Chapter Text
Lookout duty. What a waste of a Mandalorian.
Sabine leaned against one of the planet's towering trees, picking the last of her nail polish from her fingernails. The sun was just starting to set now, golden rays being cast down through the leaves.
Her comm device crackled to life as she snapped her attention to the blinking light on her wrist.
“Sabine? Just checking in,” came Ahsoka’s static voice.
“Still here,” Sabine replied flatly. “Met with your contact yet?”
Ahsoka sighed. “No. Not yet. They’ve yet to appear.” A moment’s hesitation before she added, “It might be a while. You didn’t run off, now, I’m hoping?”
“Not yet.”
Ahsoka had arranged a meeting with some Purgill watch-group fanatics who apparently kept extensive notes on their flying patterns and such.
Very exciting stuff, obviously, which was precisely the reason why Sabine chose not to accompany Ahsoka on her meet. Instead, she’d been plopped down in the woods to guard the Ghost and keep a general eye out until Ahsoka got back.
There was nothing much to look out for, though. She kept the Ghost within sight, and watched for anything that passed by. Which was nothing. Even the planet was boring; another forest-covered world with trees and more trees.
Sabine couldn’t even remember the name of the damned planet. All the forest worlds just started to blur together at one point. Sanlith, was it? Skalo?
Sabine crossed her ankles and clicked off the comm. She combed through her memory for names.
Somek, maybe, Sabine thought. Sylipe?
Shin?
No, no, not the planet name— Shin was weaving her way through the forest right now, that unmistakable white cut of hair sending Sabine scrambling back to her feet.
What was she doing here?
Sabine watched her for a moment more, hand hovering over her lightsaber. Shin didn’t seem to have seen Sabine yet, but she was still a bit too close for comfort.
It was only a matter of time before Shin spotted her, with her brightly painted armor sticking out against all the drab greenery. Sabine looked back to the Ghost, still within close distance.
Though, would she really mind if Shin just happened to notice her?
Sabine looked up and found that Shin had disappeared.
Her lips curved into a smile as she heard the unmistakable crackle of Shin’s red lightsaber igniting behind her.
“Hey, Shin,” Sabine greeted coolly, igniting her own lightsaber as she spun around.
And that was exactly how Sabine found herself in yet another familiar situation:
And that's how Sabine found herself locked in yet another familiar situation: blade-to-blade with Shin, nothing but the sounds of exchanges of snide banter and the clashes of lightsabers. The golden hue of the setting sun filtered through the forest around them.
Shin looked the same as ever; a crazed look in her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face, her white hair flailing with every one of her quick swings.
“You fight with that thing like it’s a dead weight,” she remarked between strikes.
Sabine’s lightsaber slammed against Shin’s red blade. “A dead weight,” Sabine said between pants, “is what you’re about to become.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Oh, shut up,” Sabine said with a smirk, blocking a slash of Shin’s red blade.
Shin pulled her saber away with a quick sidestep, a playful glint in her eyes as she mindlessly twirled her crimson lightsaber. Her gaze remained locked on Sabine.
Sabine didn’t really know when it happened, but their common meet-and-fights evolved into something different. Something fun. Not like Jedi training with Ahsoka; this was something else. It was a new kind of thrill.
Sabine blocked a flurry of Shin’s strikes and then dived out of the way, eyes focused to her blinking comm device.
“Where are you?” Ahsoka's voice crackled over the comm.
With one wrist raised to her mouth to respond and the other hand blocking Shin’s strikes, Sabine said, “Kinda busy right now.”
“We need to move,” Ahsoka insisted, her voice firm. “It was a ruse. There's no meeting.”
Sabine’s eyes narrowed at the sound of Ahsoka’s lightsabers igniting over the comm.
“It’s Baylan. Get to the ship,” she ordered.
So that’s why Shin was here.
“As soon as I finish things over here,” Sabine replied, clicking off the comm just as she dodged a swing of red.
