Trigger warning: potentially disturbing content is in this chapter; themes of sexual assault and physical aggression ahead, proceed with caution
CHAPTER 5
POINT OF VIEW: SABINE WREN
He's gone again.
He's gone at the same time every day. I wouldn't know when that is. We've lost all sense of time in here. The nice thing is, at least things are regular. We're given a ration once a cycle. The guards outside change regularly.
Ezra is gone, once a cycle.
How many cycles, I often wonder. Am I measuring time wrong? Is a cycle different on Tatooine? Do two suns make a difference to these people?
Maybe not. Lothal has two moons and night is still night.
Even then, having two suns doesn't make a difference underground. The only light we have down here is faded, and sickly. Maybe the occasional flicker, and sometimes they're dimmed, but they're never off. It makes it harder to sleep.
Even in total darkness, I don't think I could sleep. I'd put myself in too much danger if I did that.
Ezra's not getting much rest either.
I stared blankly at the cement wall. The lights are dimmed again, and the room is empty as another cycle begins.
I wonder if they're looking for us. Protocol is working against us, but the disc we have might be what saves us.
The disc that neither Ezra and I have, and that neither of us knows where it's being kept.
I can't stop thinking about the kiss.
His lips were so warm. A little chapped, but still soft.
The kiss was so short I don't remember much else.
It's my own fault. I picked the absolute worst moment to start being honest. Ezra didn't even deserve my honesty. My honesty was selfish and withholding.
I thought I was doing us both a favor by waiting. Navigating a relationship during a war would tear us apart, and put us both in danger. More so Ezra than me.
Kanan has warned Ezra about making intense connections as a Jedi because they often consume them and can fuel fear and uncertainty. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to suffering, all the complicated Jedi stuff.
It's all a bit ironic since Kanan himself is madly in love with the pilot of the Ghost. I sometimes wonder if they're even trying to hide it.
But Ezra is capable of doing a lot of damage, proven by his intense reactions when someone he cares about is in danger.
He explained it once to me before over caf. The force swells in him, and whatever happens next almost feels involuntary. His instinct is to protect himself and his friends, which at the core of it, is good-natured, but the lasting consequences are pulls of the force coming from the wrong place.
Ezra and I would be a liability to each other, objectively speaking. Better to let him crush and worry about the war instead. Crushing him wasn't going to solve the problem.
Said "problem" became harder to deal with when Ezra started making sense of himself. When he stopped being overly cocky and headstrong, he was actually pleasant to be around. He was witty, wicked smart when he wanted to be, and incredibly compassionate. Ezra, who used to be incapable of letting others get a word in, was a great listener. His immaturity faded. His role on the ship changed from being an instigator to being an optimist.
The troubled boy we picked up on accident became the heart of the Ghost crew.
I will admit, fourteen-year-old Ezra was cute, in a dorky kind of way. The charm was endearing but annoying.
The eyes have always been breathtaking.
And suddenly puberty hit Ezra like an asteroid. I'm sure the fact that Ezra was now on a team where regular rations were provided aided in his development, but the Jedi training was certainly helping.
Ezra got tall, taller than me. I didn't even notice until a briefing we had to discuss the distribution of the new aircraft we acquired. Ezra had been gone on a mission with Kanan and Zeb for about three weeks, so I hadn't seen him for a while.
I was listening intensely until he muttered his offhand comment under his breath.
"Never thought I'd see the day that I would be able to look over your shoulder."
I hadn't even noticed him standing behind me, and was shocked to find that there was, indeed, a taller Ezra lurking over my shoulder. Sure, I knew he was growing, but had those three weeks added that many inches?
After that day, I noticed a lot more changes in Ezra and also noticed myself staring much longer than appropriate.
His once scrawny frame gained toned muscle. His shoulders broadened, and his voice deepened.
Ezra always had a cute crooked smile, but damn did his sharpened jawline make it harder to keep composure.
