Ezra stood alone, surrounded by milky-colored fog, unable to see any sort of landscape there may have been behind it.
"Hello…?" he called cautiously.
"Son…" Ezra could barely hear the soft murmur.
"Dad?!" he shouted, completely forgetting about his earlier carefulness.
"Ezra, why didn't you help us?" The ghostly figure of Ezra's father appeared before him. His mother stepped out of the fog on his other side.
"I- I tried, I swear, but-"
"We died because of you!" his mother cried out in anguish. The previously white fog began to transition to a blood red, the color of the Inquisitors' blades. His parents' shadowy forms began to fade, their screams of agony echoing through his head.
"Wait, no! Come back!" He tried to run forwards, but his limbs felt like they were weighed down with lead. "I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I'm so sorry…" He began to fall backwards as everything faded to black.
"Oomph!" he grunted as he hit the floor of his and Zeb's bedroom for the second time that week. Luckily, Zeb was a heavy sleeper, and didn't stir in the slightest. Ezra sighed shakily. Propping himself up on his elbows, he tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, but to no avail.
'I just need to walk around a little bit', he thought. He quietly opened the door and made his way into the Ghost's cockpit. He slumped into the pilot's seat, resting his head in his shaking hands. Broken sobs escaped him every now and then, and he couldn't stop trembling.
"Get a grip, Bridger," he mumbled to himself. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small knife resting on the control panel; probably one of Sabine's. He gingerly picked it up, testing its sharpness on the tip of his thumb.
'Maybe this'll distract me for a little bit,' he mulled. Rolling up his sleeve, he pressed the edge against the inside of his forearm, but hesitated before drawing blood. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he prepared to drag the blade across his skin.
"It won't help," a soft voice announced. Ezra flinched violently, the knife clattering to the floor. He turned around to see who the intruder was, but his vision was blurred by unshed tears. He was able to make out a smallish woman with two tall montrals.
"A-Ahsoka…?" he stuttered. She walked quickly over to him and gently took his arm, sighing in relief when she saw that there was no blood.
"Come sit with me," she insisted, leading him to the large couch in the center of the Ghost. Ezra plopped himself down on the edge. Ahsoka sat down next to him, putting an arm around him. Finally breaking, he leaned against her and sobbed into her shoulder for a good 20 minutes. She held him the whole time, whispering "It's okay, you're okay."
"Wait here, I'll be right back," Ahsoka said. She disappeared for about 15 seconds and returned with… an ice cube?
"Wh-what's th-that for?" he managed to say.
"Hold it against your arm. It'll still hurt a bit, but it won't do any damage." She pressed it against his still shaking arm. "Now take a few deep breaths," she instructed. She pulled him into another hug, and he rested his head on her chest. He felt completely drained, physically and mentally. They sat in silence, occasionally broken by Ezra's quiet sobs. He took a few slow, deep breaths, beginning to calm down a little bit.
"If this happens again, you could try having a pillow fight with the wall or something similar. Just please, please don't hurt yourself," Ahsoka urged softly.
Ezra nodded. "I'll try," he promised. He finally pulled away from her and sat up. His eyes were red and puffy from all of the tears he had shed. "How did you know about the ice cube and the pillow things?" he questioned.
Ahsoka gave him a sad smile and rolled up the sleeve of the sweatshirt she was wearing. Ezra's eyes widened. Dozens of pale orange, almost silvery, scars lined her forearm, encircling her entire arm. He noticed some more scars above her elbow, and guessed (correctly) that they reached up to her shoulder.
"You should try to get some more sleep," she said, rolling her sleeve back down. Ezra nodded and walked back to his bedroom door with Ahsoka. The door slid open, Zeb still blissfully unaware of anything that had happened.
"If you need anything, you can come wake me up again, okay?" she insisted. He nodded again, and after a slight hesitation, he threw his arms around her. His embrace knocked her back half a step, but she smiled and hugged him back.
"Thank you," he whispered. She ruffled his hair and stepped back,
"Anytime, Ez," she responded, turning and heading back to her room. "Sleep well."
"Goodnight," he said quietly. Crawling back up to his bunk, he snuggled underneath his blankets and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.