“Taking phone calls during a duel?” Shin said through a smile. “Where are your manners?” She slammed her blade forward.
Sabine caught it easily, tilting her head quizzically. “You tricked us?” she asked, sidestepping her musings.
“Of course we did. Honestly, I can’t believe your Jedi fell for the whole Purgill watch-group thing.” Shin smirked. “Oh, but don’t worry, I really did want to see you, too.”
Sabine took a step back, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation despite all their smiles and quips.
Shin and Baylan had double-crossed Sabine and Ahsoka, aiming to kill them both.
This was no longer a friendly sparring match. This was a real fight now, and they were on opposite sides.
Sabine cursed herself mentally for not realizing it sooner. Could she have really gone that soft?
Sabine's expression hardened as she recalled her Jedi training. One of Ahsoka’s countless duel mantras stuck out to her:
Parry, strike.
Block until you have an opening— she remembered. Sabine kept it at the forefront of her mind as Shin dashed toward Sabine, red lightsaber swung high in an arc aiming for her neck.
Parry…
The red blade slammed, interrupted, into Sabine’s saber.
Sabine stepped behind Shin and steadied her lightsaber in a defense draw, already seeing Shin wind up for another strike.
She didn’t see an opening for a returning hit, not yet.
“Nice block,” Shin commented with a stupidly endearing laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Shin wasted no time. She spun her red blade around in a dizzying motion before swinging it toward Sabine. With a quick twist of Sabine’s saber, it slammed harmlessly into her blue blade instead.
Parry…
Shin’s smile dropped to a frown, her eyebrows furrowing as her previously cheerful expression melted away.
Sabine was too focused to really notice. She remembered her training, remembered parry, strike.
That was two parries down already. But now, now was the time. This is the one, Sabine thought.
Sabine tightened her grip around her lightsaber, the blue glow reflecting on the grass of the forest, every thought of hers focused on winning.
Shin lowered her lightsaber slightly. “Mandie?” she asked, her voice going odd, tinged with something almost like concern. But to Sabine, it was all a distant hum compared to her reeling thoughts of parry, strike.
If Sabine had looked up to face Shin, she would have seen a look of confusion crossing her face.
But she didn’t. Because Sabine was solely focused on her next move. Shin’s saber was down; so she knew exactly what to do. She had trained for this moment so many times.
Strike.
Sabine thrust her lightsaber cleanly through Shin’s lower waist.
Her blade made a sickening, searing sound as she pulled it back, and Sabine felt her eyes open wide in complete horror.
For a long, horrible moment, Shin just stared down blankly, her red lightsaber already dropped and forgotten.
She tilted her head up to face Sabine.
“Hey, you got me,” Shin said numbly, her voice distant.
She stared at Sabine, then down at her wound, and crumpled to her knees. Her robes shifted and Sabine saw her press a hand to her blood-slicked wound.
“Oh, fuck— Shin, oh, fuck,“ Sabine began, taking a step forward, not sure where the words were going. Shin didn’t look up from her heap among the grass.
Sabine’s heart was pounding. Her lightsaber felt cold and unfamiliar in her hands as she retracted the blade, the only light in the forest disappearing. The last traces of sunlight had nearly faded, and the night sky was taking over.
Sabine’s wrist comm crackled back on. “Sabine,” Ahsoka said sharply. “It's nightfall and we need to leave. I've managed to shake off Baylan for now. Get to the ship.”
But Sabine couldn’t tear her eyes away from Shin, who was lying unnervingly silent. For once she had no quips or jokes; just her labored breathing.
Sabine brought her wrist comm up to her mouth, just then realizing how much her hands were shaking. She used the other to steady her wrist, and began to reply, “I…”
“What? Sabine? Did something happen?”
A pause.
Sabine opened her mouth to respond, but in that moment, Shin shifted, tilting her head to meet Sabine’s gaze. Her eyes reflected the last of the sunset, and the first of the early stars. Her face was full of a tired sort of pain.
