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Ezra didn’t bother fighting back anymore. He just let it happen as gloved hands grabbed his arms and dragged him off the cold floor of his cell. A numb acceptance had long since become the only thing he was capable of feeling. No one was coming for him. This wasn’t going stop until he gave in or died.
So he just hung there limply as he was flung over a broad, sturdy shoulder. The Purge Trooper’s voice rang in his ears, but he was past the point of caring what was said. Probably just more insults and threats. He’d heard it all before during the months he’d been locked away in this pit of misery and pain.
He slipped in and out of awareness as he was carried swiftly toward interrogation. It briefly occurred to him that it was odd he was being carried when they usually just dragged him along. But he was too worn down to care. All he had the strength to do was try and prepare himself for whatever awaited him once he was strapped down to the torture table. There was never any telling what they were going to do to him. But whatever they decided to put him through this time, he wasn’t going to give the Inquisitors what they wanted. He would never betray the rebellion. Never turn to the dark side.
He had to stay strong.
Stay strong.
Stay –
Suddenly, he was being laid down on a hard surface. A Purge Trooper stood over him, that expressionless helmet making tremors of sheer terror wrack his entire body. He braced himself, waiting for the restraints to lock around his limbs. Instead, the trooper removed his helmet, revealing his face.
Kanan’s face.
Panicked laughter exploded from Ezra’s throat. It had finally happened. He’d lost it completely. He was so far gone he was hallucinating. Imagining he’d been saved when he knew all that awaited him was torture.
The Purge Trooper who wasn’t Kanan reached toward him and Ezra’s manic laughter died abruptly. He flinched, shaking as he tried to inch away from that menacing hand. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to beg. That was the promise he’d made to himself weeks ago. The only way he could keep himself sane. So he lay there, silent and shaking as the grayish fog at the edges of his vision began to close in. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself as he hoped the pain would just start soon.
But before it could, that darkness surged around him, pulling him down into its depths. The last thing he knew before he succumbed to it was blissful relief.
He’s dead.
Even tough the Force told him otherwise, that was the first thought that entered Kanan’s head as Ezra’s body went limp on the floor of the Phantom. The same thought he’d had when they entered the cell to find the kid hanging by his wrists, barely conscious, bruises covering every visible inch of his body. Swallowing his panic, Kanan knelt beside Ezra and pressed his fingers against the boy’s neck. There, beneath a ring of bruises, he felt the kid’s pulse, surprisingly strong given the state he was in.
“Just hold on, kid,” he said, hoping that on some level Ezra could still hear him. “We’ve got you. Just hold on a little longer.”
Kanan had lost track of how long he’d been pacing at the foot of the bed Ezra had been placed in after he was pulled from the bacta tank. The kid looked so kriffing small, lying there unconscious, hooked up to monitors that kept track of his pulse and breathing. With Kanan being the closest thing Ezra had to a guardian, the medics had told him everything they’d found in all their scans and examinations. Fractures in both wrists, several ribs, and his right leg, some healed and some more recent. Nerve damage in his arms, probably caused by the way he’d been hanging. Scar tissue on his vocal cords. Electrical and lightsaber burns. And worst of all, they had reason to suspect sexual assault.
And Kanan hadn’t been able to protect him from any of it. Hadn’t been able to stop Ezra from being taken in the first place. Hadn’t been able to find him for nearly two months. Hadn’t been able to get him out before he’d been tortured and beaten and raped.
He almost wished the medics hadn’t told him a thing. It felt like an intrusion to know such intimate details of what had been done to his Padawan before the kid was even awake to hear the extent of his injuries himself. But in the end, it was probably better that he was prepared. Ezra would need so much help to recover from this. Any information Kanan had could only make the process easier. Or so he hoped.
Kanan paused for a moment, looking down at the sleeping kid. It could still be hours before the sedatives wore off, but Kanan couldn’t bring himself to leave Ezra’s side. When he finally woke, Ezra would need someone with him to keep him calm and remind him that he was safe.
The way Ezra had looked at him on the Phantom would haunt Kanan for the rest of his life. It was somehow worse than sheer terror. Like he was afraid to even let himself be afraid. Kanan had sensed everything inside Ezra—his thoughts, his emotions, his will—freeze up, like a prey animal realizing it was surrounded by predators.
And now that he knew everything that had been done to cause it, Kanan was amazed Ezra had even survived it.
Just as Kanan started pacing again, there was a quiet groan, so faint that at first Kanan thought he’d imagined it.
Then he saw Ezra’s eyelids crack.
He stiffened, watching the kid intently. The urge to rush to his Padawan’s side and sweep the kid up in his arms was almost overwhelming, but he knew better. That would almost certainly terrify Ezra and make everything worse.
Slowly, every millimeter taking an eternity, Ezra’s eyes opened. He flinched as he took in his surroundings, realizing that this wasn’t the cell he’d expected to wake up in. When his eyes locked onto Kanan, he froze. Kanan could sense waves of uncertainty and fear in the Force as the kid stared at him.
“It’s okay, Ezra,” Kanan said, his voice shaking under the force of the raw emotion he felt seeing his Padawan awake at last. “You’re safe. Just don’t try to move too much.”
He stepped forward and Ezra flinched, his eyes snapping shut as he seemed to shrink in on himself. Kanan froze immediately, staying perfectly still, as if any sudden moves would make Ezra pass out again.
