A/N Hey, guys! I've wanted to write something like this story for a while, and FINALLY the inspiration hit. Writer's block works in mysterious ways-I've been pushing myself to finish Each of Us Has Heaven and Hell in Him, to no avail, and this story just came out of the blue. I WILL finish EH4, though. This story may or may not connect to EH4, but I haven't decided yet. The tone will be very different, but they might be compatible, continuity-wise. As of now, this story is not an AU. Special thanks to the Quinlan Vos: Jedi in Darkness omnibus, Starbucks for their green tea blended thing, and my college for starting late.

Please note: Translations of any Mando'a words used by Sabine will be at the end of each chapter. Though fairly familiar, I am in no way an expert on Mandalorian culture, so please don't be too critical!

Travel Companions, Chapter One

As Ezra finished loading the last supply crate, Sabine swiveled around in the pilot's chair. "Ready, Master Bridger?"

Ezra grinned, hearing his official title from her lips. "Only if you are, Commander Wren."

She swiveled back around, and fired up The Phantom's engine. "I wish Hera would have let us take The Ghost," she commented, busy with the rituals of takeoff.

"Right," Ezra snorted, "We're lucky she even let us take The Phantom."

Sabine glanced back at him. "With the promise that you won't be flying."

Ezra rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, a voice came over the central 'com. "Phantom crew, you're cleared for take off."

"You mind if I meditate?" Ezra asked.

"Go ahead," Sabine responded, expertly steering The Phantom out of the dockingbay and into Yavin 4's atmosphere. Sabine engaged the hyperdrive, and after they made the jump to lightspeed, Ezra walked to the back of the small craft and assumed a meditative position. Closing his eyes, he attempted sink deep into the waters of The Force. But for some reason, he stayed at the surface.

Not some reason-he knew why. He could sense Sabine's eyes on him, unintentionally drawing him into her Force presence. It was a presence he had grown accustomed to, but one he never tired of. Her spirit was dynamic and vibrant, if a bit guarded. It cast a glow across The Force around him, like the moon over the water, enthralling him.

Don't get distracted, Ezra. He could practically hear Kanan's voice in his mind. Kanan had witnessed Ezra and Sabine's relationship deepen into one of genuine friendship over the years, and he knew all too well of the Jedi's attraction to the Mandalorian. When Ezra and Sabine were assigned a mission alone together, he could sense his former master's disapproval. However, because Ezra had recently reached the status of Jedi Knight, Kanan no longer had any input into which missions Ezra was assigned. Besides, Ezra wasn't the love-sick boy on Lothal anymore, and now, at eighteen, he was on the cusp of manhood.

Perhaps that was more dangerous, now that Sabine viewed him as an equal. Ezra knew that Sabine hadn't forgotten about his attraction to her, and sometimes, he wondered if she returned his feelings. They spoke freely together, and Sabine let her guard down with him, most of the time. She would never say it, but Ezra knew that he was her closest friend. Sometimes, when moments of comfortable silence fell between them, Ezra felt that perhaps she viewed him as more than a friend, but he could never conjure the courage to say anything about their feelings. He didn't want to jeopardize their relationship, one that had taken years to establish.

When Ezra was a boy on Lothal, Zeb had tried to suggest that he was only attracted to Sabine because she was the only girl he knew. As Ezra met more women through the Rebel Alliance, his feelings for Sabine only grew. Even the fierce, beautiful Princess Leia did not hold the same magic as Sabine to him. There was nothing Ezra did not love about her-her artistic mind, her military expertise, her sharp, sarcastic humor. They had their differences (the Mandalorian was quicker to use violence than the Jedi, for instance), but Ezra truly thought that there was not another person in the Galaxy quite like her.

