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Ezra had managed to believe he’d survive: right up until Chopper died.
Sure, it was hot, and double sunny, and he had sand in places he didn’t even know existed, but he’d kept trekking on.
Then he’d heard the telltale series of beeps that told him Chopper’s battery conduit had died. If he were on The Ghost, or even back at Chopper Base, he’d just plug the droid in and get a lecture from Hera about being more careful with her droid (Chopper was only ever just her droid when he was malfunctioning or in danger), and would go about his day.
But here? In the middle of some desert on Tatooine? Chopper was his one way out. He could have called for help. Now, he would probably die on this stupid desert planet.
It was truly hopeless. The sharp, dry pains of thirst tore at the back of his throat, and the sun beat a tender burn into his skin. No matter which way he looked, all he saw was sand, sand, more sand, oh look a cactus, sand, and a pair of beaming suns.
“Come on, Chop don’t do this to me,” he whined, sinking to his knees in front of the droid and banging his fist against the burning metal. He’d probably have cried if he wasn’t so dehydrated.
This mission was so stupid, why hadn’t he seen it before? Sure, the holocrons had whispered to him about Obi-Wan Kenobi, and they’d shown him a planet with twin suns, but knowing himself, he’d probably taken it the wrong stupid way. The holocrons were broken pieces of glass. They’d been infected with his and Mal’s own thoughts and hopes. And even if they were properly trying to tell him about Kenobi, they probably hadn’t meant for him to go find him in the bloody desert.
Pissed, hot, and covered in sand, Ezra yelled into the whipping wind, banging his fist against the ground. All it did was embed a few hundred grains of sand into hsi already tender skin, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.
He sat there, on the ground, feeling like the most idiotic person in the universe, for a while. Long enough for the sun to turn his tan neck beet red.
Finally, he stood, dusted off his, well, everything, and lugged Chopper over his shoulder. He supposed the droid was pretty heavy, probably about 75 pounds (roughly 35 kilos), but he’d managed to put on enough muscle in the past few months since properly joining the rebellion that he could handle it, even if carrying the droid made his shoulders and arms burn as he alternated between them.
Ezra wasn’t even entirely sure he was still going in the right direction as he set off into the unwavering heat, but he figured that if he kept walking, he’d either run into Obi-Wan Kenobi or some other sort of civilization at some point.
And so he walked. And walked. And walked. Until his legs burned from use, heat, and the gritty grains of sand that had worked their way into his pants, and he could hardly feel his shoulders from Chopper’s weight. He walked, until a small cluster of dome shaped farm buildings appeared on the horizon.
The sight set off something deep in his chest, and an almost hysterical laugh bubbled in his chest as he made his way towards the buildings, and babbled to Chopper’s inanimate form.
“See that, Chop? Those buildings have to only be, like, 3 to 4 miles away, tops! Well, assuming Tatooine is roughly the same size as Lothal. I can do this, we can get there. They probably have water, and food, and a place we can charge you too,” he panted, and kept on his way towards the farm, but he could feel himself slowing down. His legs shook with every step, and his abs were starting to ache from holding up Chopper.
He’d walked until he was only about half a mile away from the farm when his legs finally gave out. He tried to push himself up, but his hand sunk into the sand and his arms screamed from the effort. Finally, he slumped against the sand, his muscles twitching from exertion, wishing the desert could swallow him up. He was the last Jedi padawan in the galaxy. And he was going to die in the middle of nowhere, on a misguided mission, alone.
It didn’t take long for the dark spots dancing in his vision to completely overtake him, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.
~~~
When he woke up, he was staring at a dusty stone ceiling, and had a wet rag draped across his forehead. He blinked, and it took him a second to remember where he was. Then it hit him.
Tatooine, Kenobi, Chopper, the farm.
Ezra bolted upright, trying to ignore the intense head rush that came with the movement. He had to figure out where he was, he had to get Chopper charged, he had to warn Obi-Wan, he had to-
“Whoa, easy there,” a kid entered the room and blinked at him in surprise. He had oddly cut blond hair that fell to the nape of his neck, striking blue eyes, and was dressed in a loose, white, linen shirt. He was probably about the same age as Ezra, but his eyes looked a hell of a lot younger.
His head still buzzing with adrenaline, Ezra plucked his concealed blaster from his boot. He pointed it directly at the kid’s chest. “Who are you? Where am I? What do you want with me?”
The boy’s hands flew up in the air, and his eyes widened. “Hey! No need to pull a gun. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed sincere enough, so he lowered his blaster. Not enough that he couldn't still take the kid in a second, but enough that he didn't seem quite so threatening.
“You’re in my house. Well, really my Aunt and Uncle’s house, but I live here. And technically this is the farm, but- well, you get the gist. As to what I want? Nothing. I found you and your droid out in the middle of the desert while I was looking for scrap metal.”
At the mention of ‘his droid,’ Ezra gasped. “Where is Chopper?”
“Chopper?” The kid looked puzzled for a moment, before realization spread across his face. “Oh, the droid. Odd name for a droid. He’s outside at the charging port.”
Internally, Ezra sighed a breath of relief, but he kept his cold demeanor towards the farm boy the same. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”
“Oh, my bad,” the kid grinned a lopsided sort of grin. “I’m Luke, Luke Skywalker. And you are?”
At the sound of his surname, Ezra’s head buzzed. He knew that name. He didn’t know how, or where from, but he knew that name. It took him a moment to realize that Luke had asked him a question. “Oh, um, Jabba. Jabba the Hutt.”
