Best Empire Day Ever

by Berzerkerprime

Damned fireworks.

Every stupid year the stupid fireworks would start at sunset, no matter where the Ghost was set down. And they would interrupt his stupid concentration and jolt him out of his stupid meditation when he was trying to forget what stupid day it was.

Empire Day. The thirteenth one he'd seen.

Kanan Jarrus always had trouble focusing on Empire Day and this year was no exception. Just once, he wanted to get through the day with his faculties in tact. This was the closest he'd gotten. He'd been doing all right, until the stupid fireworks had begun blossoming on the horizon, just outside the front window of the Phantom. He had chosen there because it was the quietest place on the whole ship, when it was docked. The whole day, he had had to put up with Hera's worried glances and Chopper's... just general... self.

He had been making progress, too. He had found a sort of peace, running around the galaxy with Hera. She had gone a long way to bringing out of that tunnel of darkness he had walked since that awful day the Republic fell, the Jedi a casualty of the conflict. She had been able to coax him back to the Force which had welcomed him back into Its embrace with the warmth of greeting a long-lost child.

But Kanan was no longer that child. He was no longer Caleb. And it was because of Empire Day that he would never be Caleb again.

Giving up on the meditation, Kanan growled and stood up from the seat in the Phantom's cockpit and stalked to the hatch in the floor. He easily slid down the ladder that led to the Ghost's habitation level and stalked down the hall and through the common room, right past Hera, sitting at the booth and reading.

She looked up as he made for the ladder down to the cargo hold. "Not again," she sighed as he passed her, "every year, Kanan. Every year you do this."

"Hey, you have your way of coping with the Empire's greatest holiday," he said, paused by the ladder and waving a sarcastic hand in the air, "and I have mine. It's worked for the other twelve, so why mess with a good thing?"

"You call staggering back bruised and plastered from a bar fight to be a good thing?" Hera shot back, standing and crossing her arms over her chest. "C'mon, Kanan, you haven't had a drink in a year. It's always the longest you've gone since we met. Just once, wouldn't you like to go a year and a day?"

"No," Kanan bit back, sliding down the ladder with finality.

Hera sighed, heavily, knowing that she couldn't stop him when he had made up his mind. Not about this. She shook her head sadly and sat back down in the booth, leaning on the dejarik table and putting her head in her hands.

"Just be safe," she whispered.

Corellia had enough big cities that it wasn't very hard for Kanan to find what he was looking for. Deep in one of the seedier sides of the city that the Ghost had been parked outside of, Kanan found a bar that was lively, but clearly not particularly reputable. Also dark. Dark was good. He liked not being seen.

And so he had walked in, ordered the strongest drink on the list, and settled into the furthest, darkest corner in the place. The only times he left was to get another drink. Then, he would return to brooding and glaring at any passersby that looked a little too celebratory. As the night went on, the amount of mirth in the other patrons that Kanan could stand got less and less.

The bar's vid screens kept showing the same nauseating propaganda that passed itself off as documentaries about the end of the Clone Wars. The yearly replay of Emperor Palpatine's address to the Senate, declaring the founding of the Galactic Empire was what got to him most. He couldn't help but remember where he had been, what he had been doing at very nearly the same time.

Run!

The word echoed through his mind and the only thing that he could think to do was take another swig of his drink. Studied his reflection in the liquid in his glass and for a moment, he thought he saw Caleb Dume peering back at him through his own eyes.

Survive!

He closed his eyes against the next echo to filter through his thoughts. He hadn't of course. Master Depa would have been disgusted with Kanan Jarrus, he was sure of it. A rogue, a nerf-herder, a not-so-recovering drunk. Caleb Dume was well and truly gone, just like the rest of the Jedi. Hera saw more in Kanan, though, which was the only thing he had to hold onto. That was the only reason he wasn't completely plastered; he owed it to her to keep trying.

Just not tonight.

The archival footage of the Emperor's speech had gotten to that point where he was whining about the Jedi attacking him and leaving him horribly disfigured and his report that they had suffered the consequences of their betrayal.

"Hey!" an off-duty Stormtrooper hefted a drink of his own to the screen, his helmet sitting on the bar next to him. "How many Jedi does it take to replace a holo emitter?" he asked the bar patrons at large. There was no answer forthcoming, so he supplied it himself. "Sixty-six! Too bad there aren't any left!" he exclaimed, clearly thinking himself quite clever and bawling with laughter at his own joke.

A few other patrons sitting near him at the bar apparently thought he was hilarious as well, they gave a cheer and lifted their glasses, then dissolved into laughter of their own.

And... that was it. Kanan was done with the whole crappy night.

Slowly, calmly, he stood up at his dark little table and picked up his glass and what remained of his drink. Putting as much muscle behind it, willing the Force to just go away for a while, he lobbed the glass so that it flew inches over the Stormtrooper's bare head and sailed directly into the vid screen. The screen sputtered and died, finally granting some respite from the prattling old Sith bastard.

The Stormtrooper and his fellows turned to look at Kanan, giving him menacing looks. Defiantly putting a hand on his hip, Kanan tossed it right back at them.

