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The Fall

Summary:

When Ezra let the purrgil drag him into hyperspace, it was with every intention of finding his way home one day. Thrawn has other plans.

Notes:

Oops I did it again ("it" being starting yet another ridiculous and convoluted Rebels AU instead of finishing the ones I already have).

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Manhandling

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The blaring alarms tore into Ezra’s ears, the endless deafening sound making him nauseous.  But he couldn’t break his focus.  Not now.

Out of nowhere, Ezra was flung forward.  His concentration shattered as his forehead slammed into the floor.  For a moment he could only lie there, dazed, his head spinning as he tried to force himself to move.  Finally, he braced his hands against the floor and pushed himself up just in time to see bright red shields flash across the Chimera’s empty viewports.  The purrgils’ tentacles were gone, the creatures flying away and leaving the ship dead in space.

Ezra shook his head, trying to clear it.  As he staggered to his feet, an automated voice echoed around him, joining the screaming alarms.

Evacuation ordered.  All crew members report to escape pods.  Evacuation ordered.

There was a blur of blue and white motion in the corner of Ezra’s eye and suddenly his back was slamming against the now useless main console.  Thrawn loomed over him, fury in his eyes as his hands closed around Ezra’s neck.

Ezra dug his nails into Thrawn’s wrists, but the Grand Admiral’s grip only grew tighter.  His scratching and scrabbling grew more frantic as his vision blurred, panic overtaking him as he fought to breathe.

He was vaguely aware of being wrenched forward.  Pain burst through his skull as he was slammed backward again, the back of his head striking something hard.  His hands dropped back to his side, his arms unable to hold themselves up anymore.  He was moving again, being pulled forward and shoved back, and then everything went dark.


Ezra groaned as he forced his eyes open.  He was splayed out on a cold metal floor that was vibrating beneath him.  His skull was pounding and his neck ached just from lifting his head.  Bile crept up his throat as he sat up and he swallowed it back down as quickly as he could past the swelling around his neck.

Glancing around the space, he saw that he was on a Lambda class shuttle.  Thrawn was at the controls, but stood the moment he heard Ezra move.

Ezra flinched back as the man stormed toward him, rage still burning in his eyes.  A strangled cry escaped his aching throat as Thrawn kicked him in the side, sending him sliding a few inches across the floor.  He yelped as Thrawn grabbed a handful of his hair, dragging him to his feet.  Thrawn’s other hand closed around his injured shoulder, gripping tightly and digging into the blaster wound as he shoved Ezra back against the wall.

“You have interfered for the last time, Bridger,” he snapped.

Keeping his hold on Ezra’s hair and shoulder, Thrawn dragged Ezra away from the wall and forced him across the length of the shuttle.  Ezra’s vision blurred as he was shoved toward the hatch.  As it swung open, a blast of freezing air struck him.

And then he was falling.

He reached out, using the Force to slow his descent.  Still, when he struck the ground, every bone in his body protested loudly.  Snow crunched beneath him, his arms sinking down to his elbows.  Looking up, he saw the shuttle hovering thirty feet above the ground, Thrawn standing in the open hatch, glaring down at him.

Ezra’s head was spinning as he tried to make sense of what was happening.  It finally clicked together seconds too late, just as the hatch began to close.

“No,” he muttered.  He staggered to his feet, staring up at the shuttle in horror.  “No!”

He dove out of the way as the ship’s thrusters fired, the heat melting a thin layer of snow in its wake.  Within seconds, the shuttle had disappeared into the upper atmosphere, and Ezra was alone.

That bile surged up in Ezra’s throat again and this time he couldn’t keep it down.  He doubled over, the disgusting sour taste of vomit filling his mouth before spilling out into the snow.  Slowly, he straightened up again, looking around at his surroundings.  His head was still pounding so much he could barely think straight, but he needed to figure out where the kark he was.

He could see nothing around him but blinding white.  Even at the farthest points on the horizon, there was nothing that indicated settlements or campsites or any sign of sentient presence.  Closing his eyes, Ezra let himself sink into the currents of the Force, trying desperately to ignore the agonizing pain in his head as he reached out, searching for any signs of life.  But all that greeted him was a stark, empty void.

There was no one else here.

He was trapped.  Stuck on this planet or moon or whatever it was with no way to leave and no way to call for help.

Ezra shook his head as he opened his eyes.  He wasn’t just going to stand here and wait to freeze to death.  For all he knew, there were settlements here, out of the range of his senses.  And if there were, he wouldn’t find them while standing in a field of snow.

Casting his gaze about and still seeing nothing, he picked a random direction and started walking.


Ezra couldn’t feel his hands.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d fallen as he marched through the endless icy landscape.  Every time, he sank into the snow up past his elbows.  By now, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin in a way that made him feel sick to his stomach.  He didn’t even know how long he’d been walking, only that the sky had grown dark and lightened again twice now.  With the icy winds blasting at him, he hadn’t dared to stop and rest for more than a few minutes at a time.  But he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.

As if on cue, Ezra’s knees buckled.  He fell forward, sprawling out into the snow.  He tried to push himself back to his feet, but couldn't get his arms to move.

Come on, Ezra thought.  He couldn’t even make his voice work.  Get up.  You have to get up.

But his body wouldn’t obey his commands.  He could only lie there, barely able to do so much as twitch his fingers.  His eyelids fluttered closed, too heavy for him to open them again.  The wind still battered at him, kicking up layers of snow that settled over him.

He was so tired, and everything hurt.

He just needed to rest.

Just for a minute…

Notes:

Will Ezra make it out of this in one piece? Tune into the next fic to find out!

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