Kanan's POV

I drove up to my humble house, 'The Ghost'. The name was Hera's idea. It was a two story building with red brick walls, brown tiles and a white mail box. It had a reasonable yard and took years of me and Hera scraping our wallets bare to buy it. We weren't a couple, but in my opinion, it wasn't a bad idea either. No, we were both in this for one goal: Find the lost.

That's why we worked together to help orphaned children with troubled pasts. We had taken in many children, most becoming adoptable within a year. At the moment, we only had two in our care. Sabine, a teenage girl with amazing art skills, and Zeb, an 18 year old slob who is now a permanent resident of the Ghost. They were good people, and if you met them today, you wouldn't believe the hardships they've endured in their past. But Hera and I can sympathise. After all, it was our own experiences that made us start this project in the first place.

I got out of my car and walked up to the door, a mug of coffee in my hand. Before I could open the door, it swung inwards, revealing an excited and nervous Hera. Her black, shoulder length hair swayed and her crystal green eyes blazed as she exclaimed "Where have you been? The new foster child is coming soon!"

"Another one?" I asked, sipping my coffee and walking in. "So, what's it this time? Abusive parents? Abandoned infant?"

Hera closed the door behind me and flicked through a folder in her arms. "It says he's a 14 year old boy that ran away from the orphanage, lived on the streets for almost 8 years and has dealt with both unsupportive and abusive foster parents. The agency says, and I quote: 'Hates people with a passion. Pretty much a lost cause.'"

"Yeesh, sounds pretty bad," I sighed, taking off my police hat. "What's the kid's name?"

She scanned through the page before replying "Ezra."

I froze, my eyes widening. "Ezra… Bridger?" I stuttered nervously, my voice hitching.

"Yeah," Hera nodded, still reading through the file. "How'd you know?"

Everything became hazy as my legs wavered. The mug slipped out grasp and shattered on the floor, sending porcelain shards and coffee in all directions. "Kanan! Are you okay?!" Hera shouted frantically. "Kanan!?"

Fourteen years ago…

I sat on my chair, stuffing cereal into my mouth and yelling at the footy game on the TV when the lights flickered and went out, the TV along with it. Thunder and lightning sounded its victorious cry as rain pummelled the roof. "Great," I muttered sarcastically to myself. "Stupid storm." I continued to eat my 'dinner' for a while longer when there was a knock at the door. Who would be coming around at this time of night in weather like this?

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

I got up and walked to the door. Cautiously, I gripped onto the baseball bat that I kept by the side of the door. Ever so slowly, I opened the door. I was surprised to find no one there, so I opened it wider. "Hello?" I called into the soggy darkness.

"Waa!" someone cried.

I jumped, a little startled, before looking down. There, a small baby lay huddled in layers of blankets. "Waa!" it called out pitifully. I didn't hesitate in scooping the child up and going back inside, out of the cold, storming night. I cradled the baby in my arms. He had small tufts of blue hair and big, innocent blue eyes. There was a small note slipped into the blankets. "Ezra," I read out. At saying this, the child gave a toothless smile and reached out small tan hands towards me.

He obviously wasn't very old, and for whatever reason, he didn't have any parents to care for him. He definitely couldn't stay out in that storm though. Slowly, I sat down on the couch, the small infant still curled up in my grasp. I didn't have a very big house, and it hardly had any of the essentials. But I figured the bachelor life never needed a lot, so I stuck to the basics. A microwave, a portable gas heater, a couch, TV and lastly, a bed.

After Depa Billaba died in that hostage case three years ago, I didn't know what to do. A lost 18 year old with no foster parent to turn to, nowhere to run. And now I sat here, a 21 year old adult who still was floundering through the journey called 'life' and faced with an impossible choice. I couldn't care for the child. I could hardly support myself, let alone look after a baby! I would have to hand him over to an adoption agency. I'm sure they would find someone that could care for him much better than I could…

As if reading my thoughts, Ezra cried out, tears streaming down his small face. "Hey, hey, it's okay," I hushed soothingly. "What's wrong? Are you hungry? Thirsty?... need a diaper change?" His small fingers grasped onto my shirt as he curled closer to my chest.

I sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, but you deserve better," I whispered while rocking him gently in my arms. "Tomorrow, after the storm passes, I'll find you a good family. You'll have a good life. I promise."

He glanced up at me with sad, electric eyes. "Dadda," he mumbled.

I shook my head. "I'm not your Dad, but I'll find you a good one. Maybe we'll meet again someday," I smiled weakly. "You probably won't even remember me."

