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Ezra’s head snapped to the side as he was slapped, falling back to the ground with a thud. Tears sprang to his eyes as he rubbed his cheek and looked up at the Mirialan. She looked down at him with a sneer. “You’re going to learn very quickly to obey your betters.” 

She reached down and hauled Ezra to his feet. This time, she held him firm as she slapped his other cheek, eliciting a yelp. She alternated back and forth a couple times before she finally let go. Ezra sobbed as he reached up to tenderly rub his aching face. “I-I just want my mom…!”

He let out a surprised gasp as the Seventh Sister grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “Your mother is gone. She decided that speaking out was more important than the safety of her son, of you. And now you will be molded into something of use.”

She took a step back, and Ezra could only tremble and quietly cry. He felt scared and hopeless, and he had no idea what to do.

“Now, go through the course again. If you continue to hesitate, I’ll give you something to truly cry about.”

Ezra sniffled as he went back to the starting line. He didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t want to find out. 

He ran through the gauntlet again, his legs burning from the strain and his hands sore from the rough ropes he had had to climb. He was panting at the end, collapsing to the ground as his muscles turned to jelly. Then there was a hand on his sweaty head, making flinch. “Good boy~ I don’t like to damage that pretty face of yours, but you forced my hand. But do everything I say, and you’ll do just fine.”

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Ezra snarled as the red blades clashed. It was obvious that he was stronger than the other Inquisitorial candidate. The boy was nearly a head shorter than him, and his form was sloppy. The boy’s eyes were wild as he tried to just keep Ezra at bay, but it was useless. Ezra knew he had this in the bag. 

There was a gap in the boy’s defenses, and Ezra thrust his saber in, stabbing the boy’s hand and forcing him to drop his saber. The boy howled in pain, dropping into a crouch as he cradled his ruined hand. 

Ezra let out an exhale, retracting his blade and standing straight. He had done it. He had won.

Over the sound of harsh sobbing, there was clapping. Ezra turned to see his master smirking at him from the observation deck. “Congratulations, apprentice.” She looked pointedly at the defeated boy. “It seems you have damaged Fifth Brother’s candidate.”

Ezra only glanced at his opponent, who was still cradling his smoldering hand which had been sliced down the middle. 

“Kill him.”

Ezra’s stomach clenched as he looked back up at his master. He wanted to be absolutely sure he had heard her correctly because he had never killed anyone before. Maimed and dismembered, sure, but kill?

His master’s gaze hardened. “Now.”

Ezra’s breathing shuddered as he looked back at his defeated opponent. He swallowed and nodded, feeling sick. He didn’t have any other choice. Any sign of hesitance always resulted in an afternoon in the interrogation chamber and an evening having his mind violated by his master. She always punished him with such exuberant glee, he knew she looked for any slip up as an excuse to discipline him. 

“N-No please…!”

Ezra snarled and thrust his arm forward, knocking the other Inquisitorial candidate back against the wall. The boy was a couple years younger than him, but he couldn’t let that fact stay his hand. He had been forced to fight older candidates too, but he had fought back. He didn’t beg. He did what he had to do in order to appease his master.

The boy was crying and blubbering as he struggled against the Force hold. Ezra ignited his saber, bathing them both in red light. He took a small inhale as he raised it and then thrusted it through the boy’s chest.

There was a shudder in the Force before the life drained from the boy. Simultaneously, the light slowly faded from his eyes until his body was limp and lifeless against the wall. 

Ezra retracted the blade and quickly turned around, ignoring the nausea caused by the smell of charred flesh. One would think he would have gotten used to it by now, but if anything, it had gotten worse with every bout of sparring. 

“Very good, apprentice,” his master said. “You’re finally learning to be ruthless.”

Chapter Text

He didn’t know what was going on. They had been in the middle of a royale, a fight for Ezra to earn the privilege to become a full Inquisitor. Ezra had ripped through a couple other candidates when suddenly his senses were overwhelmed. There were bright flashes and loud bangs, followed by a flood bitter smoke that choked him. Ezra blinked through the tears, coughing and gasping. It threatened to take him under but he couldn’t. He had to do this, he had to fight, defeat the enemy…

There was a shadow in front of him, and Ezra let out a cry as he leapt forward and swung his lightsaber. It cut through the torso of the being, eliciting a harsh cry followed by a disgusting gurgle as the body fell to the ground with a thud. 

