A/N: Healing continues, slowly but surely, with a few road blocks along the way. I guess you can say this is rock bottom for Ezra. We must go forward before we can go backward, so next chapter will be Ahsoka-centric.

Experimenting with a change in verb tense. Be warned that there is some action violence in this chapter that may be distressing. Thanks for your continued support!

Into the Endless Night

Part Three

It's another restless night for Sabine. She lays on her back studying the ceiling, watching out of the corner of her eye as the hours tick by on her chronometer. It's been close to four hours since she bid her companions a fond goodnight and retired to the Ghost; there's rooms ready for all of them on base, but she never really feels at home unless she is surrounded by art of her own creation.

Even when she closes her eyes to chase elusive slumber, the bright tones of some of the more fluorescent shades of paint reach her. There's even a crudely drawn caricature of their crew on the underside of the unused top bunk. Only their pilot is smiling; Kanan has his arms crossed as he whispers conspiratorially with Zeb. She and Ezra sit cross-legged nearby, treating each other to comically over-the-top expressions. Chopper wields a blaster and appears to be caught in the motion of swinging it around, true to his haphazardly ambivalent nature.

It's been a reasonably good week for the rebel cell on Atollon. Their resident Jedi was currently off world preparing to receive a pair of cybernetic ocular implants. They'd had to cash in more than a few favors to get a surgeon who was sympathetic to their cause to even enter the system, let alone agree to operate on one of their cruisers. But eventually the arrangements had been made and Kanan had departed at the appointed time, swearing to his family that he would wait until he was once again in their presence to remove the bandages.

Sabine had almost forgotten what he looked like without them. The one time she'd walked in on Hera changing his dressings, the sight of the wide band of charred flesh between his temples coupled with the thick notch of skin carved out of his nose nearly caused her to vomit right then and there. It was the most severe battle injury she'd ever seen someone survive. How in the heavens did he go about pretending everything was fine?

Perhaps that was because it was. Ezra had finally acquiesced to see him, even if their training was now mostly composed of long bouts of meditation and passionate conversation. Every week or so the two of them were paraded in front of Kanan, who would gently take stock of their facial features with his hands, assuring them this was to make sure he didn't miss them growing older. They would sit in the common room and discuss the days they'd had, the weather, and the best way to keep those pesky dokma creatures from invading every square inch of their base. In fact, anything but tactics was up for discussion. Anything to keep their minds off what had happened just a few short months ago.

From across the hall comes the tell-tale sound of the hatch to Ezra's door opening. When her nightmares don't keep her up at night, his pacing does, only stopping for an hour or so while the padawan sleeps fitfully. He's taken to sneaking off base to see to his own thoughts, and because everyone seems to be worried about him, not to mention their cabins were right across from one another, Sabine accepts her self-inflicted role of Bridger-Wrangler.

There had been brief flashes of hope in their encounters over the past few weeks, as if, by some miracle, he might be starting to return to his old self. The rest of the crew could discuss it in private all they wanted, but the truth was that Ezra blamed himself entirely for what happened on Malachor. If one lapse of judgment could cause one mentor to be blinded and another to be presumed dead, what other damage could he do to their cause? And even though Ahsoka had eventually been found alive and Kanan's situation was starting to look a whole lot brighter, she knew that he carried that burden wherever he went.

That sith holocron he kept hidden away in his room probably had something to do with it. Such negativity was unbecoming of healing, but Kanan and Ahsoka were hesitant to press the issue. They liked to think he would decide to get rid of it on his own, but Sabine knew better. And that was why she found herself clambering out of bed in the middle of the night to intercept her friend before he did something he would later regret.

After extricating her limbs from the tangle of blankets, Sabine briefly entertains the notion of carrying her weapon into the fray. Most nights, all she had to do was keep him company over a mug of hot caf, but sometimes his walks take him dangerously far away from her watchful eye, whereupon he would not return until midday. And that worries her to no end.

