"Mind if I keep you company?"

Sabine turned around at the sound of Kanan's voice and smiled a little to see him standing in the doorway of her bedroom, one hand against the doorframe so he knew where he was.

"Be my guest." Sabine said with a smile, and took a couple of steps in Kanan's direction, taking his hand and leading him to the small sofa in her room. He sat down and smiled in her direction, and Sabine went back to her painting, grabbing her spray guns and going back to the wall.

"How did you know I was painting?" Sabine asked after a moment. It'd become a habit of hers and Kanan's that he'd sit in her room with her while she worked on her art, he'd make occasional comments about her color choices, techniques, styles. But this was the first time that Kanan wanted to sit with her since Malachor, since he was hurt, since he was blind. Neither Kanan or Sabine really talked much about what happened, it'd only been a few weeks ago. It was hard enough as it was for Kanan to adjust to this new way of life, living without his eyes, but it was equally as hard on the rest of the crew. Sabine was terrified of losing Kanan in her life, he'd become the closest thing she'd ever had to a father, and she didn't really want to think about how close she'd come to losing him.

"I could smell the spray paint from the cockpit," Kanan said with a slight smirk, "And I also know you really well. You're upset Bean, and when you're upset, you paint."

"I'm not upset," Sabine protested, "I always paint."

Kanan didn't comment, simply shrugging and relaxing against the sofa. "What are you painting?" He asked instead.

Sabine hesitated, looking over her work. She glanced at Kanan, who was patiently waiting for her answer, his expression neutral and body language open.

"I'm reworking part of my mural," She said after a moment, "I primed the main back wall so I could start fresh."

"Closer to your bunk or the door?" Kanan asked.

Sabine looked to him carefully. "My bunk." She told him, trying to figure out what he was trying to do.

Kanan was quiet again, just listening as Sabine's paint blasters went back to work at the mural. She was quiet, but very well aware of Kanan's presence. They hadn't really discussed anything one on one. Hera called full crew briefings (or as Kanan liked to call them, family meetings), and they tried to be open and honest about all the changes they were facing, but there wasn't a clear moment of adaptation or change. Hera and Kanan both tried really hard to make everything as normal as physically possible, even though there wasn't a normal anymore. Kanan was blind. Ahsoka was gone, dead. Ezra was distancing himself from everyone. All the change was too much for Sabine, who was just getting comfortable with having a family and trusting them.

"I'm painting Malachor," Sabine said softly after a few more moments, ceasing the painting.

"Malachor…" Kanan's expression held confusion. "You weren't there, you didn't see it."

Sabine sighed, feeling her chest get tight with emotion. "I don't paint what I see," she said quietly, "I paint how I feel. I'm painting how I feel about Malachor, and all it's done to us. To you."

Kanan sighed, nodding in understanding. "So how do you feel about Malachor?" He asked carefully, and Sabine was quiet for a long while, long enough that Kanan wondered if she was still there or somehow slipped past him out of the room without him noticing.

"I hate it," Sabine whispered, dropping the spray paint gun with a clatter to the ground. She looked behind her at the dark painting, splotches of black and grey, fire and pain. She didn't even consider this art, just angry expression, because she didn't know what to do with her feelings. She knew she'd prime and repaint within a few days, but right now she just had to get her emotions out. For the first time in weeks, the emotions she'd been fighting were bubbling to the surface and getting unbearable, especially as Kanan sat with her, keeping their normal routine.

Sabine looked down to the paint can that rolled across the floor, the dark splotches on the wall, and to Kanan's expression, to his bandaged eyes. Suddenly, Sabine couldn't handle her feelings and rushed toward Kanan, wrapping him in a sudden but tight hug. Kanan was a little surprised but hugged her back, letting the suddenly seemingly much younger girl cling to him.

"Sabine?" Kanan asked softly, squeezing her close.

Sabine whimpered, her chest tight, her emotions thick in her throat. She wanted to cry, but couldn't. She hadn't cried in years. Crying showed weakness. Warriors didn't cry. She didn't cry.

