The first time she saw Ketsu, she didn't really believe it. It was funny, in battle, adrenaline running and heart racing – when everything felt more real than life – seeing Ketsu didn't seem real. Even the next day, it didn't feel real.
Until Sabine saw her again.
She was walking through the camp, picking up more proton torpedoes for the Ghost, when she caught a glimpse of a familiar orange helmet. She was frozen in place, watching her former best friend – who didn't even know she existed right now – before she felt her stomach start to clench, her throat constrict, and vision blur with tears.
She ran.
She closed her eyes, but all she saw was the Watch. Padded white walls, transparent plastisteel viewing panels, plastisteel bed. Doctors, with Coruscant accents, diagnosing, prescribing, above reproach.
She couldn't breathe. Her helmet was squeezing her head. Ripping it off, Sabine threw up just outside of the base perimeter. She fell back, body shaking, and curled into a ball.
"No," she whispered to herself, "I'm not going back."
Minutes later, she sat up. Spitting the taste out of her mouth, she stood up, the burning in her lungs the only good feeling, and started walking to get those kriffing proton torpedoes, wait, it was torpedoes, right? Karabast.
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She was just back at the Ghost – thanking herself for not running into Ketsu – Chopper had even come out to–
"Hey, Sabine, hold up!"
She saw the all-to-familiar helmet out of the corner of her eye, "I don't have time for you, Ketsu."
Ketsu stopped dead in her tracks – one of the few times someone had made her speechless – as her best friend – well, former best friend now – blatantly blew her off.
"Hey I–"
"Stuff it."
Definitely former best friend.
Sabine practically dove into her room, sitting up against the wall – she couldn't stand the softness of the bed right now – and reached for her paints. No, she pulled her hand back, she couldn't do art in this mood. She knew that much – from more than one experience of the Ghost – she would hate anything she made.
She heard a voice, Ketsu's, as she was thrown at the feet of an imperial bounty officer, hands in binders, her best friend sneering at her, betraying her–
It's just money.
Why did Ketsu say that?
It's just money.
Why did she have to screw it up?
It's just money.
Why, why did it always feel like her fault?
Hugging her legs tighter, she tried to block out the sound, fingers scratching for the vent beside her. To her it was a crutch – an alcoholic's last bottle, an addict's hit of spice, or a smoker's last deathstick – and pulled her knife from behind the vent.
It was ironic really, in fact, that's why she chose this blade – a form of self-harm in itself – because it was a Mandalorian blade. Stamped with clan Wren's sigil, a small, concealable suicide blade, made for torture, a last act of defiance towards captors.
She slid her bracers off, pulling her sleeve up to reveal the line of scars across her wrist, haphazardly sprawling up her forearm.
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"Kanan!" Ezra nearly yelled, pounding on the door, "it's–"
"Sabine, I know," he said, the door opening as he sat meditating.
"What's going on? Is she going to be okay? We need to help her!"
"I know," he sighed, "but there's only so much we can do, this is her journey alone."
"But there's–"
"Meditate. You aren't helping her any like this."
Ezra's eyebrows shot up, and he charged back to his quarters.
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Later that afternoon, Ketsu decided to stop by the Ghost, she may not have been a good friend, but by Maker, she wasn't–
"Hy Ketsu, what are you doing here?" Ezra asked, catching her at the ramp by accident.
"Actually, I was–"
"Looking for Sabine?" she nodded, "I'll be right back," he said, walking to her room.
Before he was done asking – hell, the door had hardly opened – Sabine's string of swear words, both in basic and in mandoa – which was a feat in itself – gave him his answer.
He walked back to Ketsu, waiting at the ramp, a glimpse of hope in her eyes.
"Hey, uh, Ketsu," he said rubbing the back of his head, "uh–"
He didn't know what to say. What do you even tell someone?
"Not a good time?" she asked, hope shattering, eyes dropping to the ground.
He took a long breath.
"I don't think so."
She sighed and walked back across base.
