Work Text:
Thorns dug into Ezra’s arms, adding to the collection of cuts he’d already sustained, as he fought his way through the thicket. Without his lightsaber or any other weapon to speak of, clawing through barehanded was all he could do. There were other routes back to the cave, but he’d already been gone more than a day and this was the fastest way. He’d take a few extra cuts over his Master’s scathing disappointment any day.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been tested in this way, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Maul had drugged him and brought him out into Dathomir’s wilderness, leaving him bound and blindfolded, tasked with freeing himself and making his way back home unarmed and with no supplies. At first, when he was much younger, the exercise had terrified him. He would stumble back home shaking, injured, and fighting back tears, only for his Master to attack him.
But he’d long since learned that he had nothing to fear from the wilderness. By his best guess, he was about fifteen now, and he was intimately familiar with Dathomir after a lifetime of living and training here.
He’d nearly made it through when a large thorn snagged on the end of his pants, scraping his skin. Ezra sighed in frustration and tried to wrench himself free to no avail. He shook his ankle, irritation building within him. Distracting him.
He didn’t see the quick, frantic movement beneath the brush until it was too late. Pain shot through his leg as the snake sank its fangs into his flesh.
Ezra cried out, twisting and thrashing in the tangle of thorns and vines until he toppled forward. Blood trickled down his face as his cheek scraped open on the rough ground. In the corner of his vision, he could see the snake slithering away, dashing for cover. Rage pulsed in his chest and his hand shot out, reaching through the Force and seizing the creature. The snake writhed in his grip, hissing and snapping at nothing.
Ezra snarled, dashing the snake against the rocky ground. Once, twice, three times, and the creature went still. With another pained growl, Ezra hurled the animal’s body back into the vines it had come from.
With the furious thrill of the snake’s death quickly wearing off, the pain came back in full force. Ezra sat up, agony already overwhelming him as he dragged his knees up to his chest. As he tugged up his pant leg, the rough black cloth clung to the wound, making him hiss through his teeth. Two deep marks sunk into the skin just above his ankle, angry red lines spreading out from them already. He couldn’t feel his foot, but throbbing pain exploded through the rest of his leg when he touched the wound.
Ezra glanced over at the dead snake. An andara. Venomous. Deadly within only an hour of a bite. Unless he took the antivenom in time.
Bracing his hand against the rock, Ezra staggered to his feet. Nectar from a brula tree was the only antidote, but this late in the season, most of the blooms would have already matured into fruit. Ezra stumbled forward, eyes narrowed as his vision swam. He had to find a brula tree. He was on his own out here, and he would survive it.
There. It was barely twenty feet away, but in the state Ezra was in, it might as well have been twenty miles. Ezra staggered forward, his leg starting to drag as the numbness spread. Each step was a battle against his own body as the venom leached away his strength. His foot, now a dead weight, caught on something and he fell. Pain cracked up his arm and across his face as he found himself splayed out on the ground. For a long moment, he lay there, sweat beading on his skin even as his face pressed into blissfully cool dirt. His heart was pounding in his chest, his throat, his head, hammering against his insides so hard he thought he would burst.
He reached up, his hand shaking pitifully as he commanded the Force to do his bidding. The blossoms ripped away from the branches, racing through the air toward him. Ezra grasped them with shaking hands and stared blankly at them, his thoughts lagging behind his actions. His Master had taught him how to make the antidote, but Ezra had never needed to use it before. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to drink it or apply it to the wound.
But there was no time to figure it out. He was growing weaker by the second as pain tore through his entire body. He shoved some of the blossoms into his mouth and chewed frantically, forcing himself to swallow the coarse, bitter mess. He smashed another flower against the bite marks, rubbing it viciously against the wound until it ripped apart under the friction.
Ezra collapsed again, all his strength drained by the action. For a moment, he just lay there, staring blankly up at the brula tree towering above him.
It might not be enough. He might not have enough nectar and all the rest of it was just out of his reach.
