Ragnar's A/N: I did not write this. Another fantastic author who usually doesn't go in for this sort of story made this in a rare moment of angstyness and didn't feel like it really fit with the tone of his/her other stories, so didn't want to publish it under their own name. I obtained permission to publish this as I feel it's a great story and people should be able to read it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, but if so, don't thank me, I'm just the messenger.

Also, I'm rating it T, but it's a hard T, like right on the line. Nothing graphic or lewd, but still suggestive.

Original A/N: AU-ish because it doesn't jive with the show's timeline, but I wanted to write this anyway, because a.) angry and grieving Sabine was something I wanted more of and, b.) angsty makeouts are the kind of quality garbage we look for in fanfic, am I right? Also, I know that the set-up of Sabine's isn't conducive to any of what I wrote in here, but let's just pretend.

Off

It was stupid to say that something was off, because, right now, everything was off. Kanan was dead. Hera was trying so hard to deal with it, but her eyes were so vacant most of the time. Zeb was holding up, but there was no trace of his humor. He stuck close to Hera, watching over her because he knew exactly what it was like to lose everything. Ezra felt…okay, himself. Sad in ways he was still figuring out, but at peace; Kanan had died protecting his family, and Ezra understood.

But Sabine—Sabine was not alright. That's what was off.

It wasn't that he expected her to be okay; he didn't. But he didn't expect this either: the red-rimmed, sleepless eyes, tense posture, sharp tongue, hollow cheeks. He didn't expect the choking anger he sensed rolling off of her half the time. If she wasn't working on something with an aggravated, frenetic energy, she was listless. She'd been going on like this for weeks, and she wasn't getting any better. Hera noticed, too.

She cornered Ezra in the galley one morning after breakfast. "I'm worried about Sabine."

"She seems…" He started to say okay, but couldn't make himself do it. "Yeah, me too."

"Have you talked to her?"

"Not—really," he admitted, glancing away from her. He hadn't talked to Sabine. He didn't know what to say.

"Try, Ezra." The Twi'lek's eyes were quietly pleading. "I know how you—I know you love her."

Ezra flinched; it was one thing to know that himself, but it was another thing entirely to hear someone else say it. Made it harder to hide from, harder to ignore. "Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She blinked slowly, trying to choose her words. "The thing about Kanan—he was—somehow, he always knew when to leave me alone, and when to push." She paused and gave Ezra a meaningful look. "Sabine needs a push."

He nodded. "I'll…figure something out."

He waited a few days, because he was scared, a little bit. He'd learned very early on: don't poke the angry Mandalorian. That was wisdom which had preserved his life a dozen times over. But he knew this was different than any other time. She was spiraling, and he needed to catch her before she hit bottom. Late one evening, on a day when she'd been more than listless but less than aggressive, he knocked on her cabin door.

"Come in," she called. He opened the door and stepped inside to find her laying on her bunk, both arms beneath her head. She looked in his direction, face blank, as the door closed behind him. "What's up?"

He leaned against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. He paused for a second, considering what to say. He decided to be direct. "How are you?"

Her eyes widened and her brows flew up. She rolled to one side, propping on her elbow. She looked one hundred percent more guarded than she had a moment ago. "How am I supposed to be?"

He ignored the bite in her tone. "I'm just asking," he said patiently.

"How is anybody right now?" She was on the defensive. She sat up, crossing her arms. "We're all dealing, right?"

Ezra nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess." He looked at her for a long moment. "I miss you."

Something vulnerable crossed her face. "I'm literally right here."

"You know what I mean. It's been a while since we…talked."

She took a slow breath. "I haven't felt like talking, Ezra."

"I know everything's…but I'm kinda worried about you, to be honest."

A beat of silence. "Well, don't be." She shrugged. "I'm fine."

Ezra sighed; maybe she wasn't ready to stop spiraling yet. "Good to hear," he said. "I'll, uh, let you get back to whatever."

He half-turned, reaching for the door panel.

