Author's note: This is NOT Ezra/Sabine, I see them more as brother and sister rather than in a relationship. :) Sorry but enjoy!

Five times Ezra helped the crew and one time they helped him.

Sabine

The fire had been merciless.

The stars shone out around them as they weaved their way through a wall of tie fighters, the attack devastating. One had managed a lucky hit onto the east side of their ship, which just so happened to be above Sabine's room. The blaster shot had started a small fire, which had crackled its way down the wiring of the ship before spreading down into Sabine's room. The crew had been alerted instantly to the point of impact. Hera had swerved from side to side trying to shake them off, with the crew strapped in around her, trying to keep their stomachs from doing summersaults. Eventually, they had found an entry point for hyperspace and leapt out before they could become a living target again.

Sabine had wasted no time in unbuckling herself and sprinting to her room, eyes stinging as the smoke pooled out from under the door. She cried out a little in anguish before pulling the doors open and blindly stumbling into the flaming room. She collected as much as she could while the fire blazed around her. Zeb and Ezra followed quickly after, both with items in hand to douse the fire. It took a few more extinguishers and some force manipulation from Kanan, but eventually the heat died down. The damage was done.

A couple of weeks on from then, Sabine finally moved back into her room. She'd stayed with Hera in the time that they had been cleaning and airing out her room. All in all, not too much damage had been done to the room itself- more the belongings she had in there. Some of her paints were pretty flammable- not to mention she had her bomb equipment in there, which, had it not been so tightly locked up, could've caused quite a few more problems for the whole crew.

So, really, she should be happy. Everything was fixed now, and she had a room to herself again. And, she kind of was, it was just- she'd lost quite a few possessions that she was- well, rather fond of. In mandalorian culture, a warrior never hoarded too many things, because sentiment doesn't help with survival. You survive by using your resources, not by relying on others or their things. So it came as a surprise to her when she realised what an attachment she had formed with these inanimate objects: that huge sketch she'd done when she'd really felt like she mastered the use of charcoal, that painting of hers which had sprung to life when the ideas hadn't stopped flowing and she'd ended up with something that had filled her with pride, or even just her first drawing of the Ghost ship. They should have all been completely unnecessary to her, and yet she felt moved by their loss all the same. She didn't like it.

Sabine briefly considered attempting to replace them, but she knew that trying to re-create the same piece of artwork was like making the exact same explosion- each one would be unpredictable, and you would never do exactly what you had before.

Ezra had seen the torn look in Sabine's eyes. Even if she hadn't shown anything on her face at the time, he could recognise the look of losing something valuable to you.

To be honest, everyone in the Ghost could. They asked Sabine about it one dinner time, making it clear she could talk to them all. In a way, she had- she'd admitted that she felt a little down about losing some of her pieces, and that she couldn't replace them, but that had been about it. It might've been enough to satisfy them, but the enraged sighs that kept coming from Sabine's room even days afterwards seemed to serve as reminders that, although Sabine could admit what she was feeling, she didn't quite know how to deal with it.

Hera had been about the throw the last scraps away when the idea hit Ezra. Quickly, he called out to her, ignoring the annoyed frown as he took the small trash bag himself and quickly retired to his room. Hera sighed, but couldn't help feeling a little curious.

Ezra stayed in there all day, tongue stuck out as he fiddled and meddled, stuck and glued. Kanan had tried to interrupt at one point, asking if Ezra was up for some mediation. Where Ezra would usually say yes, he instead explained to Kanan why there was paint in his hair and asked if his master wanted to help. Kanan laughed at how innocent and youthful Ezra looked in that moment, but replied that he felt this was more Ezra's gesture, not his.

Zeb strolled in when it started to get late. He took one look at Ezra, decided he didn't want to know and was now sleeping- loudly- on his bunk.

When it was finally done, Ezra's fingers were a rainbow of colours and he could barely make out the floor beneath him. He grinned. Wasting no time, he charged from the room and before knocked politely at Sabine's door. No answer came, so Ezra tried again. After a little while, a bed-headed Sabine opened the door, clearly very irritated at the intrusion.

It was then Ezra realised that it may probably be sometime very, very early in the morning. Oh.

"Yes, Ezra?" Sabine wiped sleep from her eyes and tried not to sound too annoyed.

"Ah- um, sorry… Sorry to wake you, but I- well, I wanted to give you this." Ezra stumbled through his explanation, wondering if his whole idea would just look plain stupid now.

Sabine smiled curiously as Ezra pulled out a large sheet of card from behind him. It was rolled up like a scroll. Sabine took it cautiously and moved into her room, placing the roll on her desk before unravelling it outwards, revealing the artwork that lay beneath. Colours and drawings jumped out at her; hundreds of squares, circles and shapes stuck out from the page, each one revealing a little part of a drawing she'd lost. Ezra had combined these snippets of her burnt work with other pieces of material and colour. Some areas created smaller pictures- one even looked to be an outline of the Ghost. This was amazing! Sabine couldn't hold back her gasp as her eyes dashed all over the page. The main pieces of work Sabine had lost were still here; not in their original form, but instead cut out, with deliberately burnt edges. A remembrance of the fire. Some weren't even that distinguishable, but it was as though she had them back all the same. A mosaic- a tribute to the work she'd done, and what it could become, even when it all seemed lost.

"It's amazing Ezra!" She beamed, turning to thank him. He blushed a little under the attention, but was happy to see the girl he saw as a sister happy again. She seemed genuinely inspired as she started asking him about what he used for this and how he got that particular colour. As he explained, she realised that- whilst she would never get her original pieces back- she had something that kept a little piece of them all, and in turn they had all created something which was, in a way, much more wonderful.