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Ezra didn't sleep well. When he thought about it, he never slept well - at least he hadn't since he was seven.
Ezra had dreamed of his parents. Again. It felt like so long since he got the news, since he heard Ryder say those fateful words - ‘They’re gone’. Those words still haunted his nights, echoing off the walls of his head as memories of his parents swirled in distorted patterns.
Some of his nightmares were less nightmarish. They were filled with happy moments he had experienced with his parents. Before they were taken. Some, however, were filled with his own screams. Screams as his parents were dragged away, screams as he was beaten mercilessly by market owners who didn’t take well to him stealing from their stalls, and finally, his screams for Kanan when Ezra thought he had died, and for Ahsoka on Malachor. His sleep was not a place of refuge, but a place of torment.
Ezra’s dreams tonight were not any better.
~dream~
“Why are you doing this?” Ezra felt himself saying.
“Put the weapon down boy,” senator Travis spat, gesturing to the ground. Reluctantly, Ezra laid down his lightsaber before straightening again, his hands raised on either side of his head in a placating gesture.
The rest went by in a blur. Hera had tried reasoning with the senator, but it obviously hadn't worked as Ezra felt hatred fill him and before he knew it, he felt himself yelling at Travis. Letting out his frustration at being betrayed yet again. He compared his parents to who he thought Travis was and that was all the ammunition that Travis needed.
“THEY’RE GONE!” Travis hollered in return and that was it. Ezra shut down.
Tears streamed down his face and he staggered several steps backwards and instead, Hera took his place, standing in front of him defensively whilst constantly throwing him concerned glances. Everything was blurry. He dimly registered Hera stepping confidently up to Travis as he pointed the gun to her chest. Ezra wasn’t worried though, he had seen Hera unload the gun before they separated with the others. She said something else muffled and Travis pulled the trigger.
Hera crumpled.
Ezra stared in disbelief. No, he thought, this wasn’t how it went. The gun hadn’t been loaded. Hera had punched Travis, leaving him senseless for the stormtroopers to find. This wasn’t how it went.
Ezra fought the urge to scream, and lost. His voice shrieked, throwing inaudible curses at Travis, ones which Hera and Kanan would be mortified to hear and would usually land him in washroom cleaning duty for a week. Ezra didn't care.
Travis made the mistake of dropping the gun and smirking as the sound of stormtrooper boots on concrete started emanating from the direction of the tunnels. He thought he was safe now. He was wrong. Ezra lunged.
He took Travis down with one swift blow to the face, straddling his chest and dealing blow after blow. He didn't stop when the troopers emerged from the tunnel and surrounded him. He didn't stop when he heard blasters cock from all directions. Travis' face was a bloody mess by the time the trooper commander pulled Ezra off of the ex-senator.
Ezra now turned on the stormtrooper instead. He reached for his lightsaber with the force only for a nearby trooper to step on it. Ezra dealt a blow to the head of the trooper who was holding him, not even noticing when it was his fist that cracked rather than the helmet.
After several minutes of Ezra grappling with him, the quiet scuffs of their feet and Ezra’s soft grunting being the only sounds that could be heard, the trooper got the upper hand. He grabbed Ezra’s left wrist with one hand and swept his feet from beneath him, slamming Ezra’s back flat on the ground, a foot pressing hard on his chest. The red had not yet faded from the young jedi's vision. While the commander fumbled around his belt for a pair of cuffs, Ezra brought his free hand upwards towards the helmet that was just out of reach and his fingers began to curl.
“Comma-” the trooper never got to finish his warning before a loud crack echoed through the chamber. The trooper restraining Ezra froze and his visor became tinted red from the inside. Ezra gaped in horror as the trooper's limp body pitched sideways and loudly crashed to the floor.
Without missing a beat, another trooper filled the gap and locked Ezra’s wrist, once again, in an iron grip just as he came to his senses and started struggling again.
“Get OFF!” Ezra shouted, the fight returning to him as he shot to his feet, thrusting out a hand to try and repeat his previous actions but that wrist was soon seized too. Another pair of hands grasped Ezra’s shoulders forcing him to turn around, his hands now raised above his head, and remaining held only by one gloved hand as his captor reached behind his own back and produced a pair of binders.
Upon seeing the binders, Ezra panicked and thrashed more violently, his breaths coming on shorter and shorter bursts. His disorientated mind sought out his lightsaber, knowing he got his desired result when he heard a scream followed by more startled shuffling.
Using the moment of shock to his advantage he tried twisting away from the swarm of troopers, but it was too late. Restraints clamped around his wrists far too tightly and all the air seemed to leave his lungs. He squirmed blindly as he heard the trooper in front of him cock his blaster. They're going to kill me, he thought. Just like they killed Hera. With that conclusion made, all the fight sagged out of him. He was going to see his parents again.
With what little resolve he had left, he leveled his gaze on the visor belonging trooper who held the gun in his now shaky hands. “The master will be very pleased,” he said. Ezra closed his eyes and the stormtrooper pulled the trigger.
~end of dream~
Ezra shot up to a sitting position, a scream already tearing from his lips. The word ‘no’ echoed around the room.
The door slid open and Sabine rushed in, worry shining, unmasked, in her amber eyes. “Ezra! What's wrong?” she asked as she reached his bed, her hand ghosting over his in a reassuring gesture.
“‘M fine,” Ezra choked out. “J-just a bad dream. That's all.” The strain in his voice, the way it cracked and how badly his whole body was trembling, however, told Sabine otherwise.
Zeb had dragged himself out of his bunk and Kanan and Hera had appeared at the door, Kanan's hair a dishevelled mess. Concern was visible in all their expressions. When Ezra saw Hera, relief practically pooled in his eyes along with saltwater.
Ezra’s body started shaking with larger tremors and, without another word, Sabine hoisted herself up and onto the edge of the top bunk before wrapping her arms around the boy in front of her.
Ezra melted.
Quiet sobs racked his frame as he buried his face in Sabine's shoulder, small whimpers escaping him. Sabine rubbed one hand in circles on Ezra’s back while the other strayed to tangle in the hair at the back of his head in an attempt to soothe him. Sabine didn't pay any mind to the growing wet patch she felt soaking into her shoulder.
Ezra knew he would never fully recover from the selection of ordeals he had been through, but he knew it would get better. He had Sabine and Kanan and Hera and even Zeb and Chopper despite how irritating the droid and lasat could be. He had a family again and as long as that was true, he felt he might just be alright in the end. It was a long journey, but he would get there.
Sabine felt the body wrapped in her arms relax, whether of not it was her imagination, it sent a sense of relief rushing through her. He would be okay eventually. They all would and she had to believe that or else she risked going insane.
The other three members of the crew stood silently for several moments, wide eyed - especially Zeb - before departing to their respective sleeping places. This left the two youngest of the crew to sit in comfortable silence, eventually dosing off in each others’ arms and sleeping peacefully until well into the next day's afternoon.