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She had to tell him.
She didn’t know what she wanted to tell him. Just that there was a pressure in her chest urging her body to move and her tongue to speak.
Something deep inside her told her that there would never be another chance. Call it paranoia. Intuition. Dread. Fear.
The Force.
Tomorrow would change everything.
Sabine was cold.
Nights on Lothal this time of year weren’t very chilly and it was warm in her tent, but Sabine still felt a cool draft deep in her bones. Surely she was not alone.
The rag-tag group of rebels hidden away in the mountains of Lothal were resting tonight, each mentally preparing for the battle.
Some of them will die. Some will live. Maybe they will fail. Maybe they will win—All that was left to do now was wait for the right time to strike.
The waiting was killing Sabine.
As a mechanic and technician, she had worked with ticking time bombs hundreds of times and was familiar with the stress that came with time limits—when she needed thirty more seconds to complete her task, but only had fifteen.
This was different. This left her cold, empty.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Boom.
The timer had run out and the final strike on the Empire would begin tomorrow. Sabine’s entire life and future as well as the future of Lothal (and maybe the rebellion itself?) depended on the outcome of this battle. She’d already lost so much. Could she handle losing more?
Her mind was racing, going through every scenario, every move, that could go wrong.
So much for getting rest.
A rustling from the other side of the tent stirred Sabine from her thoughts.
“Sabine? Are you awake?”
It seemed Ezra was having trouble sleeping as well. When she peeked over at him, he was lying on his back, staring up at the tarp above him.
The two had opted to share a tent together to give the other rebels more space. Zeb was camped with Ryder and Kallus, so Ezra had his own tent to himself. Hera was sleeping on the Ghost, probably in Kanan's room. They left her alone. Sabine originally was going to share with Ketsu, but after what happened to Kanan… she needed to be close to someone who truly understood what she was going through. And Ezra needed her comfort just as much as she needed his, if not more. Besides, after living on the same ship with each other for years, tent sleeping wasn’t all that different for them.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” Sabine sighed.
Her head was spinning. She felt nauseous. That pressure, pressure, pressure snatched away her breath, burned her eyes, and left her heart racing.
Sabine glanced over at Ezra again, forcing the nausea down. “You can’t sleep?”
“Nope.” His head turned, cerulean gaze meeting hers. For a long time, they just stared at each other, lost in the language of their eyes.
So much spoken in so little words.
His hand laying at his side was empty. Too empty.
I have to tell him, I have to tell him, I have to…
With a sigh, Sabine sat up and moved over to his bedroll with her blanket and pillow. At this rate, she wasn’t going to get any sleep alone—if at all. Ezra watched her silently and without objection as she settled down beside him, even moving over so she’d have more space on the mat. Sabine turned onto her side, one hand under her head and the other laying in the space between them. Ezra mirrored her position, studying her face silently.
There was such familiar understanding in those eyes. Such strength and care.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
Three words: One verb, one pronoun, one adjective. That’s all it took for the pressure to crack just a bit.
The subsequent sigh that left her lips was shuddering and vulnerable. Ezra immediately covered her hand in between them, lacing his soft fingers through hers.
Through that gesture, he told her that it was okay. He understood. It was okay to not be strong right now.
“I’m scared...” Of the Empire defeating us. Of dying. Of losing you. Losing everything.
Ezra lifted a hand to her cheek, touch soft and featherlight—as if she would break if he pressed any harder.
And maybe she would.
Because that one gesture brought tears to her eyes and stole her voice. Somehow, he had the power to bring her internal turmoil up to the surface in bubbling bursts without trying. His gaze roamed her face, taking in every detail, every shift in her expression. It was almost unfair how he was capable of understanding and literally feeling her emotions without a single muscle moved.
“I’m scared, too.”
Sabine squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take in slow, deep breaths. She tried to focus on the soft graze of his thumb across her cheekbone instead of the ache in her soul.
“Can I try something?” Ezra whispered, hand retreating to his side. “It’s… it’s something” —he exhaled— “something Kanan taught me.”
His name sliced like a viroblade through her heart, but Sabine pushed the grief away. Without questioning his intentions, she nodded. Ezra lifted his arm in invitation and shifted so she had more room. Sabine gratefully slid forward and tucked herself into his chest, head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck as she was enveloped in complete warmth. When she sighed, her breath rustled his collar.
At his touch, it felt like all her worries just floated away, carried on the lulling boat of peace and replaced with a soothing sense of tranquility. In the back of her mind, she knew that Ezra must have been calling on the Force. There was that familiar feel in the air surrounding them that only occurred when Jedi used the Force.
So she sunk into it, letting the waves of nostalgic calm wash over her.