I should kill her now, some horrifying part of Sabine thought. For my own safety, and for Ahsoka’s.
But… this was Shin, who Sabine had run into so many times, who she had seen in laughter and in anger, whose banter and smirks evolved from annoying to endearing.
Because over time, Sabine noticed, thoughts of annoyance and general exasperation for Shin melted away and were replaced for something else.
Replaced with a new space, a new void, a new feeling. The realization crept up on her every night as she stared up at the ceiling of her bunk at night, trying to drift off to sleep through hazy thoughts of a certain fluttering robe and white hair.
And the more times they met, the more they blurred the line between friend and foe, maybe blurring into something else entirely. Something neither of them dared put a name to.
Shin took a labored breath, and Sabine's heart wavered.
She couldn’t.
Sabine desperately tried to find some sign that she was doing the right thing here. Her gaze flickered over to Shin’s lightsaber, discarded among the grass, which was glowing crimson just a few minutes ago…
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "No," she replied to Ahsoka, her tone a mixture of resignation and determination. "Nothing’s wrong. I’m on my way."
She turned around to leave, then stopped herself. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice shattering at the end.
It took all her strength not to look back at Shin as she turned on her heel and left the forest.
+1
“Sabine?”
Sabine didn’t remember how she found herself back on the Ghost.
She didn’t really remember what Ahsoka said to her when she was coming up the ramp.
“Sabine…?”
And she definitely didn’t remember sitting down in the cockpit and staring out the viewport blankly.
Sabine kept trying to convince herself that it had been the right thing to do. She was failing.
“Sa—? Sabine?”
Ahsoka was somewhere behind her, lightly shaking Sabine’s seat and shoving her out of her thoughts. “What happened out there?” Ahsoka asked.
Sabine didn’t move to face her. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Then why are you sulking?”
“What— I’m not sulking,” Sabine said, her pilot’s chair creaking as she turned to face Ahsoka.
Ahsoka's face showed a rare hint of confusion. “Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “Could you just prepare the ship for lightspeed?”
And with that, Ahsoka turned and began making her way down the corridor, no doubt to hurriedly call Hera and ask for advice on dealing with a pouting Mandalorian.
Sabine chewed her lip and decided she’d save her the call.
“Hey,” she began quietly, watching Ahsoka stop in her tracks. “What’s the Jedi way regarding, uh, mercy? Like, in terms of… someone being hurt?”
She stopped and turned. “Mercy?”
Ahsoka’s eyes met Sabine’s as she nodded.
Ahsoka looked at her for a long moment. Then, her face softened as she walked back over to the cockpit. “Oh, Sabine. I understand,” she said kindly.
Sabine blinked. “You do?”
“Of course.”
Huh. So maybe Ahsoka did know.
Maybe she noticed how Sabine was noticeably more giddy after running into Shin, or maybe she caught on to her subtle blush whenever somebody mentioned a certain white-haired dark sider. Maybe she listened to her comm transcript from a run-in with Shin. Maybe Ahsoka just went through her sketchbook.
But could she blame her? Because Shin was cunning and smart and pretty and oh…
Ahsoka’s voice snapped Sabine out of her frankly embarrassing thoughts. She gave a small smile as she said, “Death is a natural part of life, Sabine. If your Loth-cat died, then—“
“Wait– what?”
Ahsoka stared at her. “What?”
“You thought I was talking about…?” Sabine spluttered, rising from her chair. “No— My— What? My Loth-cat—! That is not…”
Ahsoka’s completely bewildered look told Sabine she had no idea what she was talking about.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Sabine muttered, rummaging through a compartment. “I’m going back.”
It took Ahsoka a moment to process the words. “What?” she asked, still baffled. Sabine walked over to the Ghost’s exit, a medpack in hand.
“Uh? Where are you going?”
Sabine punched a button, and the ship's ramp descended, welcoming the cool night air.
