Hey everyone! What's up? XD Here is my newest oneshot! As always, this can be viewed as a standalone, or a continuation of my other oneshots!

My discoaimer's on my profile, don't forget!

If any of the characters are OOC, please let me know how I can improve them! Also, if you have any plot ideas, or just want to tell me if you like my SW:R stories, please review! Just like all other fanfiction writers, I love reviews!

Also, there's another authors note at the end of the story, so please read!

I think that's all I've got to say for now...Enjoy reading!

Ezra couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so awful. No, wait, that was a lie, he could. He'd been ten the last time he'd gotten so ill (and colds didn't count, he had decided, they were easy to handle with the right medicine in his opinion).

No, right now, just like back when he was ten, he felt like he was on the edge of death. His stomach was twisting and turning with nausea, and his head pounded with a fierce headache. He shivered uncontrollably, as though he were cold, but he was drenched in sweat, skin so hot, leaving him feeling like he'd just walked through Tatooine in a heatwave. He felt like he was made of glass, ready to fall apart at any moment.

Ezra managed to turn his head to peer at his holoclock, then groaned softly. He had to get up, it was his turn to take Zeb's place working on the ship's systems, keep them in order and such.

Sighing, the teen slowly, carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position, arms slightly trembling with the strain. He hunched over slightly as a coughing fit wracked his frame, and it lasted a good long minute before Ezra finally managed to stop hacking, a slightly pained groan leaving his dry lips at the pain that now burned in his throat.

"B-blast..!" He rasped out, voice cracking slightly.

Shaking his head vigorously in a feeble attempt to get rid of the fog in his mind and straighten his wavy vision. He then stood, stumbling over to the drawers inlayed in one of the room's walls. Rumaging through them, he pulled out his usual attire, changing out of his bedclothes and putting them in the drawers instead. As ready as he was going to be, Ezra shuffled exhaustedly out of his room, grabbing his comlink and hooking it to his belt along the way.

He didn't remember the halls being so long, nor it taking this much time to get to the maintenance room. The floor seemed so close...

Ezra forced himself to focus. He had a job to do, and no illness would keep him from it! Even if the thought of laying down and resting was so enticing and-

No! He had to snap out of it, he told himself. He forced his legs to move faster, determined to get to his destination to take his shift. Zeb and he always argued, but the Lasat had been working for a good twelve hours, and (although he'd never admit it) he worried about the big guy. And so, in spite of his shaky limbs, dry throat, pounding head, nauseous belly and wavering vision, he would take his shift as planned.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Ezra had reached the door to the maintenance room. Typing in his passcode (which took a couple of minutes with how badly his fingers trembled and how hard it was to read the numbers on the panel), the young teen entered the room.

Zeb stood off to the back right corner, checking on a pipe line and looking rather tired. At the sound of the teen's approaching footsteps, the Lasat looked up.

"'Ey kid, glad t' see your here on time for once." He teased, turning back to the pipe. "Lemme jus' tighten up this pipe an' I'll go, so jus'-..."

Zeb's voice suddenly fade, his brow furrowing, ears twitching slightly. He then looked over at Ezra once more, eyes sharp. The teen shifted nervously on his feet, his own gaze turning away. The Lasat too a deep breath in through his nose, catching a taste of the air.

"You sick, kid?"

Ezra shook his head, leaning against a wall in what he hoped was a casual matter (though it really was to keep him from fall flat on his face).

"What? No." His voice cracked slightly, and the youngling cleared his throat. "I'm fine. Just tired's all."

Zeb's eyes narrowed as he turned away fully from the pipe he'd been working on, moving forward a few steps towards Ezra. His ears twitched again, nostrils flaring as he took a whiff of the air around them.

"Don't lie. You ain' fine, kid. Yer sick, I can smell it, you reek of illness. I can hear your breath in' too, it's rasped."

"I said I'm fine." Ezra insisted, glaring at him.

But Zeb didn't go for the lie.

"'S it jus' a cold?"

"I don't have a cold, or anything else." The teen snapped, vacating the wall to instead try and stand on his own two feet once more. "I'm okay, really, I'm...I..."

And suddenly his vision blurred, so badly that he could barely tell Zeb's form apart from the walls of the room. He stumbled, and could hear Zeb's voice, but the words were muddled in his ears and they pounded against his aching mind. His legs finally couldn't hold him any longer, and his knees buckled, sending him tumbling. He waited for contact against the hard, cold floor, but luckily it never came, and he instead was caught in strong, warm arms. Zeb, he assumed. He could now make out the Lasat's yelling, if only barely.

