A/N: Ever since I heard Ephraim's voice in Empire Day I have become a hopeless crazy fangirl obsessing over the fact that Ezra is probably the son of a clone trooper :/ But I just had to do this. I had to.
I do believe the "Ephraim Bridger is a clone trooper" theory, obviously: I do NOT, however, believe the "Ephraim Bridger is Captain Rex" theory. That would be too convenient. If Rex and Ezra DO meet, I want it to be Ezra mistaking Rex for his dad and Rex being super confused and thinking something along the lines of "Who the kriff is this kid?" That'd be funny.
Not that I'd object to his dad being Rex, I just don't think that that's the case. Like I said – too convenient.
This is just a general speculation on one of the many theories I have regarding Ephraim Bridger. I might post one-shots about the others later.
Enjoy! And please review!
Ephraim's dreams are rarely peaceful.
Not that that is any surprise. Isolated as he is deep within the bowels of the cloning facility on Kamino, with nothing but the wet, the dark, and the occasional surly stormtrooper for company, there is little joy left to soften the loneliness of sleep. Pain and fear are the only companions that he knows anymore. It has been so long since he felt the gentle caress of a summer breeze, so long since he basked in the rejuvenating rays of a vibrant sun, and so, so long since he tasted clean bread and water on his lips. Some days, trapped as he is in the damp and the gloom of his tiny cell, he can't help but wonder if his life up on the surface hadn't been a dream. Some days, it feels as if his service to the Republic, his desertion, his wife and his son are merely figments of his lonely, tortured imagination.
It's only when he looks down at the pendant draped around his neck that he knows differently. He holds it, his fingers tracing the winglike patterns of the battered stone Jedi symbol, and remembers. And it hurts.
And the nightmares come.
Some are replays of his worst moments. The first time he watched a friend die in battle. The day his best brother was reconditioned. Learning that Order 66 had been initiated. Those horrible seven months on the run from Imperial forces until he and Mira finally were able to settle on Lothal. His own capture by the stormtroopers.
Mira's death.
He'll never get over the agony of that.
Worse than these dreams, though, are the ones that never happened. Dreams where he participates in Order 66, or Mira dies in Order 66, or Ezra is stillborn, or Mira dies in childbirth, or Tseebo is killed by Imperial forces. Dreams where everything that Ephraim ever loved, everything that he ever fought for, is ripped away from him in an instant.
Because, in a way, they aren't so far from the truth. And he can't bear to think about that.
But despite the pain and the fear that both of those types of nightmares bring, they are nothing compared to the third type. They're nothing compared to the nightmares that he has about his son.
They always start the same. He and Mira are getting ready to go set off on their mission. Ezra is being dropped off at Morad's until they get back. As Ephraim pulls on his gear, the little boy runs up to him and hugs him around the waist, begging him not to go. Ephraim smiles and kneels down, clutching his young son's shoulders and looking him in the eye. His own words, spoken so long ago, echo in his mind.
"This is something we have to do, Ezra. We'll be back before you miss us; you'll see."
"But… but I don't want you to go!" the child sniffles, looking up at his father with huge, teary blue eyes. Mira's eyes. "I want you to stay here, and teach me how to play djerik and help me fix my speeder! You can't go! You promised!" He bursts into tears.
Smiling sadly, Ephraim cups his son's chin in one hand and raises the boy's head to look at him. "These people need us," he says softly, wiping some of the tears off of his little boy's cheeks. "We can't just leave them. Remember what your mom and I taught you?"
Sniffling, Ezra wipes his nose. "We gotta do what's right," he recites. Ephraim smiles and places his hand back on his son's shoulder.
"That's exactly right," he tells him. The boy looks away, more tears coming out of his eyes. Sighing, the ex-clone trooper touches the boy's face. "Ezra, look at me." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Eyes hardening, the man repeats in a firmer voice, "Ezra."
Sniffing, the boy looks at him. Squeezing his son's shoulder, he tells him, "We have to try to stand up for people in need. Especially those in trouble with the Empire. You understand?"
Rubbing his eyes, Ezra nods. "Uh-huh."
"Good." Ephraim stands up abruptly. "I'll see you in two weeks, alright, Ezzy?" He kisses his son's forehead softly. "I love you, tyke."
"I love you too, Daddy," Ezra whispers. "Come back soon."
The dream diverges there. Every once in a while, he dreams of the events following it as he experienced them – the trap, the battle, Mira's body falling the ground in a spray of blood… screaming her name, standing over her corpse in a feral, protective stance… shooting the troopers like a madman, railing all manners of curses and obscenities at them, dropping them one by one with his spot-on accuracy.
The Inquisitor coming, seizing him, binding him. The Inquisitor lopping Mira's head clear off of her body and holding it up like a trophy. The Inquisitor sneering in his face and throwing him on top of his wife's remains before uncharacteristically yanking him to his feet and dragging him off.
More often than not, though, the nightmare is about Ezra. In some, the moment after he leaves, Imperial troops storm Morlan's house, slaughtering his friend and his family, burning the house, the farm… and worse, shooting his precious little boy through the head with a blaster. His mind's eye sees the mutilated forms of his friends, all tangled and bloody, lying in half-charred heaps just outside the leveled homestead. And hung up over the doorway, the wound in his head prominent and his clouded eyes staring blankly out at the distance, is Ezra.
Those are the only dreams that always make him wake up screaming.
XXX
Ephraim's dreams are rarely peaceful.
But some nights, they are.
One night in a million nights, Ephraim's eyes will close at dusk and he will be transported to a better place. One night in a million, he will be home again, sitting with his little family in total bliss. And in that one night in a million, Ephraim laughs. He smiles. Once again, he is with the people he loves, and it's as if they never left.
For one night in a million, he can touch Mira's face again, hear her laugh, see her smile. For one night, he can hold her in his arms, he can kiss her, and he can tell her that everything is going to be alright.
For one night in a million, he can carry his son on his shoulders, and tell him stories, and tickle him and hug him and rock him back in forth. For one night, he can sit down with his son and teach him how to play djerik, or help him fix his speeder, or simply talk to him.
He'd almost forgotten what it was like to just talk with his little boy.
And in that one night in a million, Ephraim is put back together. That one dream in a million dreams gives him the strength to live another day. Because despite all of the pain that he has endured… despite everything that he has suffered… he still has something to fight for.
Because that one dream reminds him that not everything is lost. Because there is a chance that Ezra might still be alive. And so long as that is the case, Ephraim will never stop fighting to get back to the boy that he gave so much of himself to protect.
He cannot give up. Not when his son still needs him.
Ephraim's dreams are rarely peaceful. But that's okay.
All he needs is that one night.
Okay, writing this shocked even myself… I don't think I have EVER written something that I have been this proud of in my WHOLE FREAKING LIFE. Did I even write this? I've never written anything like this before. I love it!
Wow. I didn't know that I could like one of my own pieces this much. But I do. Is that weird?
Anyway, I hope you liked it as much as I did.