"Wait," she said suddenly. He looked at her, finding her on her feet, watching him with conflicted eyes. "I just—" She stopped, gnawing her lip. "I'm tired, Ezra."

She looked liked she hadn't slept well lately, but he knew she wasn't talking about that. "Of what?"

"I'm tired of pretending everything's going to be okay. Kanan's dead—the rest of us are probably not far behind." She ran a hand through her hair, blinking rapidly. "Everything will never be okay."

"You don't know that," he said gently.

"I'm—I'm tired of living in fear."

He took a step toward her. "I know. I know."

Her fists balled up at her sides. "Every decision I've made has been made in fear and I don't—I don't…I don't want to play it safe anymore. Especially with you."

He shook his head, stunned by the sudden turn this had taken. His pulse spiked. "What are you telling me, Sabine?"

"I'm telling you that I…" She searched for words as closed the distance between them. She laid a hand on his chest, looked up into his eyes. "I feel…this between us and I'm done pushing it aside."

He hesitated, studying her face. Some small, rational voice was telling him wait, but Sabine's gaze was steady and honest and wanting and it overruled his better judgment. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers along the side of her neck and she inhaled sharply through her nose, stepping even closer still, leaving no gap between their bodies. He almost grinned when he saw her cheeks flush faintly pink.

"What are you waiting for?" Her voice was low and husky and her eyes fell on his lips and it undid him completely. He touched his mouth to hers and everything stood still for a long, perfect moment. She let him open her lips with his own, gently at first, as they tested the boundaries of this new contact. Ezra was nearly dizzy from her closeness, from the taste of her mouth on his, but Sabine seemed to have her wits about her. She pulled back slightly. "Is that all you got, Bridger?" She mumbled against his skin, her breath hot on his jaw.

He pulled her back in for a crushing kiss, settling his hands on her waist as she locked hers around the back of his neck. His every nerve was on fire with her body pressed against his. He could feel how the muscles in her abdomen were tight and quivering with anticipation. None of his thoughts were coherent anymore; especially not when she ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip and caught it in her teeth. He groaned, tightening his hold on her. His fingers were flirting with the hem of her shirt when she kicked her foot against his, nudging him toward her bunk. His eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"What—"

"Shut up, Ezra." She pushed him back and he stumbled, plopping on the edge of the bunk. She stood between his legs, bent at the waist, bracing her hands on his thighs. She brushed their lips together as she spoke. "Yes or no?"

Instinct said no, but a different kind of instinct also very much said, yes.

Ezra didn't say anything at all as his hands circled Sabine's waist and he lay back on the bunk, pulling her with him. She swung her leg over, straddling him brazenly. Ezra gasped, enjoying the press and pressure of her hips against his. Her face was flushed, eyes smoldering as she put her hands on his chest, leaning down to kiss him. His hands stroked the outsides of her thighs and then traveled up her waist. He stopped just shy of touching her breasts, suddenly unsure. She grinned against his mouth, guiding his hands to the hem of her shirt, helping him strip her out of it. He let her do most of the work, opting to watch instead.

They were both breathing unevenly, waiting for what would happen next. Sabine fingered her bra strap suggestively. "The clasp is in the back," she murmured.

He wanted to take the garment off of her, like, ten seconds ago. But he waited, drawing out the moment. With a feather-light touch, he traced the curves of her waist and spine and collarbone. She shivered, humming in the back of her throat. He ran the backs of his fingers down her sides and—

Ribs.

Those were her ribs he was feeling.

Which he had expected, of course, but not…this much. Not this pronounced. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her curves and bare skin and really look at her. She'd always been thin. Toned. Athletic. But she was too thin now. Gaunt—like she hadn't been eating much, the same way she hadn't been sleeping much.

A strong sense of unease started to overtake his feelings of arousal.

He sat up slowly, shifting her off of him. He leaned back against the bunk wall, waiting for his pulse and breathing to regulate before he trusted himself to talk to her. She sat back on her heels, eyeing him with guarded confusion.

