"Sabine..."

Her father, Alrich Wren said his daughter's name as though it were an expression of art in its purest form. His pronouncement conciliatory, yet with an element of playfulness interwoven among the syllables. They had this time to themselves. Ursa and Tristan were off discussing urgent matters which centered on clan Wren's next move in solidifying Mandalorian valor and unification.

"Yes, Father?" Deferentially, she approached the man who had disapproved of her running away. His words and actions hinted that he had decided to forgive his willful child, now very much the strong, resourceful woman, blessed with inspirational artistic talent coupled with a brilliant mind. A mind that had conceived the weapon designed to disintergrate venerable 500-year-old Mandalorian armor.

"That young Jedi of yours..."

Before Sabine gave her father the chance to continue uttering such nonsense, she hotly cut in, "He is not my Jedi, Father!"

Arching his words, Alrich replied, "You sound very sure of that, my daughter, but that young man worships the ground you walk on."

Nothing Sabine didn't already know. In fact, if she knew her Ezra, and she was certainly more than a little in tune with him, he most likely was eavesdropping in on this private conversation. If he was, she did not hesitate speaking her mind. "Father," Sabine said sharply, "Ezra's my friend."

"And yet, you don't say, 'And nothing more.'" Sounding like a sage, Alrich quietly said, "Because, he is something more. Someone very important to you. Sabine, he's someone you've come to love. You needn't deny your feelings. They're evident each time you lock eyes with him. What they tell has not gone unnoticed. Most assuredly not by me."

What's brought this up? Sabine, schooling herself to sound calm, retorted in a deceptively flippant tone remarked, "You're making more of it than it really is."

"Am I, Sabine?"

Like a tempest whipped up, nonplussed, she rumbled, "We tried a relationship...it just didn't work out. Being good friends is what we've agreed works best for us. Anything more is just...it's just too complicated. There's enough complication already. Beating the Empire, fixing Mandalore is complicated enough. It's liberating, Father, you have no idea how liberating it is uncomplicating things with Ezra." After she huffed, she gave her dad an exhausted look.

Silence hung between them for several moments; Alrich sighed. Sabine began getting up from the dinner table, not having eaten much.

"Wait," Alrich implored. "I didn't mean to meddle in something that is entirely none of my business. Dear...I only want what's best for you. Always have, always will."

And the wall between them melted, just like that. Sabine sank back down into her chair and truthfully admitted, "Because he is Jedi is the reason we can't work."

"What do you mean?" Alrich probed, touched by the desperation in his battle-toughened daughter's tremulous voice, it having cracked.

"I don't understand him because that's what he is. I don't know how to reach him and when I try, I wind up saying, or doing the wrong thing. Sometimes it's easier dodging blaster fire than trying to understand Ezra. Believe me, I've tried. Kept giving, giving and giving. But it's never enough. Giving up was the way to go."

Sadness tinged Alrich's voice. "You're unhappy, Sabine."

Nodding, then hanging her head, she whispered, "I gave up on him...before he gave up on me."

"He'll listen to you, if you talk to him."

Sabine shook her head. "No. Like I said, it's better this way. Trust me. It is." This time when she rose from the table, she didn't hesitate, moving off to get out of the room quickly.

Alrich's gentle, yet firm reached her ears before she left. "Sabine, you're wise. Even if you run away, rescuing me proves one thing, at least...a truly wise person can come back. And, move forward without being sidelined by the past."

She cast her father a thoughtful look, and bowed slightly from her waist in deference. "It's good to have you back, Father."

"It's good to be back. I love you."

Those words nearly brought her to tears as she shakily reaffirmed, "I love you too, Father." She traveled the hallway, gripped in thought that centered on Ezra. Yes, she'd been the one who'd ended their fragile relationship. Had she been wrong to? Shivers snaked up and down her spine.

Had she?