Ezra froze. That cry had been low. Lower than the other candidates’ voices. And that thud…

The smoke began to clear, and Ezra blinked several times to clear the noxious chemicals from his eyes. It was a full grown man, but not an Inquisitor. He didn’t recognize the man or the clothes he was wearing. What was going on?

The sound of blaster fire had him automatically raising his saber to deflect the blaster bolts back at the targets. There was screaming and shouting, but Ezra didn’t care. He snarled and growled as he just continued to fight and survive. He would not let his master down.

A flash of blue, and everything suddenly went black.

Draven had his arms crossed as he looked at the unconscious child. He was in a medically induced coma until the leadership decided what to do with him.

They had spoken to the other kids they had saved. It was terrible, the horrors they had been forced to endure at that facility on Arkanis. Thankfully, there were very few of these ‘Inquisitors’, and they were able to take the place over with overwhelming force to save these children.

They had not expected one of said kids to fight back against them with such ferocity. Obviously the oldest of the bunch, he had killed four of their ranks before they managed to stun him. According to the other kids, he was far gone. A monster that had tormented and even killed many of their friends. 

In Draven’s opinion, it would probably be a mercy to just kill him. But the leadership was obviously uncomfortable with executing a brainwashed child. They couldn’t just keep him here in a coma forever. It was traumatizing to the other kids to have him around so close. They needed to not just figure out a way to keep the teenager locked away, but to keep him in a state where he couldn’t use his powers to escape. 

A door opened, and Draven turned to see Mon Mothma walking in with a grim look. “Senator?” he questioned.

She sighed, glancing at the unconscious teen. “I think we’ve come up with a suitable solution.”

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“Please…” Ezra rasped as the rebel pulled the cup of a foul tasting concoction. It was all he was ever given. It somehow kept him hydrated and fed enough, but he still felt like he was wasting away. “I-I can’t take this anymore…” he whimpered. 

The rebel didn’t respond as they stood. In the darkness, Ezra couldn’t even see their expression as they walked out and left him alone again. The only source of light was the holo in front of him that played nonstop. It was a series of recordings of his training from the Facility on Arkanis, complete with loud audio.

“No… n-no please,” the boy begged as he fell backward and threw his arms up. Ezra didn’t remember his name, but his terrified face and voice were now burned into his psyche. That horrible moment right before Ezra swung his saber down through his chest. He died slowly, taking seconds for the life to drain from his eyes.

Then the next recording began. In this one, Ezra was strangling a girl through the Force.

In the present, Ezra shuddered in his chains as he let out dry sob. He had no idea how long he’s been down here. His only way of keeping time was the cup of bad tasting water and the regular beatings meted out by the rebellion leaders. Was it daily? Weekly?  How long has he been chained in this permanent kneeling position, his arms forcibly outstretched from his body?

He had been stripped naked some time before he had been restrained. The initial humiliation of it faded away quickly, dissolving into abject misery. He was constantly trembling from the cold. It was only the occasional hot gust from the engine vent kept him from succumbing to hypothermia. 

But was nothing compared to the constant agony of these recordings constantly echoing in this dark chamber. It pounded in his head over and over again, making it impossible to ignore. His own memories of his actions, the sick feeling in his stomach every time he thrust his saber into another’s flesh, were constantly echoing in his mind. 

There was no escape.

Chapter Text

Ezra cried out as the lights were turned on, burning his retinas. He could hear the door opening, and he knew what was coming. His body shuddered as he involuntarily whimpered. Did he even bother begging?

The only bit of solace was that the holos were temporarily turned off, giving him some reprieve. 

He kept his eyes shut, but he could hear and sense one person walking around him until they were right behind him. He knew the woman, Mon Mothma, would be standing in front of him. He didn’t know why she came down here to watch this process. She never said anything. Just observed. 

“Say it,” the man - Draven? - behind him said. 

Ezra’s lips trembled, his eyes burning although no tears formed. With the limited amount of sustenance they gave him, he ran out of tears long ago. 

There was a crack, Ezra’s eyes flew open as he screamed, fiery pain blossoming across his back. “Say it.”

A choked sob disgorged from his throat, his lungs burning as he struggled to even breathe. “I-I… I d-deserve this…”

There was another crack, and Era could only let out a weak grunt as it knocked the air out of him. When he finally inhaled again, shuddered sobs ripped from his throat, the chains jingling as he instinctively struggled. But there would be no escape. It wasn’t the worst pain he had ever experienced, but it was relentless. It would go on and on as each stroke of the whip was punctuated by his own admissions.

“I deserve this.”

