Trigger warning: potentially disturbing content is in this chapter; some more intense violence lies ahead, proceed with caution.
Chapter 7
POINT OF VIEW: SABINE WREN
Ezra's eyes filled with hate, and I could hear his breath quicken.
"You," Ezra snarled, his electric blue eyes narrowing.
It was harrowing, so see how intense the rage was burning in Ezra. He quickly bounced up, standing in front of me as if to shield me.
I could feel my heart trying to escape my chest at the sight of Aje, remembering my previous encounter with him.
"Did you touch her?" Ezra snarled.
Aje didn't answer, letting the satisfaction on his face be his answer
"If you fucking touch her again, I'll kill you," Ezra said through gritted teeth. "You should already be dead."
Aje cracked a wide grin and leaned against the wall next to the large metal door.
"Not really. I didn't get very far before the boss said I'd have to postpone my fun," he said mockingly. "As much as I'd like to resume, I'm here for a different-"
The Mandalorian boy was suddenly lifted off his feet, and shoved against the wall, but with nothing holding him. His body hit the wall with a violent slam, and I drew my attention to his attacker.
Ezra had his right hand outstretched in front of him, and he was breathing low and heavy, the force coursing through him steadily and with strength, so noticeable I could feel the energy permeate in the air of the cell.
His grip slowly began to tighten, and as a result, Aje began gasping for air, clawing at his throat in vain.
"Ezra," I called out, desperate for him to stop. I hardly recognized my own voice.
I didn't know what else to say, hoping his name would be the thing that snapped him out of his trance.
He didn't listen, his fist almost coming to a close.
"Ezra!" I cried.
Ezra glanced over his shoulder, and I was shocked to see that his vibrant blue eyes had been replaced by a sickly yellow.
Kanan had warned me about the eyes. It wasn't exactly difficult to make the connection. The color lingering around his iris was extremely similar to that of the Inquisitor.
"Ezra stop!" I called to him. Tears were filling my eyes.
"You think he deserves to live?" Ezra replied in anger, his grip remaining firm. The gold color intensified. "Why? Why not just let me end this?" Ezra continued. "We can go home."
Aje was losing color in his face, and I should've been satisfied at the notion. But I wasn't.
Not when I knew that if Ezra finished him, it would forever alter Ezra's path.
Along with ours. If Ezra killed Aje while we were still prisoners here, we would never make it out of here alive. Mortimer might just kill us both.
"Ezra just let him go!" I shouted, hoping something would get through to him. "This isn't you! I know it's not you! You are not the bad guy!" I implored. "Of course I want to go home. But we can't possibly make that work if you do this."
Aje suddenly fell to the ground, landing on his back.
The gold color lingering in Ezra's eyes suddenly faded back to blue.
I sighed with relief, and he did the same, the only thing remaining in his expression being fear. But our moment only lasted for so long.
"You really are quite stupid," I heard Aje say in amusement.
Ezra turned around to face him and gasped when he saw a small black gun in Aje possession.
A loud gunshot went off, the painful sound of it echoing against every wall with painful finality.
Ezra gasped and fell to his knees, grabbing his shoulder in pain. He could barely support his own body weight, the pain of his wound pulling him down further and further.
There wasn't enough time, there couldn't possibly be enough time. Not enough time for me to get to the floor fast enough, to hold him. Not enough time, not enough time-
"EZRA!" I shouted, quickly lunging myself over to where he lay injured on the ground. "No no no no no no..." I whispered.
Why wasn't it a blaster shot?
I examined the injury on Ezra's shoulder with confusion. It didn't leave a burn mark that a blaster shit would've left, which at the very least would have cauterized the wound. Instead, there was a small hole, the skin seeming to have been punctured. Blood was seeping through his shirt at an alarming rate, beginning to pool on the ground below.
My hands were pressing firmly, and haphazardly against his chest, hoping to stop the blood from escaping out too quickly. His internal organs would be fine, but he would die of blood loss before anything else.
"More of an old fashioned gun, in my opinion. But it gets the job done better than a blaster, in a way," Aje sneered.
Not enough time, not enough time.
I thought I had more time with Ezra. I wanted more time to figure this out. More time to explore things with him, more time to learn with him. To grow with him.
We needed more time. We wanted to finish the war together, and I wanted to live in a world where we get an after.
