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Sabine barely leaves her side during the days Hera’s confined to bed. Kanan does his best to make sure the girl at least eats, but she mostly sleeps in the chair next to Hera’s bed in fitful dozes, and the one time Hera does manage to convince Sabine to go back to her bunk on the Ghost and get some actual sleep, she wakes a few hours later to find that Sabine’s once again curled in the chair.
But a few days after Hera’s released—with three different prescription meds to take on a daily basis and strict orders not to overexert herself—she realizes that the young Mandalorian seems to be avoiding her.
When she does see Sabine, it’s just passing her in the corridor, or catching a glimpse of her playing dejarik with Rex or Zeb. Normally Sabine would offer to help Hera with repairs or come sit with her in the cockpit to watch stars after the others had fallen asleep, but now she won’t even meet Hera’s eyes.
Finally, five days after she leaves the medbay, Hera corners Sabine tinkering with the speakers in her helmet at the dejarik table.
Sabine glances up and starts to gather her things to leave, but Hera sets a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, wait. I want to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, Sabine sets down her screwdriver. Her gaze flicks toward the door like she’s tempted to make a break for it.
Hera slides onto the bench next to her. “What’s going on? I’ve barely seen you the last few days.”
Sabine keeps her eyes fixed on the black-and-white checkered pattern of the table as she says, “I’m fine. I’ve just had a lot to do.”
That’s a lie, though, and they both know it. At most, Sabine’s had small tasks, repairs and the occasional cleaning job. She's spent most of her time shut in her room, painting.
“Sabine, what’s bugging you?”
Hera waits, lacing her fingers under the table.
Finally Sabine speaks up.
“It was my fault.” She still refuses to look Hera in the face. “I was the one who suggested we go to Concord Dawn in the first place, and now—“
“And now we have a new hyperspace route that will help us stay a step ahead of the Empire," Hera says.
“I shouldn’t have left!” Sabine bursts out, her voice breaking. “I—if I’d stayed, you wouldn’t have—“
“Sabine, do you honestly think I’d blame you even if there was something you could have done? I ordered you to leave. You followed that order. We’re still alive. That’s all that matters.”
Sabine’s struggling to hold back tears. “But—“
“Shh.” Hera wraps her arms around Sabine, and the girl tenses for a moment before melting into her embrace.
She cries into Hera’s shoulder, her sobs muffled.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She rubs a hand in slow circles against Sabine’s back, doing her best to soothe her. “You did the right thing. It’s okay.”
She holds Sabine until the trembling sobs finally slow.
The girl presses her face into Hera’s shoulder and breathes deep, steady.
Finally she pulls back, starts to speak, but Hera cuts her off.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.” She rests a gloved hand on Sabine’s shoulder. “Better now?”
Sabine tries for a smile, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes. “Yeah . . . yeah, I’m okay.”
“Go wash your face,” Hera tells her. “You look terrible. Then you can come help me inventory med supplies.”
She manages a crooked half-grin this time. “Okay.”
As she starts to leave, Hera adds, “And Sabine?”
She pauses in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“You made the right choice, not killing Rau. I’m proud of you.”
Sabine doesn’t answer, just turns and leaves; but Hera doesn’t miss the smile.