I usually brushed off my ogling, justifying myself in absurd ways.
He's objectively attractive, I would reason. I can't deny that truth.
And suddenly all at once, in a single moment, my honesty with myself had to be confronted.
In a dueling practice, Kanan asked me to assist in, Ezra was required to take me down hand-to-hand without using his lightsaber or the force as a last resort. The goal was for him to trust his intuition about my movements, and sense the direction of the fight to stay one step ahead.
While I understood we were supposed to be helping Ezra, I just wanted the satisfaction of beating him again. This is why I usually volunteered to help with Ezra's training.
The first three rounds had him huffing and puffing, since he couldn't land a blow, or even get a solid grip on me. Ezra was busy searching for my predictability, but not worrying about his own. He was easy to dodge, and always left the same spots open and vulnerable.
In the fourth round, Ezra finally started to figure out whatever Kanan was trying so hard to teach him. Before I could process how it all happened, my back was pinned to the dirt below.
Ezra was hovering above me, both of my wrists in his grasp.
We were both out of breath, heaving the dusty air in and out silently, both of us a little stunned that he had me pinned, and that it wasn't the other way around.
Maybe it was the sweat on his brow, the glow of his tan skin. Maybe it was his toned shoulders, flexed and tensed as he restrained me to ensure I wouldn't flip him over. Maybe it was the brightness in his eyes, or the euphoric smile he donned, satisfied that he finally won.
"Holy shit! Kanan!" he exclaimed. "Did you see that? I actually won! There's no way!"
Maybe it was all of that, and being absolutely turned on at the notion that Ezra had kicked my ass fair and square.
But just like that, I started being honest with myself.
But not with him.
I did a lot of stupid shit, and Ezra hasn't blamed me once for it. Not until now.
Even then, he still thinks he's the only one responsible for us being stuck here. Ezra seems to have forgotten that I held us up with my extra art project, costing us valuable time that could've put us out of harm's way.
If anything, I'm more responsible. Ezra was at least trying to push me onward, and trying his best to pilot us to safety. Ezra tried, he always tried.
He tried so hard with me too.
Even when you put romantic feelings aside, Ezra always was a good friend to me. Even if a little misguided at times, he was kind and thoughtful. He tolerated my snark and was patient with my aggression.
And because I crossed the line enough times, he stopped putting up with it.
For all I know, he could leave during a cycle one day, and just never come back. He could leave me behind, trade my life for his, or die.
The possibility of Ezra not coming back to the cell was terrifying. I had too much I wanted to say, too many things to apologize for.
Despite the war, we both deserved to feel happy with each other, and in my efforts to do the right thing, I made it worse for both of us.
It can't be too late for us to finally figure things out together. I hope Ezra wants to figure this out together.
I can't keep being in love with you.
I curled back into myself on the stiff cot.
Even if Ezra came back, there's no reason for him to put himself through this. He's always had it figured out. He doesn't need his decision disturbed.
Even if that truth would kill me. Knowing that he's letting me go.
Even then, I wouldn't care.
I just want him to come back.
I just want to tell him I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
"Motir ca'tra nau tracinya," I began to sing quietly, "Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Taung..."
I began to cry again, burying my head further in my knees.
"Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r prudii an."
I sniffed and wiped away a tear that was clinging to my eyelash.
Ezra asked me about the song once. I often hummed the tune while I painted.
"Maybe I'll teach you the words sometime," I laughed. "If you can even carry a tune, that is."
"I can get pretty close, but the words might be a mouthful," he winced. "What's it about?"
"Home," I responded.
It's about home.
There were only a few golden seconds of silence.
The door swung open abruptly, and I sat up quickly.
"Ezra?" I called out in hopefulness.
I scowled at the sight of who was standing in the doorway. I was expecting a pair of dazzling blue eyes. I was far more than disappointed.
"You," I snarled.
"I'm assuming I wasn't who you thought I was?" the figure said mockingly.