She really was that bad, wasn't she?
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Kanan was already sitting at the Ghost's table, spinning forms in the steam of his mug, when Ketsu slipped in.
"Hey kid," he said, sliding an extra mug of caf towards her, "problems?"
"It's not kid" she said, slumping into the seat, "and like you wouldn't believe."
He nodded, "Sabine?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
He sighed. "Not the first time today, and," he paused, "I am a Jedi."
Kriffing Jedi.
"She won't talk to me, or even see me, it's like…" her inability to even find the words to describe her best friend – former best friend – made her feel worse.
He nodded.
"When we got her," he paused, looking over her shoulder, "it was rough. Really, rough. We broke her out of an imperial prison ship, along with a dozen others. She practically begged Hera and I to join the crew, but we had no idea what we were in for. Those first weeks…" He stopped.
"What about them?"
"I don't think that's my story to tell."
She sighed, looking down at her mug, her own reflection making her look away.
"What should I do? What can I do?"
He sipped his mug, setting it down.
"What do you want to do?"
She looked up, startled, why was this about her?
"I want–" she stopped, taking a breath, "I need to fix what I kriffed up."
He nodded, "Try again tomorrow when she's not busy, and not stuck in her room. Understand, and be patient. What she went through is worse than you expect."
Her stomach dropped. I can expect pretty bad, she thought, rubbing her forearm.
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Sabine huffed, legs hanging off the far-enough-to-kill-you cliff, feet dangling above oblivion, as she thought back on her time with Ketsu.
Money was tight at the time, she got that – but it was just money – and she knew what her paint cost – Maker, the jobs she did to supply her stock of paint – but she never bought any when money was tight. She just ran through her stock, that's why she had stored up paint. She knew Ketsu didn't like her having paint when they were low on money, but she didn't have to turn her into the Empire for money.
She sighed, sliding closer to the edge.
Why did this all feel like her fault?
She heard Ketsu's words to her, the sneer in her voice.
It's just–
Something shuffled beside her.
She looked over to see Ketsu.
Oh great.
She sighed, as Ketsu pulled off her helmet, setting it beside her.
"I'm sorry," Ketsu said looking over the cliff, as the words hung between them.
"I know what you said, but if you don't want to see me," she paused, "you don't have to. I'll leave, and never mess with your crew, or the rebels again."
Hell, Ketsu thought, after what I did, I'd jump if you asked.
Sabine was stunned. Did that mean she knew – no, there was no way she knew. But she didn't expect that.
They sat for a second, then a minute.
"I get it," Ketsu started, hurt evident in her voice as she started to stand, "I'll be gone by–"
"No."
The whisper-quiet word hung between them, Ketsu frozen, her body still taught as if she were about to stand up.
Finally, she relaxed.
"You don't hate me?" she asked, in a quiet, nearly breaking voice.
"No. When you left me, I was picked up by the Imperials–"
"I know it was hard, you don't have to tell me," Ketsu said, not wanting to hurt Sabine anymore.
"I need to."
"Why? Why would you...?"
"It helps. Helps me to move on. To…to heal."
Ketsu nodded.
"They put me in a prison cell. By that night, I was already in 'the Watch'. I had broken off a piece of the plastisteel and tried to, well, you know..." Sabine paused.
Ketsu rubbed her wrists.
"So, for two months I was stuck in a padded cell, transparent plastisteel viewing ports everywhere – even in in the 'fresher – the only color I could see was white. I couldn't do anything."
She gave a dark chuckle, "well, nothing but think of every, little thing I did to deserve being there."
Sabine sighed, crossing her arms around herself.
"When Kanan and Zeb broke me out, I asked if I could join them. I thought somehow it would all go away if I could get in the stars again," she sighed, "But it didn't. Instead, they ended up watching me. For two weeks, they couldn't give me anything but paint, because I might – no, because I would've hurt myself."
She stopped, hands hovering from her gesturing, mouth slightly open.
