the last several years of the war. But he believed Hera, he believed in her hope. And he believed in the Force, trusting that he would’ve known if something truly terrible had happened to Ezra, no matter how far away he was.

Then Hera said, “We can pick up where we left off with the search right away tomorrow.”

And at the promise of having a tomorrow, Kanan could only pull her impossibly closer.

Safe among their friends and the trees of Endor’s moon, they welcomed the first dawn of a free galaxy, together.

[end]

#thinking about kanan at the battle of endor and thinking about them all finally seeing the end of the empire got me emotional #kaneraweek2024 #kanera #swr #star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #my writing #now the question is: will i get anything written later tonight for day 3. time will tell!

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digitalwizard01 · 12 days ago

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I'm so conflicted about Dave Filoni rn cause on one hand I do really appreciate and enjoy a lot of what he's done in Star Wars like Clone Wars and Rebels but at the same time I'm getting a little tired of his method of "pulling toys out of the toy box" and putting characters in stories where they don't really belong and his tendency to overwrite other canon stories from the books and comics. Like why did he change Kanans Order 66 backstory in Bad Batch when he already has an established story in the comics? How is Ventress alive in Bad Batch when she died in Dark Disciple? Why are we detouring to a jedi temple to have a full episode revolving around Luke and Ahsoka in a show about Boba Fett becoming a crime lord? Like I get you wanna play with your favorite characters, but at least try to make it make sense in the story and stay consistent with what has already been told

#Star Wars #dave filoni #Clone Wars #ahsoka tano #the bad batch #kanan jarrus #book of boba fett #luke skywalker #assaj ventress

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heyclickadee · 9 months ago

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Okay, to try to explain why the Bad Batch finale is driving me crazy

Imagine if Rebels ended at season three. (Thought experiment time!)

Not that it got cancelled; no one is saying it was cancelled, everyone is saying that this is where they wanted to end that chapter. And the entire season plays out exactly the same as it did in the real world*. Zero Hour, exactly as is, ends up being the series finale.

And the initial reaction is, “Great! They’re alive! They made it out, no one else besides Ahsoka died, we’re so relieved,” except—

What about Lothal? We built up to trying to save Lothal even in the third season—are we really just forgetting about it? What about Ezra becoming a Jedi? The whole sequence with the Bendu was really cool, but what about that foreshadowing line he gave to Thrawn in the end? Where is that supposed to go? Why did we waste a whole episode on space whales? Why didn’t Ezra’s talent for connecting with animals ever go anywhere? What about the side episodes about the Rebel Alliance? The episodes in the season were very good on their own-in fact, a few might be close to the best episodes in the show—but because there’s no payoff and nothing goes anywhere, it all sort of falls apart. Kallus’s redemption arc was fine, but what’s he going to do now, or is he just going to feel bad about what he did? I’m glad they’re all alive and all, but that’s it? Theres no real victory except survival? Why did we spend multiple episodes in the temple on Lothal if that wasn’t going to go anywhere besides getting Ahsoka killed?

Speaking of, Ahsoka really died, and we never dealt with it? Thirty seconds of Ezra crying, everyone looking sad, a sorrowful look from Rex, then we never discuss it, and the only time she comes up is when we’re discussing her job as Fulcrum? It was ambiguous enough to begin with, then we never really got confirmation or any processing on screen at all. We had a whole episode for Ezra to process learning that his parents died, and we never even really met those characters! But nothing for Ahsoka? She’s a fan favorite, and she means so much to a lot of people in the audience. She seemed like she was Dave’s favorite, even! It’s not like her death affected anyone either—all the character motivation was driven either by Kanan’s blindness, the fallout with Maul, or Ezra being tempted by the holocron. It was noble and tragic, sure, but narratively, they just killed her for shock value. If she’s even supposed to be dead! We don’t know for sure!

