Ezra Bridger (
jabbathehutt) wrote2021-05-17 08:40 am
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Mist under the East River
No one even noticed what happened to the kids on Delancey. Or never talked about it, which amounted to the same thing.
The papers covered the accident that took the life of three construction workers on the Manhattan side of what will eventually become the second East River Bridge. They said digging hit an underground cave they didn't know was there, and the families were compensated widely.
No one talked about the handful of street kids who had taken to using the site as shelter at night. Who had, due to dares and a morbid curiosity, snuck into the site to find - not an underground cave but a secret basement. And this is because no one survived to talk about it afterwards.
Except Ezra Bridger. Who never does talk about it.
In fact, most people have probably forgotten he was even friends with those kids.
Now he sells papes and lives by his wits on the Lower East Side, tries to avoid making any more friends, and keeps himself to himself.
Well, as much as that's possible among the ragged army of New York City newsboys.
The papers covered the accident that took the life of three construction workers on the Manhattan side of what will eventually become the second East River Bridge. They said digging hit an underground cave they didn't know was there, and the families were compensated widely.
No one talked about the handful of street kids who had taken to using the site as shelter at night. Who had, due to dares and a morbid curiosity, snuck into the site to find - not an underground cave but a secret basement. And this is because no one survived to talk about it afterwards.
Except Ezra Bridger. Who never does talk about it.
In fact, most people have probably forgotten he was even friends with those kids.
Now he sells papes and lives by his wits on the Lower East Side, tries to avoid making any more friends, and keeps himself to himself.
Well, as much as that's possible among the ragged army of New York City newsboys.
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He shrugs.
"Yanno what it's like. Kids come and go. Sometimes there's no point."
Translation: I had a street family and they all died.
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Spot doesn't quite get it, but he can tell there's something there that he's not saying, and he at least knows enough about this kind of life to make a few educated guesses. He nods his understanding - as much as he counts the newsies as his family, he knows he's kept most of them at arm's length too, not wanting any of them to realise the truth.
He supposes Ezra's got secrets of his own, too...
He falls silent, then, not quite sure what else to say. He's never really been a big talker.
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...until he picks up something sudden and sharp from beneath the docks. A rush of fear, from one of the boys that no one else has noticed.
He sits up - shoots a glance at Spot that does nothing except say he's scared of something - races to the edge of the dock and dives in.
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Spot straightens up when Ezra gives him that look, his own expression questioning, but before he can ask the other boy's already leaping to his feet.
Spot stands as well, following him to the edge and watching him dive in, trying to work out what the hell's going on.
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Spot may see the kid breaking water, crying out, and his friends splashing over as they realise he's in trouble, checking he's okay and pulling him out.
Ezra surfaces a shot distance away, watches the fuss for a few seconds, then pulls himself out of the water again.
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Spot watches the kid for a long moment to make sure he is okay, his attention turning to Ezra once he's sure his friends have got it under control.
He strolls back over to where Ezra's back out of the water and sits down. He's quiet for a moment, and then asks.
"What was that?"
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He pauses, and adds:
"He was scared, and I could hear it."
It's the first time he's said it out loud, admitted it. He doesn't look at Spot, but he hopes Spot will believe him.
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Spot believes him, of course he does, after what Ezra did to his father. It makes him curious though, because that means it's not just some weird kind of mind control, it's something else.
"So you can.. tell what people are feeling?" he asks with interest "Or do you just 'hear' strong emotions? How does it work?"
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Ezra hesitates trying to figure out how to describe it. "I guess a bit of both? It ain't actually like hearing, but I dunno how else to say it. It's like noise."
He waves a hand vaguely at the boys in the water. "Couldn't tell you who was feeling what, but there's a load of happiness going on. Then if one person gets scared it's like - you know when you're on a busy street and someone screams?"
That's also how he found Spot that day.
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If one person gets scared
Spot realises immediately that he must have drawn Ezra in that day with his father, because he knows he'd been terrified.
"And you can't help but just... jump in?" he asks with a raised eyebrow - he doesn't judge, he kind of admires it, if he's honest.
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"Wouldn't you?"
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"I suppose I would." Spot agrees - he's certainly jumped in to defend plenty of Brooklyn boys when they're in trouble, despite the risk to himself. He's had to excuse more than one black eye with claims of roughhousing at school over the years.
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"Until you could handle much bigger rats." Spot says with a grimly amused smile, thinking of his father.
He wonders what that must have been like, trying to figure out his powers alone.
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Spot nods - he doesn't thank him again, he already did that, although he is still grateful.
He does wonder if Ezra puts himself at risk of discovery, though, if he's prone to just jumping in like that.
"Do you think there's anyone else like you?" is what he asks instead, though
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"I think so," he says finally. "I'm sure there has to be, but I never met anyone."
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"Maybe you wouldn't even know if you did..." Spot muses. After all, the only reason he knows about Ezra is because he's seen him in action, there could be plenty of people out there with the same powers, or different ones, just going about their everyday lives and staying hidden.
He wonders why, or how, but he doesn't want to ask Ezra for the details he knows the other boy doesn't want to give.
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But not here, in the bright sunlight, surrounded by people who might overhear.
"Probably not," he agrees.
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"Makes you wonder how many might be out there..." Spot leans back on his hands, staring up at the cloudless sky.
Are they all hiding like Ezra? Do they use their powers the way he does, to help people?
Considering what he's managed to learn of human nature, he suspects it could go either way.
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"I try not to think about it too much," he admits.
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Spot doesn't quite get that, wouldn't Ezra want to know if there were other people out there like him? But then he's always been searching for a place to belong, so maybe that's why.
He makes a noise of acknowledgement, though, and falls silent, continuing to watch the sky. He should probably leave soon, it won't be long before the sun is setting, but he wants to stay and enjoy the company a little longer.
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He's never talked about it with anyone because he's never had anyone to talk to about it. And now he finds he wants to talk about - to talk to Spot about it.
But it's too busy around here.
"You ever come out at night?" he asks finally. "Or - when there aren't so many kids around?"
Can we talk in private some time?
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Spot's about to just say no when he realises what Ezra's actually asking. He glances sideways at him and frowns thoughtfully for a moment.
"I have to go home in a bit... but maybe I'll feel like a walk after dinner." he says casually - quiet enough that nobody else overhears it. He can almost certainly get away with that since his father's out of town, and he can think of a dozen places he might go 'walking' without being disturbed.
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Except he still doesn't know where Spot's giant mansion or whatever is.
"Same place as before?"
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