I'm in the process of rewriting this story, an effort to clean up the grammar and possibly restructure some of my sentences. The plot remains the same, however I blushed rereading it, sixteen year old me did not have a firm grasp of the English language. So for posterity's sake I'm making some changes.

Setting: Season 1

Chapter 1

Ezra had positioned himself atop a large crate, laying flat on his stomach in order to escape prying eyes. Get to the office, leave the bomb, get out. Ezra repeated the mantra in his head as his eyes scanned the Imperial docking bay. He'd faced a lot worse, yet his gut was tense with apprehension.

Since joining the rebels life had gotten less dangerous while at the same time more so. He never had to worry about freezing or starving, but a decent meal and warm bed were exchanged for missions. All filled with gun fights, explosions, and evil Jedi on spare occasions. All in all fairly exciting, but when Ezra stopped and considered the situation he realized how dangerous it all was, and fragile, so very very fragile. One day something could go terribly wrong and everything he was growing to love and enjoy could be taken from him.

He could get left behind all over again. His abilities, already so weak, could disappear. He could already see the disappointment and anger of Kanan. He was completely useless without them. Worse then that was the possibility that they would decide he wasn't worth the trouble and hand him over to the Empire or drop him off on some planet. Hadn't Zeb once said that he was an obstacle to the team? The memory of being pushed back into the arms of the enemies assailed him; cold, merciless and pitiless enemies. The only thing Zeb had said was a slightly regretful "sorry".

"Ezra!"

Ezra snapped out of his reflecting and paid attention to the static voice in his ear.

"You need to move soon, your window of opportunity is going to disappear."

"Don't worry Hera you already know I got this," he replied, tone belligerent.

"Just be careful," she chided softly.

Ezra rolled his eyes. Like he was going to screw around when he had a bomb in his pocket. The troopers he had been watching had finally left and Ezra hopped down from the crate. He smoothly slunk forward eventually reaching a door. Taking only a minute to crack the code, the door slid open. Walking around would be ridiculous and Ezra, having already planned for this, slipped up into an air vent, taking only moments to unscrew it. He placed the screws in his pocket and used an adhesive agent to keep the vent cover in place. It would fall in a week or so, but by then it wouldn't be Ezra's problem.

"Ezra?" Hera's voice was filled with anxiety.

"I'm in the air vent. No problem so far."

"Good," she replied sounding less tense.

Ezra had half a mind to turn the comm off. They hadn't said it outright but the crew of the Ghost didn't seem to trust him with anything. He'd survived on Lothal hadn't he? The stupid missions were the most important thing to the rebels; this mission would do this, that mission would save this many supplies. Ezra couldn't help but feel hurt. They cared about missions more than they cared about him, but then again he wasn't sure if they cared at all. His throat tightened and his eyes watered a little. It had been a very long time since anyone had really cared about him. Ezra huffed a huge sigh trying to escape the truth of it all. Worrying about something that would never change wasn't going to help him. He needed to stop thinking so much.

"Everything alright?" Hera asked.

Again Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah, perfect," he muttered under his breath.

Hera didn't say anything, a small huff of frustration sounding out which Ezra ignored.

Finally Ezra reached his destination. Pulling out a welding tool he cut out the venting panel. Kicking the panel in, Ezra watched it clatter to the floor before jumping down into the office. It was moderate in size and spartan in decor with a simple chrome desk and several matching chairs. With only the emergency lights on the room was dark making everything appear malicious. The sterile smell wafting up from all parts of the room did little to help with comfort.

"I'm in," Ezra said, trying to ignore the bad feeling in his stomach.

"Good you've got around twenty minutes till the Lieutenant returns with the visiting General."

"Gotcha," Ezra chirped back.

Ezra grinned, thinking of the frustration this event would cause, if anything, he could appreciate causing a little havoc. He walked forward, slipping under the desk. He began attaching and setting up the bomb, a small but highly effective prototype they'd stolen from the Empire several months ago.

"So, why exactly are we killing this General Akshay guy again? Other than the fact that he's part of the Empire and all?" Ezra asked.

