Moving On | Luke Skywalker & Ezra Bridger

in which both luke and ezra have experienced grief, and the force might be showing them a new path to follow.

ok so, i love both my sons and they're the same age, born a day apart, and you just don't know how much i want them to meet. and since there's only like 3 stories out there where they do meet, i figured i'd write my own!

this turned out more angsty than i planned, but there you go. i think at some point i might write more ezra-and-luke-meet stories, or continue this one slightly, because i honestly love these two and know they'd be great friends if they ever did meet! and i do kind of ship them too so... there's that as well.

anyway, i hope you enjoy this!

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Ezra drew his hood further over his head, hiding it completely in shadow. Anyone who glanced his way only saw darkness in place of a face – except those who squinted close enough. They were the ones who would be able to make out the dull glow of his eyes.

But no one looked close enough. Not in this place – not in Mos Eisley cantina. Too many strange and hooded individuals passed through here for it to become a matter of interest anymore. Scum, smugglers, bounty hunters, criminals; the cantina was familiar with all such people that no one spared him a second glance.

It was exactly why Ezra had chosen this place. He didn't want to interact with anyone.

The dark-haired boy downed the drink in his hand and slammed it on the table. His vision was slightly blurred around the edges, though that was barely noticeable. What he did notice was that his connection to the Force was dulled. 

Despite himself, Ezra laughed. It was a hollow sound, a sound that reflected just how he was on the inside.

Kanan and Hera would have been appalled. Zeb would've clapped me on the back. Sabine would have rolled her eyes but wouldn't have stopped me..

That hadn't been his original plan upon entering the cantina. He'd just wanted to get away, to hide. Hide himself from the Alliance in the lowliest place on earth; hide himself from everything. And somehow, the bartender figured when he asked for a drink, he wanted something alcoholic. Ezra had never had such a drink before, and he was halfway through the glass before he realised it. It wasn't affecting him too much, though the Force, which constantly felt close, now felt a little disconnected. 

Ezra had been to a fair few dingy bars previously to retrieve intel, though he had never been as bad as this one. Neither had any of them been on such a desolate and unattractive planet like Tatooine. Ezra could understand why only scum traded as Mos Eisley: Tatooine was barren, hot and dry, with no value whatsoever other than being outside of the interests of the Empire, allowing sketchy traders to flourish.

However, it seemed that Imperial interest had risen recently. Ezra had spotted numerously bucketheads guarding entrances to the spaceport. He'd scowled at every one he had passed, anger flaring so fierce within him that it felt like he was burning within the pits of Hell.

He wondered if this was what it felt like to be one of the Sith; to have burning anger consume you at every moment of consciousness.

It was unpleasant, but Ezra thought, if it gave him the chance to avenge his crew – he would do it. He would fall. Anything that would allow him to slay those responsible, those who had killed his family. He couldn't just kill them, either.

He'd make them regret everything. He'd make them realise just what they had done to them, to him – and they would pay in full.

"Kark it all!" he hissed under his breath. The incident had occurred only a week ago - still so raw, so unbearable. He longed to yell, to scream of his sorrow to the world, to make someone understand the agony that pierced his body with every second that passed. It was worse than a hundred stabs from lightsabers, or having a blaster shoot every inch of his body.

It hurt just to breathe, when he knew everyone else he loved did not. Every breath served as a lightsaber stab to the heart.

Was this how Kanan felt when he lost his master? When he lost the entire Jedi Order - everyone he cared about? Was this how Zeb felt when the Empire wiped out his people? 

Ezra sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. His eyes closed. He wanted to sleep - he was so tired, of enduring, of passing each day consumed by grief. His head lowered down toward the table.

He paused.

His body locked. Despite the small amount of alcohol in his body, he was on guard, aware that something was not quite right. The Force desperately pulled at him – or rather, someone else's did.

Ezra almost dropped the bottle in his hand. Kark it all – it was like a supernova had just stepped into the room. Someone here was Force sensitive, and they had a very strong connection to it. Even though his senses were slightly dulled, he couldn't mistake just how strong a presence it was.