No. Rage hammered in his chest as he stared up at the branches. He wasn’t going to be defeated by an animal and a tree. He’d been trained better than this.
Gritting his teeth, he reached out and ripped every flower he could see from the tree. Closing his eyes, he let his awareness slip along the branches, finding the remaining flowers and pulling them to the ground.
His fingers were weak and trembling, barely under his control, as he shoved the flowers into his mouth and crushed them against his wound.
I don’t want to die. The thought consumed everything, driving away all else. Please. I don’t want to die.
He didn’t think this way. He didn’t beg. Not since he was a little boy, cowering at his Master’s feet. But now silent, frantic pleading was the only thing in his mind. No other thoughts could enter his head.
He swallowed hard, forcing another clump of plant matter down his throat. It was the last of them. There were none left and he was still sweating and shaking, his pulse hammering his entire body so hard he felt like he was about to break into pieces at any second. His stomach lurched and he covered his mouth, swallowing over and over again until the feeling of bile creeping up his throat subsided.
Get up, he told himself. Just get up. You took the antidote. Now get up.
Just rolling onto his stomach felt like it took hours. When he finally accomplished it, he lay there for a moment, panting as sweat and tears dripped down his face. Finally, he summoned every scrap of strength he had and pressed his palms against the ground, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. He dragged himself forward, crawling closer to the tree until he could grab hold of it and use it as leverage to pull himself to his feet.
There, he paused, leaning against the tree and dragging in long, shaking breaths. He could barely see as his vision slipped in and out of focus, but still he managed to take one step forward. And another. And another. His feet felt like they were made of stone, dragging him down until his knees buckled and he could barely keep himself upright.
He turned his head, trying to figure out where he even was. He couldn’t remember. Didn’t know where home was. Panic tightened in his chest until he could barely breathe.
He was on the ground again, a stabbing pain shooting through his head as his cheek pressed against the dirt. A pained groan met his ears and after a long moment, he realized it was coming from him. His fingers scrabbled desperately at the ground, fighting to get him away from whatever was causing that growing sense of danger building at the base of his skull.
Something was growling, and Ezra was suddenly very aware of the smell of his own blood. It dragged behind him in a trail along the ground, a beacon for any hungry predators who might be nearby. Panic seized in the pit of Ezra’s stomach as he forced himself back to his feet. He could barely see anything, but he could still hear that growling, coming from all around him. He turned quickly, frantically searching for the source.
Then he felt it. Hot breath on the back of his neck. Teeth snapping right behind him, just a hair’s breadth from his skin.
He screamed, shoving blindly through the Force and throwing himself backward. The blurry shape of claws carved through the air as he fell, the ground disappearing beneath his feet.
He was falling. Wind rushed past him, howling viciously in his ears. His body was slamming against something, tumbling downward with no control.
And then… pain.
There was nothing else. No thought, no emotion, just sheer agony pounding through his entire body, so much that at first he didn’t even realize that he wasn’t moving anymore.
Ezra’s breath was shaky and labored as he lay there, staring up at the sky. Tears moved sluggishly down the sides of his face, dripping onto the ground.
“Help,” he croaked, his voice so quiet he could barely hear it. “Please, help me.”
But there was no one to hear him. He was alone and stranded and he was going to die here, lying in the dirt, venom seeping through his veins.
Slowly, he managed to roll onto his stomach once more. He screamed as he did so, sharp spikes of pain shoving their way through his chest, splintering up his arms. Inch by inch, he dragged himself forward, every bit of progress marked by quiet whimpers and groans. His strength was fading fast, but he forced himself to keep moving. Why, he didn’t even know. He had no idea where he was, he could barely see, and any minute now, some other animal could descend on him and rip him to shreds.
Ezra had felt afraid before. He’d felt small and alone and trapped. But he’d never felt helpless.
“Pathetic.”
That wasn’t his Master’s voice. Though Ezra couldn’t place it, it was familiar and it terrified him to his core. Filled him with rage strong enough to crack stone in half.
