Work Text:
Ezra’s eyes hurt. Pins and needles stabbed at them as his lids began dropping. If he only drifted off for a second, maybe… maybe…
Pain seized his whole body. His eyes snapped open as he convulsed. A strangled cry escaped his throat as the cuffs binding his wrists to the chair cut into his skin.
When the shock stopped, Ezra’s chin dropped toward his chest. A quiet, high-pitched groan rose from his throat. He was so kriffing tired.
Slowly, he lifted his head, the weight of the shock collar around his neck feeling even heavier than it had just minutes ago. He glared at the Seventh Sister, who was leaning against the wall beside the door. Her smile broadened as she rolled the trigger for the collar between her fingers.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” he growled.
“I have stimulants,” the Inquisitor said. She raised a cup to her lips and took a sip from it, amusement glittering in her eyes. “And someone is coming along to relieve me in a few hours. It’s too bad I can’t say the same for you.”
Ezra’s head dropped back toward his chest, hiding the tears that began to slip down his cheeks. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to go home.
He gritted his teeth, summoning what scraps of strength he had left to keep the tremor out of his voice as he spoke.
“You can do this all you want,” he said. “I’m still not telling you anything.”
The Inquisitor laughed. The chilling sound made Ezra squirm. He tugged at the restraints, but all he managed to do was make the cuts on his wrists worse.
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” she asked. “This isn’t about getting you to talk.”
The inside of Ezra’s stomach went cold. It was true, they hadn’t asked him any questions after the first couple of weeks. But he’d been here for months now and the torture still hadn’t stopped. It wasn’t going to stop, no matter what he did.
“S-so this is how you have fun, then?” The tremor Ezra had been trying to hold back began creeping into his voice.
“As much as I like hearing you scream,” the Inquisitor said, letting her thumb hover over the trigger’s switch, “this is about breaking you.”
“I won’t turn,” Ezra muttered, speaking more to himself than to the Inquisitor. “I won’t.”
He cried out as the pain seized him again. The now-familiar sharp taste of blood flooded his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek. He jerked and strained, but the restraints held firm, keeping his arms and legs tightly locked against the chair.
Ezra’s breath came in sharp, agonizing gasps, each harder to draw than the last.
“I – I wasn’t f-falling asleep,” he said. “I wasn’t.”
“My finger slipped,” the Inquisitor said, that sharp smile making it clear that she was lying.
Ezra groaned, squirming where he sat. He’d been strapped into this chair for what he was fairly certain was over two days now, only allowed up twice to use the refresher. His arms and legs were starting to cramp up again, pain stabbing at his muscles over and over again. A heavy sob wracked his whole body as his chin dropped back toward his chest.
He just wanted to go home. He wanted Kanan. But no one was coming for him. That much had become clear after the first month had passed. In the worst moments, just like this one, frantic thoughts circled in Ezra’s mind, filling him up with every terrible possibility he could come up with. The crew had abandoned him. The crew had never made it off the Sovereign alive. Or worst of all, the crew had tried to rescue him and been captured themselves. Whatever the truth was, he would never find out.
Ezra gasped as a hand roughly grasped his chin. He hadn’t even realized the Inquisitor had come near him. He shuddered as she forced him to look into her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him look away. Ever since she’d realized just how much eye contact hurt him, she forced him into it every chance she got. Her thumb ran along his cheek, just under his scars, roughly wiping the tears away only for more to fall in their place.
“It looks like we might not have to wait that long after all,” she said. “A few more nights like this and you’ll crack.”
The mere thought of even one more day kept awake, strapped to this chair, made a terrified groan rise in the back of Ezra’s throat. His eyes closed for a moment as the sheer terror and despair pulled at him, trying to drag him downward. He quickly forced them open again, the fear of another shock overriding his wish to slip into unconsciousness.
“Please.”
The word was out of his mouth before he realized he was saying it. Something inside his head screamed at him. No, Bridger what are you doing?! Don’t beg this kriffing schutta for anything! Don’t –
“J-just let me sleep.”
His voice was weak, shaking under the weight of his fear and homesickness and desperation to just get some karking sleep already.
“Please.”
“Ask me again, and I’ll use this,” the Inquisitor said, holding the trigger in front of Ezra’s face, so close his eyes crossed trying to focus on it.
“In fact,” she said, releasing her durasteel grip on Ezra’s jaw. “I don’t want to see that pretty mouth of yours move again.”
She returned to her post beside the door. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she stared him down, as if daring him to speak again. Ezra just bit down on his tongue, not wanting to risk so much as a whimper escaping him. He looked down at the floor, avoiding that chilling gaze.
Tears slipped down his face as he stared at the durasteel. All he could think about was how heavy his eyelids felt, how much he wanted this room and the Inquisitor to disappear, how much everything hurt.
He just wanted to sleep.
Just… just for… one… minute…