“To save my Loth-cat, apparently.”
–
Night had completely taken over the forest now, and it was quiet save for a light breeze rustling the trees. Thankfully, it wasn’t pitch black, as the planet's many moons cast a light glow that helped Sabine retrace her steps. She had her helmet’s side light on and lit, too, her boots crunching across the leaf-covered ground as she went further into the woods.
She owed one hell of an apology to Shin.
She had no idea what she was thinking before, in that first encounter. Sabine could never let her die, and not just because of some Jedi way. No, she couldn’t let her die because it would mean Shin would never annoy her again: no more duels, no more banter. No more smiles. No more Shin.
What a miserable thought.
The trees and path began to grow more familiar to Sabine, and she knew she was getting close. But then something awful crept into her mind: What if Shin was already dead?
She panicked for a moment, before remembering Shin’s cockroach-level stubborn determination. No way she’d ever just roll over and die in an old forest, of all places.
And just like that, Sabine spotted her.
Shin was sitting against a tree, robe wrapped tightly around herself, eyes shut, hair mussed and falling in her face, her breathing shallow. By the look of things, she had stumbled a good five steps away from the spot she was stabbed before passing right back out.
Sabine immediately dropped to her knees next to Shin, already fumbling through the medpack. She tried to remember which bandages and patches to grab for a lightsaber wound, but with every glance over to Shin, her hands grew clumsy.
Her face was twisted slightly in pain as she laid there, slumped and out cold. Sabine decided it was probably in her best interests to have Shin be awake for this.
“Shin,” Sabine whisper-shouted. Nothing.
She nudged her shoulder. Then again. Also nothing.
Sabine sighed and tilted her head, taking in her slumped form. She’d never actually been this close to Shin before. Without really thinking about it, she reached out a hand to lightly brush a few strands of hair from Shin’s face.
Er. Sabine quickly threw her focus back to the medpack. Sifting through it, she took out a spool of thick bandage and some bacta patches.
Sabine moved Shin’s bloodied robe from where it was clutched in her pale hands and covering the wound. Sabine sucked in a breath when she caught sight of it; her clothes were burned and charred around the gash, dried blood sunken in the fabric.
Sabine got to work cleaning and wrapping the wound, throwing glances every once in a while to Shin’s still face. She didn’t so much as move a muscle.
And soon the forest was quiet, with nothing but the sound of the ripping of bandages and a soft wind.
Sabine finished her work quickly, doing the best she could with just one meager medpack. The stab wound would heal just fine, since through some miracle of the Force Sabine’s lightsaber had missed any vital organs. Sabine packed away the rest and settled right next to Shin, silently watching for any signs of consciousness. She leaned her head back against the tree and waited.
Minutes passed like hours, and Sabine was considering mysteriously leaving like some sort of Force-angel while Shin was still out cold when she felt her move.
Shin's eyelids fluttered, and she groaned softly as she shifted, blinking awake. Sabine instantly laid her back against the tree, keeping a hand on her shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. “Ah, take it easy, Shin,” Sabine coaxed, making sure the wrappings were still secure.
Shin’s blankly confused look slowly melted away, eyes widening as her fingers touched the bandage Sabine had applied.
She slowly moved her gaze to meet Sabine’s. Shin must have realized how close they were sitting, practically shoulder to shoulder, but she didn’t move away.
She could practically see the mental gears shifting for a long moment in Shin’s head before she spat out a simple, “What.”
Sabine frowned. “What do you mean, what? I came back.”
“I can see that,” she said, a hand still on her bandages. “Why?”
Sabine fidgeted with her vambrace. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
“That’s a given.”
“Are you… alright?” Sabine asked, pursing her lips. “Nothing hurt too bad?”
“I’ll live,” Shin said drily.
Sabine tilted her head up to throw a glare, but softened upon seeing Shin’s thin smile.