She has a bad feeling about this, and soon discovers why. Ezra stands with his back to her, holding his holocron up to the light. It glimmers faintly, as if it had only recently been engaged. He is fully dressed and carrying a pack over his shoulder.

"Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it. I'm taking the Phantom," he asserts, and begins making tracks to the ladder at the rear of the ship.

Sabine found that she had little time to act. "Give me that holocron, Ezra." And she prays that her voice carries enough firmness to suggest that, no, he is most definitely not leaving tonight.

Something in her tone gives him pause and he turns in profile. The dark circles underneath his eyes betray his restlessness, but he is adamant that no one would stand between him and his goal to get as far away from the people he'd hurt as possible. "Don't try me," he warns.

Of course this now meant she had to, coming to stand between him and the exit. "You can't do this, not after all the progress we've-"

"Get out of my way," he ground out, advancing toward her. Sabine's immediate instinct was to try and subdue him, but she finds herself making a grab for the holocron. Whatever has been holding Ezra back snaps in that moment and he shoves her so roughly that she nearly tumbles to the ground. He was now steps away from escape, and she just couldn't risk it. The Mandalorian girl charges at his retreating back.

Her attempt to wrestle him to the ground is quickly parried with a strength she never knew he possessed; as her grasp lands on his outstretched arm, he wrenches it away, causing the two of them to collapse onto the deck plating.

While she is hissing the pain away through her teeth, Sabine mentally regroups and prepares to gain the upper hand. In one swift move, she is astride his chest, having pinned his hands to the ground. Whatever malevolent spell he's been under is broken for one instant. Ezra gazes up at her with open-mouthed shock, as if he isn't quite sure how they'd gotten in this particular position. Upon later consideration, she might have deemed it naive to think he would have surrendered so easy.

The corners of his mouth turn up in a poor facsimile of a smile. A brief flash of gold dashes across his pupils before disappearing again. All of this happens in the fraction of a second, for the next moment Sabine is thrown backwards several feet against an open access panel. The pain is immediate and all-consuming. She tastes blood and realizes she's bitten her tongue following the shock of the impact. Inhaling sharply, she shrieks, "Hera! Zeb!"

Their pilot emerges within seconds from her room. Squinting into the bright light of the corridor, her guise morphs from confusion to fear to desperation. The Lasat is the next to appear; he grabs his bow rifle from the wall before seeing to the verbal alarm, but immediately casts it aside as he takes in the scene before him. Immediately Ezra seems to realize where he is and what he has only just done. He manages to scramble up a few rungs of the ladder before the former honor guard captain seizes the collar of his shirt and throws him roughly to the deck.

The apprentice rolls over to his stomach and claws for his freedom as Hera all but jumps on top of him, immobilizing him.

His face upturns to where Sabine still leans against the wall, a little shocked by what she's just witnessed. Observing his friend with a trail of blood emerging from her lips, all dams seem to burst. He's weeping with the cause of a thousand adversities, the color swiftly returning to his face in blotches. Unconsciously, she reaches for him, the pain in her side nearly overwhelming. She gasps and falls backward once more, and this only intensifies his sobs.

The words she can make out are few and far between: "My fault...wouldn't be blind...all this trouble...he's expecting me to...I can't believe I hurt…"

The young man curls into the fetal position, and Hera quietly gathers him into her arms as the howls continue. After a minute or so she solemnly pries the holocron from one hand and gives it to Zeb, who has turned away from the emotional display.

"Find Rex and get the speeder. Take this as far away from here as possible. I don't care what you have to do to destroy it, just get it done. I'll tend to these two," she orders, and he ducks away to comply. "Oh, and be sure to open the comm link to Kanan."

Meanwhile Sabine has stumbled to her feet, clutching her flank where she is sure at least one of her ribs has been fractured. Ezra's cries reach a new level of anguish, ricocheting off the walls of the narrow hallway and causing chills to crawl up her spine. Even in their most harrowing missions, she's never sustained any injuries that required any serious medical attention.

Just before the external hatch closes, Hera adds, "Let him know it happened again."