In the end, it was Sabine who helped him learn to read. Given a datapad with a list of duties written in Aurabesh, he panicked, recognizing very few of the words on there. He had received very little schooling before his time on the streets and was thoroughly intimidated by the long strings of characters in front of him.

Eventually, he had made his way to her cabin, running his hand through his hair and burning crimson with embarrassment as he explained his situation with a half-hearted mumble.

Sabine had been the right choice. When she had realized the extent of his illiteracy, she had shaken her head, a determined look coming over her features.

"This simply won't do."

While it had been agonizing to reveal this glaring weakness, he appreciated that she never looked at him with anything remotely approaching pity, as he feared Hera might have done. He supposed he could have asked Kanan, but he still feared trying the older man's patience more than was necessary. As for Zeb, well… there was no way in hell he was letting the derisive Lasat know that he couldn't even read a simple children's book.

They had begun meeting by Ezra and Zeb's hidden TIE fighter (which they all agreed that Hera and Kanan never, ever needed to know about), Sabine first helping him to relearn the alphabet, and then put letters together to form words. It was hard, grueling work, but the Mandolorian was a patient, if strict teacher.

"Spell it for me."

"It's too big."

She raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly skeptical. Ezra often felt that he was several maneuvers behind her most of time, as she seemed to inhabit that plain of existence reserved for a select group of females who perceive certain truths not readily apparent to common mortals such as himself.

"The Basic language has a limited number of characters, all of which you are now familiar with. This happens to be a phonetic word, so sound it out in your head and tell me how you spell it."

He blushed, and then obeyed.

His mother used to do this with him.

They would sit together by the window, Ezra practicing his letters and Mira recovering from a long day at work by drinking strong, hot tea as they both awaited his father's arrival. It had been his favorite part of the day, a quiet stretch of time stolen from the rush and tumble of everyday life. Aurek, aurek, aurek. He would carefully copy out one line of letters for each character in the alphabet, and every time he finished a row his mother would lean down from her rocking chair to give him a piece of candied fruit, the kind that Ephraim claimed would rot his teeth and spoil his appetite.

Shh, she would whisper with a devious smile and a twinkle in her eyes, don't tell your father.

Mira had seemed to walk with an eternal spring in her step, defying gravity and the conventions of reality with her boundless energy. It was only towards the end that she had become more subdued, weighed down by increased hours at work, secretive late night meetings, and the whispered horrors of Imperial injustice.

How strange it was, to be both aware and unaware of the creeping advance of inevitability. Such blind arrogance it had been to assume that those good times would last, that they could keep their perfect little unit of three together without losing either their integrity or their lives. Upon reflection, the outcome of that little tragedy seemed painfully obvious and as always he couldn't help but wonder with increasing consternation what had they been thinking-

And what was he thinking in staying here?

This was different, though. None of the crew were parents gambling with their children's futures.

He diligently continued on to the next word. He was long past needing a sweet for incentive.

Glancing at the fierce Mandolorian who sat in harsh contrast to his absent mother, he watched as Sabine stretched lazily, glaring at the distant horizon as if it had committed some grievous offense.

Ezra had not failed to notice that the past few days she had seemed to nearly vibrate with pent up energy, an almost crazed gleam entering her eyes. She would never admit it, but he could tell she was bored out of her mind. The crew was between ops, and Sabine had already painted almost every available space in the Ghost, at least where Hera would let her touch her beloved ship.

He took a deep breath, and then casually spoke.

"You know what this TIE could use?"

Sabine looked at him with hard eyes, waiting for him to finish his thought.

"A new paint job."

Her vicious smile, though not directed at him, was both captivating and unsettling.

"I know just the thing."

They were back on Lothal for a supply run. Kanan had pulled a muscle in his leg during the previous mission, Zeb, in a mysteriously foul mood, had locked himself in his cabin, and Hera, who had pulled a nearly thirty six hour shift, was still passed out on her bunk. As such, it fell to the two youngest members of the crew to run errands together.

Despite Kanan's hesitation to let them go on their own, everything went smoothly. Sabine took the lead and Ezra followed her, only offering input if he thought that it was absolutely necessary. For her part, the Mandolorian recognized his experience and accepted most of his advice on which vendors to trust and what prices to negotiate, though she seemed less willing to trust some of his seedier associates.

As they bought the last item on their list, Ezra struggled to balance all of their supplies, and Sabine relieved him of several of the hefty parcels.

"It's times like these that I miss Zeb," he quipped with a wry smile. She snorted loudly in agreement.

"Hera wants me to meet with one of our contacts. They don't know you, and I don't want to spook them, so I need you to go back to the Ghost on your own. Can you handle that?"

Ezra grinned, blowing back a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I know these streets like the back of my hand. I'll be fine."