So you’re thinking through all of that, trying to figure out what the hell happened here and how a show that was otherwise very good only resolved two or three subplots, none of which was the main one, never really dealt with a main character’s death, and never fully 100% resolved anyone’s character arc, all while the showrunners refuse to say that this is the last time we’ll see these characters and insist on using the word “chapter” to refer to the end. So you’ve got a sneaking suspicion that the story isn’t actually over, that there’s something weird going on, but you don’t know for sure, and you can’t just let things lie because it’s not that it’s just a bad ending, it’s that it’s bad in a particularly insane way that would come back around to being incredible if there ended up being any follow through for a series that was somehow 99% set up and no payoff.

Anyway, this is where I’m at with The Bad Batch right now.

* For the purposes of this thought experiment, we can add a except that there’s a little epilogue at the end—not the epilogue we actually got at the end of season four of Rebels, but an epilogue where a fifteen-year-older Ezra has a conversation with Hera (no one else, and no Jacen around, no sign that Jacen even exists) about needing to go do something, and then hopping into a ship that looks a bit like the Phantom and has little mementos from various members of the ghost crew family around. Ezra mentions Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper, so we at least know they’re alive, but he doesn’t mention anyone else, and neither does Hera. Something with Ahsoka’s fulcrum symbol is sitting on Ezra’s dashboard. We learn nothing about what anyone does in the meantime. It’s completely open.

#the bad batch #in which I attempt to explain my point #without feeling insane #this is a good show!#95% of the show is great season three included #it’s just that only two subplots go anywhere #and nothing else pays off #but in such a weird way that you can draw an outline #around the void of non-resolution at the end of the show #it’s SO carved out #I’m just #*biting biting biting biting*#should note that in this thought experiment season four of rebels still ended up happening somewhere

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dragonrebelrose · 2 years ago

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"Why do you want Ezra and Sabine to be romantically involved?"

Because I want one, just ONE Star Wars romance to NOT end in tragedy.

Anakin and Padme: Padme dies, Anakin turns to the Dark Side

Obi-Wan and Satine: Satine dies, Obi-Wan gets depressed

Ahsoka and Lux: Lux loses interest and moves on to a different girl

Lux and Steela: Steela dies, Lux gets depressed

Ventress and Quinlan Vos: Ventress dies saving Vos, Vos gets depressed

Kanan and Hera: Kanan dies saving Hera, Hera gets depressed

Han and Leia: They break up, Han dies, Leia dies

Ben and Rey: Rey dies, Ben sacrifices himself to bring her back, Ben dies

And probably many more I'm missing, but these are the biggest ones.

Sure, there are SOME romances that end with both being alive and happy (Iden Versio and Del Meeko, Cal Kestis and Merrin) but the vast, vast, VAST majority are tragic, and I'm sick of it. And yes, some little happiness may have come out of a few of these romances, at the very end (Anakin being redeemed, Hera gives birth to Jacen, Ben is redeemed), but that's not what I'm looking for. Ezra and Sabine have the best chance at having a happy ending with neither dying and I'm going to die on that hill.

#star wars rebels #the ahsoka show #ahsoka show #ezrabine #sabezra #ezra and sabine #ezra bridger and sabine wren #ezra #sabine #ezra bridger #sabine wren

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illuminatedquill · 2 months ago

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Ghost Stories 07

Starring Sabine Wren + Ezra Bridger (Feat. Hera Syndulla)

Story Summary: While helping Hera clean out the Ghost in preparation for Jacen's return from the Academy, Sabine finds a memento leftover from a mission during their days in the Rebellion - a mission that Ezra professes to have little recollection of. Sabine takes it upon herself to remind him what exactly happened . . . Years ago, a mission to rescue Imperial prisoners from being sold to Zygerrian slavers turns deadly for Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger. In order to escape, Ezra will have to trust Sabine with his life in a way he’s never done so before . . .

"Ezra," said Hera in the tone of someone whose patience was wearing dangerously thin, "I need you to scrub the outside vents again."