Ezra's eyes were flickering, the light in them dimming. They were brimmed with tears, the pain ever-present despite how quickly he was fading. He was latched onto me like I was a lifeline, his hands weakly clinging onto my body. His breath was shallow and irregular, broken up by his coughs.
Not enough time. Not enough time.
"Fuck, Ezra, you have to stay with me, look at me! Stay with me!" I pleaded. I kept his head tilted towards me, my eyes locked with his. "Don't you dare close your eyes. You keep looking at me," I ordered him.
He did as he was told, his eyes fluttering, but fighting to stay open.
"Relax," Aje said calmly, heading back towards the cell door, "The shot was in his shoulder. It's not enough to kill him. Mortimer still wants both of you alive, and he'll slit my throat if I disobey his orders. Now both of you, get up."
I sat quietly in defiance, holding Ezra's body close to mine. His grip was weakening, his arms releasing my body.
Why isn't he holding me?
As if reading my thoughts, Ezra reached forward with a shaking hand, bringing it to my cheek.
There was rage simmering in my body, begging to be released. If anyone deserved more time, it was Ezra.
He needed more time. I needed more time with him.
I needed him. I needed Ezra.
"Not enough to kill him?" I retorted sharply. "Even if it's a shoulder shot, he'll bleed to death! If you want him to live, you need a medic!"
"I said GET UP!" Aje shouted, raising his gun once more. "Or his other arm is next."
I hesitantly let go of Ezra, our bodies almost unwilling to part from each other, and stood up, my legs shaking.
"Now he will stand," he commanded, gesturing towards Ezra with his gun.
I scoffed. "You just shot him! He can't stand up!"
"If that's the case," Aje replied sheepishly, "then he won't mind if I come around for round two."
My eyes widened at the threat.
I stood in place with defiance, hoping that I would call his bluff.
"You're already quite tempting," he muttered seductively. "Ezra has ten seconds."
"Ezra," I pleaded, "Don't do it! I can handle it myself!"
I gasped when Ezra began to prop himself up on his elbows, hissing at the pain in his arm. He flipped himself onto his stomach, so he could lift himself.
It was unbearable to watch. The way the blood coming from his shoulder became more and more noticeable when he tried to sit himself up.
He was on his feet.
He limped over to where I, clutching his shoulder. I quickly took his uninjured arm over my shoulder so he could use my body for supper. "We-," he breathed heavy, "We're up. What does he want?" Ezra snapped, glaring at the villainous boy at the doorway.
"Mortimer wants to see both of you," Aje snickered.
Both of us?
That was promising.
I felt an uneasy feeling churning in the pit of my stomach at the memory of Ezra's outburst. Kanan had warned me about the eyes. They were the sith eyes.
When one is overcome with hate, the force becomes not an alliance, but a slave. And when one holds that power, they change. Inside, and out.
I remembered Kanan giving me that warning after we returned from Fort Anaxes about a year or so ago. After our run-in with the Nasties.
But after that day, the whole team had to adjust to accommodate Ezra's unstable emotions.
He wasn't the same after that day.
He still isn't the same. Change for better, or worse.
Several incidents occurred after the fact and worsened the problem. The outbursts were sometimes dangerous.
But thanks to Kanan's training, progress was made in a positive direction. He became less vulnerable to the pull of the dark side and became more like the teammate we knew and loved.
Whatever was happening in this place was reversing the years Ezra spent healing.
I'm sometimes afraid that we don't have enough time.
We just need a little more time.
I was shoved into the center of a dark room and was forced down onto my knees. The only illuminated thing in the room was a large, glass cube, surrounded by mirrors on all sides.
I could see myself, a small, shrouded figure bathed in partial darkness, my hollow, empty eyes the only thing I could make out.
"You're almost not recognizable as a Mandolorian anymore," I heard an amused voice say from the darkness behind me. "But still very familiar, in a way. Still very indignant."
Mortimer stepped out from the darkness, his reflection coming into the light.
"You understand why you're here, correct?" Mortimer shrugged while moving towards the large glass cube.
I swallowed nervously.
"I believe you were confused by the question. I meant here in general. As in, this facility. Do you know why?"
"Because you're a slave trader," I stammered, trying to pull my confidence together for as long as I could.