I didn't respond. The hate in my eyes that I was drilling into him should've been enough words.
Shame that he has his helmet on.
It's a standard Mandalorian helmet design. But black.
No color.
"You have a beautiful voice," he commented.
I couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious. It didn't help that he was wearing the helmet.
"That was a Mando'a song. I've heard it before."
I crossed my arms tightly and narrowed my eyes.
"You're a Mandolorian?" I scoffed. "You shabuir, you're a disgrace. The Mando'a believe in freedom and liberty, and here you are, bringing shame onto the name of your people."
Aje laughed at my insult. "So did the name of General Wren."
I felt something spark inside me. No, something exploded in me, but it was all fire and no color.
"You knew nothing of my father," I said through bared teeth. I felt rage bubble in my body, but I knew I had to exercise restraint since guards were right outside the door.
He suddenly grew serious. "I beg to differ."
He began to walk towards me, but he did it slowly, taking each step with precision.
"I know who you are Sabine," he said, speaking in a low voice. He was young, almost false bravado seeping through the cracks of his mask. "I doubt you know who I am."
"Then why didn't you tell Mortimer before?" I stuttered.
I heard a quick exhale from underneath Bale's helmet.
He was laughing.
"It was much more fun to see your boyfriend panic at the sight of a blade to your neck."
I could feel my heart race at the mention of Ezra.
"Where is Ezra?"
I was on the verge of tears, Aje getting too close for comfort. His head was right by my ear. "Ezra," he snarled, "isn't here to save you."
I gasped, backing up quickly, only to find a wall. "Fuck you!" I shouted. "I'll tear your throat out!"
"I'm sure you will," he sighed. "But I doubt you'd want to alert the guards outside that there's a problem. That could be very bad for Ezra."
My eyes widened at the threat.
He began to laugh again, taking delight in toying with me. "Your boyfriend won't be back for a long time."
He removed his black helmet and tossed it aside.
"Which means I get to have my fun."
Aje lunged at me, grabbing my wrists, and thrust a knee into my stomach.
I fell to my knees with a groan, my head spinning from the pain.
He didn't miss a beat, kicking me in the same spot while I was down.
My vision was turning a foggy gray, and the air felt so much thicker and harder to breathe in.
Aje was now leaning over me, a knee planted on either side of my body, which was curled in on itself. He firmly grabbed my face with a gloved hand and forced my gaze to meet his.
Aje's face was sinister but familiar. His eyes were crazed and hungry.
"It's almost not as satisfying, knowing you didn't even put up a fight. You hardly even squirmed," he sneered, dropping my head to the floor. He chuckled to himself. "Are you really that worried about Ezra? Since when are you that selfless Sabine?"
I hated that he was right. At any moment if I protested, Ezra could be in potential danger. Based on Aje's comments, they had Ezra, and his safety was contingent on my compliance.
Aje allowed his eyes to wander over my crumpled body. "I'm sure Ezra wouldn't mind sharing," he whispered to me.
I froze up at Aje's implication. I was smart enough to know what he meant.
But I was also smart enough not to move. Anything I do can and will be used against Ezra.
Maybe if I just close my eyes. I won't have to see it or think about it.
I could feel his breath already hot on my neck, his hands wandering down the sides of my torso.
The door of the cell opened with a loud clang, snapping Aje out of his trance.
"You'll have time to play with your toy later, boy. Ezra needs to get back in the cell."
Aje didn't protest, peeling himself off of me with staggering composure, and escorted himself out of the cell as if nothing happened.
He left me a disheveled heap on the cold ground, still holding my breath, and still closing my eyes.
"Sabine?"
POINT OF VIEW: EZRA BRIDGER
I had been sitting alone in the box for a long time.
A couple of hours, what it seemed like.
I could feel more blood rolling down my back, reminding me of why my vision was so fuzzy. It must be a lot of blood.