"Second thoughts?"

He shook his head, figuring you're too thin was not a good way to express his concerns.

"Ezra?" She prompted after too long a silence.

"I'm in love with you," he said bluntly. Her eyes widened in shock, snapping to his. "But we can't—not like this."

Her eyebrows arched almost into her hairline. "Why?"

"I think—" He reached for her hand. "I think you want a distraction. I think—I think you're not okay."

"Are—" She stopped, pulling her hand out of his like he'd burned her. "Are you serious? Are you suggesting that I am so unstable that I am not capable of making sound decisions? Is that what you are actually saying to me right now?" Her eyes were full of fire and anger and Ezra found his own temper suddenly piqued.

"What I'm saying is that you don't look well, Sabine! Look at you—when was the last time you slept? or ate something for real? Hera's worried sick—"

"Hera?" She hissed. "You came to me because Hera sent you?"

"What? No! That's not what I—"

She scrambled off the bunk, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on. She threw an arm toward the door. "Get out."

Ezra made an aggravated sound. "Sabine, wait a minute. Let's just—"

"Did you hear me?" Her tone was dangerous and quiet and her chin held high. Hurt hid deep in her eyes. "Get out."

He stared at her for just a second before he stood. She refused to make eye contact with him as he stopped in front of her. He saw her start to crumble—he could sense it—and instead of leaving with a cutting remark, the way he so badly wanted to, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead instead.

It broke her.

She inhaled unevenly and a single sob caught in her throat. She clutched at his arms and looked at him, utterly broken. "I still feel so—Kanan—I don't—when I think about it—I feel like I can't breathe," she spoke jerkily, gasping. "I still can't—"

Force, he realized. She hadn't let herself grieve.

Wordlessly, Ezra wound his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest as she started to cry. The waves of anger and grief and pain wracked her body, made her shake until she couldn't stand. Ezra backed against the wall, sliding down, still holding her. He stroked her hair, whispered to her, kept a gentle hand on the nape of her neck as she spent the torrent of emotions pent up inside her. When her sobs finally quieted, she sat up. Her face was swollen and eyes too dry to cry anymore. She looked completely wrung out, but there was a lightness about her expression he hadn't seen in weeks, like she was finally coming to terms with what had happened and was ready to start moving past it.

"Ezra," she said, voice completely raw, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He looked down at his shirt, damp from her tears, with an exaggerated expression. "I mean, I have two others just like it; no apology necessary."

He was giving her an out, and she understood, nodding. "Thank you." She rested her head on his shoulder and he put an arm around her.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah—now. It's still—it might take some time. But, yeah."

"Just talk to me. Whenever you need to. Don't try and handle it by yourself anymore." He kissed the top of her head. "Okay?"

"Okay." She was silent for a while. "I love you, too, you know." She sat up so she could see his face. She stroked her thumb over his lower lip. Then she looked toward the bunk hesitantly. "But I'm glad—"

"Don't worry about that," he said quickly, misunderstanding. "We don't have to—"

"Idiot." She pressed her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. "I want to." She flushed, dropping her gaze. "But you were right. Not like this. Not today."

He grinned, and he knew he looked like an absolute fool. "Oh."

"But I…don't want to sleep alone tonight. Maybe you could…stay with me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I could do that."

They slept back to back that night, hands clasped. It wasn't anything intimate, but the contact was comforting in a way that nothing else was. They got used to each other, depended on each other, opened up to each other in the dead of night. Slowly, Sabine started to feel more whole and Ezra more sure as their grief over losing Kanan became something manageable. Weeks passed, and they spent every single night tangled in each other's company. A few innocent kisses passed between them, but nothing more until one night when Sabine whispered his name over and over to wake him up.

"Something's off," she said when she knew he was awake, feigning concern.

Half-asleep, he mumbled, "Wha's'matter?"

She rolled on top of him then, kissing his neck and jaw. He jerked to full consciousness instantly, hands fining her waist. She smiled. "The matter is—we're both still dressed."