She eyed him suspiciously, seemingly doubtful of his ability to make decisions without her.

"Try to stay out of trouble."

He nodded respectfully.

A noisy group of adolescent humans led by a male Twi'lek walked behind them. As Sabine hurried ahead, Ezra happened to overhear several very interesting remarks made by the Twi'lek regarding the young Mandolorian. He inwardly cringed as he saw her walking briskly away the crowd, far out of hearing range of the youths behind him. The Twi'lek laughed, and whispered another unsavory comment to his companions. While he would usually ignore such things, his words were so outrageous that Ezra found himself turning to confront the group while placing his parcels on the ground near his feet.

"Excuse me?"

The Twi'lek grinned cockily.

"You heard what I called that Mando schutta."

Ezra frowned, examining the confident youth who stood surrounded by his leering companions and taking note of the Imperial patrol a ways down the street. He did not crave confrontations or power plays, preferring to work in the shadows, but it was Sabine. With a half-hearted sigh, he spoke softly to himself.

"So much for staying out of trouble."

He came home with a split lip, a bloody nose and an idiotic grin plastered on his face.

Usually, Ezra exacted his revenge through less direct means, but today he had wanted the satisfaction of pounding that sleemo himself. While still a lightweight, Ezra was all lean muscle and the years spent on the street made him as slippery and fierce as a feral Lothcat.

He had leapt forward, driving the still grinning Twi'lek to the ground and pounding at his face, before pushing his head into the mud and twisting his arm cruelly, eliciting a pathetic squeal from the boy.

Of course, by this time his opponent's friends had recovered from their shock. They dragged Ezra off the nearly weeping boy, throwing him to the ground. He came up swinging, and gave a few solid punches that made his knuckles sting before two of them managed to pin his arms, holding him in place as a third drew his arm back before driving his fist into Ezra's face. He had only received a few blows before the youths scattered at the sound of the Imperial patrol coming down on them, and the gang of boys hurried off to disappear into the shadows. Ezra had snatched up the supplies, which were a bit muddy but otherwise no worse for wear, and took off into the crowd.

After taking a roundabout route around the city, he eventually made his way back to the Ghost. He failed to sneak past Hera and Kanan, who were playing a game of dejarik in the common room.

The Twi'lek mothered him, alternately scolding his foolishness and offering words of sympathy as she inspected the damage. She clucked with concern, leaving to go find some ice for the swelling. Kanan, long-suffering and weary, delivered a lengthy lecture detailing the Jedi standpoint on revenge. Ezra nodded dutifully at all the right moments, appearing utterly contrite while hearing not a word.

Attracted by the commotion, the reclusive Zeb emerged from his cabin and promptly began to roar with laughter at the sight of Ezra with bloodied tissues hanging out of his nose.

"I hope you gave them hell, kid."

Chopper, who until that moment had been humorously reenacting his approximation of Ezra's fight, let off a chortling hoot that expressed just how likely he thought that was.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Zeb," sighed Kanan, accepting defeat as he retreated to go meditate and perhaps rediscover the remains of his tattered and frayed patience. Sensing the show was over, the Lasat followed him, muttering good-naturedly about jumped-up Lothrats choosing their battles more wisely.

Ezra felt his grin return as his they left.

By this time, Sabine had returned from her meeting and stood leaning in the doorway of the common area with her arms crossed as she dispassionately observed his injuries. Her brow furrowed as she took in his strangely favorable mood.

"I can see your ability to follow directions has not improved."

Her dry tone, usually so cutting, had little effect on his high spirits.

"What are you smiling about?"

He shrugged, unsure how she would react to the idea of him defending her honor, as capable and competent as she was. Still, taking a few punches was a small price to pay for all that she had done for him since he came on board and it was quite satisfying to contribute something to their friendship besides nervous conversation or poor pick up lines, even if she would never know what he had done.

She frowned, perhaps wondering at his mental stability, and then left in the direction of her cabin.

Chopper swiveled his head to watch her leave, then turned to Ezra with an obnoxious whistle.

"What are you looking at, rust bucket?" he said with a glower, though there was no real anger in the action. The astromech sidled up to him, perhaps hoping to catch him with his shock prod. It hastily scooted back when Ezra hissed viciously at the old droid, and it rolled out of the common area with a mocking cackle.

Sighing, Ezra leaned back against the booth, resuming his smile despite the pain.

Kanan's Jedi teachings be damned. He regretted nothing.

A bit of a wait, sorry about that. College applications have a tendency to drain my creative energies. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. Thanks a million for those who already have!

I believe that Ezra, who was helpless to stop the arrest of the people who mattered most to him, would feel immensely satisfied at having the chance to defend his new found companions, even if it wasn't entirely necessary. Of course, being Ezra, he would never admit that.