Ezra tugged on his hood once again and flicked his eyes upwards, staring over the rim of his drink. The Force guided his line of sight and instantly, it landed on the most unusual ragtag group he had seen for some time: an old man, a young boy about Ezra's age, and two droids. The old man appeared to be the leader: he stood quite straight despite his age, and walked with an energy Ezra didn't believe was possible. Lines creased his face but they didn't make him look old, per say: instead, it spoke volumes of the man's wisdom, and suggested he had seen things most other people wouldn't have dreamed of. His experience only stood out more in contrast to the young boy, who looked so fresh and naïve as he followed the old man in a daze, his blue eyes unable to stay still and glancing in every direction. Ezra blinked. He could feel the Force surrounding both of them – yet, it was the young boy Ezra sensed it from the most. He couldn't have been more surprised. The boy looked like he had never seen anything beyond this very cantina. He was slim and innocent – hardly a warrior. Ezra doubted he had even begun to reach out to the Force.

Maybe that was why he was with the old man. Someone that age, Ezra guessed had to save survived the Clone Wars. Perhaps he was teaching whatever was left of the Jedi's teachings over to the youth – like Kanan had done to Ezra.

Ezra's heart froze at the memory of his Master's name, and hastily switched his gaze to the two droids. He nearly choked on his drink. He recognised them instantly: C-3PO and R2-D2. Alliance droids – ones that served the Organa family, no less.

What were they doing out here, with these strangers?

If the Force hadn't guided Ezra's gaze to the group, the bellow from the barman about the 'no-droids' rule did. Ezra watched the boy send the droids outside, while the man disappeared to talk with someone.

Ezra's interest had been grabbed by these new arrivals. He leaned back in the shadows and watched the boy get into some kind of trouble at the bar and then – he sucked in a breath.

The old man produced a lightsaber and used it, in broad daylight.

It was as though he didn't even care.

Suddenly, anger surged like wildfire through Ezra's veins once again. He was burning with rage, his arms shaking with it. He clutched the edge of the table and sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

How dare that Jedi hide, when so many horrible things had been occurring in the galaxy? How dare he shut himself away, when he had the ability to help? How dare he isolate himself on this desolate planet when Kanan and Ahsoka had been out there, in the thick of action, fighting for the Rebellion and the liberation of the galaxy!

When the man steered the boy away, Ezra had enough. He couldn't stand to be in the same room as that man anymore. He'd lose whatever little self-restraint he had left.

Kicking a chair out of the way, he stalked out of the cantina, hands clenched into fists by his sides. Without thinking, he headed for the spaceport.

Forget just leaving the room – Ezra needed to put several planets between them.

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Months passed, and Ezra nearly forgot about the Jedi in Mos Eisley cantina.

Several things had happened since then, the biggest being the destruction of the Death Star. The night it happened, Ezra remembered being in deep mediation, trying to reach out to Kanan and the rest.

We struck another blow today, everyone, he'd thought, wishing so desperately they were there to celebrate this momentous victory. Your sacrifice was not in vain – and I will continue to ensure it is not so.

He had never wished for them to be by his side so much as he did then. If they were, no doubt they'd have been in the thick of action. Sabine would have loved the explosion. Hera would have had a thrill flying such a tight and intense mission – it seemed that the higher the stakes were raised, the more she enjoyed herself.

That had been a difficult day. And so had the months that had passed since. After a time of doing nothing, Ezra knew he needed to do something, anything, to take his mind off his past. Maybe then he could find a way to begin moving on.

He'd reached out to the Force, and through that connection, it had led him here – Vrogas Vas, where apparently there was a Jedi Temple. Ezra was slightly sceptical of going to a Temple, especially considering past experience.

But he trusted the Force. Surely it wouldn't have told him to come here had there not been a reason.

The planet was barren and devoid of most life. Ezra couldn't help but think of how dull a planet it was for a Jedi Temple to be located.

A precaution only, Ezra ingnited his lightsaber. The green blade hummed as he cautiously made his way forward. He'd parked the Phantom – the last remaining memory he had of his days on the Ghost – a way away, just in case there was anyone unsavoury here he wished to avoid.

Just as he was approaching the Temple – which, by now, was nothing more than ruins – Ezra stiffened as he both saw and felt another presence ahead. A blonde-haired boy, moving slowly.