The young man glanced at his partner, Sabine, with a bemused look. She gave a discreet smile in reply; this was a strong sense of nostalgia about this whole scene that brought up old memories for both of them. They were older now and the early years of the Rebellion had long since passed, but some things never changed it seemed. Hera still had the ability to boss both of them around with ease.

Besides, it was for a good cause: Jacen, Hera and Kanan's son, was returning from the Academy on vacation. She planned to take him on a sightseeing tour all over the galaxy, accompanied by his favorite extended family: Aunt Sabine and Uncle Ezra.

Ezra slung the used rag he had been using to wipe down some of the viewports over his shoulder and gave Hera a nod. "Sure thing," he replied casually. "The laser scrubber still out there?"

"Should be," answered the Twi'lek. She gave him a slightly guilty look, accompanied with an apologetic smile. "We're almost done. Promise."

Sabine rolled her eyes. "I've heard that before. Come on, Ezra. I'll give you a hand."

He frowned at her. "It's not really a two-person job - "

She clamped a hand over his mouth before Hera noticed. "He didn't mean that," she assured the Twi'lek. "It's always been a two-person job."

Hera snorted. "No, it hasn't. I've always just let it slide since Kanan and I used to pull that same excuse to get some alone time from you guys."

The Mandalorian blinked at her. "No wonder you two took so long," Sabine remarked.

"Had to be thorough," Hera said smugly.

"Gross," said Ezra cheerfully. "Let's get out there Sabine and start, uh, scrubbing."

She hooked her arm through his. "Lead the way."

_ _ _ _ _

"So, what's the real reason why you wanted to be alone with me?" Ezra asked. They had just been outside on the Ghost's hull for around ten minutes, blasting the laser scrubber at the freighter's durasteel frame. It was still spotless from the last time it had been scrubbed but, given Hera's anxious mood, it was best not to mention that.

Sabine sat down next to him, watching him work. "What? You want to make out?"

He paused his scrubbing and pushed up the safety goggles onto his forehead. His piercing blue eyes flashed invitingly at her. "Always," he replied.

She smirked and tossed something at him.

Ezra yelped, juggling the laser scrubber in one hand and the thrown item in another for a few seconds. Finally, he clumsily transferred the laser scrubber to the other hand and gained a grip on the item Sabine had thrown at him.

Sabine laughed.

He glared at her. "I could have scorched the Ghost. You know Hera will flay us both alive if that happened."

The Jedi looked down at the object in his hand with curiosity. "What is this, anyway?"

"What's it look like, Ezra?"

It was a round, thin piece of electrum metal with an ugly black box attached on one side. Ezra peered at it for a moment, thinking, before saying slowly, "It looks like . . . a collar?"

"Yup," said Sabine. "Your powers of deduction continue to impress, Master Jedi."

Ezra snorted. "A collar, huh. Do you want me to wear it? Because if that's the case, we really need to go somewhere private if you're thinking what I think you're thinking."

Sabine blinked coyly at her partner. "Say 'woof'."

The Jedi sighed. "Sabine . . . "

She tilted her back and laughed. As always, Ezra felt a thrill of satisfaction seeing her do so. It never failed to make him feel good knowing that he could do that.

"You really don't recognize it, huh," Sabine said a few moments later, settling down after her spat of giggles.

"Should I?" asked Ezra.

She nodded. "Found it while cleaning out my old room. It's a . . . shall we say, a souvenir from a mission we did way back during the Rebellion."

Ezra frowned. "Which one?"

"The one with Zygerrian slavers? Ring a bell?"

He racked his head, using an old Jedi technique to focus his memory . . . and, to his surprise, found nothing. "Not really," he confessed.

Sabine blew out a breath. "Makes sense."

Now, he was really curious. He stepped over and sat down next to her. "Really? How so?"

She pointed at the ugly metal ring in his hands. "That's a Zygerrian slave collar. Nasty stuff. We were freeing Imperial prisoners that had been sold to them. They had these clasped to their necks."

"That was our mission? How come I don't remember it?"

Sabine took the collar gently from his hands and studied it for a long moment.

Finally, she spoke without looking at him.