Of course, there was the small problem of the Jedi doctrine surrounding love. The Jedi of old strictly adhered to the rule of no attachments, but Kanan paid them no heed in his barely-obscured relationship with Hera. Ahsoka had never even mentioned the teaching, but though strong with the Lightside of The Force, Ahsoka did not seem too fond of the Jedi. Ezra knew very little of her past, only that she had been betrayed by a fellow padawan and expelled from the Jedi Order as a youth. Besides, Ezra did not fully understand the teaching. He assumed that the Jedi of old meant that a Jedi should not allow his personal feelings affect his decisions. But wasn't love the driving force behind everything in the galaxy? The Rebellion was formed because all of the rebels loved freedom. Did that mean they were attached to freedom? In that case, how could attachment be wrong?

Ezra's musings were interrupted by a loud crash. His eyes flew open, and he saw a crate of supplies had fallen, barely missing his head. Sabine rolled The Phantom right side up again.

"What did you do that for?" Ezra demanded, scrambling to his feet.

"It's too quiet in here," Sabine said, her grin evident in her voice, "I'm bored. Talk to me."

"Yes, your Highness," Ezra muttered, pulling the dislodged crate up beside her chair and taking a seat, but not before sending a small Force push her way. She caught herself before she fell out of the pilot's chair, but instead of pummeling him like should usually would have, she only laughed-much to Ezra's surprise. "Why the good mood?" he asked.

"I'm just happy to be getting away from the Alliance," Sabine responded. Ezra knew that Sabine, like Kanan, was wary of the militaristic order of the Rebel Alliance. Her time as a cadet at the Imperial Academy on Mandalore had soured her to military protocol, and the only reason she remained with the Alliance was because she believed so strongly in their cause. That, and she wanted to stay with the people who she considered her family.

Changing the subject to one less painful for her, Ezra asked, "What kind of terrain is Anzat?"

"Mountains, valleys, forests," Sabine answered, "That kind of thing."

"I sort of wanted it to be a snow planet," Ezra said, disappointed.

Sabine wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"I've never seen snow," Ezra admitted.

"I don't like snow," Sabine said, "Ketsu and I once went to an ice world called Mygeeto. The planet was stuck in an ice age, and it was miserable. If you touch snow with bare skin for long enough, it feels like fire. I like cold even less than I like heat. When the rebellion is over, I want to live on a temperate planet, like Naboo or something."

The thought of living out the rest of his life on a beautiful, mild planet beside Sabine sounded like heaven to Ezra. Rather than give into the daydream, though, he asked, "Have you ever been to Anzat?"

"No," Sabine responded, "And I never wanted to. The native inhabitants are a nasty bunch. Their claim-to-fame is they like to feed on brains, which they call 'soup', by inserting retractable proboscises into your nostrils. They're also telepathic, so they get in your head before sucking out your brains."

"Lovely," Ezra responded dryly, "Why would Senator Cadaman want to hide there?"

Recently, the Alliance had been receiving encrypted transmissions from an ex-senator named Tanner Cadaman. He had represented the planet Feenix during the days of the Republic, and was a member of the Delegation of 2,000. Not long after the formation of the Empire, he fled the Imperial Senate, went into hiding, and was now requesting the help of the Alliance. Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and the other leaders offered to send a team to extract him from his current location, Anzat, which was in the mid-rim. He sent his coordinates, which both Sabine and Ezra had committed to memory. The rebel leaders planned to offer him a position within the Alliance, and Cadaman readily accepted their help, prompting Organa himself to assign the delicate mission to Sabine and Ezra.

"It's the perfect hiding place for a fugitive," Sabine answered, "No bounty hunter is stupid enough to leave Anzat's spaceport, much less the Imperial forces."

"But we are," Ezra said with a laugh. Trepidation began to weigh in his stomach. He could sense Sabine's feelings, and she was unafraid. The Mandalorian lived up to her peoples' reputation, it seemed. If only he could conjure the famous Jedi heroism.

"That's why I requested you," Sabine said, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder, "You're the only one dumb enough to follow me there."

Sabine requested me? Ezra thought, feeling pretty happy with himself. Her words, though teasing, were weighted with meaning, and it gave him something to mull over on the long ride to Anzat.

