He was married, and headed for a breakdown, at the same time. Sato had agreed to marry them at their unyielding insistence. Hera and Kanan had never said it was a good idea, or a bad one. If the impressionable teens wanted to go ahead, the decision was theirs alone to make. Kanan was Ezra's friend and mentor, not his conscience. These were different times. The Jedi of the past bore a pale resemblance to those of a Force-sensitive nature in these times. The kid was passionate about getting married to a wonderful woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, Hera had told Sabine. Like the Mandalorian didn't know that?

The Ghost crew, as well as those of Phoenix Squadron, had wished the young ones well, before, during and after their nuptials. The impromptu reception hadn't been a bit shabby, as though a wedding planner, with the ability to pull magic out of the air, had been hard at work for weeks.

The newlyweds were still making plans where to honeymoon. The Ghost wouldn't do. Sabine was all in favor of going off to one of the more picturesque moons of Mandalore. Ezra had no preference. Had none because Kanan had sagely counseled him to let his wife choose. So, with that wise advice heeded, Ezra obliged. Wherever Sabine wished to go, they'd go. For the moment, they weren't going anywhere. They were stuck. More specifically, Ezra was. Riddled with guilt over what had happened to Kanan, resulting in his loss of sight, the young married man couldn't get past his culpability. Despite his wife's, and the rest of the Ghost crew's insistence, that what happens in battles is as unpredictable as predicting a wormhole materializing, Ezra was mired in the doldrums.

The loss of Ahsoka combined, guaranteed that the mopey, war-weary youth had a lot on his mind, which didn't seem to include satisfying his sympathetic, but dismayed bride.

With his head burrowed into her side, beneath her armpit, Sabine sighed. Its sound quivered in her quarters. Their bedroom, now. Zeb couldn't have been happier, having his quarters all to himself again. The look on Ezra's tender, yet tested, face in repose softened her. Looking upon him, her eyes caressing him lovingly, she thought better of waking him up as roughly as she first thought she'd wanted to. Her fingers worked the dark fringe of hair from his eyes. He was snoring, but not very loudly. Not to make her want to kick him out of bed.

But, enough to make her want to tickle him, just a little. Just enough so he'd wake up on his own. Between his fourth and fifth rib, she went to work. Tickling him had become her new favorite sport. However, when sound asleep like this, he made the sport more demanding.

"Com'on, sleepy-bones. Wake up," Sabine fanned, flicking her fingers nimbly over her husband's sleeping form. Having the opposite effect, he burrowed deeper into her and she snickered. "Rise and shine, Maul's Plaything. I don't think I like how easily you're manipulated. Unless I'm the one doing the manipulating." Raising an eyebrow, she kissed his cheek. Still dead to the galaxy, Ezra went right on snoring. The noise coming from him somewhat louder. "Hey…I'm not kidding. If we want to make it to Mandalore anytime soon, we should make a start. Said start right after your training session with Kanan. And my hyperdrive shakedown with Hera and Chopper."

After snaking her tongue in the exposed ear, Ezra croaked, "Sabine…" He pulled himself into a tight unpliable ball and rolled himself away from her teasing. "No. Not now. I don't feel like doing anything." Not anything except crawl into his dark space inside himself and blame himself, on and on, for Kanan's blindness. All my fault...all my fault! "I can't believe he can't see! I should have stayed with him and Ahsoka!" he wailed.

"When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself?"

Petulantly, he whined, "I am not feeling sorry for myself!" Never, he told himself, curling deeper into a ball. I never listen and now Kanan's blind 'cause of me!

Sniffing a good deal, she begged to differ. "Says you. I say you need to let yourself off the hook. What was one of the first things you told me when you got back?"

Sluggishly, Ezra admitted, "I don't remember."

"Okay, then I'll refresh your memory. You said you need a lot more training. And practice. My advice: Go get more. Starting now. Kanan hasn't given up on you. So, you don't give up on yourself."

"Is this what wives are supposed to do?" Ezra countered, allowing Sabine to slip an arm around him and nestle her chin into the ticklish space between his neck and back. He relished how nice it felt having so much of her exposed skin pressed into his. "Nag, nag, nag."

"If it gets you on your feet again, and back on track, then I won't stop nagging, nagging, nagging." Lightly, she kneed him near the groin. "And, what wives?" Sabine teased. "How many have you had?"

"You're my first."

"I'd better be your only."

They both laughed, and Ezra unwound himself so Sabine, her heart galloping, a very stimulating feeling, could mold herself against him more evenly.

To put that contention to rest, he agreed, "My one and only." He kissed her longer than her breath lasted. "Force, you're so beautiful!" He searched her eyes. "I haven't been myself. I've been lost, ever since Malacor. It's just that, that…it was a creepy, weird place and some pretty bad things happened. Stuff I haven't really gotten over…yet."

"Well, that's what I'm here for. One of the reasons, anyway." She lined her cheek up against Ezra's and poured her heart into her words. "Forgive me for what I said about you being easily manipulated. I'm sorry. I really need to stop being like a child. The first thing that pops into my head, pops out of my mouth."

He stopped her in the act of hanging her head and smothered it in his headlock. "I once heard this said someplace. Can't remember where. Guess it doesn't really matter."

Holding him tightly, Sabine listened to the sweet sound of his heart beating into her ear. "What doesn't really matter?"

"Where, or when I heard this thing about being sorry," Ezra said, as though he'd taken up being vague as a form of speech.

"What about being sorry?" Sabine humored, twirling his glossy hair between her fingers.

"Okay, it's a little sappy, I think. But, well…'Love means never having to say you're sorry.'"

Snorting mightily, Sabine clinched, "Ezra…love you. But, if I feel like saying I'm sorry for something, I'm saying it. And I'll still love you."

Laughing, crisply and sounding lighter than he'd sounded in cycles, he retorted, "Right. Fine. Hey…"

"Hey what?"

"Did you happen to see where I put the Sith holocron last?"

Sabine began tickling him in earnest. "Nope. Sorry. Can't help ya." She seized him in a headlock of her own and yelped when Ezra dished out some Force-inspired tickling of his own.