"I explained this to everyone when I was briefing for the mission," Hera replied, voice less than pleased.

Ezra winced. Recently training had been taking a toll. Mix that with the constant strain of fueling the ship and the odd jobs they performed to either aid refugees of the Empire or take some action against the autocratic government, and Ezra often found himself dozing off and feeling generally exhausted most of the time. It wasn't that he hadn't been awake for the brief, but in moments like this, alight with adrenaline and the memory of Hera first briefing, and then embellishing the brief with revolutionary sentiment, Ezra wanted reassurance that the risk was necessary.

"Yeah, well I was asleep. I was only awake for the part where you told me what I had to do," he made something up, it seemed easier than saying he wasn't completely comfortable on this mission.

Ezra bit his lip in concentration as he connected a particularly small wire.

"It may not be interesting Ezra, but we talk about these missions because they're so dangerous. Missing a piece of information could end up getting you killed."

Ezra frowned as the wire slipped out.

"Who decided that the stupid bomb had to be assembled onsite?" He muttered in annoyance.

The static crackled a bit more than usual and Ezra winced at the noise.

"It's made from a very volatile substance, and since it's a prototype we didn't want to risk it being detonated or set off at the wrong time."

Ezra unconsciously gulped. Maybe he'd slept through more of the brief than he originally thought.

"Alright, but still this is really annoying," Ezra complained.

Finally the wire went in and Ezra's frown disappeared.

"Just hurry up and get out of there I've got a bad feeling," Hera cautioned.

Ezra got up brushing his pants.

"Don't worry I'm all done. The bomb will go off in three hours and forty five minutes blowing all Empire material sky high within a forty foot radius. They'll never see it com-" Ezra's voice died off as he heard the mechanical whir of the door being unlocked.

Scrambling to the table top, Ezra tried to get back up the vent, hoping that he'd make it before the door opened. His luck did not hold out.

Ezra froze. There stood said General and Lieutenant. There was a lingering pause as both parties stared at each other. Simply stunned and without any plan of action Ezra raised his hands as both men drew their guns leveling them at Ezra's chest.

"Who are you?" The General spoke, his gruff and menacing voice pulling Ezra out of his shock.

Ezra cursed under his breath. He'd been caught. His only chance was talking sweet until right before the bomb went off, then he'd make a run for it. Yeah, it was a pretty crappy plan, but at the moment Ezra wasn't sure he could do any better than that.

"Camille," he swallowed hard, wetting his lips, "Camille Pagry."

Without much hesitation the General then promptly shot Ezra.

Ezra blacked out for several seconds, tumbling to the floor as all his senses left him. He couldn't breathe at first, the wind knocked out of him. Ragged gasps finally escaped, his vision slowly clearing as he tried to gain his bearings. He heard multiple voices and with difficulty began to decipher them. Hera was yelling over the comm and the Lieutenant and General were talking. Despite the sinister sound of the General's voice and Hera's heightening panic, Ezra ignored them both in favor of still trying to breath. The pain, which hadn't initially been there, was suddenly spiking and he struggled to focus through the agony. The source of pain was his leg and in dull second was his head.

Terrified of messing with the hot agony that was his leg, Ezra instinctively reached for the other hurt. Hesitantly, a hand fluttered weakly to feel the afflicted area of his head. He withdrew trembling fingers coated in blood. He blinked, trying to assess it all, to come back to planet so he could get out of this mess. Forcing his brain to function, he dialogued what had happened. He'd been shot, the bomb was planted, the Imperials had discovered it and the mission was a failure. A wave of displaced melancholy washed over him, momentarily distracting him from the dire situation he was in. What use was he now-injured, trapped and proving to be a failure?

The word 'trapped' sunk in and Ezra forgot the crew of the Ghost and their imagined judgments. He became scared. He'd been caught, caught in the worst possible act if they already knew that he'd planted a bomb. What did the Empire do to terrorists again? He'd heard things that were coming back to him, none of them good.

