Sabezra Fics

Nightmares and Daydreams

What's up guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Thanks to the new update, I accidentally published when I wasn't ready and had to unpublished it. Go me. But now it's ready, so forgive me Mother Numsie and let us proceed - hope you read, rate and revieeeeeewwwww. Punch it, Chewie!

Set after Legacy.

Ezra was not in good shape. Lying in his room, which was now the sickbay of the Ghost since Zeb was temporarily moving in with Kanan, much to the Jedi's chagrin. Ezra had years of being alone on the streets to build up his immune system, fending for himself. He's survived mainly unharmed. Then he'd joined the Ghost crew and faced not one but 3 inquisitors. Three! And he's been okay! Well, mostly. The scars on his cheek proved otherwise.
Then he had to rescue babies, BABIES. Did that take him down? No! But what did was a stupid fever. And it was bad.
"You're overtired," Kanan told him as he lay in the bed, mumbling nonsense drunkenly. "Your immune system has taken the night off. Rest, and you'll pull through, kid. You'll be okay. You've had a huge shock to the system, what with coming back to Lothal. We've got meds, you just need to rest it out."
But resting meant sleep, and that only brought on nightmares.
Nightmares about his parents, the Empire, the Inquisitors torturing him, the children, his parents, and watching every member of his newfound family die or be tortured in some twisted, horrible way. His mind produced terrible things in those nights, and he blamed no one but himself and his flaws.
He knew there was anger and fear deep inside him, heightened by the things that has happened to him and brought out only when memories of his parents being taken away and the thought of his family having the same done to them emerged.
So he usually suppressed them, used humour to hide the pain. And it worked. Smile and joke even when he didn't feel like it. But when he had a boiling temperature, the pain rose to the surface and consumed him. Hera nursed him as much as she should, Kanan soothed him, Zeb tried cheering him up, bringing his his favourite waffles and milk, saying with a snort, "Don't be stupid - Lasats don't get sick! I won't catch anything from you."
Even chopper brought his favourite holos to show him. And he was grateful. But the night and it's darkness brought in terror, and the only one who could calm him down, the only one who listened to his delirious moans was Sabine. And she entered the room now, as Ezra was ranting to his new buddy the table about how he 'wasn't a nice guy.'
He looked up and out of the blurry haze he saw her, feeling a stab of pain and then relief amongst the confusion of feelings as she walked in. "You can put the drinks down, guys - a lady just entered the room. But I get to drink, since - I'm not a nice guy!"
With that he sloshed his water all over his face and Sabine groaned, mopping his face up and grumbling as she tucked him in. At least he wasn't vomiting his guts out, she thought with relief.
"Ezra you're delirious with fever - and you're talking to a table! Who says you're not a nice guy?"
She sat on the bed and smoothed his hair back as he mumbled, "I do. And Mr Table agrees, don't you buddy? I suck. I suck worse than any of you. I'm not a Jedi. I have stupid emotional problems like some kind of dark side rodent that Kanan needs to tame. The inquisitors would love me. I can't control my emotions around my family, I'm useless with controlling the Force and I have KRIFFING abandonment problems. I'm junk. I'm not a nice guy."
Sabine's eyebrows clenched and her heart pained. She brought out the medicine and a cloth, wiping the sweat off his boiling forehead. The poor boy was hurting inside, and hurting badly. The fever brought out the worst in him.
"Maybe I could have stopped the troopers who took my parents. Maybe I could have tried to not let them be taken away, instead of depending on innocent people like Tseebo. I blamed him, for no reason. Instead of blaming everyone else, there's only one person at fault here: myself. And I was too concerned with my own well being to protect the people around me."
He continued rambling on, telling her how he was worthless and selfish and stupid till she couldn't bear it anymore and fed him the medicine to take away some of the pain. He talked about his fears most nights, sobbing himself to sleep when he was vaguely aware that she'd gone. He still had some dignity while sick, he thought amid the fog in his brain.
She grabbed him, wrapping her arms around him and shocking both of them. "Shut up. You are not worthless, Ezra Bridger. I know what you're feeling. We all do. That same guilt consumes all of us, every day. Kanan lost his master and all of the Jedi. Zeb lost his planet and his people. I lost my parents, who like you were my world. But no matter what, there is always hope. Underneath the hurt, you are a good, good person. However bad your jokes are or how moronic you act. Maybe those are good things. Maybe I kind of like those things."
He shook his head vigorously and said, "I'm not, I'm not," but Sabine held him close. Hoping he wouldn't remember this in the morning, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, still feverishly warm but cooling down rapidly. The kiss had a magical effect on him, almost. He blinked and sighed, then his eyes focused. "You're gonna get my germs now. So sit tight, cause then I'm gonna have to take care of you!"
She smiled, seeing some of the old light back in his eyes. "Sleep, Whiskers. You'll feel better once you REST."
He smiled back sleepily, and closed his eyes as she gave him the last of the antibiotics. He saw her again in the back of his eyelids, saw how despite her denials she truly cared for him.  I don't deserve her, he thought, but the sight of her smiling down at him, the feel of her fingers in his hair,  stroking his forehead, his scars, just knowing she was there, beside him. The light in the darkness that might have been his doom, she was his everything in those moments. And he couldn't have been more glad.