Sabine jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. Her tiny apartment was completely still and pitch black. The heating unit clanked like loose credits above her head, while down below, in the forest, thick-furred creatures pierced the night with mournful howls.
Her mother and brother...they had ridiculed her. Taunted that she'd done an incredibly stupid thing. Had brought more shame to Clan Wren. Her marriage to 'that child,' was impossible. How could she have said yes to him, given herself to a Jedi Padawan? More disgrace to add to her heavy toll.
The weight on her chest was crushing her.
It happened often when she got too close to her visions, allowed them to take too much of her waking life. The dreams became too vivid, too bright, like staring into a photon flash and seeing its blue ghost in front of one's eyes long after the light has gone out.
It felt as though she was carrying two people inside herself. Two-spirited, she remembered Kanan had once said. She wondered if Ezra was going through the same thing? She saw so much of his pain.
Shaking, Sabine reached out for the darksaber. There was no hope of sleeping now as she shook her head. Shaking it didn't clear it. Before her eyes, she still saw her husband's body floating facedown in some sort of pool. Photon flash.
The worst of Ezra's memories she'd seen so far was this one: the aftermath of his parents' death. It wasn't just their bodies, limp and lifeless. It wasn't just the lights painting the outside of what had once been their home painting its outside blood-red. It wasn't just the outcry of the neighbors, crowding around, glaring in horror, exchanging whispers.
No-it was the look Ezra imagined on their faces. His mother and father...beyond disappointed, beyond hope. He'd lost them, and himself...that day.
This wasn't the first time Sabine had dreamed that memory. It played on repeat nearly every night now. After the first time she'd dreamed it, the other dreams took a sharp turn in a new direction. In these new memories, Ezra, already a lost, troubled teen would give himself up to anything and everything that could destroy him. Whereas he'd been circling the drain before, now he dove into it head first. It started with the day his folks had died and just got worse from there.
In one of those sad dreams, Sabine had been forced to witness the night he'd been kicked out of the place he'd been allowed to stay. He was drunk and high; the memory of the dream was spotty. Like a tape that had been damaged with pieces warped and missing. But, there were glimpse, sharp and clear. A friend, a gap-toothed boy about his age, crying and shouting. Another friend, a girl with long light red hair, screaming his name. A fistfight started. Blood was in his mouth. Drunken punches met with his opponent's hard fists. And Ezra sleeping facedown in a dark, dusty street, womp rats snuggling up to him.
In the morning, doors locked, the little he had stuffed into garbage bags. His young face swollen and bruised as he stumbled to collect his pitiful possessions. Just like that. Discarded. The pain went away, scabbed over by rage, and he picked at that scab constantly.
Once, her mother had shaken her awake.
"You were crying in your sleep," Ursa said, concerned. "Are you all right?"
Sabine had just nodded. She could never tell her mother about these fractured visions. Visions inspired by her separation from Ezra. The unyielding bond they shared. Ursa would never understand. How could she? She judged Ezra unworthy of her daughter. How plain she'd made that. Tristan shared that unfair opinion.
Seeing her husband in so much pain was indescribably hard. She was more drawn to him than ever before. The true Ezra, buried deep, so deep, wasn't just in danger of dying by some malicious, unknown hand, he was dying a little bit more every day, without her...
His parents were gone, now, so was she.
What were these dreams telling her?
Follow them...a voice, echoing within her bedroom, seemed to say.
Sabine shut her eyes, and felt Ezra's heart racing as he took her hand in his.
"I need you, Sabi. Come back to me," his haunting voice pleaded. "Please, come back."
Sabine felt every ounce of his desperation, anxiety and desire...right down to...wow, so that's what an erection felt like.
It happened as soon as their lips touched, right here in this room! He was with her, needy, but masterful at the same time. Sabine's heart raced too, and in the throes of passion, she cried out, sobbing:
"Ezra, Ezra." Panting, she cried, "Ezra!"
And, just like that, she was heavy with a feeling like she was full, satiated, content.
"Sabine?"
She jumped, gasping. Her sensations nearly suffocating her.
"I'm okay, Mother."
Ursa eyed her suspiciously. Her face lined with concern. "Tell me what's going on," she demanded.
"Nightmare," Sabine replied tersely, her cheeks flushed.
"Your nightmares sound very..."
Not allowing her to finish, Sabine blurted, "I can't help dreaming about my husband, Mother."
"It sounds that way," Ursa acknowledged, a deep frown darkening her face. "You'll never forget about him that way." Her intonation was a slap in the face.
"Like I'm supposed to," Sabine mumbled.
"Yes. You must," Ursa commanded, rising from her daughter's bed and leaving not saying another word. She wasn't going to tell Ursa that her dreams weren't mere dreams. They were lifelines to the man she'd bonded with. Nothing about what she had with Ezra her mother would say was normal, but too bad.
Sabine shook her head, and a deepening smile settled on her face.
"Ezra, I'll be with you soon. I promise you."
His voice, sounding nearer than it had sounded before, stole over her. "And I promise you, I'm waiting, no matter how long it takes..."
And Sabine, whispering her father's name, bowed her head, seeing him in her mind's eye, leading people as only he could.