She felt bad now, bad that she had pushed Ezra too far. Why else had he run off? Gone for several days now, where was he? Yes, she'd gone too far. Sabine shook her head, ruing her insensitivity, accepting the part she'd played, no longer in denial about being to blame. It hurt, admitting that her blunt remarks might have driven him away. He was part of the crew, the family. He liked her; she tolerated him, she hedged, knowing full well that tolerance was just another way of saying Ezra was increasingly getting to be better than just all right. What she'd said to him about his being a coward, his not being brave or strong enough to take on the Inquisitors had hurt him. Sabine mused, sinking more heavily into the cushioning of the common room's couch. What had she gained from baiting Ezra, teasing him as though she had every right to? Didn't he have thicker skin?
What did that have to do with anything? Thinking that he should did not excuse her lack of empathy.
Well, she wouldn't have him to kick around anymore. If he was gone for good, she'd have to accept that it was her fault. When would she own up to Kanan?
Ezra wasn't as cocky as she, which she downright could be. Ezra was still a kid, never taking bravado and swagger to the level she liked taking it. He'd reacted as a kid would have; he'd run away. Sabine scowled at the emptiness of the deserted hold. She felt her eyes water, but stubbornly told herself she mustn't cry. And she thought that if Ezra had been there, they would be playing a favorite hologame. She'd be winning, no doubt. Ezra would be protesting that she cheated too much, then promptly challenge her to another game anyway when he lost.
He was genuine, loyal, sincere, wore his feelings like a badge and she had hurt him for having been afraid. She'd belittled what made him so likeable, his honesty.
When he returned from who knew where he'd run off to, she would apologize to him for her careless taunting, her cruel spoofing. Mockingly, she said to herself, "He's just learning. Why did you have to be so cynical?" Caustically, she muttered, "What if he doesn't come back?" Feeling lightheaded suddenly, Sabine raised an unsteady hand to her throbbing head. When was the last time she'd eaten? Not being able to remember wasn't a good sign, and then it struck her that she hadn't eaten a bite since the impetuous teen from Lothal had gone missing. Kanan was not just upset, he was partially in shock. He thought he and Ezra had something akin to a father-son relationship. Ezra's running away tore blaster bolts in that supposition. Sabine hadn't come clean, hadn't bothered to confess that her thoughtless comments had driven a wedge between Ezra and his adoptive family. She attempted getting to her feet, but dizziness overwhelmed her. Her vision swam and she thought she saw the air she exhaled as curlicues, shimmery, graceful ones. Her legs sagged and gave out. Back on the couch after the hard fall, Sabine blinked furiously, trying to stave off tears. The inside of her eyes stung. Just as Hera entered the hold, she sighed.
Eyeing her closely, the Twi'lek stood with arms akimbo, taking the sight of a disoriented, disheveled Sabine in. Strong-willed, and so, so sad because you thought you knew how best to handle his failings, Hera thought to herself, sympathy for Sabine curling around her heart. "Uh…are you all right?" Hera already had her answer. Since when had this young woman voluntarily given up eating since becoming a member of her crew? Had gone on about Ezra's not needing them, and they didn't need him. Yet while insisting that, she had choked up every time. Then, couldn't stop wondering aloud, over these past days, where in the galaxy could he be. Was he all right? A knowing smile graced Hera's full, supple lips. "There's something that might make you feel a lot better in the docking bay…"
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Sabine grumbled, burying her tearstained face in her hands. What was Hera doing here? Had she followed her, determined to keep tabs on the heartsick teenage Mandalorian, because the Twi'lek always thought she knew everything, while knowing what was best for them all? She couldn't make her eat if she didn't want to. She couldn't make her feel guilty about chasing the guy from Lothal off. She felt guilty enough for all of the Ghost's crew, Chopper too, who had abandoned them to be with Ezra on the private adventure.
"Come find out. Guaranteed it'll make you feel worlds better." Hera smiled, which Sabine couldn't see since she still had her struggling face buried in her concealing hands.
"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay here," Sabine countered, but there was something in Hera's voice that beckoned to her, as if to say: 'I know something you don't know.'
"It's not the same. You're not the same, ever since Ezra left." Hera approached the worn couch, leaned down to be ear level with the blue-green haired girl. Sabine's sniffles echoed in Hera's sharp ears. "But…guess what…"
"What?" Sabine replied, all grumpy and short-tempered. With Ezra gone, whom did she have to act like this with? She figured that she was moments away from Hera telling her to stop behaving like a spoiled brat. Mentally, Sabine began taking apart a blaster rifle to give herself something other than a wounded Ezra to think about.
"One guess who's back," Hera tantalized, barely able to control her delight.
Sabine's head shot up. Stunned, with gleams of hope piquing in her widened eyes, she gasped, "Ez—" She hooted the rest. "Ra!" Her mind and heart raced a mile a minute. She'd been given another chance with him and she swore she would keep the promise she'd made.
Deep-seated satisfaction welled up in Hera, seeing Sabine spring up from the couch, whiz past her, bolting for the docking bay. Hera was right on her heels as she thought, these crazy kids. "See what being hard on him brought you," the older and wiser female rumbled under her breath.
Their wandering fledgling Jedi-in-training had come home where everybody knew he belonged. As Sabine ran all the way, she'd promised herself, and then she would promise him that she'd never disrespect him the way she had ever again. She vowed she'd be his one-woman cheering section. Each of his victories would be their gain.
He made them whole; he made her want him that much more. She would hold him in her arms once more and never let him go.