"Because," she said solemnly, "you died, Ezra."

~ the escape, 2 BBY ~

The plan had been simple. Infiltrate the Imperial base, locate the prisoners, disrupt the deal between Zygerrian slavers and corrupt Imperial officials, and then blast their way out to the waiting Ghost nearby hidden in the forest surrounding the base.

Truth be told, it had all gone fairly smoothly. Ezra had gone undercover, posing as a new prisoner and directed the Specters to the prisoners' movements via code signals until it was time to free them. Sabine had been tracking his signals, directing the others into their places around the Imperial base -

And then it went wrong, right at the end. One of the prisoners. an elderly male Quarren, had fallen behind during the battle. Ezra, being the gallant idiot he was, had stayed with the Quarren to cover him as Zygerrian mercenaries and stormtroopers alike blasted at them.

The young Jedi's emerald blade flashed bright through the fog of blasterfire and smoke, battering aside any shots that came close. And they were indeed coming closer and closer.

"Dank ferrik," snarled Sabine, ducking behind a large crate. Scarlet blaster bolts flew through the space her head had been, scorching the wall behind her.

"Ezra! Move your butt and get him over here now!" she yelled through the maelstrom of blasterfire. Zeb was holding the exit, blasting away with his weapon, but time was running short.

"Any day you two!" the big Lasat roared. "I can't keep this open forever!"

"I'm a little busy over here!" Ezra shouted back. "Hang on - "

He glanced at the elderly Quarren. "Sorry for this," he said apologetically. Closing his eyes, the Jedi reached out with an open hand. The alien looked at him, puzzled, for a second -

And then an invisible hand seemed to grip him. Eyes bulging in part-fear, part-shock, the Quarren rose off the ground a few inches, then a foot -

"Happy trails," muttered Sabine, knowing what was coming next.

"What are you - aaaaahhhhhhh!" screamed the Quarren as the invisible hand threw him over to Zeb. The big Lasat almost fell over with the force of the throw.

Ezra's eyes snapped open, and he whirled on the spot, his lightsaber coming up to parry a flurry of blaster bolts aiming for his chest -

Sabine saw a mercenary land next to Ezra. Something shiny glinted in his hand.

Her heart lurched in fear as she recognized what the mercenary was holding. A Zygerrian slave collar. They had already deactivated the other ones, thanks to the codes they had found in the Imperial database, but this was new. It wouldn't be using the same code.

She vaulted over the crate, taking a few shots but her armor held firm. Hitting the ground at a dead sprint, she screamed Ezra's name in warning. Her blasters spat fire at the mercenary, but the shots were absorbed into a force shield that emanated from his vambrace, similar to the ones Mandalorians used.

But he was too distracted at the volley of shots heading his way. He turned, hearing his name as she approached, his lightsaber snapping up to guard -

It was too late. The mercenary hissed as the plasma blade hit him, but not before the collar was already around Ezra's neck.

It snapped close. A deadly hum of energy pulsed out from it, followed by a small beeping noise. Ezra spasmed in place as the collar shocked him into submission.

"The Jedi's down!" yelled a stormtrooper. "Focus fire - "

He didn't get to finish the command. Sabine lobbed a thermal detonator in his direction. She slid next to her fallen friend and slung an arm around her shoulder to support him.

"Zeb!" she screamed. "We need cover!"

The big Lasat let loose a battle cry and dove into the fray, his rifle blasting away. The explosion came soon after, buffeting everything around it in scorched debris.

"Hang on, Ezra," she panted, half-dragging him towards the exit. "Hang on!"

_ _ _ _ _

"Sabine," said Kanan. "We need options."

They were in the cargo hold of the Ghost, now jetting through hyperspace to escape any pursuers. The prisoners had been taken to the communal area to rest after their harrowing escape. Sabine, Kanan, Zeb, Chopper and a weary Ezra were the only ones in there, since Hera needed to fly the ship.