He was jerked from this when a hand seized the front of his shirt and pulled him into a sitting position that aggravated both his head and leg. Without meaning to, he let out a cry of pain and clenched his eyes shut.

"The kid looks barely older than my own son. Starting their brats early aren't they?" The voice was cruel and close to him, warm breath puffing across Ezra's clammy skin.

Ezra didn't reply, throat dry with shock and fear. He felt himself rough handled to a stand and then shoved into a chair. Biting back a scream, Ezra opened his eyes to take in his captors. His leg throbbed and his attention was diverted, blinking sluggishly at the wound he wondered at the blood now dyeing his pants a dark red. He'd forgotten people bled so much. Nervously the Lieutenant shifted feet, announcing that troops would be there in minutes and could then properly question the boy.

"That won't be necessary Lieutenant," the General forestalled.

The Lieutenant froze.

"Sir?"

"We'll question the boy here."

The Lieutenant nodded, still hesitant and obviously uncomfortable with the situation. The General's face loomed into Ezra's vision, stiff and lined with age and cruelty.

"I'll ask you again now that you're in a more comfortable position. What is your name?"

Ezra frowned. What had he said before? After a pause Ezra answered.

"Camille Pagry," he replied weakly.

The General frowned.

"Wrong answer."

Hera was panicking. Ezra had stopped talking and then she'd heard him say a foreign name. Seconds later there was a gunshot. She'd heard his cry of pain and at that point she was screaming in the comm, begging for him to answer. She would have thought he was dead if it weren't for the ragged gasps she could hear coming from the connection. Jumping from her seat she raced from the cock pit, yelling Kanan's name.

She'd known the whole thing was dangerous, but compared to some of things they'd done this was practically like walking down the street. The only thing she'd been uneasy about was having to send Ezra in there alone. She recalled the once persuasive reasons for the solo mission.

"There just isn't anyway we're getting into that base unnoticed. Ezra's small and he can get about. It's perfect," Kanan had argued.

Hera frowned. They'd been discussing it for a while, the intel coming from a family they'd saved from a prison transport. The mother, an unwilling engineer for the Imperial Military had been accused of treason under some cruel and false pretense. Grateful for the deliverance of her and her family, she'd divulged everything she could about current Military movements. Thus they'd been told of General Akshay and his burgeoning new technology.

"I just don't like sending him in there by himself. He's never done a mission all alone," Hera argued back.

" I know that Hera. Don't you think I'm worried too? But this is the only way. General Akshay is a vital leader in the weapons development for the Empire. If we kill him we can set the Empire back years in it's research. Besides, Ezra has been progressing," Kanan paused, looking unsure for a moment, "I trust him."

He looked imploringly at Hera but she didn't respond, still unsure. When the engineer had told them of General Akshay, then of where he'd be and, by eidetic memory, had given them the plans to the garrison on the protectorate planet, they knew they had to do something.

It was a difficult place to get to, you could get in easily enough but once the small air fleet they had there was galvanized to action, escape would be nigh impossible. You of course could land planet side and travel by land transport, but to do so in a group of three or even two would stand out. Ezra had volunteered, saying that the Imperial's wouldn't look twice at a kid, especially as the locals had to supply the troops and traveled daily between the garrison and the towns on the planet.

"Just think of what happened to Zeb," Kanan said.

This worked like a charm. Hera's face fell, her eyes looking away. She couldn't argue with that. The small risk of one life in the exchange of thousands and possibly millions was an indisputable choice. Akshay's weapons could possibly do this and to stop him meant lives would be saved. Kanan saw her face and knew he'd convinced her. With a reassuring smile he comfortingly set his hand on her forearm.

"Ezra's very capable. He'll do fine."

Why had she agreed with Kanan? Now Ezra was in the clutches of the Empire, injured and possibly dead. Guilt and fear tore at her as she rushed towards the quarters. Kanan, having heard her call ,came rushing over as soon as he saw her. His face was lined with worry.

"What happened? Is everything alright?"

