Ezra was a survivor. He was - probably - an orphan, and had been alone from the start. Anything before his seventh birthday was no more than a blur of happiness and unattainable dreams now. People's faces were the clearest thing in his mind (as was the case with most everybody) and so were their names.

He preferred it that way. If he remembered enough about being sheltered, he'd forget how to survive. He was supposed to be looking out for himself, and only himself. He was supposed to steal small bits from bucket heads to sell on the black market and earn food in different ways - some more earnest than others, but none completely decent.

Ezra figured that would be his life for the rest of...of forever. Until he died, either of old age or some stupid mistake that would've gotten him shot.

Nope. Apparently, he was in command of the force. Apparently, he could become a Jedi, with the required training. Apparently, he still yearned for interaction with real people, who he could really trust and really care for.

He wanted to be sheltered. He knew that was wrong, because he should be used to it - being alone - after eight years, right!?

He should have refused. He should have stopped himself from accepting Kanan's offer, giving himself a chance at being a kid again.

But he hadn't, so now he had to deal with the consequences. Which is strange, because Ezra was sure that once he started trusting them, caring for them and, dare he say, loving them, he would finally be happy and without a care in the world - no matter how much he wanted to avoid it.

Though being a padawan sounded like the easiest thing in the world until it actually came. It was a lot of work.

Especially with the stupid Jedi sayings Kanan kept giving him, whether they made sense to him or not.

Despite it all, he was still getting better. It was a slow process, but he was better than when he'd started out. He'd started out unskilled, unknowing, unaware and worst of all, undisciplined. But Kanan was just as undisciplined, so it was fine. Then we're perfect for each other, he guessed.

But Ezra wasn't perfect. He'd never believed himself to be. He thought - hoped - he was flawed. He wanted to be flawed because he knew he was a lot more selfless than he wanted to be and didn't want to be as selfish as the last eight years had forced him to become.

Such conflicting feelings made him feel horrible, too pensive, and in need of an adult figure to explain to him what was going on.

Sometimes, Ezra just wanted his parents. But, he knew that was just another unattainable dream that belonged in the blur of happiness before his parents were taken from him. He had to make himself believe they were dead, no matter what Tseebo said or had meant to say.

Tseebo. Another blurred face of the past, but one of the most recognizable.

He'd been the last person to see them. But he'd also tried to warn them about the Empire, advising them to stop for his safety.

Was it bad for him to blame his parents for his past eight years? Was it bad to blame Tseebo? Was he to blame? Maybe it was Ezra's fault that he wasn't as happy as any other fifteen-year old would be. Though that was probably just the times he lived in.

Ezra strayed from these thoughts, hoping to drown his insecurities with the arrogance he wished to display.

Tseebo was gone. Had been for a while now. It had been a while since he himself had come back, but he still felt horrible. The picture of his parents and him - the one in front of him, the one Sabine had swiped from the old house - no longer gave him any joy. It gave him nostalgia.

He wished he could go back to those times when he was a happy child in the arms of content parents.

He wished - despite what he'd told Kanan - to be back at the Empire's training, surrounded by kids his age and making friends as well as rivals like any normal teenager.

But most of all, he wished he didn't want that. It had been established that he was a survivor who was used to working alone, so wanting a family and friends should not be acceptable! Having a team was okay, because he could ditch them the moment he felt too secure around them.

He wanted to ditch them now, as a matter of fact.

Ezra gave out a hollow laugh, still staring at the empty space between his head and his mother's.

Hera, Kanan, Zeb, Sabine, Chopper. A team. He was Spectre 6 out of them all, being the newest recruit. He already trusted them all.

To a certain extent, he added to himself.

"I don't love them," he said, still feeling that terribly cold thing creeping inside of him, but no longer trying to take him over. "If I did, I would've left already."

He would have! He really would! He...he wasn't so sure if he would, actually.

Ezra had no desire to be weak. But his team made him weak.

His team made him weak in ways only friends and family had made him weak before, and still did. His team provided warmth, safety, care and more.

He had fights with Zeb that he could only remember having with neighboring kids who used to be his best friends.

He flirted with Sabine in silly ways only a childish teenager would, despite the fact that he was not supposed to be a childish teenager.

He talked to Hera about things he would've only spoken to his parents about, and - if he felt girly enough to keep one - a diary.

He and Chopper had a horrible relationship, but at the best of times, they were good friends.

And Kanan. They relied on each other so much, Ezra relying on his Jedi master more than he wished to admit. Not his father, not his best friend, not family. Something so much closer, but Ezra preferred to avoid cheesy terms like 'soulmate'.

But he did not love. Because Ezra Bridger learned not to from the very start, thank you very much.

Ezra sighed.

And that's why he needed to leave. Now. He'd hung out with them long enough, and he had an excuse to leave this time. To avoid going to the dark side, because Kanan is a bad teacher. He could just say that, leave and never come back. He could go back to standing at the top of his tower staring at nothing and wondering...

Wondering if he'd ever be happy.

Ezra did not want to admit it, but he was happy with them. With his team. Not his family, because he refused to admit it - for now.

So the best Ezra could do was neglect his own feelings and continue to pretend he was as selfish as he wanted to be, knowing very well that everyone else knew exactly how selfless he really was.

For now, at least.

Ezra got up, closing the family photo and putting the disk in his pocket. He should go to bed before Zeb fell asleep, lest he wanted to get beaten up for waking him up.