More blood than can be drawn out with the end of a whip. There was a new sensation today: a cold metal blade, etching shallow lines into my backside.
It didn't feel so bad in comparison to the conversation last night.
The blood was a reminder that I was still alive, at least.
Finally, someone came and pulled me out.
I hissed, leaping up and pulling away from the damp cloth. "That fucking hurt!" I protested.
A large claw thwacked me on the side of my head. "Well it wasn't supposed ta feel good!" the pig-faced guard laughed.
I heard a daunting set of footsteps stride into the room.
"So," Mortimer sighed, "What will it be next time? Maybe we'll blind you! Maybe we should make the boy deaf," he suggested, turning towards the piggish creature. He leaned down towards me. "So you can't hear the blood-curdling screams as we put her through all the suffering you went through, while you can only watch, unable to hear her desperate cries for help."
I spat at his feet. "I'd rather die!" I growled.
Mortimer waved a finger back and forth. "Be careful of what you wish for boy, because that," he said with a hard jab to the center of my chest, "can be arranged."
We both sat like that for a moment, glaring daggers at each other. The image of Sabine's hollow cries was hard to suppress.
Before I was escorted out of the room, Mortimer muttered to me, "I like the idea of making you deaf much better than the idea of killing you. The longer you suffer, the longer I am happier."
He nodded to the guard, who lowered the cloth.
"Take him back to his cell," Mortimer ordered.
I was lead back to the cell, and it seemed like the journey back seemed to get longer every time. It was becoming harder to carry myself back to the cot, my back aching more and more.
Mortimer was ahead of me, which was unusual. He usually was nowhere to be found after our sessions, and yet here he was.
As we made it back to the cell, Mortimer opened the door himself and started talking to someone inside.
"You'll have time to play with your toy later, boy. Ezra needs to get back in the cell."
My blood turned cold.
There was someone else in that cell with Sabine.
I forced myself forward a few more steps and was filled with dread when I saw Aje kneeling over her limp body.
Following orders, he retrieved his helmet, and swiftly exited the cell, smirking as he passed me.
I hardly noticed, because I was too focused on Sabine, her eyes shut tight, and her body shaking.
"Sabine?" I whispered, her name slipping out of my mouth without thought.
I was snapped out of my head when I was thrown into the cell, and landed on my hands and knees, catching myself from hitting the ground.
The door behind was pulled shut and clicked as it was locked.
Pain was pressing into my palms, and pulsing in my knees. I wanted to just let my body collapse, and finally sleep after so many restless nights.
I fought the urge to succumb to the pain, more concerned about the trembling girl pressed against the wall.
Long beaded strings of tears were running down her cheeks, and she was drawing in shaky breaths. I tried to disregard what I had seen in the doorway, afraid my rage would boil over.
"Sabine?" I whispered. I dragged my body against the cold ground but left some distance between us. I wasn't sure how close she was willing to let me get.
"Sabine? Please say something to me," I pleaded. "Sabine please, are you hurt? Can I touch you?"
She groaned in response, and I realized she was clutching her stomach. The possibilities of the source of the pain flooded into my head, but the source didn't need to be a concern right now. I needed to move her to the cot.
"Okay, Sabine, I need to move you off of the ground, so I'm going to pick you up, okay?" I explained, tucking my hand under her head and the other under her knees. "Can you move your arms up long enough to hold onto me?"
She winced in protest, her eyes still twisted shut.
"Sabine, please you have to help me, I need you to put your arms around my neck," I begged, ignoring the icy hot pain in my shoulders.
She responded only with the lifting of her arms, weakly wrapping them around my neck.
I sighed with relief, and lifted her from the ground with a grunt, stumbling my way towards the cot before my remaining strength left me.
After crossing the room and reaching my destination, I laid her down as gently as a could, untangling her arms from my body.
I drew in a breath, tired despite the short journey. I needed to eat, or maybe sleep. I was missing out on a lot of necessities, and the torture wasn't helping my fasting.