"Approaching Anzat," Sabine said, under her breath. Sitting beside her, Ezra could obviously see the steadily-growing, dusty-red planet, so her announcement was useless, but old habits died hard.

"Do you have the creds?" Ezra asked, leaning forward to watch the luminescent gases twist like ribbons around the sphere.

"Yeah," Sabine responded, patting the satchel secured to her belt. They rattled against her hip, a sound familiar to the former bounty hunter. In fact, this entire assignment was beginning to feel like one of the many missions that she and Ketsu had completed in her youth, before she met the Lothal rebels. She had played many roles in her nineteen years-Imperial cadet, bounty hunter, rebel. The latter seemed to stick for longer than the others, and felt the most natural.

Sabine steered The Phantom towards the Anzat spaceport, which orbited the planet. Situated near the Perlemian Trade Route, it was the only spaceport in the system. Naturally, it attracted a wide variety of clientele-bounty hunters, smugglers, hookers-but rarely Imperials. They, like many in the Galaxy, feared the Anzati people and preferred to leave them alone. In fact, the spaceport was the furthest point that most off-worlders were willing to venture. Anzat was a legend throughout the Galaxy, and Sabine remembered Ketsu refusing a job that would have led them there. Now, Sabine was laying eyes on it herself. She was a little surprised at her own lack of nerves, but she guessed it was due to the Mandalorian blood running through her veins. If only she were allowed to wear her armor: Organa had insisted she and Ezra travel in nondescript clothing. Granted, Jedi robes and a full set of brightly-colored Mandalorian armor were not the norm in a place like Anzat, but she missed the status that her armor gave her. The sight of a Jedi would be alarming enough, but a Jedi and Mandalorian together would be more shocking still.

The Jedi were her ancestors' mortal enemies, and the house from which Sabine hailed, House Vizsla, fought as warriors against the Jedi in the ancient times. Admittedly, Sabine did not fully understand the concept of the Manda, the afterlife, but she could not shake the feeling that her ancestors were constantly watching her, shaking their heads at her close association with the Jedi. But Sabine was a rebel, after all, and her friendship with Ezra was not explicitly at odds with the Resol'nare.

"They don't want identification?" Ezra asked, as Sabine skillfully maneuvered The Phantom into one of the spaceport's dozen hangars.

"No, all they want is creds," Sabine said, "As long as we pay them, they don't care who we are."

Ezra stood, his lean form nearly reaching the ceiling of the craft. "Ready to go?"

Sabine nodded, pulling a sand-colored shawl over her shoulders. Her trousers, boots and tunic were all of the same boring color family. At least her hair was still bright, although tied off in a knot. "Just remember," she said to Ezra, only half-joking, "You're no good to the Alliance dead."

"I have you to protect me," Ezra quipped, as they made their way down the shuttle ramp. A tall, humanoid man approached, his skin tinged with gray, and he wore an outfit of simple, brown cloth. He grinned, revealing stained teeth.

"Welcome to Anzat," the hangar attendant said, in almost a mocking tone, "Five hundred credits minimum to dock here."

Ezra glanced at Sabine, and she guessed his thoughts. They hadn't anticipated that docking would cost nearly as much as the attendant wanted, and five hundred credits was all that the Alliance had provided them. Ezra advanced toward the man, waving his fingers ever so slightly.

"Two-hundred-fifty credits will do fine," he said, his voice impartial and even. Sabine had seen Ezra use a Jedi mindtrick dozens of times, but they never ceased to fascinate her. The man stared for a moment, and Sabine expected to hear him echo her friend's words. He stared a moment longer, and then his lips curled into an unsettling smile. He raised a long-nailed finger, pointing it in Ezra's face.

"You're an odd one," he said, "Trying some sort of Jedi stunt."

Sabine stepped between them, sweeping her shawl to the side, just enough to reveal the twin blasters at her belt. She saw the man's eyes lock onto the weapons, which were of Mandalorian make. That alone caused him to back up a bit, and Sabine gave a passive-aggressive smile. "Three-hundreds credits and we'll have no problems," she said.