And that boy wasn't just anyone – Ezra instantly recognised him as the boy he'd seen in Mos Eisley cantina. If not for his looks, then definitely for his connection to the Force. It was unique and so strong, that it was impossible not to recognise.

Before he could call out a greeting, the boy spun around and ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade thrumming through the air. Ezra raised his own mostly in instinct, then realised how foolish that was.

"I'm not going to hurt you." To prove his point, he shut down his blade and stowed it away once more. "We're on the same side here."

The blonde raised the blue blade a little higher. "Against the Empire?"

Ezra felt a wry grin cross his lips. "What else?"

The youth hesitated, his eyes narrowing momentarily. Then he must have decided Ezra was no threat as he stowed his lightsaber away and gave the dark-haired boy an impish smile. "I'm sorry for pulling that on you."

Ezra smiled. He was almost alarmed by how easy his defences melted around this boy, and they had only just met. The boy was pure youth and innocence; somehow, the aura surrounding him pulled Ezra himself into a similar mind frame. He clenched his hands at his sides to remind him of his pain, and willed himself to harden up once again.

"No problem – you'd be a fool if you hadn't, in case I was an Inquisitor or similar," he said, "I've seen you before. In the Mos Eisley cantina."

The boy frowned. "I haven't seen you."

Ezra laughed humourlessly. "I'd be surprised if you have. I haven't exactly... Been social. Kept myself in the shadows." Quite literally, too. It's not easy to keep out of sight of both the Empire and the Rebellion. "Where's that man you were travelling with?"

At once, Ezra knew he had unintentionally touched a soft spot. The blonde stiffened and then his eyes dropped, blonde hair falling into his eyes. Ezra couldn't see his face, but he could hear the emptiness in his voice, see the defeat in his slumped shoulders.

"Killed. By Darth Vader."

It was the most emotionless, empty sentence Ezra had ever heard. It sounded so wrong, coming the boy, whose eyes were so wide and trusting that Ezra constantly felt tempted to think of him as younger than himself.

Ezra felt his stomach churn and he closed his eyes. He knew all too well how it felt to lose a loved one – and how horrible it was to be reminded of it. "I'm so sorry -"

He paused. He still didn't know the boy's name.

"Luke." Ezra opened his eyes, and saw the boy smiling, though it was noticeably forced. "Call me Luke."

Ezra nodded and reached out his hand. "Ezra."

They shook hands. It felt... Conclusive, almost. Like they were sealing some preordained fate. Ezra withdrew his hand nervously and his gaze flicked up momentarily to the cloudless sky. Was that just a feeling or was it the Force?

Ezra returned his line of sight to the boy. "I don't know who that man was, but – I know what it feels like to lose someone close to you." He bit his lip. "To lose people who were close to you. I understand your grief, Luke."

"What happened?"

Ezra's throat tightened. His entire body locked up, and the world starting spinning. When he closed his eyes, he could see it happen all over again, even though he hadn't been there. It was as though someone had recorded it, and now continued to play it over and over in his mind to torment him, punish him.

Ezra gritted his teeth. He didn't want to speak of it ever again – he tried every day to avoid thinking of them too much, for each time only brought a new wave of pain that threatened to topple him, to hold him captive and fill his lungs with the force of his grief.

But Luke had told him what he had gone through, after his insensitive question. Ezra felt Luke only deserved to know the same.

"The Empire," Ezra said flatly. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath; he could already feel the emotion welling up within him. "I don't know exactly how – I wasn't there. I was on a separate mission at the time. When I returned, I heard the news."

It was more difficult to speak now. Fighting to get his words out was more difficult than fighting every Inquisitor, of fighting Darth Vader himself.

"It was a trap," he whispered. His voice was cracked, barely audible. With every word he spoke, the surer he was that he was going to be sick. "We – we were getting too good, too powerful, especially Kanan and myself. I left just the previous day for my own mission. While I was gone, they'd gone to rescue a Rebel unit – they were given all the wrong information. They'd been set up. And Vader was waiting for them."

He really was going to be sick.

"They had no chance," he breathed. "None at all. They were surrounded – and Vader blew them to pieces in space."

Ezra sealed his mouth shut and felt his body convulse, threatening to throw up what little was in his stomach. The tears stung his eyes, but he was still too in shock retelling the tale to make them fall. For a brief second, he imagined their bodies, their bones, in space – drifting for all eternity.

