Trials of the Darksaber Tag

Mirror and Image

"Teaching Ezra wasn't easy," Hera said, voice distorted from the holo, "but you did it well. I'm sure you'll find a way to get through to Sabine."

She was always so supportive, Hera was, and Kanan would never understand what he did to have it, let alone deserve it, but there were some things that she just didn't understand. The Force. Lightsabers. Padawans. "It's not the same," he explained. "Ezra was eager to learn. Sometimes too eager. I was the one who was holding back." They were in the reverse, now, Kanan was ready, willing to teach Sabine, but her emotions were so twisted up and knotted, blocked and contorted. How could he teach her if she wasn't ready to learn, wasn't willing to take that first step?

"And that's not what you're doing now?" Hera asked, voice just flat enough to carry her disapproval.

Wait, did she think Kanan was still holding back? Still hesitant to teach?

"... No."

"And yet, you still won't let her train with the darksaber."

Ah, she didn't understand. How could he explain it? Explain the use of a lightsaber to someone who couldn't touch the Force?

"Look," Kanan said. "Sabine is a capable warrior, in some ways more so than Ezra, but she can't – or won't – find balance within herself." That was the key to a lightsaber, and what made them so dangerous to people without the Force. Kyber crystals channeled all energy, not just a 'saber power cell, but the energy of beings, people. Negative thoughts created negative energy and a mind in unbalance could not tune oneself to the 'saber, greatly increasing the chance of injury. There were dozens of stories and legends of regular people who accidentally killed themselves, cut off limbs or loved ones, trying to use a lightsaber. The idea of losing Sabine like that... "Until she does, wielding an actual lightsaber is far too dangerous for her."

"By letting her pretend with that stick you're only encouraging her not to commit to this."

Kanan rolled his blind eyes behind his mask. "You're not listening to me, if I let her use the darksaber she will get hurt."

"She's already hurt," Hera said insistently, cutting him off, emotion bleeding through the comm. "Her family hurt her more than any sword could. You don't see it because she doesn't want you to."

"... But you can?"

"Because I know what it's like when people you love don't believe in you; when they let you walk away." Kanan could hear the hurt in Hera's voice, knew she was talking about her father Cham. He remembered the night she told him about their fallout, how she had felt and pain in her voice. That was the night Kanan knew she trusted him. "Remember how hard it was for her to trust us."

Something prickled along Kanan's heart.

"... So what do you want me to do?"

"Give her the sword. Let her own it, and who she is. Help Sabine face her demons."

By wielding the darksaber? By risking even further pain?

"I don't know..." he said.

"I know you don't." There was the support again. And then, with some insistence, "But this isn't about you."

Kanan turned away from the holo projector, Hera's voice still in his ears as he took off his mask and set it aside. He brought a hand up to his beard, rubbing his chin softly, stepping carefully through the campsite. Rau was watching him, Kanan could hear the shallow breathing of concentration, could sense his presence in front of him and to his left. The Mandalorean rebel had his own ideas on how to help Sabine, but the vambraces had only served to wind her even tighter.

He stepped down into the Bendu's circle; the manifestation had not revealed himself as yet, perhaps a sign that intervention was not needed. Kanan tried to take solace in that, but a small corner in the back of his mind wished the powerful being could weigh in. That was looking for the easy way out, however, and Kanan had learned a long time ago that "easy" was about as far from "right" as humanly possible. He needed... He needed to meditate. About what Hera said, about his self-absorption, about Sabine, about the darksaber.

Decision made, Kanan turned on his heel and moved back to the camp, casting his mind out and politely asking the darksaber to reveal itself. He found it on one of the supply crates, innocuous except for those who could touch the Force, and he picked it up.

"Never understand how he can do that..." Rau muttered under his breath, voice meant to be unheard, but Kanan's other senses were considerably more sensitive since... since the change.

Walking back out to the Bendu's circle, Kanan knelt down and placed the darksaber in front of him. The Jedi breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. Slow, deep breaths; the sound of the air, the sense of his heartbeat, the taste of dust and time.

He hadn't yet fallen very deep into the meditation before the vibrations of footsteps crossed his awareness. Not the heavy, sure sounds of Rau, these were light and uneven. Footsteps were the first thing he learned: Hera's soft even steps, Zeb's heavy lumber, Chopper's creaky engine. The kids were harder to differentiate, both were light steppers for different reasons, and teenagers always changed their gates. The difference, however, came with the Force, and the bright beacon walking towards him was Ezra.

"Hey."

Kanan turned slightly to the sound. "Hey."

There was a pause that drew out, Ezra's breath uneven and weight shifting on his feet. Kanan waited, giving Ezra time to make his decision.

"... She's wrong, you know," he said finally. "You're not a lousy teacher."

Something warmed in Kanan he wasn't comfortable admitting. He did smile, though, soft and small, and nodded his thanks.

"Those who know themselves are never truly blind..."

The memory drifted across his ears, and he stilled, surprised that it came to him, and looked inward.