“Well. I’m proud of you, in a way,” Shin said, blinking the exhaustion from her eyes. “I mean, stabbing and running– I didn’t know you had that in you.”
Sabine just shook her head with a growing smile. Only Shin could muse about her own near-death experience.
She raised an eyebrow and added, “Except it was me you stabbed. So.”
“But I came back.”
Shin brushed a thumb against one of her bandages absentmindedly. “I guess there’s that.”
“Listen. I’m sorry,” Sabine said, still feeling that knot of guilt in her stomach.
“I know you are.”
“Just wanted to be sure you knew. Because, look, I...”
Shin angled her head up to face her.
“I really do care about you,” Sabine said quietly. “Couldn’t just leave you like that.”
It hung in the air for a long moment. A distant sort of sadness clouded in Shin’s eyes, as if the words were foreign to her.
And Sabine did realize how odd it all was, patching up her literal enemy and then outright confessing her soft spot like that. But it was easy to talk to Shin, because it was just… Shin.
Sabine didn’t really know why she gravitated toward Shin so much. Well, she could speculate…
Maybe it was because Sabine’s life has been nothing but change. Born into a strict empire, fighting a war, shunned by her family, losing her people in the Purge, losing Kanan. Losing Ezra.
There was so little in Sabine’s life that was solid. Every time she got a hold onto something new and good, it slipped right out from under her grasp.
Until Shin came along. And from their very first encounter, she knew. She knew she could always count on running into the same Shin, with that ever-present smirk and glint in her eyes. Never tiring of her dry sarcasm or the telltale flutter of her robe.
Maybe that was why she couldn’t let her die in the woods.
Sabine looked up. Their eyes locked, and the air grew tense. Shin's lips parted, sending a flutter in Sabine's heart, but then her mouth curved into a smirk as she teased, “Oh, you are such a sap.”
Sabine just rolled her eyes.
“Sabine, is it?” Shin added.
The sound of her own name through Shin’s voice gave her an odd feeling, and she realized all at once that she’d never actually given Shin her name. She must have heard Ahsoka shout it to her on the comm for the first time.
“Er. Yeah.”
Shin gave a low hum. “Well I’ll give you this, Sabine: you did a decent job with the patchwork,” she said, starting to pick at the edge of the bandages.
At that, Sabine reached out without a moment’s hesitation and grabbed her hand. To stop her from picking at the cloth, of course. But mostly to hold her hand.
Shin looked at her with the tiniest of smiles. She didn’t let go.
And so, Sabine held onto her hand, their fingers intertwined, the warmth between them growing.
Well. This was new. Sabine wondered why she hadn’t done this sooner.
But when she looked at their hands, intertwined together on the ground between them, a stack of questions weighed on her.
Was this real? Was Shin feeling what she was feeling? Could she?
She threw a glance around the forest, still cloaked in soft moonlight, as random words tumbled from her mouth. “Um. Need any more bandages?”
“Sabine…”
“‘Cause, back when you stabbed me, it really took the fight out of me. I think we—”
“Sabine,” Shin said again, her voice going softer than Sabine had ever heard.
Sabine's heart skipped a beat as she met Shin's eyes, and maybe she only imagined it, but Shin held her hand just a bit tighter.
Sabine was about to say something when Shin grabbed her square by the shoulders and kissed her.
Oh. Oh.
As Shin's lips pressed against hers, Sabine's world narrowed down to that single electrifying moment.
The brush of her lips against hers was like their duels: new, thrilling. But better.
Sabine’s breath hitched, and when Shin pulled back, she saw her smile. “You kiss like you fight,” Shin said softly against Sabine’s lips, a smile on hers.
“Well,” Sabine said, a bit breathless.
“Baylan’s not gonna like this.”
“Ahsoka’s not gonna like this.”
And Shin laughed, something sweet and warm that melted away any thoughts of worry.
They’d figure it all out. For now, it was just the two of them. And for once, they had found each other.