"Kid! EZRA!" The beep of a comlink switching on. "Kanan! Hera! Get down t' the maintenance room, now!"

That was all Ezra remembered before everything went black, and he fell unconscious.

The first thing Ezra was aware of was that he lay on something soft, a blanket pulled over him. How had he gotten into his bedroll? He'd been...Where had he been?

He felt a damp cloth be pressed against his fevered forehead, and it soothed his pounding headache. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids felt so heavy, and refused to move. Frowning slightly, he tried again, and this time managed to pry his eyes open.

For a second, everything was blurry, but once he blinked a few times, his vision cleared, and he found himself not in his own room, but Kanan's, and in his friend and mentor's bedroll, not his own. Hera sat beside him, on the bedroll he was in, and she held a bowl of water, with a cloth (similar to the one on Ezra's forehead) draped on its rim. Her delicate face was contorted with worry, and behind her, Kanan, Zeb and Sabine stood, looking just as concerned.

A smile lit Hera's face when Ezra's dim eyes met her own emerald gaze.

"Ezra." She breathed, relieved. Ezra saw Kanan smile (albeit grimly) while Zeb gave a huffing chuckle, and Sabine beamed.

"Wha-...What happened?" Ezra mumbled, confused.

"Don't you remember?" Sabine asked, looking worried once more, as well as confused. Kanan looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He passed out, Sabine. Many times it takes people awhile to remember what they were doing right before they fell unconscious." He supplied reassuringly. "It's perfectly normal."

Zeb stepped forward, eyes on Ezra.

"You were in the maintenance room, rememba'? We were arguin', because ye wouldn' admit you were sick an' wanted to take your shift still. You passed out, lucky I was close enough t' catch you b'fore ye hit your head on anythin'."

Hera took over the explanation then.

"He called Kanan and I, saying you were unconscious and needed help. We came as quickly as we could, so did Sabine." Ezra looked at the slightly older teen, who nodded in affirmation. "And we brought you here, because Kanan has more emergency medical supplies than any of us have in our rooms."

"But...The medbay?" Ezra managed to ask, blinking tiredly. Kanan shook his head, moving over and sat on his knees beside the elevated bedroll.

"Too cold. You have a fever, and the only way we can lower it is to sweat it out. The metal examination tables are as cold as ice on Hoth, and aside from all the emergency medical supplies we've stored in here, my room's warmer than the others, since it sits above the engine room."

Ezra frowned.

"My room-"

"It might be next to mine." Kanan chuckled. "But here I can keep a better eye on you, and make sure that you, my stuborn Padawan, don't try to walk around while you're sick."

The teen's frown deepened at the knowing tone in the man's voice. He opened his mouth to retort, but then a hacking cough forced its way through his lugs, throat and lips. The others winced sympathetically as Ezra fought to try and stop the coughing. Once it died away, Hera looked at Kanan.

"I think we should stop at the nearest trading station. I've seen this illness before, we don't have the right medicine for it, and there's a salve we can get to put on his chest to help clear up his lungs."

Kanan nodded in agreement, and Sabine piped up.

"Give me the co-ordinate sand I'll go senter them into the autopilot system right now."

Ezra spoke up, making everyone jump.

"I-I'm fine, guys, really. I just...Just need a little rest and I'll be good as new." He insisted, trying to sit up, only to have Hera push him back down gently.

"Ezra, don't exert yourself, alright? Just relax."

The teen opened his mouth to protest, but a stern look from the Twi'lek and he huffed, falling silent. Smiling, Hera looked at Sabine, giving her the co-ordinates. The young Mandalorean left to set up the autopilot, and Zeb accompanied her just to ensure it was done right, leaving Ezra, Kanan and Hera behind in the room.

Kanan grimaced as he watched his young friend. The teen's blue eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, were dim and misted with a sick-induced haze. He didn't like seeing his Padawan like this (and neither did the others, they'd willingly admit). It was just...Awful to see. Young Ezra, always so energetic and full of life now looked like he was only minutes from death, his skin so pale and his lean form looking, for the first time ever, so blasting frail.

Hera reached forward, brushing sweat soaked strands of raven hair away from Ezra's face. Her face, usually showing confidence and strength, instead showed only motherly concern.

"Don't worry, Ezra." She murmured, voice quiet as to not worsen the headache that the teen undoubtedly had. "Don't worry about checking on the ship's systems or even about getting up. You just focus on getting better, alright?"