He dribbled and clung onto my shirt tighter. The wind was still howling and lightning flashed outside, followed by a deafening crack. Ezra screamed in fear and burrowed further into the blankets. "It's okay," I cooed. "It's just a little storm. But you're safe… I'll make sure you're safe."

He slowly calmed down and looked around with droopy eyes. "Get some rest," I whispered while laying him on the pillow next to me. When I let go, he started to cry and clawed at my shirt with desperate hands. "It's okay, it's okay. Shh. I'm right here, you're okay," I soothed repetitively.

He stopped crying out, but tears still streamed down his face. "How about this," I said while picking up my guitar. "My foster parent used to sing this to me. And despite my protests, it helped me a lot," I smiled, remembering curling up to Depa Billaba in front of the fire and falling asleep to her singing. I tuned the strings, before playing the tune. (Plays 'Safe and Sound' by Taylor Swift.)

"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light," I sung, trying to mimic the serenity that flowed with the lyrics. "I remember you said 'Don't leave me here alone', but all that's dead and gone and past, tonight…"

"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound…"

I looked up to see Ezra starting to drift. He wasn't crying anymore, which was an improvement. "Hold on to this lullaby, even when music's gone… gone… Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound…"

The boy's breathing began to even out, even as thunder rumbled on in the background. He closed his eyes and curled up into a little ball. I lent down and sung quietly in his ear "Just close your eyes… you'll be alright… Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound… ooo-ooo… ooo-ooo-oo… ooo-oooo-ooo-oo…" And just like that, he was out, sleeping peacefully in his cacoon of blankets. I stroked his head gently. "Don't worry. Tomorrow is a new day."

"Next," the lady at the desk called.

I stepped forward, a sleepy Ezra in my arms. I had taken him to the adoption agency pretty soon after he woke up, so it might be easier when I depart. I hadn't slept well that night, mentally warring over my options, but in the end I decided it was better for everyone if he found a new home. One that could hopefully give him what he needs. "Hey. I found this baby on my doorstep last night," I explained, gesturing to the blue haired baby.

She glanced up at the boy, then started typing on the computer. "Does he have a name?" she asked.

I nodded. "Ezra."

She scanned through the computer, before flicking through different files on her desk. After a few minutes, she pulled out a newspaper and handed it to me. "There's his parents," she said, pointing to the top article.

"Two adults killed in house shooting. A female stabbed to death with a knife and a male shot five times in the stomach. Names: Mira and Ephraim Bridger. Reasons for attack still unknown," I read out, my stomach queasy the whole time. I looked sadly at the boy in my arms. "That's horrible," I whispered to myself.

"Now," the lady said, scanning through something on her computer. "Would you like to adopt or to hand the child over?"

"Uh…" I looked down at Ezra and reconsidered my choice, but finally pushed against it. "To hand over."

She nodded. "We will do a medical exam on him, then get him ready for adoption. We'll give you five minutes to say goodbye." With a wave of her hand, a man in a doctor's uniform stepped forward. I nodded and pulled Ezra back to arm's length. "Well, I guess this is where I say goodbye."

He grasped onto my sleeves and gave me a pitiful look. "It's okay," I smiled. "These people will look after you. You're going to find a great home, I'm sure of it."

He didn't looked convinced. He kicked his feet as tears threatened to rise again. "It's okay, it's okay," I hummed caringly, touching our foreheads together. "Maybe we'll meet each other again. Then you can tell me what a great life you had." He placed his small hands on the side of my face, his eyes begging me not to let go. I sighed and pulled him back. "Be a good boy," I said while handing him over to the doctor.

Ezra started to cry again and reached out for me desperately as the man nodded and walked away towards the 'staff only' doors. I waved a little and turned my back. It was too hard to watch. As I walked out the doors of the adoption agency, my phone started ringing. "Hello?" I asked, taking the call.

"Hello, is this Kanan Jarrus?" a male voice asked on the other side.

"Yes. Who is this?" I asked.

"This is the police force. Your records check out and you're free to take the job if you're still interested," he explained.

I smiled and glowed inside. I had been needing a job for a while now. Anything is better than the local garbage man. That position was always open. "Great, yes! I'll take the job."

"Okay. Come for your training on Monday 12pm, at the police station," he finished. I ended the call and looked back at the building behind me. Next time, I'll be ready. I won't let anyone else go, and maybe I'll find you again someday Ezra…

Hey guys! I've been really into the whole 'Real Life' star wars rebels thing and have fallen in love with stories like 'Ghosts of our Past' and 'Silent yet heard'. So, I thought I'd give it a shot, see how things go. Tell me what you thought of the chapter! I love to read your reviews! May the force be with you, always!

-Superherotiger