Hissy and feeling sorry for himself, and somewhat sore, Ezra sulked. Off by himself, because he wished to be alone, he vented his frustration out loud. Balmy, sticky air wafted over his stormy face. This world, similar to the junkyard world of Lotho Minor, minus its huge pools of toxic sludge, and periodic downpours of toxic rain, was likewise a paradise for junk salvagers and scavengers. Legit operations, alongside illegal ones, were established to reclaim anything reusable abounded across this planet's surface. Taking a break from his search-and-recover mission of trying to find discarded moisture vaporators and Dissuader parts, their hollow slugs too, Ezra perused his 'drecky' surroundings.

Dissuader slugs could be filled with borless acid that could eat through armor as well as flesh and bone. Stormtroopers, watch out!

Sighing heavily, Ezra sat himself down on an outcropping of fatigued meta-carbonate. He thought he was alone, but suddenly heard familiar muttering laced with off-color language. He grinned in spite of his gloomy mood. Sabine did have this habit of talking to herself, and when she did, she was nothing but loveable.

"Hey, over here," he called to her, waving. Gladdened by the sight of her, he cheered, saying her name over and over. In a million years, his winding up with her was one for the holograms. He would warn himself never to take her for granted, but he did, at times. What couple didn't have their ups and down?

"Having any success?" she asked, picking her way to him through aging debris and off scourings. She seemed out of sorts too, but who wouldn't in this tangled mess of rot and ruin that sprawled in all directions?

The things they undertook for the Rebellion and did in the name of freedom tried their patience and strength of commitment. They risked their lives; that was a given. They also put on the line personal comfort and sanity, which fell under the heading of sacrifice too.

Of course, getting much personal satisfaction, and contributing to the greater good of ridding the galaxy of tyranny because of the life they had chosen to lead was its own reward. This detail's description fell someplace between glorious and dismal.

"No," Ezra snapped at her, which earned him an immediate sharp lift of her eyebrow, coupled with a hurt expression blooming on her face too.

Before he could apologize, Sabine, about to reply in kind, softly said instead, "Okay...what's wrong?"

His lower lip hung lower and through a sigh, he replied, "Sorry."

"All right, you're apologizing, but it doesn't explain what's bothering you."

What normally bothered him when a certain someone, who was consummately proud of her bouncy, yellowish-streaked, green lekkus cramped his leadership style? Hera wasn't being fair, back to treating him the way she had when he'd first joined them. What did she think? Disrespecting him the way she was would make him better? Her treatment was making him worse, causing him to harbor resentment, and worse still, souring his outlook on his self-worth.

Making him miserable, if not most of the time, near enough to it.

Grunting, Ezra griped as Sabine lowered herself beside him, "When do you think Hera will start trusting me again?" Like dark clouds sitting over his head, he darkened more so. "What am I doing that's so wrong? I haven't gotten anyone killed. Just about every mission she's had me handle came off just fine. So, what's her problem, now? Why won't she see that I'm even more dependable, reliable and capable of leading than before?" As he shrugged, Sabine took up his closest hand, holding it tightly.

Convenient memory disabled his remembering all those times things hadn't gone, "just fine."

Evenly, and with a considerable wealth of understanding, she replied in reflection, "You have her trust."

"If I do, she has a funny way of showing it." Tired, and yearning to get back to the Ghost so he could shower off this grimy film of foul sludge he felt on himself, Ezra looked his wife dead in the eyes. She never shrank from his intense gaze. "What makes you think so?" His sudden look of disappointment hit Sabine full on.

There was something about him she had never picked up on before. When they'd first met, he'd been this brash, smart-talking kid. With all that being in the thick mix of do-or-die circumstances had put them through, clearly, Ezra had an extremely sensitive side. Adversity and hardship had brought an integral part of his true nature to the fore.

She loved him so much for it, forging that bond they shared stronger each day.

"You might feel uncomfortable about what I'm going to say," Sabine carefully prefaced, having since taken his other hand and squeezing it equally hard.

"Tell me. You know you can tell me anything, Sabi. Even if I might not want to hear it, I will, because we're not about keeping things from each other...at least I hope we're not."

She shook her head while getting closer to him, studying his face. Those two thin scars, annoyingly visible, gave her impetus. He wasn't inexperienced, nor a novice when it came to what mattered most. He would understand; she would tell him. Then, hopefully, maybe the knowledge would nurture his insight, add to his wisdom. "You've become like a son to her, Ez. She can't bear losing you. Even the thought of that does freaky things to her. The times we almost have, you have no idea just how strange she gets. She shuts down, closes herself off. She loves you as if she'd given birth to you. I know that sounds weird, but it's true." Reaching for his face to cup a cheek, Sabine said, "It's the truth. She told me so. She's kept it from you, but it's true."

Words failed him. So, that was it. He wasn't an incompetent. Hera saw herself as his step-mother. And a mom of whatever description could never bear the lose of a child. He'd been blind. Stuff he'd had a hard time making sense out of made sense now.

Gradually, Ezra confided, "Wow, Sab. I never imagined she could feel like that for me." He placed his hand atop Sabine's arm and eventually their fingers meshed. "This is amazing."

"Now you get it."

Nodding, he certainly did. "Think I should talk with her? Say what I've never said to her? That I...well...I feel the same way about her, being-"

"Like the mother you had a right to grow up with, but the Empire stole from you." He was the definition of rational when he was like this, Sabine thought. "You two need to talk instead of you acting like she's out to make you look bad every chance she gets."

Ezra, with his throat tightening, felt the sudden onrush of tears sting his eyes which were partially-closed. He squeezed his eyes tighter, but a few tears leaked from them anyway. "Y-yeah," he shakily got out.

They hugged, Ezra burying his face into Sabine's soft, warm neck. Her savory scent and the gentle cadence of her words made him feel better. "It's okay, honey, I know...I know..."

"I love you, Sabi," trickled from him when he was able to speak. He peeked up from her neck, inching to her face, and their lips met.

Her lips lingered at his as she said, "Love you more..."