“I’m a monster.”

“This is for my own good.” 

It wouldn’t end until he was on the edge of passing out. And then he would be sprayed down with cold water before being plunged back into darkness, with only his past to keep him company.

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He didn’t remember his name. He couldn’t see properly anymore. The holos were still playing, but it was just noise. Sounds of dying children, his own growling and snarling echoing in his ears and constantly reminding him of what he was: a monster.

He wanted to die. Maybe one of these days, the whip would cut so deeply that it would cleave him in two.

Then there was a change. He was so used to the monotony, even the tiniest change hit him like a freighter. It was… pleasant. It was a spark of warmth he had never felt before. A deep feeling of comfort and belonging, a strange sense of knowing that there was a person or being who held affection for him. They would do anything for him. Short flashes of affection and closeness. It was so nice…

And then it was gone. He jerked in his chains as he woke up, and he realized it was only a dream. There was never going a person who would want to be that close. Not with a monster like him. Anyone who tried… once they knew what he had done, they could reject him in a moment’s notice. 

After all the pain and horror he had caused… This cold prison is where he was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Kanan was having nightmares.

These weren’t his usual nightmares. They weren't echoes of his past, of his master screaming at him to run, memories of sleeping cold on the street and digging through garbage to just get enough to eat… 

No, these nightmares were like a horror holo. He was trapped, unable to move. The cold was penetrating him to the very bone, a horrible stiff numbness consuming every inch of his body. He couldn’t see or hear anything beyond garbled stimulus. The intense desire to find some way to just end it consumed him, and yet he had no way to do so.

Until Kanan woke up. 

At first, he had assumed these nightmares were coming from one of the few younglings the rebellion had saved. The horrors they had been forced to live through… They bafflingly trusted him with their issues, and while they had indeed been forced to suffer, none of their stories matched what he was experiencing in these nightmares.

And it wasn’t just at night. As Kanan walked through the carrier, he felt weighed down by just this horrible sense of hopelessness. It wasn’t his depression coming back to haunt him, it was something exterior from him. At this point, he knew the kids well enough to be able to tell that these particular feelings weren’t emanating from any of them. They might all had their own issues they were working through, but none of it matched the sheer despair Kanan was constantly sensing.

So where was this coming from?

Chapter Text

Something changed.

It wasn’t a dream this time. At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t? The pain was so acute, he had to be awake. 

The warmth was back, and as small as it was, it made him shudder and moan. It was only in his head, but he wanted to curl up in it and disappear forever. For a while, he imagined himself doing just that. It was difficult to truly conceive of such a peaceful ending, especially when his mind kept circling around back to the fact that he didn’t deserve it. 

But then the warmth seemed to expand. Not over his body, but swept through his mind, casting away some of the fog that had encroached it for so long. He let out a raspy groan as the numbing ache in his body simultaneously made itself known. The holo in front of him gained more definition in sight and sound, and he found himself shuddering at the horrible reminder.

But the warmth was still there. And growing ever so steadily.

He choked on a sob. What was going on?

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It was like a compass. Or a thread. Either way, Kanan was following it because he would be driven insane if he didn’t find the source of these horrid feelings. 

They led them down into the depths of the carrier. Eventually he found himself in the massive engine room. The hopelessness swelled into abject fear. It was definitely a person, but if it was a person, why would they be down here? A stowaway? Considering Kanan has been sensing this horrible suffering for days… Did someone get stuck in some sort of nooks or crannies of this vastly complicated engine room? Slowly starving and dying? 

That thought made Kanan shudder in horror, increasing his pace in alarm. If that was the case, it was paramount that they were found as soon as possible. The fear was swelling exponentially in the Force as he got closer. It tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Why was he sensing this person’s emotion so keenly? It was almost unbearable. 

It led him to just a blank wall. Kanan frowned as he panted heavily from the exertion. He stepped up and pressed a hand to the durasteel. It was behind this wall, he was sure of it. Whoever this was, they were right there. He ran his fingers along the seams of the panels, searching for any telltale sign of…

There. A catch that made one panel pop out, revealing itself to be a door. He grabbed the edge and swung it open. 

It was a dark room. At first all Kanan could see was a staticky holo in the center of the room. It looked to be depicting a child fighting and killing another child with a lightsaber. 

Then a soft whimper and the sound of jingling metal drew Kanan’s gaze beyond the holo, and he felt the blood drain from his face. “What…?” he breathed.

