1 | Star Wars Rebels: Beginning Of The End (completed)

Part 31

Rebel base, Atollon, aboard the Ghost, ????, 3279 LY

     The Ghost crew went on yet another successful mission led by Ezra, who locked himself in his room. Pulling out his 'pad, he opened up an entry which hurt to do. He didn't put a date; the journal did it for him. It was kind of like a log, one he would leave for someone to find long after he was gone. Perhaps it would help someone not to make the same mistake he did. 

The mission today was successful. A normal supply run. Well, it was almost successful. We had gotten away, but a trooper had shot me in the arm. Now it hurts, but I can hide it as long as it doesn't get worse. If the crew knew, they'd dump me off. Everyone did. Who wants a good-for-nothing street rat, anyway? This would just give them an excuse.

Kanan's avoiding me anyway. Maybe he doesn't want me anymore. I can't blame him. Over 48 hours without sleep thanks to nightmares. It's a wonder I'm still functioning enough to write this. Thanks, autocorrect. Anyway, they're basically the same thing. Ahsoka dying, Kanan blinding me. But it's worse. 

Yeah, Ahsoka dies, but she pushed me away! In my nightmares, she screams for me, but I can't do anything to help. I scream for her to turn, to raise her lightsabers. But she doesn't hear me. She dies right in front of my face, cut in half by a red blade, as the temple closes. 

As for Kanan, he gets blinded, then blinds me, making me feel his pain. Then he pushes me away as a Padawan, leaving me on the streets for dead. Maul finds me, and cuts me slowly, torturing me, then leaves me for dead. Then old friends, bucketheads, put a blasterbolt in me. Every night it gets worse. What about tonight? Will I wake up trying to kill someone, will I not wake up at all? How can I know?

     Ezra couldn't continue through the blur of his tears and his throbbing arm wound. He would hide it. The crew couldn't know how he felt. It was weakness, and Ezra Bridger. Was. Not. Weak.

Ugh, this pounding headache. I think my blaster wound has swollen up, and it's getting harder to conceal it. The crew's gonna know, but I can't let them know. It'll heal hopefully. I'll just sneak some painkillers for this headache and my arm. 

I can't eat and I'm so tired all the time, but I can't sleep. There's bags under my eyes, my face is pale, and I feel like bantha poodoo. I can't hide this forever. Three days without sleep...how much more can I take? How much more waking up, knowing it's all my fault, not being able to change the past, can I take? 

Hera's calling for breakfast. I gotta go. Bridger out.

     As Ezra made his way out of the door, he dragged his feet, tired down to his bones. He had to pull off training with Rex, which was painful, and not let them know that he wasn't okay. But when he got past the ladder to the Phantom, his legs gave out, and the bliss of sleep finally returned with a crashing sound.

     ''Where's Ezra?'' Zeb asked Hera. They were about halfway done with breakfast and the kid still hadn't shown up. ''You know what,'' he told no one in particular, ''I'll go see what he's doing.'' 

     Making his way out of the kitchen, Zeb wondered what Ezra could be doing. The kid had been acting weird lately, and seemed super tired. He kind of wished Rex would cut the kid some slack, but the kid was supposed to be a Jedi. Sort of.

     Zeb found Ezra lying crumpled in front of the ladder to the Phantom, lightly snoring. The Lasat picked the boy up, lightly cradling him, as the large bipedal sentient made his way to the kitchen.