A/N: I surprised even myself with the heaviness of the last chapter, but it felt right to walk that moment with Ezra and Sabine. Reviewers-I'm so glad you liked it and thought it fit. I was nervous about writing something that dealt with a sensitive subject. Now-let's see if there's some healing in store for Ezrabine. Let me know what you think.

Beauty From Ashes

Ezra wanted to be angry with Sabine, but her eyes were so compassionate. He just couldn't.

"Why are we here?" He tone was flat, voice cracked and breathy. "Sabine, I don't—"

She turned to him, holding his hand. "Do you trust me?"

He clenched his teeth. "I don't want to be here."

"But do you trust me?"

He did, implicitly. "Yes."

They were standing at the entrance to the old Imperial refinery, a charred shell of the central fuel pod still remaining at the back of the site. Walls enclosed the rest of the space. Sabine squeezed Ezra's hand. "Let's go."

She led him toward what used to be the central fuel pod and he walked just half a step behind her, reluctant and uneasy. As they came to the repurposed structure and stepped inside, Ezra stopped. He didn't trust what his eyes were seeing. "You…you didn't tell me…"

"I didn't think you were ready to hear."

The place was beautiful, almost ethereally so.

Plants and flowers of every color and variety were in full bloom. That hollowed out, charred shell of a fuel pod had been turned into a botanical garden. It was vibrant and breathtaking. Peaceful, too. The whole place was just permeated with a sense of calm. Healing.

Ezra recoiled from it.

He spun around to face Sabine. "How—how are you okay with this? This place—it's—"

"Ezra." His name from her lips soothed him, as did the soft pressure of her hand in his. "What do you feel here?"

He reached out with the Force before he had time to be startled by the question. "I feel...purpose. Hope." The warmth of it spread through his veins. "I feel hope and assurance—like—something—it—" He struggled to articulate. "I don't know how to explain it. It—burned hotter than the fire." The last syllable lifted, asking her a question.

"You're standing where Kanan died." Sabine's voice was hushed, eyes watching him carefully.

His stomach dropped. "What?"

Sabine raised her chin, inhaled deeply. "I figured it out. This is roughly where he was standing."

"I don't—" He looked at the lush grass beneath his feet, felt the hope and peace and purpose seeping through the hallowed ground. He'd expected to feel pain. He'd wanted to feel pain. "Why would you tell me that?" He snapped.

"Because I want you to look at it."

"I have looked at it. I was here." He thought he'd made peace with what happened to his master, thought he'd understood it, but coming back to Lothal ripped him wide open again. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the fire, smell the stench, hear Hera's strangled scream. He could still remember how he froze—in a moment when it could have been him and Kanan holding back the blaze, he stood there in shock. "I was here and I didn't do anything to—"

"Ezra." Sabine drew closer, gently taking his hand. "What could you have done? Died with him?"

He shook his head, blinking, dazed by her bluntness. "M-maybe. I—"

"And who would have protected the Jedi Temple from Palpatine? Who would have saved Ahsoka? Who would have liberated Lothal, Ezra?" She caressed his cheek and he turned his face into her palm. "Here's what happens if you die that day. Best case scenario: the rest of us manage to get off-world and back to the Alliance. Lothal is crushed in Pryce's hand. If we're lucky, Thrawn doesn't pursue us. If we're really lucky, Lothal isn't targeted by the Death Star." She paused. "Worst-case scenario: we never leave Lothal again. We're arrested and executed very publicly."

Ezra flinched at the words. He could barely meet Sabine's eyes.

"Hera dies," she murmured, "and Jacen with her." She lifted his face. "Do you understand?"

"I—I don't—" He struggled to speak. He hadn't ever stopped long enough to think about what would have happened if anything about that night had been different. He hadn't ever forced himself to calm down long enough to consider that Hera was already carrying Kanan's child. He looked around at the garden, at the place where fire had consumed a vital piece of their lives. "Do you—think he knew?"

"Don't you?" She asked gently. "Think about how calm he was, how sure. The same way you were, Ezra, in the dome. Kanan knew where he was needed and what he had to do. Without—" She stopped and her brows pulled together as she fought tears. "We wouldn't be standing here together. Hera and Jacen wouldn't have survived. It would have all been for nothing. Don't—don't wish you could have stood with him here, Ezra. Please. I can't—you would have died here and—I need you."

The pain and pleading in her voice almost broke him. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. "I know—you're right, Sabine," he choked. "And I know it had to happen—the way it did. I just didn't think it would be this hard to—to be reminded of it."

"But look at this place," she whispered. He felt her jaw moving against his chest. "It—smoldered for weeks. The earth was scorched. The fuel was toxic. They said nothing could ever grow. Ashes blew in the wind for months. And now? Life thrives here. Tell me that's not Kanan."

He nodded wordlessly.

"Everything about our lives the last five years has been beauty from ashes, Ezra. And that doesn't mean we're not gonna carry the pain, but the pain isn't all there is."

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "And I wouldn't—I wouldn't trade anything for this. Being here with you. I just...I feel like I'm living in the ashes right now."

She stepped back, looking at him. "I know you do. It was like that for me for a long time. It'll get better, cyar'ika."

The endearment made him smile. "I like it when you call me that."

"I like that I get to call you that," she said, leaning into his side. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"It is beautiful." He paused. "Did you come here often?"

"No." She sounded horrified by the thought. "Just once—for the dedication. I couldn't make myself. But I liked knowing it was here."

Ezra laughed. "You beautiful little hypocrite," he chided. "Dragging me here when you never wanted to come yourself."

She glared weakly. "But it's easier together, no?"

"Everything is easier together."

"So let's carry it together. Quit trying to carry it alone."

"I haven't been—"

Her admonishing look shut him up.

"Yeah, okay," he grumbled in a sigh. Ever since that horrific nightmare two months ago—when he'd hurt Sabine—he'd been sleeping only enough to survive, terrified of having another episode like that. Wanting to do everything in his power to avoid the nightmares that chased him every time he closed his eyes. She begged him to open up to her, but he did it at arm's length. She knew that.

"We have to share our pain, Ezra, if we ever want to share joy."

Joy. When he heard that word, he thought of spending his life with Sabine, marrying her, building a family with her. But she was right: they wouldn't be able to do that if he couldn't get past the fire and the ashes. He looked at Sabine in awe, thinking of the bold-hearted courage it had taken for her to come here with him today. She had a right to as much pain as he did, yet she was ready to let it go and walk hand-in-hand with him through his own—she who used to be unwilling to confront pain at all. If Sabine could expose her heart, then surely he could—

"Sometimes, it's you," Ezra blurted. "In my dreams—sometimes it's you who dies."

Sabine nodded slowly and breathless silence hung between them. "Thank you for telling me." She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. "It's a start."