It was an emaciated child, naked save for the chains that wreathed their body and kept them suspended and facing the ongoing holo. Their eyes were squeezed shut from the light, their trembling making the chains rattle. They were pale, their long black hair lank on over their face.

What the hell was going on?

Kanan surged forward, walking through the holo to kneel in front of the child. “Kid? Kid?!” He wasn’t even sure if he should touch them, they looked so fragile. Now that he was looking the child over closer, he could see layers of bruises and red marks told of ongoing torture. He was overcome with horror. What was going on? Who put this kid down here?

Then there was a voice behind him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?!”

Chapter Text

“You’re literally torturing a child!”

“We’re not torturing anyone,” Draven said sternly. “We’re ensuring a violent and powerful Imperial can’t escape and kill even more innocents.”

Kanan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No one deserves to be treated like that, let alone a youngling.”

Mon Mothma stepped forward, her expression hard. “What we do with our prisoners - ”

“Prisoner?!” Kanan spat in disbelief. “You have that kid strung up in the engine room. You didn’t even have the decency to put him up in the brig!”

“And what - precisely - would you have done?” Senator Mothma shot back. “Confronted with a wizard who could kill us with a mere thought? Would you have us execute Ezra Bridger?”

Kanan spun around to Ahsoka, who had thus far been disturbingly quiet. “You cannot possibly condone this?” It was half question, half plea. She was the only one other one who understood the Force. Understood how it could cling and pull on a Force sensitive. 

She remained disturbingly silent as she stared in the space in front of her. When she looked up, her gaze remained unfocused. “I was not made aware,” she said quietly.

And yet she did not seem equally as outraged. She had somehow not sensed in the Force the utter suffering that was bouncing around this spacecraft carrier, all emanating from Ezra Bridger. How was that even possible? Ahsoka had always been powerful, certainly stronger than he was in the Force. How could she have not known?

“This was a decision made by Rebel Alliance leadership,” Senator Mothma said. She was also much too calm considering what she was speaking about. “All of the evidence we had showed us an Imperial weapon capable of killing scores of innocents if left unchecked. We had to ensure that threat remained contained.”

Kanan was going to be sick. He couldn’t stand to hear anymore of this. Without ceremony, he abruptly turned and stormed out of the command center. His mind was buzzing a thousand parsecs a second, the image of the kid in chains burning at the core of it all. He had always been hesitant about joining a full blown rebellion, a military-like structure, but he would have never imagined they could be this evil.

“Kanan.”

He froze at the sound of Ahsoka’s voice. He stiffly turned to see her walking up to him, her expression hard and stony. She stepped up uncomfortably close to him, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. 

“I’m going to help you get him out of here.”

Chapter Text

The warmth was back.

There was no way to explain it. But the stark awareness and the unfamiliar comforting aura was suddenly all around him. Although it did nothing to ease the pain of the chains being removed

“Shh, I’m sorry… It’s going to be okay…”

The words meant nothing but the warmth he had felt before seemed to swell with them. He let out choked whines as his limbs were suddenly jostled and moved. For the first time in ages, his body was being moved and manhandled, and it was more painful than one of Draven’s beatings. His atrophied muscles were stretching and burning, he was sure they were going to snap into two at any moment. 

He let out a choked noise as he dropped from the chains. But he didn’t hit the ground. The world tilted and swayed, and he was wrapped up in something scratchy. It scraped and irritated his overly sensitive skin, adding it to the host of sensations invading his awareness. If he were more fit, he’d be screaming and kicking the material away. But in his pathetic state, all he could manage was to whimper and squirm weakly. That is, until he realized squirming only made the scraping worse. 

Then something tightened around him. His heart just about stopped, memories of his master carrying him back to his cabin creeping over him.

But then the warmth completely melted the memory away, and the utterly foreign feeling of belonging wrapped around his mind. He fell limp against some soft fabric covering a solid wall, a physical sort of warmth encompassing him. 

If he had the energy or will, he would be weeping right now. He was confused and lost, but he felt like he was safe.

He felt like he was home.

Chapter Text

Kanan couldn’t bring himself to leave Ezra’s side. In fact, when first boarded the Ghost with the boy still wrapped up in his arms, it took hours for him to have the wherewithal to relinquish the small package. He was having trouble even speaking. This child’s mind was a void that was sucking him in, and he was struggling to find the interface between Ezra and himself. 

But at some point he realized he had to let him go. He needed medical attention. On some medical facility that wouldn’t trace back to the Empire or the Rebellion. 