Ezra winced and fingered nervously at the collar grimly clutched around his neck. He looked to Sabine, smiling weakly. Putting on a brave face, she noted.

She was glad that her helmet remained on. It wouldn't do him any good to see how nervous she was.

"How do I look?" he asked. "Don't suppose this is a good color on me, is it."

"We'll have to get you one that brings out the color in your eyes," she replied absent-mindedly. Her mind was racing, coming up with thoughts, ideas, any scrap of solution that she could come up with on such short notice.

"Sabine," urged Kanan.

She clenched her teeth. "It's not that easy. Without the deactivation code, it's next to impossible. Zygerrians triple deadlock their collars as a failsafe; at any sign of tampering, they immediately send out a lethal pulse of energy to the wearer's brain. They can't be sliced either; the mechanism and programming are too complex."

"Even for you?" asked Zeb.

It hurt to say it. But there was no time for false bravado. Not with Ezra's life on the line. "Even for me."

"How much time does he have?" asked Kanan.

The slave collar, as if on cue, beeped. Sabine peered closely at the black box attached to the outside; a red light was flashing on and off, intermittently.

"Not much. If we can get him to a rebel base within the hour, he might have a chance," said Sabine.

Ezra's eyes snapped to her, questioning. She shook her head slightly at him. He had picked up on the lie.

"I'll speak to Hera, see if we can speed things up a bit. Zeb, I need you to check on our guests. I'm sure they'll be rattled and need someone to looking after them."

The Lasat opened his mouth to protest but Kanan cut him off. "Don't argue with me, Zeb. Ezra's safe with Sabine. He'll be okay with her."

He looked to Sabine for confirmation. She waved him off. "Get a move on, big guy," she said casually. "I got it here. The goober's gonna be fine."

"Fine," he said grumpily. He patted Ezra on the back and then made his way to the freed prisoners. Kanan nodded at Sabine and then at Ezra before following Zeb.

Which left just her, Ezra, and Chopper alone in the cargo hold. The astromech made a mournful noise.

After a tense moment, Ezra said simply, "You lied."

Sabine just looked at him and didn't say anything.

He smiled lopsidedly at her. "I don't have an hour, do I."

Finally, she found her voice. "No. You don't. The collar's on a count-down. It must have been damaged during the fire fight. The next pulse of energy will kill you."

"How long?"

"Less than ten minutes, at most."

He just nodded at her. "Well . . . that's that, then."

Sabine grabbed him by the shoulders. "It's not over. I've still got time to think this through."

"It's okay, Sabine," said Ezra earnestly. "I'm okay. Really."

"Nothing about this is okay, Ezra!" Sabine hissed. "I can fix this. I swear to you."

He went silent, his eyes studying her closely. "Okay. I believe you."

"Good," she retorted.

"Can you just do me a favor, really quick?"

"Other than think of a way to save your life?"

He grinned at her. Not long, but real. "You can multi-task."

Despite the dire situation, she snorted. "Sure. What is it?"

"Take off your helmet. I just want to see you."

She hesitated. The collar beeped - another minute had passed. "Ezra - "

"I know. But it would make me feel better if I could just see your face."

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you. For one last time.

She acquiesced, taking off her helmet. The light in the cargo bay seemed so bright; the air so tense and still in that very moment.

"Thank you," said Ezra.

Another beep. He just looked at her - like he would never see her again.

"There are messages," Ezra said suddenly. "Holo-discs underneath my bed. For everyone."

"Shut up," whispered Sabine. "Those will never be played. No one is ever going to hear those. At least not today."

"Sabine - "

She glared at him. "Shut. Up. I'm thinking."

He went silent.

Beep.

Energy, she thought furiously. Something to do with the energy. I can't slice it. The programming forbids it to be released without the proper codes. How do I get the kriffing thing off him without -

Her eyes widened. Fail safe.

The energy. If she could redirect it . . .

But that would mean only one thing. Only one way to remove the collar from Ezra.

"You've got something," Ezra observed. "Tell me."

She bit her lip. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Always," he responded.