"That is true, but because I am a trader, I trade slaves, distributing them for goods and services. Which means by now you would've been sent elsewhere by now. You, Sabine, are still in my possession," he explained condescendingly. "So, to be more specific, why are you still here?"
His question lingered in the air, the truth of it catching up to me.
Mortimer has us here for days, despite all of Tatooine knowing about the bounty on our heads. He had every opportunity to bring us in, or to hand us off to some hunter for credits. He could've killed me because of the vendetta against my family. I answered his question truthfully. "I don't know," I muttered.
"Because you are destined to suffer, simple as that. I've decided it for you. Everyone you know, everyone you care about, will suffer, along with you," Mortimer snapped through clenched teeth. They were yellowed and sharp.
"Why-"
"-am I doing this?" Mortimer finished. "Your father took away everything I had, all for the sake of nothing! What was his purpose? Nothing!" Mortimer breathed in deep at a pause. "Which is why I intend to make the Wren dynasty suffer, to give them everything they deserve."
I began to panic at the sudden remembrance of my teammate. My teammate, who was not in the room with me, and likely still bleeding out. "Where is Ezra?" I whispered.
He didn't answer me, so I let my rage boil over.
"Where the hell is Ezra?" I shouted.
"He's doing your job."
I was taken aback at his reply. "My what?"
A beat went by, and Mortimer exploded into laughter. "You mean you don't know?" he asked, fighting the words over his chuckling. "He took your place. You were supposed to be in that box, but he begged to save you, to be able to do the deed for you. He doesn't understand that I don't play fair." The snake cracked a sinister grin. "Let's have a look shall we?"
Mortimer tapped on the glass once, and immediately the mirrors became transparent, becoming glass that revealed what was inside.
Attached to the ground, were a pair of shackles, and Ezra was attached to them.
My heart dropped at the sight. I should've been relieved that his wound appeared to be treated, bandages wrapped tightly over his shoulder, but I couldn't dwell on that relief, a new dread looming over me. Bandages were the only thing covering his upper half.
"Ezra!" I called out, crawling over to the glass cage until I was inches away from the surface.
"He can't hear you, or see you," he sighed, before muttering something indecipherable into his comm.
Ezra was weakly pulling against the shackles, his wrists covered in strain marks from trying to pull so hard.
The marks were deeply set into the skin, meaning these took time.
How did I not notice?
Time. All of this took time.
Every day Ezra was gone, he was here.
My eyes darted towards the door inside the box when it began to open, a guard stepping inside with a long, leather whip in his hands.
No.
I expected Ezra to scream as the whip came crashing down against his skin. But there was only uncomfortable silence, his face tightened with unsettling familiarity, like he had adjusted to this routine. His eyes were screwed shut, knuckles white from how tightly his fists were clenched
"NO!" I shouted, growing ever closer to the glass. I banged against it repeatedly, each pound with less and less force as I realized that the glass would not break. I collapsed in a heap in front of the cube, my forehead leaning against the cold glass, as I sobbed relentlessly at the sight of Ezra.
What more could we have done? How many minutes could we have saved that day? How many seconds were we away from a getaway that took us home?
How long did we have left in this place?
I heard a click and two quiet taps.
Ezra looked up at the glass in front of him, and his eyes widened. "Sabine?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
He could see me.
Tears began to run down his cheeks as the whip came down again, and again, and again, his newfound audience making it harder to dissociate away front the pain.
"Ezra, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I did this, Ezra," I sobbed, unsure if he could even hear me.
I turned towards Mortimer, hoping that my desperation would save Ezra. "Stop!" I begged. My breathing was hitched. "Please STOP!"
He did this to save me.
And I treated him like shit. Every day I begged for answers, the day I laid a hand on him and he begged me to let him go.
From the moment we arrived, he stepped in front of me.
I looked at Ezra once more, noticing the blood darkening the bandages on his shoulder from the gunshot, the stain growing larger.
Every day that he was gone, he was here. Spending countless hours suffering.
I wanted desperately to avert my eyes, or even close them so I didn't have to witness the horror in front of me.
But I couldn't look away.
"Please stop..." I whispered.
Ezra's eyes looked empty, drained of the life and energy they once contained.
Countless cuts and lashes were etched into his back, some that begun to scar only to be reopened.