I sat down on the end of the cot, facing away from Sabine.
We're just, fucked, aren't we?
"You came back," I heard her whisper. I couldn't tell if it was a question or a realization.
"What?" I asked, turning around at her comment.
"Where were you? You were gone," she cried. Her eyes were open now, glossy with tears. She wasn't looking at me. "You were gone for such a long time. But you came back."
How long was I gone?
"Of course I came back," I answered, trying to reassure the shivering girl. I reached out to often a comforting hand, but she didn't take it.
"Sabine?" I asked quietly. "Did something happen?"
Sabine was silent, maintaining eye contact with the wall in front of her. Her arms were still wrapped around her stomach, and I ignored the implications of what this could mean.
"Aje," she mumbled. "Aje hurt me, that's all."
"What hurts?" I asked quickly, failing a little to keep my cool, "Can you show me where it hurts?"
Please let it not be true.
"Sabine," I pleaded, "What did Aje do?"
She didn't answer me, ignoring my every attempt to understand her. I was almost thankful, prolonging whatever horrible truth she would possibly tell me.
"Sabine please tell me what happened," I begged, feeling my eyes get glossy.
I know what she's going say.
I could hear my heart pounding and then felt it burst out of my chest.
"He said that he was going to hurt you if I caused a scene, so I just froze up..." she managed to choke out. "My stomach hurts, I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"Why does your stomach hurt Sabine?"
She finally met my gaze, and her bright eyes looked so dull.
"Just a knee, and then a kick. He almost did something worse-"
I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding when she said "almost."
"-but thankfully you came back before he got any further."
Before I had the chance to say anything else, she continued.
"I'm sorry," she sniffed, big, round tees rolling down her face. "You were right, about everything. I was selfish and wasn't being honest. I thought I wasn't going to get to apologize to you, or even have a chance at forgiveness-"
I moved so I was lying beside her, so I could meet her gaze. I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand, and gently drew in her chin, and pressed my lips against her cold ones.
I could taste the salt of her tears on her lips.
I parted from her slightly, and whispered, "Sabine, of course, I can forgive you," I smiled, a hopeful feeling washing over me. It was refreshing and was one of the first good feelings I felt since we got down here. "Sure, we both still have things we're figuring out and need to work on, but we can start somewhere."
I leaned forwards and crashed our bodies together, pulling her as close to me as possible.
"I'm sorry, I was supposed to be here. I'm sorry I let this happen," I sighed into her shoulder.
"You still haven't told me where you go every day," she retorted. "Is honesty one of those things we have to work on?"
Shit.
"I can't..." I felt a couple of tears fall loose. "I want you to trust me, and I know honesty is a big part of that, but I just need a little more time to figure this out-"
"Ezra," she said sternly, pushing me away to the other side of the cot. "Tell me why you weren't here."
"Because I'm trying to make sure you don't get hurt again!" I shouted, sitting up so I was looking above her.
Her brows were furrowed, frustrated at my response.
I sighed heavily, my shoulders sinking. "That's all I can tell you. I am asking you to trust me."
We were both silent.
"We should sleep," I mumbled, ending the discussion.
She didn't offer a response, remaining in her spot on the cot.
We both laid down on the cot, facing each other. We weren't really looking at each other, more like looking through each other.
When her eyes met mine with more presence, I could see her composure falter, her emotions fighting to be acknowledged.
It was understandable. Based on her description of the encounter, she was seconds away from having something horrible and irreversible happen to her. Even if it didn't happen, it was probably terrifying.
Then she broke, but she still fought against herself, muffling her own sobs to keep the hallway from hearing her.
It was the only time I had ever seen her break with such severity.
"Ezra?" Sabine whispered through her tears.
"Sabine?"
"I want to go home," she cried.
I pulled her body into mine, tucking her head under my chin. She held onto me just as tightly, and we stayed like that all night, limbs tangled up like we were afraid the other would disappear.
