Chapter Text
She put her arm on the balcony's edge, watching the waves hit the stone below. Really, how could Hera sleep with this noise? She chuckled softly. But she was happy—she could really breathe now. She missed what family meant. Jacen. The dance jokes. The fights. Pickering. It was like her time with her clan. Emotions flooded her, rising in waves. She used to press them down, lock them inside. Now they flowed through her body, and she felt alive.
Enjoying the view, Ezra's voice cut through her thoughts. He handed her a glass of wine. She took it. He leaned his back against the balcony edge, facing the window where Jacen and the others were still dancing, still arguing.
"We should do this more," he said, quietly. "I miss them." He didn't look at her—his eyes stayed on the house.
She didn't know how to answer. Her heart rose, scary and anxious.
"I should have visited them more often," she admitted.
"We should have," Ezra corrected.
She felt blood rush to her cheeks and took a sip of wine. Neither of them were really drinkers—they just kept rolling their glasses.
She glanced at him. He was still watching the party through the window when he suddenly said, "You think we're in the clear?"
Sabine looked at him, confused.
Ezra chuckled. "Hera's cooking."
Sabine burst out laughing, loud enough that she had to cover her mouth. "You really don't let that go. And you're being mean."
Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Mean? I'm simply careful… and I care for my life."
Sabine shook her head, still laughing. "I didn't know you were such a picky eater."
"Picky, yes." He took another sip. "But I draw the line at poison."
She looked at him, trying not to laugh again. "I hope Hera never hears that."
Their eyes met. She hated it—in a good way. She couldn't handle his gaze and looked back at the waves. He turned, mirroring her position, both of them facing the water. Silence settled again.
But she was happy. Talking like old times, without the weight. She didn't want more. More might drag her into her emotions, and that terrified her to the core.
"How are you doing?" His voice was calm, sincere, but he didn't look at her. He sipped his wine.
She couldn't find the words. Her head was full of long explanations, but only one thing came out: "Fine."
What more could she say?
"Good," he replied—short, small, matching what she gave.
He still wasn't looking at her. She leaned closer—just enough for their shoulders to touch. He gripped the top of his glass with his fingertips, rolling the red liquid, then stopped.
"I hear you're staying with Hera."
"Yes. I think it's best for me."
"You and Jacen." Ezra paused. "The boy seems happy."
Sabine chuckled. "I may teach him some discipline."
"You, me, and Hera disciplining him? Are we trying to make a new Sith lord?"
Sabine gave a small laugh. "By the Force, I hope not. I can deal with one Sith in my lifetime. Two, and I might throw myself from this cliff."
What a shit show, she thought. Why did I say that?
Ezra looked back—no laugh, not even a chuckle. Just worry. The terrifying kind. The horror she had buried.
She gripped his arm a little tighter and smiled. "I was joking, Ezra."
But something broke in him—or maybe it was fear.
He didn't take much. He slipped out of her grip. His Jedi mind tried to smile as he said, "Can we sit?"
She just nodded. Both moved to sit on the old stone seats.
This awkward feeling—she immediately apologized to Ezra.
Ezra chuckled, holding her hand, assuring her
"I know you are strong.” He looked at her with all the warmth in the world.
She tried to smile, but shook her head. “I’m not that strong.” She gently pulled her hand away. It wasn’t that she hated his touch. She just couldn’t accept it. There was always that wall.
He watched her, trying to understand.
“I know it’s complicated, but I’m here when you need me,” he said, trying to assure her.
She chuckled, but there was some bitterness in it. “Here… then why didn’t you tell me?”
Ezra’s eyes widened. He understood immediately what she meant. The original sin.
“I couldn’t…” he said, defeated. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
Sabine’s anger surfaced. “With what? The emptiness? The peace? The future? Or the unknown?”
“I’m sorry.” He tried to smile.
“Nothing, Ezra…” she said. “You disappeared. And you left me with nothing. Dead or alive… where, or even when… I didn’t know. You just left. I trusted you. And you left me wondering if that was all I was worth to you.”
Ezra looked down, remembering the vision that echoed through the Force.
“I had a vision… the Force—”
“No.” She stopped him, pointing a finger at his chest, right over his heart. “Don’t put the blame on the Force.”
Her voice hardened.
“You were just a selfish bastard. It could have been easy. So easy, if in your last message you hadn’t told me, ‘I count on you.’” Her finger pressed against his chest. “Why? Why did you give me that line?”
“Because I love you, Sabine.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks, and her heart rose into her throat as she pushed her finger deeper against his chest.
“I shouldn’t have,” Ezra whispered. “But I couldn’t let you go” in defeat. His voice faltered. “As a Jedi, I chose wrong.”
She slowly withdrew her finger, then closed her hand into a soft fist land it against on his heart. She looked directly at him.
“You were swayed by your heart,” she said.
Her voice softened, but the hurt remained.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, sincere.
“No…” She looked away, trying to act angry. She hated him for that—for choosing to be selfish. Only after he left did she understand what he meant to her… her life, her happiness, her comfort.
“Don’t… don’t apologize,” Sabine said, looking down.
“Sabine,” he said softly.
“If someone needs to apologize, it should be me. Ezra, I hurt you more than you hurt me.”
She let her forehead rest against his chest, too ashamed to meet his eyes.
Her old self could have used this against him. She could have used her hurt to wound him a little, to make him follow her, to take away his right to choose. But she couldn't do that anymore.
She felt the shame and the hurt all at once. She didn't deserve Ezra—his kindness, his heart. She had already made peace with moving forward without him.
And yet here she was, crumbling in front of him.
Then she felt his hand pull her gently toward him. His other hand moved over her head, rubbing it softly.
The tears came immediately.
She said nothing.She simply let herself be held.
She had missed this comfort. Her body slowly relaxed, surrounded only by the soft sound of his breathing and the waves below.
For the first time in years, it felt like home again.
Neither of them noticed when her eyes grew heavier.
She fell asleep against his chest.
Much later, Ketsu opened the balcony door and looked around.
She stopped.
Sabine was fast asleep against Ezra's chest, mouth slightly open, quietly snoring, a little drool at the corner of her lips.
Ezra noticed Ketsu and immediately put a finger to his lips, silently begging her to be quiet.
Ketsu stared at them for a moment.
Then she gave a small chuckle.
Finally.Maybe things were coming back to normal.
Step by step.