His embrace was warm, like the sun rising on a foggy morning. It broke through the chill and spread through her bones and down into her core. But even that comfort couldn’t smother her deepest fears:
Ezra was weirdly calm. Too calm, considering the impending battle. Yes, he had been reserved and quiet since Kanan's sacrifice, but this was different… This didn’t feel right.
Why is he hiding something?
They were a team. At first, she hadn’t wanted to admit it, but now she welcomed the reality that Ezra had become her best friend and partner in the past months, maybe even years. Where he went, so did she—and where she went, he was never far behind.
Fighting Saxon on Concord Dawn? Sabine and Ezra.
Training with the Darksaber? Ezra and Sabine.
Infiltrating the excavation site? It was them.
Always us.
Partners know each other inside and out, reading each other's minds without needing the aid of the Force—perfectly in sync, better halves of each other. Sabine knew when Ezra was keeping something from her, and it hurt. Of course, he must have his reasons, but the last time a Jedi’s secret had been kept from her…
Suffice to say, disaster followed close behind.
Sabine pulled back just enough to look at him. “How do you do it?” she whispered, ignoring her swimming vision. “How do you handle knowing?”
The comfort that had surrounded her dulled when Ezra opened his eyes, his concentration broken. He was silent for a moment as he stared at the tent roof, one hand tracing soothing patterns along her back. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t have a choice.”
Sabine's hand on his chest curled into a fist and a tear rolled down the tip of her nose, leaving a wet spot on Ezra’s pillow. “None of us have a choice,” she muttered bitterly.
He wiped the tear away and didn’t reply for a long moment, gaze seeming far away.
“There’s always another choice,” Ezra whispered, voice no louder than a breath whisked away on the morning breeze. “Sometimes many. But often, the choice we want is not the one we need to choose.”
Sabine studied his expression intensely, trying to decipher what he was saying, but years of diplomatic missions and secret Sabacc games with Zeb had taught Ezra to keep his expression neutral. The only thing that gave away his inner turmoil was his eyes. They always gave him away. No matter how old he would become, or how wizened, darker, or experienced, she would always know his eyes.
She would never truly understand how the Force worked. It frustrated her, but she had learned to accept that there were some things she would never understand no matter how hard she tried. It didn’t mean she had to like it.
She sighed. “I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know what you’ll do, what either of us will do…” she said slowly, “but whatever happens tomorrow, I’m glad you tried to steal our blasters.”
Ezra smiled and winked, the tension leaving him just a bit. “You mean my blasters.”
Sabine laughed quietly. “Idiot.”
He just covered her hand on his chest with his own, resting there for a long moment. Then, he lifted his hand to her cheek again, thumb skimming absentmindedly across her cheekbone. Sabine watched as his eyes scanned her face, content to just lay there like that for the rest of eternity. When his fingers trailed to the corner of her lips and his gaze flickered down, Sabine’s breath left her.
He felt it, too.
Slowly, she leaned forward until their noses brushed. And they just laid there, faces pressed together in a way that was somehow so much more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. It released a fluttering in her chest and ache in her heart that Sabine had experienced only a scant few times in her life. She’d gladly feel it again.
His eyes really were such an electric blue up close. So deep, she felt like she could drift in and get lost forever in the tide of his gaze. Again, their eyes spoke the words their lips couldn’t form, creating a language of their own.
Two or three years ago, moments like these would have repulsed her. Sabine never would have let the little annoying loth-rat, too immature and reckless for his own good, get this close to her body and soul. Yet there had always been an undertone of fondness in whatever she felt about him. He was obnoxious, yeah, but she understood and sympathized him. Now under her palm she could feel the steady heartbeat of a brave and compassionate leader, Jedi, her best friend, and partner.
Kanan and Hera had waited too long and lost their forever. It wasn’t their fault. The galaxy just decided it wasn’t meant to be. If there's anyone she learned the most from in her life, it was them.
So Sabine refused to let it happen twice.
Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers in his collar, palm brushing against his neck. “I know there’s something you aren’t telling me, and I promise I understand, but I just…” she sighed, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Why is this so hard? “I can’t lose you.” Not after Kanan. Not after everything. Not ever.
"You won’t," is what she wanted him to say. "I’m never leaving; I’ll be here forever; You’re never getting rid of me."
But Ezra was silent. Too silent. And that was when Sabine knew that something was going to happen tomorrow.
A little voice in the back of her head screamed that he would leave, just like Kanan. What that meant, exactly, she didn’t know; but in one way or another, tomorrow, the Ezra she knew would be gone.
In resignation, she exhaled and curled in on herself.
“I’ll always come back.”
The words startled her. When his eyes met hers at last, she was shocked to see tears glistening in them.
“No matter what happens,” he said slowly, “I will always come back to you.”
To you. Not “to my family.” Not “to the Rebellion.” Not even “back to Lothal.”