Then, slowly, Ezra’s eyes opened, gleaming with tears this time. Within seconds, he was sobbing, two months’ worth of repressed fear and hopelessness pouring out of him all at once.
Kanan swept across the room and gathered his crying Padawan into his arms. He was so thin, feeling like he might break apart in Kanan’s arms. With Ezra settled against his chest, Kanan could feel the kid shaking with every ragged breath he drew.
Ezra’s hands bunched up weakly in Kanan’s shirt, clinging to him as he cried.
“It’s okay,” Kanan whispered, gently stroking his Padawan’s hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
His words did nothing to calm Ezra, whose cries only grew more frantic and pained until he was practically screaming.
“Ezra,” Kanan said. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt? What’s –”
His shoulders suddenly going stiff, Ezra pulled himself violently from Kanan’s grasp. He collapsed back on the bed, rolling onto his side so his back was to Kanan. As his hands tangled in his hair, viciously yanking at it, Kanan found his gaze focusing on the bruises that ringed Ezra’s wrists. The scars that months of being restrained had permanently etched onto his skin.
Ezra curled up on his side, his whole body shaking violently as he sobbed and screamed uncontrollably. At a loss for what else to do, Kanan reached out through the Force. Ezra’s presence was gnarled and twisted, like it was trying to make itself as small as possible.
Trying to hide from him.
Ezra shrieked as he flinched, both physically and in the Force, shrinking away from Kanan and pushing him away. Kanan could feel his terror and sorrow and rage pouring off of him in waves. And beneath it, he could feel the kid’s frantic, desperate plea.
Make this stop.
Ezra was in pain. Unspeakable, unbearable pain. And he needed it to end, even more than he needed to keep breathing.
Just then, a medic pulled aside the curtain surrounding the area they were in. She took one look at Ezra and darted back out, returning seconds later with a hypospray. Ezra didn’t even seem to notice her as he continued screaming and crying, sinking into the well of despair that had been violently ripped open inside him.
Make it stop.
Kanan looked at the medic and nodded.
“Do it."
Ezra never wanted to move again.
He lay on his side, the sedatives he couldn’t remember if he’d agreed to doing their job of keeping him calm. It was different than the drugs he’d been given in prison. Those knocked him out completely. This was more like his anger and sorrow had been locked in a box. They still raged and screamed in his chest, but they couldn’t get out.
Like he was just as trapped as he had been in that cell.
Like he’d never left that kriffing prison.
The only difference was that he could feel Kanan’s presence close by. His Master hadn’t left his side since he’d woken up. The fact that Ezra hadn’t said a word to him didn’t drive him away. In fact, every hour that passed in silence seemed to make that urgent need to stay even more intense.
And yet, it still didn’t feel quite real. Any second now, he expected to find himself back in the cell, or strapped down to the torture rack with an Inquisitor ready to question him until his head was so scrambled he could barely speak.
He whimpered, curling into a tighter ball as the crackling of electricity echoed in the back of his mind. Not a day had passed in that place without him being tortured at least once. Usually more than that. Sometimes they didn’t even bother asking him any questions, clearly just hurting him based on principle or for their own amusement.
Because he was a Jedi, and that was the fate that awaited all of them now.
“Kanan.”
It was the first thing he remembered saying since waking. First thing he remembered saying at all in weeks. He barely recognized the sound of his own voice now that he wasn’t screaming or snapping angrily at an Inquisitor or Purge Trooper. It sounded… small. Fragile. Like it belonged to a different person than the one who’d been dragged to that prison.
“Yeah?”
Kanan’s voice seemed different, too. Far gentler than it normally was. Like he’d heard that brokenness in Ezra’s voice and was afraid of shattering him any further.
“You…” Ezra’s breath caught in his throat. “You came back.”
“Of course I did,” Kanan said. “I’ll always come back, no matter how long it takes me to find you.”
He could sense the sharp pang of his Master’s AngerPainSorrow reverberating through the Force. He shied away from it, whimpering quietly.
“I…” he swallowed, his throat suddenly aching even from the little he’d spoken. “I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t –”
“Hey,” Kanan said. His hand rested on Ezra’s shoulder. Ezra flinched internally, but it just couldn’t translate into physical movement. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this now. You’ll be debriefed once you’re… once you’re better.”
There was something off about the way he said it. Like he was worried Ezra wasn’t going to get better.
“No,” Ezra said, voice still shaking. “I – I didn’t. tell.”
He needed Kanan to know that. Know that, despite everything they’d done to him, he hadn’t given the Empire any information they could use against the Rebellion.
“I know,” Kanan said softly. His other hand rested on Ezra’s head, gently running through his hair. It didn’t scare him as much as the touch on his shoulder had. Maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe it was a sign that the sedatives were numbing him completely. “I know. And I… kriff, I’m so sorry this happened to you, Ezra.”
Ezra fell silent again, suddenly too exhausted to speak. Too exhausted to even think. All he wanted was to disappear, to fall back into unconsciousness where he didn’t have to remember the beatings, the electrocution, the rape. Didn’t have to remember all the times he’d broken down sobbing, screaming for Kanan to help him.
“You’re safe, Ezra,” Kanan murmured, his voice a low rumble that stirred something in the far reaches of Ezra’s memory. Memories of his father trying to soothe him back to sleep when he had nightmares. “You’re safe, and you’re home now. And we can fix the rest.”
Still Ezra said nothing. He was almost glad that speech was failing him. That way he couldn’t tell Kanan that he didn’t know what could possibly be fixed.