"Hey, what's your deal?" the Stormtrooper bit at him.

"How about a little respect," Kanan growled back, "people died in the Clone Wars."

One of the Stormtrooper's fellows gave an indignant huff, striding forward to get right into Kanan's face. Kanan could smell the stale booze on his breath. "A war between droids and clones with a bunch of zealot traitors," he snarled, "hardly any people at all, if you ask me."

"Oh yeah?" Kanan bit back. "And just where you you when the Emperor was fighting to save us all from them? Hiding like a coward, probably."

That struck the nerve that Kanan was hoping to hit. The guy pulled back a fist and launched it at Kanan's face. He had expected it to be uncoordinated and weak with drunkeness, but it actually held some power in it. Kanan staggered back a little, then turned back to look at the guy, knuckling a bit of blood off his split lip with an almost feral grin. Without any further preamble, he launched himself at the guy who had hit him and began the fight in earnest, sending the guy reeling.

The Stormtrooper and his other fellows immediately went into action, aiming their own attacks at Kanan. He weaved in and out and around them all, taking their hits and giving just as good back. The rest of the bar emptied quickly as chairs began to be shattered in their unfortunate new roles as impromptu weapons. The poor bartender huddled behind the bar, dodging the glass containers that had started flying. Kanan held his own for a while, but there was a bit of a pause when his sparring partners had surrounded him. They had taken enough hits from Kanan to be wary of attacking, but clearly knew they had the upper hand.

"This was stupid, pretty boy," the Stormtrooper barked out, "one of you versus all of us?"

"Yeah, it was pretty stupid of you," Kanan quipped back, "I mean, you guys don't stand a chance against me."

"Not while you're all alone, you bleeding heart," one of the other attackers shot back.

"Who says he's alone?" a low voice from a relatively undisturbed corner rumbled. A large figure in a tan, threadbare cloak stood up from the only table in the place that was still upright. Both Kanan and the ruffians turned to the voice in surprise, having thought that all the other bar patrons were long gone.

The cloaked figure stood almost seven feet tall. He was some kind of a digitigrade being, bootless feet idly kicking away a broken chair to give him space to stand. His muscle-bound, purple-skinned arms came forward to uncover clawed hands that reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing a face striped in tufts of purple fur and yellow eyes. Force help them, he had yellow eyes!

"Oh, just what we need, a dying breed," the Stormtrooper spat, "mind your own business, you Lasat street trash!"

The big stranger growled and glared down at the nearest hooligan. Then, without so much as another word, he sent a fist into the guy's face. The guy went flying and landed on what remained of a table, unmoving, but groaning.

The fight erupted again and this time the attackers had to split their attention between Kanan and the stranger. Still it wasn't long before the two of them had been herded together and were on the defensive. Somewhere along the way, the Stormtrooper had found his blaster and was beginning to take pot shots. Luckily, he had imbibed enough that his aim was even more terrible than normal. Eventually, Kanan and the stranger wore their attackers down. All of them were laid out on the floor of the bar, each making various sounds of pain.

"I didn't need your help," Kanan groused at the stranger.

"Heh, sure you didn't," the Lasat rumbled back, "not a whole lotta love for the glorious Empire I take it?"

"None of your business," Kanan said, waving him off and plucking a somehow intact bottle off the top of the bar. He took a pull from it, then threw the rest on the floor, sending shattered glass skidding in all directions. He began to head toward the door when the sound of approaching sirens could be heard. They stopped just outside the front of the bar. Kanan rolled his eyes and gave a groan.

"Time to leave?" the Lasat asked, looking a little alarmed, himself.

"Yeah," Kanan said, turning on the ball of his foot vaulting over the bar to make for the back entrance. The Lasat effortlessly followed him and they both spilled out into a dark back alley, picked a direction, and started running.

"You know, you aren't bad, for a lanky little Human," the stranger quipped as they ran down the alley, "you got a name?"

Kanan's first impulse was to ignore the question. Keep his head down. Don't get involved. But, something inside told him otherwise, that he had found a kindred spirit that he couldn't ignore. "Kanan," he bit out.

"Friends call me Zeb," the Lasat answered, "you know, if I had any."

"Shut up and run!" Kanan exclaimed, hearing the far end of the alley behind them now filling with security troopers.

They burst out onto a main road only to find more troopers searching the area. They all snapped their attention around to them.

"Didn't we just leave this party?" Zeb muttered.

"Up!" Kanan shouted, breaking into a sprint at a stack of nearby crates and jumping up on top of them to parkour up to the roof of the nearest building. Zeb was right behind him as the sound of stunner blasts sounded just on his heels.

The two of them continued their chase on the rooftops staying just out of the troopers' line of fire except for the times that they had to vault from one roof to another. Each time they did, Zeb landed on three points and then continued on. For his part, Kanan tumbled into a roll and then sprang back to his feet in perfect stride.