Ezra would come back to her.
“Sabine,” his words were a whisper of air against her skin… and she couldn’t wait anymore. “You should know that I—”
She shifted forward so she was leaning over him and pressed her lips to his.
Ezra froze beneath her, still not moving when Sabine pulled back a moment later. “I know,” she whispered, ignoring the droplets on her cheeks, which fell onto his. “I know because I feel the same.”
Slowly, Ezra lifted a trembling hand to her jaw, fingers weaving into the hair behind her ear. Sabine smiled at his awed expression. Predictable. And that somehow made it all worth it.
“Is this…”
“Yes,” she laughed quietly, pressing her forehead to his. “It is. I’m sorry, I know this timing isn’t great, but—”
“No, Sabine,” he whispered, eyes sparkling as they studied her face. “I understand.”
Sabine nodded and Ezra smiled sadly, a beautiful, small thing, before pulling her back down and kissing her softly. The moment they connected again, the pressure that had been building up in her chest snapped and let loose a flood of emotions so intense it left her breathless. He gently pulled her closer by the waist and Sabine melted against him, hands curling in his hair as she breathed him in.
Any Force-given comfort was pale in comparison to this. His touch was a gentle contrast to their turbulent, violent lives—the war waging outside. The tears that rolled down her cheeks weren’t just borne of relief and grief, but of hope and love.
And by manda, did Sabine love this boy.
The revelation didn’t surprise her, but she still drew in a long breath, relishing in the warmth spreading from her chest out to her toes.
That was what she wanted to say.
But Sabine had never been good with words or feelings. That was Ezra’s thing. She preferred to act fast and apologize later.
Now, no matter what happens, she would be ready. Her last guilt was gone, secrets bared to the one she'd told herself to never fall for and unequivocally failed to.
Heart beating steadily under her palm, Ezra trailed soft kisses from her cheek up to her temple, breath tickling her skin. Sabine tucked into his side as she caught her breath and allowed herself to be consumed by emotion just this once.
“Sabine,” Ezra whispered against her skin, and the worship in his voice made her heart flutter. “I really wish I could tell you what I saw, but…”
She placed a finger over his mouth, then pressed her forehead against his in a keldabe kiss as she cupped his jaw. Ezra, not missing the significance of the gesture, closed his eyes.
“I know. We can’t change fate… I just—please, be here with me. Right now. Tomorrow can come. Tonight, I have you."
Ezra pulled her close into a tight embrace, face pressing into her hair. “Why tell me now?”
"You know why.”
When he sighed, Sabine closed her eyes and pressed her ear to his heart to offer any comfort she could.
“I wish—” Ezra’s voice broke and his chest shuddered beneath her. “I just wish he was here. There’s so much I had to learn… and now…” his smile was tearful as he laughed quietly. “Now, there's no time.”
Sabine looked up at him. “What?” she asked. “Did you two bet on us?”
“Yes,” Ezra chuckled and swiped at his cheek. “Zeb was in on it too. I said that I’d kiss you after four years. He said I’d confess after ten.”
“You haven’t done that yet.”
“What?”
“Confess.” Sabine moved closer, lips barely brushing against his. “You want to prove him wrong one last time? Say it.”
He chuckled gently. “I thought I already did?”
“No, I interrupted you. If something happens tomorrow… I just want to hear it.”
“Okay.” Ezra’s eyes softened. “I love you, Sabine Wren.”
The words ran over her, sending a tingle from her fingertips to her toes. It was simple. It was last minute. It was desperate. It was them.
“And do you?”
“Kriffing hell, Ezra Bridger,” she whispered, hands threading into his hair. “Yes, I love you.”
Then, she kissed him again and the stars aligned.
Until sunrise, she was content to just be in his arms, letting her worry and fear go for just a little while. It was only them, laying in silence as their minds raced and hearts beat in tandem, anticipating the battle ahead.
Blanketed in his soothing warmth again, Sabine dozed off. The last thing she felt before her mind went blank was the gentle brush of lips to her temple.
When the morning bell rang, signaling the beginning of battle preparations, they got up, donned their armor, and checked their weapons in silence.
Before Sabine left, Ezra stopped her with a hand to her wrist and drew her back into his chest. When she kissed him one last time, it was warm, gentle. And when they whispered those three sacred words, it was just as sweet as the first time.
Tomorrow was here.
The future was inevitable.
She would shed a hundred more tears that night, curled up alone in her bunk, the bedspace beside her empty and cold. Armor discarded on the floor, she would clutch the cold metal of his lightsaber to her chest with some of his last words echoing in her head.
“I know I can always count on you.”
Always.
They were supposed to work together. They were supposed to go together. They were supposed to be together.
It was supposed to be them.
It was supposed to be always.