Ezra seemed to ponder whether he should argue, but knowing Hera, it would simply be a waste of what little energy he had. So he sighed, the sound rasped in his dry throat, and he nodded.

"Okay."

The Twi'lek woman smiled, then, taking the cloth from the edge of the bowl, she dipped it into the water. She wrung it out before using it to clean the sweat from Ezra's cheeks and jaw. A soft breath of relief left the teen, showing that the cold cloth was doing wonders for his fevered skin.

"I thought something was off, no wonder he was acting so odd the past couple of days..." Kanan muttered, folding his arms on the edge of the bedroll.

"Well, if we can get our hands on the medicine he needs, then Ezra will be back up on his feet in a few days."

With a sigh, Kanan nodded.

"Yeah...Yeah, I hope so."

Kanan hadn't liked the plan, having to leave his young student's side, but Zeb and Sabine got into trouble far too easy, as Hera had pointed out. So he'd quickly gone aboard the trading station that drifted aimlessly along the outerrim, searching for the supplies Ezra required to return to good health, and he had just as quickly left, wanting to return to his friend's side as soon as possible.

When he entered his quarters, he found Hera sitting on his bedroll, entertaining Ezra with a story of a mission long ago and youngling curled up against her side. The ill teen was grinning tiredly as the Twi'lek gently pet his raven hair in a soothing manner. Kanan smiled slightly, feeling much better knowing Ezra was still alright, and in Hera's gentle care.

The pilot looked up, and smiled when she saw Kanan.

"Well, look who's back." She said, turning her smile to Ezra.

Blue eyes flashed to Kanan, and the teen's tired grin widened.

"Hey, Master." He said, voice exhausted. "Didn't have too much fun without me, did you?"

Kanan shook his head good-naturedly, chuckling and moving forward.

"Only you would worry about that, kid." He looked at Hera, holding forward the small package in his hands. "I found the medicine and the salve. Here."

The Twi'lek stood (Ezra rather comically fell over onto the bedroll with the absence of Hera propping him up) and she took the package, opening it and looking over the contents.

"Good. I was worried you might get the wrong things." She admitted, smirking slightly. Kanan playfully scowled, going to sit on the bedroll where his Padawan lay. Hera followed him over, holding a bottle of medicine.

"Sometimes old-fashioned medicines work better than bacta tanks and syringes." The woman stated to no one in particular. Kanan hummed in agreement, reaching over and carefully helping the teen sit up on the bedroll. Ezra groaned in protest, his body aching at the movement, and Kanan grimaced.

"I know, kid, I know." He mumbled in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "But you need to take some medicine if you want to get better. Then you can lay back down, alright?"

A grunt was the only reply the teen gave, resting his pounding, sleep-heavy head on his mentor's arm. Kanan chuckled, lightly nudging the youth's head up.

"I'm not a pillow, c'mon now. Stay awake."

"Whyyyyy?" He whined, head lolling back.

"Because I said so." Kanan retorted curtly. Hera laughed slightly as she measured out the correct amount of medicine that Ezra required into a mug. She then moved over, sitting on the teen's other side, holding the mug carefully in her hands.

"Here Ezra. It tastes awful, just warning you now, so just try to drink it all down at once."

Grimacing, Ezra took the mug in his slightly unsteady hands. He steeled his nerves, then downed the medicine. He gulped it down, then shuddered as he drew back the mug from his lips, making a face that had both older Rebels laughing.

"Now that is one expression I've never seen." Kanan stated, grinning over at Hera. The Twi'lek nodded in agreement, and Ezra scowled at them before a coughing fit shook his entire form, forcing him to duck his head as to not cough on his friends. Kanan frowned, wrapping an arm around the teen's shoulders, letting the youngling lean against him for support. Hera quickly reached over to the salve Kanan had brought.

"Let's get this on his chest, he'll breathe a lot easier with it."

Ezra groaned, slumping slightly.

"No, I wanna sleep." He muttered, flopping back onto the bedroll. Kanan gave his young friend a dead-pan look while Hera laughed, raising a brow as she grinned at the teen.

"You can." Kanan assured, grunting as he pulled Ezra back up into a sitting position. "Once we get you to stop hacking up your lungs every ten minutes."

With a huff, the teen tiredly shook off his vest and pulled the shirt of his coveralls off, waiting to have the salve applied.

That was the first time Kanan and Hera ever saw the scars.

They were varying shapes and sizes, and a light shade of peach that contrasted to the teen's tanned skin. Some looked like the flared splotches of blaster shots, while others looked like the clean slices of viroblades or sharp metal. A few were of a deeper color, and if Kanan had to guess, they were injuries that had been infected or treated wrongly.