Luke scoffed. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“What?”
“I’ve seen Jabba the Hutt. You’re as much him as I am the Emperor. Who are you really?”
Ezra sighed. “Ezra Bridger.”
“Alright, Ezra Bridger, what are you and an old C1 unit doing out in the middle of Tatooine?”
“I’m looking for someone,” he told him, biting his lip. “An old Jedi master, by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi” he wasn’t quite sure why he told Luke that, but something about this blond teenager seemed oddly familiar, like he’d met him before, when they were both very small. For some reason, he felt as if he could trust him.
The teen scoffed. “The only Kenobi I know is Old Ben, a hermit who lives in the cliffs not far from here, and he’s no Jedi Master.”
“Well, if you were a Jedi, you wouldn’t exactly go around shouting it to the world, would you?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to be a Jedi. People would practically worship me. I could do anything I wanted. I’d finally get off this backwater planet. I’d tell everyone,” he turned, grinning, to Ezra. “Wouldn’t you?”
Ezra’s hand drifted to his concealed lightsaber. “Sounds like a good way for a Jedi to get themselves killed.”
“Psh, what do you know about it,” Luke waved his words away. “Anyways, I’ll go get you some water. You’re probably super dehydrated,” and with that he ran off into the hot sun.
Ezra gave a noncommittal hum of response to the empty air, an oddly sour sense of nostalgia tugging at his throat. This Luke kid was arrogant, brash, and thought he was invincible. He was a young sort of stupid that made it hard to believe he was the same age as Ezra. He was naive, volatile, and would get himself killed in an instant in a real battle. In short, he reminded Ezra of himself. Or, atleast, the himself he’d been before he’d met the Ghost crew. The Ezra that ran around the streets of Lothal, just trying to survive.
Sometimes he missed being on his own. Most of the time, he was so glad that that damn Lasat, Mandalorian, Twi-Lek, Jedi, and droid had stumbled into his life.
“Okay, I’m back,” Luke handed him a cup of water. “I know it’s not a lot, but it's all we have. Kind of in a drought right now.”
“Thanks,” Ezra took the cup and sipped a bit. He studied Luke for a moment longer before finally opening his mouth.
“You say you know this Ben Kenobi?”
“Eh, sort of. I’m mostly just the only one of my friends he doesn’t chase away with his old walking stick,” Luke shrugged.
“So you know where he is?” Ezra leaned forward, his elbows pressed to his knees.
“Yeah,” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I need you to take me to him.”
“Again, why?”
“I can’t tell you,” Ezra bit his lip. “But it’s really important. Please?”
Luke paused for a moment, and looked as though he were contemplating his options. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. I’ve got about an hour before Beru’ll call for dinner. I can take you out there, but I can’t bring you back.”
“That’s okay, I won’t need a ride back.”
“Alright, Ezra Bridger, if you want to go, we should leave now.”
He nodded and followed the blond boy out to an old, beaten up hoverbike, which sat against a tall pole next to Chopper.
Ezra grinned and walked forward, turning the droid on. His lights whirred to life, and suddenly, he was beeping very angrily at Ezra about the amount of sand in his gears. The Jedi just laughed and rubbed a few grains off Chopper’s satellite. “Yeah, I know buddy.”
Chopper crossed his tiny claws, but Ezra just rolled his eyes and lugged the droid onto the back of the speeder, which caused the end to dip significantly.
“You sure this thing can hold all three of us?” He asked Luke, eyeing the bike.
“We’re only going to the canyon, it’ll hold up till there.”
Ezra was pretty skeptical, but he sighed, realizing he really had no better choice, and clambered onto the back of the bike. Luke pulled an old discarded stormtrooper helmet over his messy blond hair (maybe this guy was redeemable) and hopped into the driver's seat, kicking the drive into gear and sending them speeding across the sand.
Ezra found Tatooine much more enjoyable when he wasn’t walking across the desert. In fact, on the back of the bike, with the wind blowing in his face, it was almost nice. All too soon, they arrived at a tall rock outcropping, which Ezra assumed was the canyon.
“Alright, this is your stop,” Luke announced, helping him unlatch a very miffed chopper from the back of the bike.
“Thanks again for the ride, Luke,” Ezra really had meant to leave his sentence there, but Luke chose that moment to remove his helmet and shoot the blue haired boy a lopsided grin. It hit him all at once where he recognized Luke’s name and face from. “Skywalker.”
And suddenly, he was back in the holding deck of the phantom, watching a small, holographic version of Ahsoka’s old master demonstrating the proper lightsaber technique.
Luke gave him an odd look, his grin faltering slightly, but he nodded. “No problem.”
Ezra turned towards the canyon, really meaning to leave, but he turned back one last time, and bowed his head slightly towards the blond boy. “May the force be with you.”
He was halfway to the first dip in the canyon when he heard a voice call out behind him. “You’re a weird guy, Ezra Bridger.”
“What can I say? It’s part of the charm!” He called back, grinning and faking a salute.
As he finally turned and made his way down the canyon, his mind drifted. So Anakin Skywalker had a son. What an odd thing, for a Jedi to have a kid. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of that before.
Finally, he turned a sharp corner around a rock, and his gaze opened onto a dimly firelit camp, where a man draped in ratty grey robes sat tending to a fire as the twin suns sunk below the horizon. The man, with a face as familiar as that of his parents, looked up and smiled at him.
“Ezra Bridger. I’ve been expecting you.”