"Fail-safe. Zygerrians don't like to waste anything. If a slave dies while wearing the collar, it automatically unlocks. They're reusable. Prevents them from having to build another one."

"Okay," Ezra said slowly. "How does that help me?"

She turned to look him directly in the eye. "I can't stop the collar from releasing the pulse. But I can maybe re-direct it. Away from your brain and towards your heart."

He held her gaze. She saw the gears in his head turning at this information, following the strands of cold logic to their terrible conclusion. "You're going to stop my heart. Kill me, and then the collar opens up."

"Not permanently," she added hastily. "Long enough to trick the collar into thinking you're dead. Once the collar comes undone, I'll have Chopper give you a zap to kickstart your heart again."

Ezra turned to the astromech. "What do you think, Chopper?"

Chopper's dome swiveled between them both, running calculations. Finally, he tweeted out a confirmation that Sabine's plan was solid.

Beep.

"Do it," said Ezra.

She blinked at him. "Just like that?"

He shrugged, smiling a little. "Got any better ideas?"

"Not with the amount of time remaining," she admitted.

"Then, let's get to it."

Sabine hesitated. "Ezra - "

He grabbed her hands. "There is no one else I would trust with this. I'm glad it's you."

The tears started to come without warning. "You know what this means, right?" she whispered. "I have to kill you."

"Just for a little bit," he replied jokingly.

"It's not funny," she said angrily. "This is so messed up. It shouldn't be like this. I don't want to do this."

She swiped at her face, willing the tears to stop falling. They didn't listen.

"Sabine. Look at me."

She did.

"I love you. And I'm sorry."

She swallowed hard. The words - those blasted three little words - came stuck in her throat. Sabine couldn't say anything.

She reached out instead to the black box, her fingers gently prying it open. The collar's sensors wouldn't view it as sabotage since they needed to be regularly maintained in such a way.

Beep.

Ezra's gaze never left her as she worked. Finally, it was complete. The circuits had been re-worked to fire the pulse of energy to its new destination.

Beep.

"Guess this it," remarked Ezra.

"It will be quick," she said quietly. "Painless. I promise."

Her fingers hovered over the button that would kill her best friend.

"Thank you for everything," said Ezra.

She was shaking.

His fingers were gentle, brushing her cheek. At last, she found the strength to look at him once more.

He was smiling.

She pushed the button. The collar pulsed.

The smile never faded as he slumped into her arms, dead.

Sabine's breathing came fast and hard; she could feel the cold waves of panic flooding through her.

Focus, she ordered herself. Focus!

She laid Ezra out gently onto the floor, cursing her shaking hands. "Chopper, you better be ready when I say so."

The astromech tweedled an affirmative response. An electrical probe he used for welding popped out of one his sockets, sparking at the ready.

Sabine stared at the collar, waiting. It was beeping, running its own check on Ezra's life signs.

"Come on," she hissed. "Come on!"

Every passing second that Ezra's heart was stopped was another step into death's embrace. He would never wake up.

And it would be all her fault.

More seconds passed, stretching into an agonizing eternity. She crouched over Ezra's body, eyes wide, feeling helpless -

There was a rapid succession of beeps and then - an anti-climactic click.

The collar popped free.

"Chopper!"

The astromech stuck its electric probe into Ezra's side and gave him a shock.

Her friend's body spasmed - and then laid still.

She checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

No. No, no, no. Not like this.

"Chopper, hit him again!"

The astromech complied. Another shock. Ezra's frame jerked and then went still once again.

Her fingers found the spot on his neck, searching for that tell-tale sign of life.

Nothing again.

The panic burst forth, nothing left to stop its path. "Chopper - "

The little droid shook his head sadly, beeping in resignation. She barely understood him - something about potentially damaging Ezra further if he continued to shock him.

She shoved the astromech away. "I'll do it myself, then," she said, half-hysterical.

Sabine knelt Ezra and began chest compressions, finding the rhythm as she had been trained to do. Both hands centered on the chest, thirty compressions, then mouth to mouth breathing.