He tried to drag himself forward, only to find himself rooted to the spot. A heavy, suffocating force pressed down on him, holding him on the ground. The crackling hiss of a lightsaber igniting echoed behind him.
“No,” Ezra mumbled, scratching ineffectually at the dirt. “No.”
A hand grabbed his hair, dragging him to his feet. Pain exploded across his spine as he was shoved back against the cliffside. He could barely make out the face of the figure towering over him, but instinctively, he knew.
Inquisitor.
Ezra couldn’t even struggle against the Inquisitor’s hold on him. He could only hang there limply in his assailant’s grip, held up by that hand yanking viciously at his hair.
“Your Master is dead,” the figure hissed, raising their lightsaber. “And you’re next. Thank you for making this so easy.”
The Inquisitor wrenched Ezra forward. And there was nothing he could do but fall toward that red blade.
Ezra couldn’t move.
Something was pinning him in place, holding him down as panic swelled in his chest. His whole body began shaking, pressure building in his head until his back arched and he screamed. Sharp spikes of pain dug into his limbs as he thrashed and shook until his head slammed against something hard. When it was over, he lay there, panting, pain wracking every muscle.
Ezra.
He yelped as the voice echoed around him. It was familiar, too. Even more so than the voice he had heard just minutes (seconds? hours? days?) ago. But it didn’t scare him, didn’t enrage him like the Inquisitor’s voice did. It felt… warm and comforting, like he was just close enough to a fire to ward off the cold.
Ezra.
The voice seemed to curl around him, caressing him gently. Shielding him.
It’s time to come back.
A harsh whine rose up in Ezra’s throat as he began shaking again. He could feel his muscles starting to clench and contract, threatening to seize again. Everything hurt so much.
You’ll be alright.
He was dying. That had to be it. He was still lying at the bottom of that cliff, the venom slowly leeching his life away.
Time to wake up.
His head slammed against the floor again as he convulsed, and darkness surged up around him, dragging him down into empty nothing.
Ezra’s eyes opened slowly. As he lay there, staring into the darkness, he realized his head was clearer. Though he could still barely see, his vision wasn’t spinning and blurring anymore.
He let his face press against the cool stone beneath him as he took stock of his surroundings. He was lying on his side, his arms wrenched behind him and the familiar feeling of chains encircling them. Carefully, he tugged at his bonds until there was no slack left, confirming his suspicion that he was chained to something. Craning his neck, he saw chains binding his legs tightly together, too. Squinting through the darkness, he recognized the roughly cut stone that surrounded him.
He was still on Dathomir, back in the caves that he and Maul called home.
The fear that clenched around his heart eased as he finally pieced together where he was. But that didn’t explain… well, anything, really. He should be dead by now. Instead, he felt fine. Sore and nauseous, but otherwise fine. Like the bite had never happened.
He tugged at the chains again, but as always, they were unyielding. The only thing left to do was to wait for his Master to free him.
As he lay there in the silent darkness, his thoughts wandered back to the voice he’d heard. It wasn’t his Master. He knew that. It was softer, gentler, kinder. And somewhere deep down, he felt that he should know who it belonged to.
He blinked, and the vision flashed momentarily before his eyes. Blue eyes. A face framed by a veil, a few loose strands of black hair slipping out from under it. That voice, gentle and reassuring.
Ezra.
He flinched violently. Just as much as he knew he should recognize the voice, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it. As comforting as it was, there was something about it that felt dangerous.
Maybe – he tried to pull his mind back from the thought, but he couldn’t – maybe it was someone he’d known Before.
Ezra bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, snapping himself away from that train of thought before he could follow it any deeper. There was nothing before Maul. This life, here on Dathomir with his Master, was the only one he’d ever known. Whoever he’d seen, she must have been real. Not a memory. There were no memories, not before Maul.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his Master appeared in the doorway. Ezra tensed, fear thrumming through him as he wondered if Maul somehow knew what he’d been thinking about. Slowly, Ezra unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and spoke, his voice hoarse and rough.
