Not How Your Stories End

Chapter 17

It took seventeen cycles for Ezra to wake up. Give or take a few hours.

Then again, perhaps "wake up" wasn't quite the correct phrase. Ezra had spent plenty of time with his eyes open during those seventeen cycles. Often staring at something beyond them all. Sometimes making little sounds and jerking his limbs in tiny bursts. Clumsy. Infantile.

Nothing more haunting, though, than when he would speak. Words coming out in ominous, clipped sentences. Directionless and vague. The idea of communication without true action.

But he was never really there during those moments.

The medics and droids had all assured them that all of this was completely normal. That patients coming out of comas were still capable of extremely basic bodily functions. That it was all a good sign. That his brain was healing the best it could and that each new, small action was a step towards recovery. But as good as that all sounded, it didn't mean much in practice. Because none of it was him. For every blink and twitch, his mind - everything that made Ezra, Ezra - had remained sleeping deep, deep below the surface.

And as much as Hera hated to admit it, a part of her had already accepted it. Something unconscious and innate had already sunken its hooks into her brain and convinced her that this was it. This was Ezra now and the boy that she loved and nurtured and cared for was now and forever reduced to a string of unintelligible phrases and weak fingers curling around papery bedsheets. This was forever, now. She hated how quickly she had let that bleakness win out. It felt like betrayal. Antithetical of everything she had taught, everything that Ezra stood for.

She should have known that he would prove her wrong. He always did.

"Hi."

What a simple greeting to be one's re-entrance to reality. Perhaps a bit anticlimactic, but Ezra was rarely one to have the right words at the right time.

It had barely even registered to them at first. The majority of the crew ignored it altogether. Hera was the only one to mutter a quick, absentminded "hello" back as she caught up on transmissions, one hand on her holopad and the other resting on top of Ezra's. She'd always made an attempt to respond to his aimless words. The medics said that it could potentially provide a form of stimulation and aid in his recovery. For her, it just felt natural. She'd never really expected a response.

It was silent for a moment. She felt his fingers curl and twist

"Herrrra."

That changed things. Fear was the first response, strangely enough. She figured that if you get used to something enough, after a while, even a positive change could feel like a threat.

Sabine was the first one to snap out of it. She was at his side in an instant, scarily fast and silent for someone with a pension for the explosive and dramatic. She took his free hand in her own, cradling it between her two palms and lifting it near her chest. Hera watched on as a passive observer. Like something omniscient but uninfluential.

Sabine stumbled a bit to get something out.

"Ezra? Can you hear us?"

Her hands were as hesitant as her voice. She stared at them like they had surprised her. Like she had no influence over their actions, waiting to see what they would do next.

On the bed, Ezra's face pinched and his head rocked on his pillow slightly. The movements were clumsy and stilted as an infant's.

"I-I-I caaaan..." The words were long. His lips fumbling around the sounds.