"Fine," the attendant said, sullenly accepting the payment, "But remember, we discourage off-worlders going any further than this spaceport, and absolutely no off-world crafts are allowed on the planet's surface."

"That wasn't a rule last time I was here," Sabine bluffed, hoping to make him recant the latter portion of his statement.

"Been that way for a while," the man said, "Imperial mandate."

Once they were a suitable distance from the hangar, Sabine leaned closed to Ezra and whispered, "Why didn't your mind trick work on that guy?"

"I'm not sure," Ezra responded, "It's like he was able to put up a mental wall or something."

Then, the thought occurred to Sabine. "He was probably Anzati," she said, "Maybe he was using some sort of telepathy?"

"It's possible," Ezra said, "That doesn't bode well for this mission, though, if mind tricks won't work on the locals."

The pair stopped beneath a sign, which read Maggot's Cantina. Orange-hued artificial light, t'bac smoke, and raucous voices streamed from the wide doorway. Two stories high, the cantina was impressive in relation to the size of the spaceport itself. The clientele was pretty much exactly what Sabine expected, and in this seedy setting, she felt oddly at home. She and Ketsu had spent so much time in cantinas all around the galaxy, during her bounty hunting days, and she knew how to handle herself in such an environment. Sabine took a seat at the long bar, and Ezra situated himself beside her. The bartender approached them, a large Devaronian fellow with a row of earrings glinting in the low light. "What are you drinking?" he asked tersely.

"Corellian brandy," Sabine responded, sliding a few credits across the bar's slick surface.

The bartender turned his gaze on Ezra, and Sabine nudged him under the bar. "Uh, I'll have the same," he said.

As the bartender left to get their drinks, Ezra whispered, "Jedi really aren't supposed to drink."

"Someone must have forgotten to tell Kanan," Sabine responded wryly. Then, she said in business-like tone, "It's a cover. You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you don't order something."

When the bartender returned with two glasses of Corellian brandy, Sabine asked, "Do you know of anyone who would be willing to take us to the surface?"

"There's a public transport, but you just missed it. You'll have to wait six more hours," the man responded, "Are you sure you really want to go to the surface?"

"Yes," Sabine responded flatly, and the bartender went to attend to other customers. Just as Sabine downed her glass of brandy, she noticed the woman to her right, staring at her with heavily made-up eyes. Sabine turned, meeting the woman's gaze.

"You need a pilot?" She asked, in the rough voice of a t'bac smoker.

"Yeah," Sabine answered, "How much?"

"Just down to the surface? Hundred creds," she answered. Ezra got out of his seat and stood beside Sabine, in order to hear the conversation over the pulsating music. The woman swept an admiring gaze over Ezra's muscular form, and she smiled suggestively. "Fifty, if he's with you. You want a drink, baby?"

A sense of breathlessness overcame Sabine, and she felt her blood begin to heat up. She suddenly detested the sight of their would-be pilot. Deep down, Sabine knew exactly why she felt this way, but she pretended she did not. She slid her arm through Ezra's, in a gesture of possession. I'm doing him a favor, that's all, she told herself. Sabine smiled insincerely at the woman. "He is with me, and we'll take the public transport, thank you."

"Suit yourself," the woman responded. As the two rebels exited the cantina, Sabine glanced over her shoulder to see Ezra's admirer wink in the Jedi's direction, and Sabine decided to keep her arm hooked in Ezra's until they were out of her sight. Sabine looked over to see Ezra grinning, holding back laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asked, more irritated than she cared to admit.

"Nothing," he responded.

Sabine let go of his arm, quickening her walk so that she was a pace or two ahead of him. "Well, I guess we had better find that transport, then."

Mando'a words...

Manda-The Mandalorian over spirit, a sort of afterlife, accessible only by those who closely follow the Resol'nare.

Resol'nare-Literally translates into basic as "Six Actions." These include wearing armor, speaking Mando'a, defending your family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to your clan, and always being ready to defend your leader. Those who do not follow these guidelines are considered dar'manda, meaning soulless.