But she looked up at Kanan, and Kanan couldn't cry, even though she could imagine he'd wanted to. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she let a few little tears drip down her cheeks, but swallowed the rest of her barely constrained sobs. She didn't want to stop herself from crying; she wanted to scream and cry and tell Kanan how much she cared, and how unfair this all was, and how angry she was, at Ezra, at Maul - the guy who hurt him, at the Universe, at everyone. She glared angrily at the painting on the wall, which had a giant painted red gash across it, similar to Kanan's injury. Or rather, what Sabine imagined it looked like, since she hadn't really seen it.

"It's okay to be upset, Sabine." Kanan told her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "You're allowed."

"I'm fine." Sabine ground out, sitting up, suddenly embarrassed by her display of affection toward Kanan. She didn't doubt the Father/Daughter bond that they shared, but she was never the one to act on it. Maybe, she realized, Kanan needed her to.

"I understand if you aren't fine," Kanan said simply, reaching one hand out to look for her, settling his hand on her knee. "I don't think any of us are fine. It'll take time."

"You sound like Hera," Sabine muttered, "You're just saying that."

"Hera's right," Kanan stated, "You and I both know that she usually is."

Sabine sighed, looking Kanan over with sorrow. His face looked exhausted, even from under the bandage covering his eyes, Sabine could tell that he had deep dark circles from lack of sleep. His body language was more guarded, slightly more on edge. Even his voice sounded much more hollow, less confident, less sure of himself.

"Black paint," Sabine said after a moment, "I'm using black paint. Some grey and red."

Kanan chuckled a little. "My favorite colors."

Sabine's eyes widened, and she looked almost horrified before she laughed, harder than she meant to.

"What?" Kanan teased, squeezing her knee, "It's true!"

Sabine laughed more, and Kanan laughed too, surprised that he was able to poke fun at himself so easily. Sabine smiled, genuinely, for the first time since Kanan and Ezra left for Malachor.

"Now you sound like you," Sabine said with a nod, "Not like Hera, not like a Jedi. Like you, like Kanan."

Kanan smiled too, a real smile, not a fake one to try and prove he was doing okay.

"Don't use dark colors, Sabine." He told her, "They aren't you. You're bright colors, pinks, purples, blues. Don't let the blacks and greys win."

Sabine leaned against him on the sofa, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm feeling kinda black and grey right now."

Kanan nodded. "That's okay." He assured her, "But don't forget how pink and purple you are too. Things aren't going to be black and grey forever. Not even for me."

Sabine smiled again. "Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I'm right." Kanan said with a smirk. He was quiet for a moment, resting his cheek against Sabine's head on his shoulder.

"You know," he started, "Just because I can't see your paintings anymore, doesn't mean I don't love them. I'm still your biggest fan."

Sabine smiled. "Thanks, Kanan."

"I mean it," he told her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I want you to tell me all about your projects, what colors you're using, what styles, what designs, anything. I want you to tell me what colors you want to dye your hair, I want to know about every new idea you have. I support you, Sabine. That doesn't change."

Sabine hugged Kanan tight. "Thank you," she said, her voice softer. "Really. I'll definitely keep you updated."

"Good." Kanan said with a nod. He stood from the sofa as Sabine stood up, and she lightly led him back to the wall so he could find the door. "Now you go back to priming that wall and starting over," he told her, "Make sure you add lots of color."

Sabine smiled a little, picking up her spray gun and switching the can out from the bottom. "Will do," she told him. Kanan nodded and put a hand on the door as he started out, keeping one hand on the wall so he could find his way.

"Oh, and Kanan?" Sabine called, and Kanan stuck his head back in the room.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking of picking up sculpting as my next project," she said, "That way you can see it too."

Kanan laughed a little, and if Sabine didn't know any better, she could've sworn she heard his voice crack with emotion.

"I think that's a great idea, Bean." he said seriously. "Keep up the good work."

Sabine grinned and started priming the wall, covering the angry black scorched paint marks, replacing it with white primer. A blank slate. A fresh start.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to check me out on Tumblr (galacticheropoedameron) for more soul crushing Rebels feels.

Don't forget to Review!