"Make it stop! Please! I'll give you whatever you want! We have resources, just tell us what you want and it's yours!" I begged.
Mortimer turned towards me, and locked eyes with me, his hard, stone-cold eyes softening slightly. "I want my family back."
The cell door slammed shut, a small click following.
I breathed in and out heavily, trying to slow my heart rate down, still recovering from the nervous breakdown I had.
I turned so I could see Ezra, who had been brought in by the guards a few minutes before I arrived. His silhouette was faint in the dimly lit cell, and he was hardly stirring as he laid on the cot.
But he was awake. I knew that much. His breathing wasn't low like when he was asleep.
"So," I mumbled, breaking the heavy silence. He didn't indulge me, remaining curled up under the blanket. I joined him, sitting on the edge by his feet.
"That's where you went. Everyday." I stated, feeling my heart break more every second I looked at Ezra.
He laid unmoving on his side, eyes remaining fixed at a point on the wall.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded my sad expression hardening into a scowl.
Ezra sighed, and sat himself up, wincing a little at the pain. "Doesn't matter," Ezra muttered, sounding slightly arrogant.
"Excuse me?" I asked in disbelief, but Ezra already began to talk over me.
"Why does it matter? I made a choice, and the natural consequences followed. I wasn't obligated to tell you. Don't suddenly care-"
"Suddenly care? All of those conversations didn't count then?" I retorted.
Ezra was silent at my response.
"You didn't have to take that from me," I said solemnly. "What Mortimer has against my family isn't your burden to take on. But even so, what's done is done." I brought a hand up and placed it on his leg. "I just wish you would've talked to me about it."
"I know I didn't have to. But I couldn't let him hurt you," Ezra sighed, avoiding my gaze. "I know you tell me that's it's too soon, but I don't think you'll ever understand why I did what I did until you understand how much," he breathed, "how hard I love you."
Tears began to well up in his eyes, but they didn't fall. "I didn't do what I did to prove anything or to win you over. I never wanted the way I felt about you to be rooted in a sacrifice. I never wanted the way you felt about me to be because of a trade. I chose this because I already loved you. I wish I could tell you that I could've chosen to let you handle this, but I don't think there's a universe where I didn't take the fall for you."
He swallowed hard, lips parting softly as he tried to catch his breath.
"I wish, I wish I told you. I wish I could've let the burden off my shoulders. I wish I could've cried to you about it, about how hard it is, and how painful it is. There wasn't a day that went by that I wish I could've let you in and told you the truth."
My scowl had softened, replaced by the warmth I felt growing in my chest.
"It's not as simple as needing you. I want you, and I'll choose you, over and over again, even if it means putting up with the other complicated parts about you," he said with a chuckle, despite the tears that had finally rolled down his cheeks. "I just hope you can forgive the rest of the complicated parts about me. I hope you can forgive the fact that I stick my neck out too far sometimes."
He lifted his uninjured arm to hold my face in his hands. "And I hope you can forgive me for telling you I love you. I don't care if you never say it back. I can live with that much."
I felt my heart shatter at all of the pieces of Ezra were putting themselves together in front of me.
It was almost impossible to understand. Less than an hour earlier, he was getting tortured in front of a live audience. And yet here he was, asking for my forgiveness.
Here he was, only in bandages, skin still damp from the sweat, asking forgiveness from the person who should've been saying sorry.
I drew his body into a gentle embrace, desperate to close the gap between us.
I lifted a hand and gently placed it on the center of his back, and immediately felt him flinch instinctively beneath my touch.
I moved my hand up slowly, my fingers tracing the marks and lashes that lined his body. Some were scabs, some were scars, and some were fresh cuts, buried under gauze pads and bandages.
I felt him shudder when I placed my lips against his shoulder and waited for a moment.
I don't think I could ever be sorry enough. But I could start somewhere.
"You shouldn't be asking for my forgiveness. I should be asking for yours. I'm so sorry, Ezra. That I got you in this mess."
I just needed a little more time.
"I promise you that we're going to go home. I know that's a lot to promise," I sighed. "But I need more time to tell you I'm sorry. There aren't ever going to be enough days to tell you how sorry I am. But I swear, I'm going to make us enough time."
I just need more time.
I just need a little more time.
