A/N: Eek! I'm glad so many of y'all liked the first two little ficlets! Like I said before, they're not meant to exactly fit with canon. This is just a fun, exploratory thing. Let me know what you think!


Blue

Ezra looked down at the cylinder in his hands. It felt good to have his saber back. Its fit and weight in his grip were exactly the same as he remembered. He could hear and feel the crystal inside, humming pleasantly in the back of his mind. Still, he frowned. He didn't remember anything about painting the hilt.

"Sabine," he said, walking into the 'fresher without so much as a knock. "What's this?"

The shower door opened and she popped her head out. "Wha—oh." Shampoo started to slide down her forehead and she swiped it away, eyeing the lightsaber. "Um." She ducked back in the shower, though she left the door open a crack; in the mirror, Ezra could clearly see the curve of her neck and shoulders as she tipped her head back under the water to rinse the shampoo out. He forced himself to focus. She leaned back out—an arm this time, too—and pointed to the lightsaber, dripping water all over the floor. "It was an experimental thing. I was…kind of blue."

"Yeah, I can see that." He glanced down at his lightsaber hilt again. Once dark, it was now several different colors of ethereal blue, slightly shimmering. It reminded him of a hyperspace lane.

"To be fair," she mumbled, "I had no way of knowing whether you'd be needing it again." She barely met his gaze as she ducked back into the shower, closing the door this time.

Ezra sighed. They hadn't talked much yet about the expanse of time that had passed in separation, and that was fine. He was certainly happy with here and now. But he could sense her hesitancy and the unconscious wall that went up when they did start to touch on it. When he'd showed her the lightsaber, her eyes had become immediately guarded. He hadn't seen that look in them since the day she picked up the darksaber for training. Back then, she'd been hiding a world of pain.

"Sabine."

"Hmm?" The shower door stayed closed. The sound of the water didn't change any; it hit the floor steadily, as if she was standing motionless under the stream.

"What's up?"

Silence. He didn't have to see her to know she was debating with herself over how much of the truth to tell him. "I—I woke up around—I don't know, zero three hundred? I was cold."

"Okay." He patiently waited for the rest.

"So, I reached over to yank the blanket back from you."

Ah. Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. "And I was gone."

The air started to get thick with steam. She'd turned the shower from hot to scalding. "And you were gone."

What happened was he'd woken up cold, too. He'd crawled out of bed to find his shirt and put it on, and then decided to go look at the stars for a second; there were often meteor showers this time of year. He hadn't been gone long—maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Then he'd gone back to bed and Sabine had immediately curled her body into his, hissing her dissatisfaction when she felt his cold feet against hers. He'd chuckled, kissed her, gone back to sleep. Never once did it occur to him that she'd wake up in his absence and find fear and emptiness in the space where he should have been.

He looked at the saber in his hands, turning it over, tracing the colors tenderly. Blue. She'd painted what she'd felt—was it still hanging on?

"I'm not going anywhere, Sabine." He drew a long breath. "I'm here."

The water shut off and the shower cracked open. She leaned her head on the wall, looking at him with a weary expression. "I know. I just—" She shook her head, and he saw the wall come up.

"I know." He half-smiled at her as he held up his saber again. "I—I like the blue."

She stared hard at him for a long moment, and then reached for her towel, disappearing behind the door as she wrapped in it. She finally stepped out and Ezra could see her skin had raised, red patches where the water had been too hot. She stepped toward him, seeming not to care that water was dripping down her legs and puddling at her feet. She tapped a finger on the lightsaber and gave a short sigh. "Well, I don't." She shook her head, making a face. "I don't want to talk about the blue."

He tilted his head, trying to read her. "What else?"

Her brows raised, like she was surprised he knew there was more beneath the surface. "I don't—I never was—I've always been fine by myself." If he squinted a little, it was because he had no idea what she was getting at. She knew it, and sighed, aggravated with herself. "I'm not fine by myself anymore, Ezra."

"Hey." He lifted her chin. "Do you need to be?"

She glanced away, face flushing dark. "You got me all inside out," she said harshly. It was a cover, he knew. "I'd gotten used to thinking I'd never—get to be this close to you."

He'd thought it odd—not unwelcome, but odd—that'd she'd stayed so close to him, held his hand as many times as she had, slept practically in his skin with him in the few days they'd been together here on Lothal. He understood now—she didn't trust this second chance they'd been given.

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. Most of the water had evaporated, but her skin was still damp and warm; she shivered when he touched her. Then he wrapped his arms around her completely and she buried her face in his chest. "This is real," he said, throat thick. "I'm not gonna leave you alone again."

She didn't say anything, but she held tightly to him until he could no longer feel where he stopped and she began.