His friends. His family. Gone, just like that. Gone with the pull of a trigger. Gone in an explosion – oh, kark it all, Sabine had loved explosions, loved making things a firework in the sky. How grotesque that that should be her end. Ezra moaned and pressed his fisted hands into his temples and pushed, as though he could squeeze the memory out, as though he could make himself forget.

Not even Chopper could have been spared. That devil of a droid – Ezra would forgive him for everything, taken responsibility for every argument with Zeb and Kanan, travelled to Malachor just to see if Ahsoka was alive and fight the entire Imperial army if it just meant he could see his family smile one last time.

"Spectre unit," Luke said quietly.

Ezra found it momentarily difficult to breathe at the mention of their old crew name. He reached out and grabbed the tree beside him, steadying himself. "H-how-"

"Leia told me. She mentioned only one person remained, and he'd left – and that his name was Ezra. You."

Leia. Ever since they had met on Lothal, they somehow managed to keep meeting. Ezra suddenly wished he hadn't been such good friends with the princess.

"They didn't understand," he whispered. "They grieved, but they told me to get over it. I couldn't, though!"

Suddenly he was yelling, pacing back and forth, his hands moving to grip the roots of his hair. He had kept this bottled up for so long and now it broke free of the iron gates, his grief roaring, demanding to be known, to be understood. "They didn't understand that they were more than my teammates."

We're a crew. A team. In some ways, a family.

"They were my family! I was lost, and they found me –"

He was on Lothal, a mere fourteen years old, lost and abandoned, not able to trust anyone. And then they were in his way, and he was in theirs – and before he knew it the Empire was after him and they risked his life for his – and more importantly, when he was held captive by Kallus, they had come back for him, a practical stranger, risking their lives and their freedom on the way.

They'd been the first people to look out for him – and now, he couldn't ever return the favour.

"They took me in, they taught me so much. Not just how to fight, to be a Jedi – but to be a better person."

They feel alive. Like I do now.

We are Rebels. Fighting for the people. Fighting for you.

"They sacrificed so much for me, especially Kanan." His voice broke. Kanan – blinded by Maul, captured by the Grand Inquisitor. Who had sacrificed everything for Ezra, who had always saved him and then, when it mattered, Ezra couldn't do the same for him. "And I couldn't return the favour. I was too late."

With the final word, Ezra sank to the ground, his head buried in his hands. He couldn't break down – not now, and not in front of Luke. He had already burdened the boy too much.

Besides. He hadn't known them. He hadn't known of Kanan's bravery of sacrifice, of Hera's kindly nature and expert piloting and her fierceness in battle, of Zeb's undying loyalty and dedication, of Sabine's love of art and colour and explosives. He hadn't known them.

He couldn't grieve them like he did – a grief that ate him up on the inside, leaving a great big hole where he heart had once been.

"Ezra..." Luke stammered. Ezra didn't look up, but he could hear the slight impact on the ground as Luke lowered himself to sit beside Ezra. "I – I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."

Such simple words, yet Ezra could sense through the Force just how sincere Luke was being. His eyes still wet, he raised his head so he met the boy's blue eyes. He could also sense the turmoil within the boy and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

The contact made him feel grounded, somehow, reminding him that he wasn't completely alone. Not yet.

"I understand, Luke," he murmured. "I know the Jedi taught not to grieve, because everyone becomes one with the Force – but I lost my family, a second time around. I couldn't not grieve." And to this day, he still was. It was a never-ending cycle; one that ate him alive with every passing day. It was a loss he couldn't accept easily, even if the Rebellion wanted to. It was why he had left: he couldn't make himself recover and go on missions like they had wanted him too. He'd fled, leaving all responsibilities behind them so, for a time at least, he could succumb to his grief. "I've been so lost ever since they all died. Only recently have I begun to search for a direction again." His eyes flicked to the crumbling Temple. "Maybe that's why the Force led me here."

Quiet settled over the two for a moment; the only sounds being those of their own breathing. There was no wildlife on this planet, apart from them. The absence of such creatures made him feel... Empty, in a way. Ezra thought, wistfully, how once he had been able to connect to any creature with ease. How he hadn't been able to establish a connection since the death of his family.