Hera took in a sharp breath, while Kanan's eyes widened. How had he never known about or seen these scars his student had? Almost a year since the youngling had joined their team, and he'd never known...

Out of all the times Kanan and the others had treated the teen's injuries after battles against Imperials, and yet they never saw any sign of past injuries on Ezra.

Yet now it was easy to see the years of hardships he'd suffered all alone.

Kanan grit his teeth, forcing himself to look away, trying to keep his guilt and anger down. Hera, forcing herself to take a deep breath, opened the container of salve, and the strong smell of herbs filled the air. setting it down carefully, she pulled off her fingerless gloves, setting them aside before picking up the container once more and dipping her fingers in. She then carefully began to smear the cold salve on Ezra's chest. Almost immediately, the teen seemed to be breathing easier.

"Does it help?" Hera asked, applying some to his throat. Ezra nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks, Hera."

The woman smiled in a fashion that seemed entirely motherly.

"Hey, someone has to keep you out of trouble, right?"

The teen smiled, but it became a frown when he saw Kanan staring at the wall opposite the bedroll, elbows on his knees, threaded hands pressed to his lips and chin.

"Master?" No reply, so Ezra tried again. "Kanan?"

"Those scars." The man suddenly said, voice low. "Where did you get them?"

Ezra blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. He then grimaced, a shaking hand pressing weakly against one of the scars in question, a long, jagged mark that slice horizontally over his ribs.

"Oh...Uh, these? Just stuff...Life, yout know what I mean?" He explained hesitantly.

Sharp blue-green eyes snapped to the teen's pale face.

"No, I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

Hera turned her eyes onto Kanan, a look of disapproval on her face.

"Kanan. Not now."

"I-"

"Ezra is sick, Kanan. I want to know just as much as you do how he got these scars, but now isn't the time." She enunciated the last few words, and by her expression, Kanan knew that he'd best let the subject go for now.

Silence fell, with Ezra fidgeting and yawning, and Kanan watching as Hera finished applying the salve to the teen's chest. Once finished, the Twi'lek smiled slightly, grabbing an earlier discarded washcloth and cleaning her hand before closing the container once more.

"There we go. Leave your shirt off, or else you'll get the ointment all over. Just try to sleep on your back so that it can do its work."

The teen nodded, smiling sleepily. He looked utterly exhausted, the poor youngling. Hera and Kanan stood, smiling as Ezra dramatically flopped down on the bedroll, and the Twi'lek pulled the blanket up to just bellow his chest.

"Sleep well, Ezra." She whispered to the already dozing teen. The youth didn't open his eyes, instead simply snuggling into the warm bedroll, and the two adults made their way to the door before the teen replied.

"Thanks, mom..."

Both Hera and Kanan froze, eyes widening. Hera's head whipped around to look at Ezra, who was now fast asleep, while Kanan thought over what he'd heard, ensuring he really had heard his Padawan right. He then glanced at Hera.

The pilot looked alarmed for a long moment, then her expression softened...And then she smiled. A beautiful smile that had Kanan's heart fluttering in his chest.

"Anytime, sweetie." She softly replied, before leaving the room with Kanan.

The Jedi smiled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He acts different when he's sick." He stated. "Usually he's so guarded, but now..."

"Now he's open." Hera finished, and Kanan nodded, following by her side as they walked down the hall.

"Exactly."

Hera smiled slightly, but then her face fell, delicate features displaying sadness and worry.

"Those scars...They were awful."

Kanan grimaced, inclining his head.

"I know." He then halted, taking hold of Hera's shoulders, making her stop and turn to him. "But we're all going to all we can to make sure he doesn't get more. You, me, Zeb, Sabine, and even Chopper."

The pretty Twi'lek smiled, and hugged him briefly.

"You're right, again." She laughed out, pulling back. Kanan grinned.

"What can I say? It's a gift."

Hello again! So, I recently read one of the few published SW:R books that's out, "Ezra's Gamble", and it was awesome! In it, Ezra forms a kinda odd friendship with Bosk, and I'm now considering writing a oneshot or twoshot about Ezra and Bosk running into each other again!

I'm also wondering if anyone wants me to do a oneshot on how Ezra got his scars that are mentioned in the oneshot above! If you guys are interested in either idea, please tell me!

That's all for now! Until the next oneshot, this is Shell-Shocked-NinjaTurtleGal, signing off!