Eventually they did find a suitable medical ‘facility’. It had limited capabilities. They could administer intravenous fluids and nutrition along with monitoring his condition. Thankfully (relatively speaking) it looked as though Ezra had not suffered any recent beatings. There were no open wounds, just some old bruises and fresh pink scar tissue criss-crossing his back. 

Kanan was sitting by the still-unconscious child, his mind in chaos. Never had he felt so trapped. Hiding and running from the Empire had been hard enough. Now they had to hide from the ‘good guys’ as well? 

But it wasn’t just that. He knew now that his nightmares the last few nights had been Ezra’s perspective of that living hell. The kid hasn’t shown a shred of awareness since Kanan and Hera gotten him down from those chains. In his mind, he was still in that pitch black hole. And his mind was so interwoven with Ezra’s that Kanan almost felt he was chained up with him.

Maybe this was insanity. All Kanan knew about the boy was what the Alliance leadership had told him. He was an ex-Inquisitor trainee with a verifiable record of killing other trainees, and he had killed a few rebels when they had liberated Arkanis. 

No, that was not all he knew about him. He knew how terrified and hopeless Ezra felt. He knew that all Ezra wanted was for his suffering to end, one way or another.

He didn’t know what to think of the Rebellion. A part of him was trying to sympathize. He knew people often found Force sensitives - even Jedi - terrifying under the best of circumstances. Their numbers were so few, particularly nowadays, that many thought they were just legends. Their powers were beyond some peoples’ imaginations. Watching this teen merciless kill… Kanan could almost understand not seeing Ezra as a child. 

Except they did. That was why they hadn’t executed him. A sort of cognitive dissonance had stayed their hand while also seeing Ezra as nothing but a monster. Not even a prisoner of war, but something not quite sentient. 

Kanan clenched his fists against his thighs. Outside of Hera and the rest of the Ghost crew, there was no one he could trust.

A bit of movement drew Kanan’s attention, and he realized that Ezra was finally starting to wake up. His eyelids were fluttering and his gaze was blurrily searching his surroundings. 

Kanan slowly leaned forward until the boy’s field of vision, hoping to avoid startling him. “Hey…”

The boy’s eyes widened, zeroing in on Kanan’s face. Surprisingly, he wasn’t horribly afraid. In the Force, he was surprisingly calm as he fumbled over Kanan’s signature. Still scared and apprehensive, but mostly confused.

Kanan gave a hesitant smile, taking it as a good sign. “My name is Kanan,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”

Chapter Text

Everything was terrifying. Nothing about this new prison made any sense. At least… he was pretty sure it was a prison? It wasn’t a training facility like Arkanis. But he wasn’t allowed to leave. Not that he wanted to. That would mean leaving Kanan.

It has been days - maybe weeks? - since he woke up to a brown skinned human looking down at him in a too bright room. He couldn’t explain it, but he somehow knew that this Kanan was the source of the warmth and the feelings of comfort and belonging. 

However, everything beyond him was bright, loud, and absolutely petrifying. It was days before he could even stand to look at the other beings on this ship.

Here is what he knew: Kanan was a Force sensitive human who was safe. It had taken some time, but he slowly internalized that the name ‘Ezra Bridger’ was his. It didn’t feel quite right as the label of ‘monster’, but whenever he pointed that out, the others would get angry. So he learned to keep that to himself. 

There was a green Twi’lek named Hera with a nice voice who seemed… okay. At least, Kanan seemed most relaxed and warm-fuzzy around her. 

A dinged up orange and white C1 droid named Chopper seemed to spend most of his time with Hera. He was grumpy and loud, but Hera and Kanan would yell at him a lot. That put Ezra at some ease. 

Then there was a very large purple furred alien that Ezra didn’t recognize. His name was Zeb. He smelled and was intimidating, although he kept his distance from Ezra. Thank the Force. 

Then there was a Mandalorian girl. She was… colorful. He was pretty sure he had heard the others call her Sabine. He had seen her face exactly once, and the mixture of skepticism and pity he saw made him never want to look at her again. 

Ezra became a fixture in this prison. Ship? Whatever it was, most of the others gave up speaking to him, which he was perfectly content with. They went from place to place. Sometimes certain members would leave to do ‘jobs’, returning with credits in hand. Even Kanan worked at times, although that was limited to jobs such as bartending where Ezra could sit behind the counter and hover near him. 

The future was a void, with no way of knowing what was going to befall him next. But as long as he could stay with Kanan… maybe he would be okay.