He hadn't wanted to ever establish another connection after that turmoil of grief.

"I think the Force was telling me something, too," Luke said quietly. "I wanted to learn to become a Jedi, like Ben – so I came back here, hoping for answers."

A Temple, an ancient place of knowledge. Ezra nodded slowly. "A temple is always a good place to start. Though," he added bitterly, "Some of the answers you receive aren't so helpful."

Malachor. Ahsoka. Maul. Kanan. Ahsoka, fighting Vader, and Kanan –

No. Don't think about that.

Luke blinked. "You've had experience with temples?"

"Plenty, unfortunately."

No experience had been a completely pleasant one. They were memories Ezra liked to suppress.

Luke bit his lip. His forehead creased as he brought his eyebrows together, for a moment concentrating in earnest as though engaging in a furious debate.

"Ezra..." he said slowly, after a very meaningful pause.

"What is it?"

"Are you a Jedi? A fully trained one?"

Ezra blinked, caught off guard. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm – I'm not sure. I was close to advancing, but Kanan died before I could undertake any sort of test." He couldn't stop the wince from shaking his body and tried to pull it off as a shrug. "So – I guess I'm half a Jedi. Three-quarters if we're being generous."

Luke's eyes widened. "So, could you teach me?" he asked, leaning forward in his eagerness.

Ezra stared outright. "What?"

He was numb, rooted to the spot. Out of everything – him, a teacher? What madness of this? There was no way he could teach anyone – no way he could live up to Kanan. He'd failed his master. He had no right to try and teach anyone else, surely.

Out of everything he had guessed might have happened at the temple, this had been at the bottom of the list. Or maybe he hadn't put it on the list to begin with.

Luke didn't seem to notice Ezra's turmoil as he continued quickly, "Ben didn't get to teach me much, but I've learned to trust the Force. And I don't think it lead me here just because of the Temple. I think we were meant to meet."

He was so sincere, so trusting. Ezra breathed out heavily. Despite everything, it would be difficult to decline Luke – especially after they had both opened up to each other in ways they hadn't expected.

"I don't know, Luke," he said, staring down at the ground. He traced a pattern absently in the ground. "I can't return to the Alliance. Not yet. The pain is still too raw."

"We don't have to," Luke responded instantly. He gestured to their surrounds. "We could stay here, or move someone a bit more pleasant. Ezra – please." Ezra looked up. He hadn't noticed how Luke had allowed himself to plead, even in the slightest. "I need to become more powerful so I can avenge both my father and Ben, and be a use to the Alliance."

Ezra pursed his lips. He didn't need the Force to know how desperate Ezra was, how he needed something to hope to. How he needed vengeance on Vader for not just the death of one loved one, but several.

Didn't that give them a common goal?

Would it be so hard to agree to begin to guide Luke through the ways of the Force?

The answer came instantly.

"Something tells me you won't accept no as an answer." Ezra sighed. "Fine. I'll teach you. I agree, there's something in the Force at work here." The faintest of smiles crossed his lips. "I feel like we were fated to meet."

"Ezra -"

Luke was grinning. Before he could become too excited, Ezra raised his hand.

"Though, on one condition. Two, actually."

Luke didn't speak, and that itself told Ezra that he was willing to listen.

"One: you don't tell anyone about me. And two..." Here, he actually grinned. "Don't call me master, or think of me as an instructor. We're the same age, it would be too strange." He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of it. "Just think of me as a friend. A friend who wants to help."

Friend. What a dangerous word to throw out there. Friend meant caring. Friend meant being close to someone, which Ezra had vowed to himself to never to be again.

But hadn't he already started caring for Luke, who had lost Ben, and his father? Who had been the one person Ezra had spilled his entire emotions to, despite not knowing one another?

He hadn't meant for it to happen, but the seeds had been sown – and already small shoots were sprouting out of the dirt. He already cared. He had already opened himself up to Luke; they were already close. Closer than people who normally had only met for minutes, at least.

Luke grinned and offered his hand. "I can do that."

He was so determined. Something came over Ezra right then and he couldn't help it: he was smiling broadly, like he hadn't in so long as he reached over and once more, clasped his hand within Luke's.

Maybe, this was his time to start moving on.