Hera barely restrained herself as a flash of rage shot through her. Because no, Ezra was not alright, and Kanan had forced them to do this mission knowing that any support for Ezra was going to be a day away or more if they didn't want to end up captured as well. They couldn't get any closer to the base and none of them had gone with Ezra because two bodies were easier to find then one small one.

"Ezra got caught. Our times were off and the General and Lieutenant showed up early," Hera replied, voice trembling.

Kanan's eyes widened and he paled slightly. Dazed, the severity of the situation settled in. They had no way of getting to Ezra with out some intensive planning and within that time anything could happen.

"That's not all, he was shot too," Hera added on.

This comment made Kanan's blood run cold. Ezra was hurt, alone, and to top it all off, captured by the Empire. One mission and Kanan had pushed it, sending a fifteen year old boy to put a volatile bomb in a heavily guarded place with no back up. If he had failed Ezra before it couldn't compare to now, he had basically prepared the kid for the slaughter.

Swallowing down his feelings of guilt, Kanan started devising a plan in his head.

"That bomb still has to go off doesn't it?" He asked.

Hera frowned, not getting what he meant at first, then her eyes dawned with understanding.

"We have three hours and twenty six minutes till the bomb goes off. When it does we'll use it as a distraction and get in through an area farther from the explosion. Hera will be staying on the ship with Chopper while Sabine willll go and look in block 4b holding cells. I'll look in the other block and Zeb will be making his way back to the area of explosion just in case."

Kanan paused looking at his motley crew. He saw the worry, anger and guilt in all of their eyes. Each person sat or stood with shoulders tense. This mission would be a lot more dangerous then the last one, yet this wasn't what was worrying them. A little blue headed teen dead or severely injured was the focus of their thoughts.

"Alright we'll be taking off in two hours. Take the time to prepare yourself," with a curt nod he dismissed them.

Turning, Kanan made his way to his room, trying not to let his emotions overcome him. He needed to meditate if he wanted to be levelheaded for when they left. Breathing deeply he dimmed his lights and sank to the floor. He closed his eyes, folding his arms and legs while breathing deeply. Find the force, he told himself. There is no emotion, there is peace. He breathed out. There is no emotion, there is peace. He took a deep breath in.

Repeating the meditative phrase he felt the emotions ebb out of him and his thoughts settle. Peace.

Just as he began to calm down his thoughts turned to Ezra. The boy didn't have peace despite Kanan trying to teach him it. Ezra was always on edge, as if a squadron of Imperial soldiers would storm through the door at any given second. When he wasn't as edgy he was suspicious and bitter; a jaded little boy. Kanan became sorrowful and bitterness began to cloud his state of peace. The boy had grown up without a father or a mother, he'd been without family for so long. No one had cared for Ezra in a very long time and it was all due to the cruelty of the Empire. It was no wonder that the boy was the way he was.

But how was Kanan supposed to help? Kanan was terrible with children, and aside from helping Ezra discover the guidance of the force he had no idea what he was doing. He had started with what his teacher had taught him, the path to peace. It was one of the most important parts of Jedi code; complete peace with oneself and the world. The years on the streets alone had made a big block in Ezra against the force. It came to him but that was from raw power and not control. How could he help Ezra become a Jedi if he couldn't even teach him the basics let alone keep him safe?

Kanan sighed putting his head into his hands. A storm of emotions was surging in him and he was left feeling more tense than when he had started. The meditating wasn't working.

Zeb was in his room cleaning his bo-rifle for the upcoming rescue. Running the cloth up and down the muzzle of the rifle, he thought of Ezra. The stupid little brat constantly got in his way. Also the kid had saved his life and fought alongside him without hesitation.

Zeb's jaw clenched, why was he so damn tense? It wasn't as if he cared or anything. He didn't give a spits worth if the kid was gone. In fact, good riddance to the little heathen. Finally he'd get some rest. His hands faltered and he stopped cleaning his bo-rifle. If Ezra was hurt he would never be able to forgive himself. He couldn't kid himself, he cared about the boy and if he got his hands on the one who had shot Ezra, he would make them pay dearly.