Kanan kept them on a fairly straight path. Below them, the troopers had converged and were sprinting to keep up on the ground. Finally, Kanan and Zeb came to a larger building, with more rooftop, where the streets below were completely out of light of sight if they were in the middle. He skidded to a halt and pulled Zeb down to the rooftop with him. He put a finger over his lips before the Lasat could protest. Once he was sure he had Zeb's attention, he listened for the sound of the running troopers below and heard their footfalls fade into the distance as they kept going on what was the projected path of their quarry. Then, Kanan silently pointed back the way they had come. Zeb grinned.

And then they were off again, circling back to the hole-in-the-wall bar where this had all begun. Below them, in the alley, two troopers had been left behind to attend to a pair of speeders. Silently, Kanan gave a smirk and ushered Zeb forward in mock graciousness. Zeb cracked his knuckles, then leaped over the side of the building, coming down on top both the troopers at once and giving them a nice nap. As Kanan parkoured down again, Zeb straddled one of the speeders. Kanan landed on the second one and then they both revved the engines and took off, full tilt, through the crowded streets toward the edge of town.

"Not bad, skinny!" Zeb called over the sound of the rushing wind.

"You should see me when I'm not drunk!"

"Hope you got a place to lie low."

"Yup," Kanan replied, "follow me."

The two pilfered speeders raced off into the dark of the night at the edge of town, leaving a bunch of frustrated and put-upon troopers in their wake.

Hera emerged from her quarters a couple hours after local daybreak, heading for the fresher with a yawn. She was brought up short by Chopper, running into her leg and latching one of its pincers on to her baggy pants. Giving a series of disgruntled chirrups and blorps, it ushered her to the entry way of the common room.

She had expected the passed out would-be Jedi Knight slumped and snoring in the booth, a few nice new lacerations visible on his face. What she didn't expect was the Lasat laying face down on the floor, under a worse-for-wear cloak and drooling. The smell coming off of both of them nearly made the tips of her lekku curl in reflex.

She shook her head, putting a hand to her face. This was gonna be a good one, she just knew it. With a sigh, she smacked Kanan's nearest shoulder with a closed hand.

Kanan jolted awake mid-snore, sitting up with a start. "Wha? Whad'is'it?"

Hera waited until she was sure Kanan was focused and awake enough to comprehend Basic. When he was finally looking up at her with a sheepish grin, she crossed her arms over he chest. "Dear," she said.

"Yeah?" Kanan answered, blearily.

"Why is there a Lasat passed out and drooling on my floor?"

As if suddenly remembering that Zeb was there, Kanan looked down and nudged the Lasat with his foot, none-too-gently. "Hey," he called, "wake up."

Zeb blearily pushing himself off the floor and settled into a cross-legged sit with a groan. "My mouth tastes like a pickled bantha," he muttered to no one in particular while he let his eyes focus. And then he was looking up at an irate, green Twi'lek, her hands on her hips and glaring.

"Uh," Kanan began lamely, running a hand through his hair, "Hera, Zeb... Zeb, Hera."

Zeb grinned a pointed-toothed grin and gave a sheepish wave of his hand. "Well, here's a sight for sore eyes," he said, climbing to his full height slowly, "you didn't tell me she was a Twi'lek!" He took one of her hands in his and gave a sweeping bow. "Pleased to meet ya, beautiful."

"Hey!" Kanan protested.

But there really wasn't any need. Before Zeb could react, Hera reversed the grip on her hand and locked her fingers around Zeb's, applying full pressure. She then twisted up and around, sending the Lasat back to one knee while a couple of pops came from his hand. He let out a surprised yelp. She then let go and spun on her heel to glare back at Kanan.

"What?" Kanan asked, the picture of innocence.

Hera continued to glare.

"What!? He helped me out of a jam last night," Kanan said, "there were troopers and we had to steal a couple speeders to get away."

"I don't believe you," Hera ground out.

"And there were a bunch of pissed off guys that hit me!" Kanan continued.

"That I believe," Hera said.

"Yeah, there must have been fifty of 'em!" Zeb chimed in. "They just suddenly went berserk and-"

Hera held up a hand to silence him. "I don't wanna know," she said. Then she turned on her heel and exited the common room. Chopper gave a few disgruntled noises, then followed.

Kanan and Zeb watched her go down the hallway and disappear into the fresher, slamming the door behind her. There was a long moment of silence between them.

"Uhm," Zeb finally ventured, "think now's a good time to tell her I need passage off of Corellia?"

"Depends," Kanan answered, "do you like those pointy, purple ears of yours?"

Zeb shrank a little, putting his hands over the afore-mentioned ears. "Tell you what, though," he said a moment later with a smirk.

"Hmm?" Kanan hummed, looking askance at him.

"Best Empire Day ever," Zeb said, grinning.

Kanan looked at him like he had lost his mind. Then, he found a chuckle creeping out of his throat. Zeb answered in kind. A moment later, they were both roaring with laughter.

My head-canon is a strange, strange place that would never get past network sensors. I just don't see these two meeting any other way. The scene popped into my head and Zeb thought it was fun, so he demanded I write it down.

Hope you all enjoyed! Remember to leave a review!