"But if I had known how much it meant to you, how much must've you struggled for money, I wouldn't have ever-"
"No," Ketsu finally said, her voice breaking.
Don't say that, Ketsu screamed in her head, this was MY fault, don't– Maker please don't– Just–
The whisper-quiet word caused Sabine to freeze this time. She looked at Ketsu, tears streaming down her face, a perfect example of Mandalorian stoicism, just like me, Sabine thought spitefully.
"The day after I turned you in," Ketsu said, pulling off her bracers and setting them beside herself, "I felt so stupid, to get so mad over paint. I thought you would've already escaped, but I could never..."
She looked down at her arms, hovering over her legs. Sabine moved closer to her, their arms touching, "I could never forgive myself," her voice hitching as she sobbed.
Sabine slowly pulled up Ketsu's sleeves, revealing the word traitor in rough, slashing scars across the inside of her left arm, and Sabine calligraphed in scar tissue into the inside of her left arm.
"I'm so sorry Sabine."
Sabine nearly launched herself at her best friend, burying her tear-soaked face in Ketsu's neck, and making sure neither of them could ever run away again.
"I am too," Sabine whispered as she held onto her friend.
"Will you–," Ketsu stopped, not daring to ask her that.
After all, how could she ever forgive her?
"Always. Always Ketsu."
Tears ran down Ketsu's face, as she pulled Sabine closer to her.
She didn't deserve Sabine, hell, the galaxy didn't deserve Sabine.
"It was never your fault," Ketsu said, a little surprised at her own words, but meaning every ounce of them.
Sabine dissolved into tears, finally hearing the words she had desperatelyneeded to hear for years.
Ketsu held her former best friend – no, best friend – as she wept, clinging to her frame, her sobs slowly turning into a quiet string of thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou
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They sat in silence for the better part of an hour afterward, slowly moving to lean against each other as they wiped their tears.
"You know, Ezra really does like you," Ketsu started.
"Ezra?" Sabine laughed for the first time that day, "Yeah, he's borderline obsessed."
"No," Ketsu said, turning her head slightly, "he cares more than you know. If you keep rejecting him, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."
"Ask me how I know," Ketsu finally whispered.
Could I? Sabine thought, Could we really? Is there a chance?
"I'm scared," Sabine said, the words slipping out, surprising her.
"We all are," Ketsu smiled at her friend, "but that's no reason to give up."
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Ezra caught Sabine and Ketsu walking back to the Ghost – wait, that was Sabine and Ketsu? Didn't they hate each other yesterday? What was with these two?
"Night Sabine," Ketsu called, waving as Sabine ducked into her room. She turned to face Ezra and flicked her head to motion him outside of the ship.
He followed her outside slowly, bewildered by what he had just seen.
"So…I guess you two made up then?" he said.
"Yeah, yeah," Ketsu said quickly looking around, before locking eyes directly with Ezra, "You need to ask Sabine out, Ezra."
"Yeah…she doesn't really like me that way I don't think, besides–"
"She needs you right now Ezra because you care."
Ezra's jaw hit the ground.
"Really?"
"Yes," Ketsu practically jumped on him, rolling her eyes when he didn't understand.
"But how do I…help and not, you know…"
"That doesn't matter," Ketsu said, holding his shoulders and looking him in the eyes, "You'll find a way."
"Okay, okay," Ezra said, taking a deep breath.
"Go," Ketsu said, pushing him up the Ghost's ramp.
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Ezra knocked on her door. It opened, Sabine was lying on her bed, but immediately went to the door when she saw him.
"So…" he started, "can we uh…"
He sighed, mentally facepalming at himself.
Sabine crossed her arms and smiled slightly, "Spit it out Ezra," she knew what he was going to ask, but she wasn't going to make it easier on him.
"Sabine, would you like to go on a date?"
"Yes," she nearly screamed, dragging him into her room with a hug.
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Kanan sat in the center of his room, meditating, a smile forming on his face. You know, sometimes, it wasn't horrible being the last of the Jedi.