“Master,” he rasped quietly. “What happened?”
Maul crossed the room and knelt beside Ezra. With a wave of his hand, the restraints binding Ezra’s limbs opened up.
“I found you at the bottom of a cliff,” Maul told him. He began to unwind the chains from around Ezra’s arms and Ezra braced himself, preparing for the soreness in his muscles to get worse when he finally tried to move. “You were screaming at nothing, having seizures. It seems you overdosed on brula nectar.”
As Ezra blinked, the image of branches high above him flashed across his vision. Flowers dropping down to the ground as he ripped at them with the Force. Bitter leaves and petals forcing their way down his throat.
Maul put a hand behind Ezra’s back and pulled him into a sitting position. Ezra winced as his arms fell to his sides, pain shooting through them as his strained shoulder muscles settled back to normal.
“I warned you,” Maul told him sternly as he began to loosen the chains around Ezra’s legs. “Too much can cause hallucinations. Seizures. Organ failure. You could have killed yourself.”
In the moment, Ezra hadn’t remembered any of that. All he’d been able to think about was the snake bite. The venom. The agonizing death that awaited him if he didn’t act quickly.
“I brought you home,” Maul explained. “But you were too delirious to leave unrestrained.”
Ezra swallowed, trying to fight down the hard lump of shame that was forming in his throat. Saying nothing, Maul tugged up Ezra’s left pant leg, revealing a blood-soaked bandage around his ankle. He began to unwrap it, his touch gentler than Ezra expected. Or deserved.
“I’m sorry,” Ezra said weakly as Maul secured a clean bandage in place. Not only had he endangered himself, but he’d failed at something so kriffing simple. Something he’d been able to do without being rescued since he was a child.
Maul finished securing the bandage and grabbed Ezra’s chin, forcing him to look into his Master’s eyes. The gesture was still gentler than it would normally be, not hard enough to bruise this time. But it still made Ezra’s heart skip a beat as his head was wrenched upward.
“Never do something that foolish again,” Maul told him, his voice harsh in contrast to his gentle touch.
“I won’t,” Ezra said quickly. “I promise.”
Maul released him and stood, breaking off the tender, almost protective moment quickly. Ezra braced his hand on the wall and forced himself to stand, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth as he shifted his weight to his injured leg.
“Master,” he said hesitantly. “Who was that woman?”
Maul glanced sidelong at him, and Ezra found himself taking a small step backwards. Part of him immediately wanted to take back the question, but if he just knew, then he could stop wondering. Stop thinking those dangerous thoughts.
“What are you talking about?” Maul asked.
“She was here while I was sick,” Ezra said, his certainty suddenly wavering. Maybe it was all a dream after all. But it still felt so real. “She was human. She had blue eyes. She knew my name. And I – I’d seen her before, I just don’t know where.”
Maul’s eyes narrowed and Ezra’s sense that he’d made a terrible mistake only grew.
“You were hallucinating, Ezra,” Maul said scathingly. “She was not real.”
Ezra swallowed, knowing he was about to push the limit, but not able to stop himself.
“I think she was,” he said quietly. “If she wasn’t here, then maybe it was a vision, or –”
Or a memory.
And suddenly, a strange, unwavering certainty planted itself in his mind. A plain fact that he knew as surely as he knew his own name.
Mother.
It was a memory. Or a fragment of one, dug up and brought to life as he lay there with his mind half gone. The woman he’d seen was from the Before that didn’t exist. She was a piece of the answer to the questions he’d never been allowed to ask about where he’d come from and how he’d made his way to Dathomir. The mother he didn’t have, didn’t think of, didn’t wonder about, refused to acknowledge existed even now.
Maul’s hand was on his shoulder, his fingers digging harshly into Ezra’s aching muscles.
“Listen to me, Ezra.”
His voice was equally harsh, that thread of danger, faint but painfully obvious to Ezra, weaving through it. Warning him to believe every word his Master was about to say, or there would be consequences.
“Nothing you saw was real.”