She was sobbing. "Come on, come on, come on . . . "

Ezra didn't come back.

"Ezra, please. Please."

She continued on for what felt like ages. Finally, the last of her strength was spent, and Sabine collapsed backwards.

Chopper sighed, a grieving sound.

He was gone. Ezra was gone.

She had failed.

Sabine bowed her head, face screwed tight with emotion.

"Ezra . . . oh, Ezra," was all she could say in between sobs.

And then came the sound of pained laughter.

Her head snapped up at the noise.

Ezra's head turned slightly towards her. His breath was shallow, labored - but he was very much alive. And looking at her through half-closed eyes.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She crawled towards him and wrapped him in a crushing hug. "Why would you ask me that, idiot?" she asked in a voice hoarse from crying. "You're the one who died."

"I did?" he asked. "Why would I do that?"

She laughed, the noise sounding half-crazed. "I thought I lost you, Ezra."

He patted her on the back clumsily. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

Sabine just hugged him tighter.

Kanan found the two friends like that, still embraced, half an hour later when he came back to check on them.

~ present day ~

Sabine set down the slave collar after finishing her recollection. Next to her, Ezra was quiet.

"Well?" she asked. "Any comments on how you died?"

Ezra shot her an amused look. "Weird question to ask someone."

"And you still remember none of it?"

He scratched his trimmed beard idly. "Eh, not really. Must be the lack of oxygen to the brain after the shock."

"Hmmm," said Sabine. "Maybe it's for the best."

"Maybe," agreed Ezra. "But if you want my comments . . . I would say that wasn't a bad way to go."

She peered at him. "Explain."

He grinned at her. "It's all a bit fairytale-esque, right? The kiss that woke me up from my slumber."

Sabine's jaw dropped. "It wasn't - I was giving you CPR! It was mouth to mouth resuscitation. And it wasn't slumber, you idiot. You were clinically dead!"

His grin widened. "The last one didn't feel like resuscitation. Felt like a kiss to me."

She slapped his arm lightly. "You were awake? So you do remember some of it!"

He gave her a coy look. "Maybe I just really wanted a kiss. Was that so much to ask for?"

"You are unbelievable, Ezra Bridger," said Sabine, shaking her head.

"Uh-huh," said Ezra. His grin faded. "Sabine. You're not still feeling guilty about any of that, are you?"

"I . . . yeah, I do," she confessed. "That could easily have gone the other way. You wouldn't be sitting here, next to me, talking about any of this if my idea hadn't worked out."

"But it did. I'm still here. You brought me back, like you always do."

She snorted. "It does seem to be my job to do just that. I'm an expert, huh."

He reached and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "The one and only expert at saving Ezra Bridger. No one better to call, in my opinion."

Ezra paused, thinking, and then said, "You're not really an expert at killing me, though. Since it didn't stick that one time."

Sabine reached out and pinched his cheek affectionately. "Cyar'ika, you are adorable and there is something deeply wrong with you."

"Ow," said Ezra. "That hurt. Might leave a bruise."

"Oh, really?" asked Sabine wryly. "Should I kiss it better then?"

"Well, your kisses do seem to work miracles, so there's no harm in doing so . . . but it does hurt here on my lips too, if you want to start there."

"Is that so? Let me see," she replied in a husky tone, leaning forward -

"If you want to see some real bruises," came Hera's violently cheerful voice, "then by all means, please do continue not doing what I asked of you."

Ezra and Sabine looked at each other - and then scrambled hastily to resume their work, the laser scrubber firing away once more.

"Good children," said Hera pleasantly. "I'll be watching, don't worry," she added, before stalking inside the Ghost to finish her own tasks.

Sabine shook her head. "She's crazy. We'll never finish these chores before Jacen arrives."

"I know," Ezra groaned. "Kill me, please."

She shoved him. Ezra laughed.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #ezrabine #sabezra fanfiction #star wars rebels #star wars #ghost stories 07

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