Kanan had not known himself for a very, very long time. He spent years denying himself, turning away from himself, fighting against his instincts. Even after meeting Hera, it took time to be comfortable, and after Malachor, he had to learn everything all over again. He was hesitant with Sabine using the darksaber because she wasn't willing to accept it, the responsibility of it. But was that all? Was there something else there, deeper, darker, tied to the pain that Hera could see and he couldn't? Was there something in him, too, something Hera could see?

"But this isn't about you."

Something shifted inside him. Was this really about him?

Why am I so against Sabine using the darksaber, he asked himself.

Because Sabine has a greater risk of getting hurt.

Why don't I want her to get hurt?

… There was a thread there, he could feel it run deep, and he tried to follow, asking another question: Why do I think she would get hurt?

Because she is untrained in the Force. It flows through her as it does all living things, but she cannot feel it. But that was not the sticking point, even without the Force she could be trained, else Kanan would never have pursued this endeavor. No, the thing that bothered him was her imbalance, the coiled spring of her emotions that drew so deeply of her but was never once expressed.

"Remember how hard it was for her to trust us."

It didn't take much to remember that. Months after dragging her in she barely spoke, hair bright red and orange, mending alone in her room and saying little until she had tried to mix explosives while in deep space. That particular fight had lasted days, ending with an explosion and trying to escape an Imperial checkpoint and extending the ultimate olive branch by letting her deduce that he was a Jedi. Even after that, progress was teeth-grindingly slow.

… Why?

Ah, but that was the question. He didn't now why. There was a price to be paid for keeping all of that pain locked up inside; healing would never come, letting the wounds fester and build, poisoning the mind and the spirit, breaking a person down until nothing was left but the hurt. Sabine's reticence when they first met had not been shyness or a solitary inclination, but rather a means to protect herself from being hurt again. She was afraid to be hurt again.

Why would she be afraid to be hurt again?

… Because pain of that intensity cut very, very deep; and it was a pain that Kanan knew very, very well. Even now, speaking of Order 66 was nearly impossible. It had taken months before he was comfortable with talking about the Jedi to Ezra, and more still until he was comfortable with admitting he was a Jedi. Every thought of his master hurt, every nightmare would wake him in icy sweats; even talking to Hera, the guiding light of his life, could not sway his reactions. He had hid from that pain for years – drinking, working, sleeping with anything that moved – anything to drive it away, and that self reflection brought clarity and immense empathy to Sabine.

Why don't I want Sabine to get hurt?

Because she's already been hurt enough. Kanan might not have understood it, not with the intimacy of Hera, but he had always known she was a little broken. He had thought it was just the empire, but...

"I know what it's like when people you love don't believe in you; when they let you walk away."

Family was everything to a Mandalorean, one's house, one's clan, one's honor, one's very identity was tied to family. The concept was foreign to Jedi, Kanan was raised never knowing his family, never having that level of intimacy, and taught that the galaxy was his family – a concept too broad for younglings to understand but still enough to give them a sense of community outside the Order. No wonder Kanan could never see it. Ah, what a fool he'd been. Sabine was right, he was a lousy teacher.

So how do I fix it?

If her family was truly so broken, her psyche so damaged, then it was even more reason not to let her use the darksaber, it would take a hand or even a whole arm as she tried to wield it. What could he do?

"This isn't about you."

Do I have the right, let alone the ability, to control if she's hurt again?

…

"Only you can change yourself."

… No. No he didn't, and he should have already known that. He'd already learned the hard way that he couldn't control Ezra, couldn't stop or prevent him from studying the Sith holocron, couldn't prevent the pain of learning about his parents or stop his agony after the events of Malachor. He couldn't stop the hurt Hera felt when Cham betrayed her on their first meeting after years apart, nor could he stop her tears when he finally came back from his torture under the Grand Inquisitor. He knew he had no hope of controlling Zeb's guilt over surviving the Lasan Massacre. What made him think he had any control over Sabine? He didn't, and he needed to let it go.

Let it go...

He couldn't change Sabine, he couldn't prevent her from getting hurt, he couldn't stop her pain, and he damn well sure couldn't help her if the training wands perpetuated the entire problem. The darksaber had to be used, then.

A hum echoed behind his eyes, deep in his senses and nearby, taking him out of his self-reflection. He opened his eyes to the dark, looking down, surprised to hear the call of a kyber crystal that wasn't his own. Even the ancient weapon agreed: it needed to be used.

But...

What if she's hurt irreparably?

But no, he couldn't stop that, he had to let it go. Instead he needed to focus on what he could do. If preventing Sabine's hurt was impossible then maybe he should instead focus on hurting her as much as possible. He would need to push. And push and push. Sabine, like Ezra, always did best under pressure.

"Give her the sword. Let her own it, and who she is. Help Sabine face her demons."

The kyber crystal hummed again in agreement. If Sabine was running from her problems the same way Kanan had, then what could he do to make her face those problems? How had he faced his?

The Lothal Temple.

Master Yoda, from the depths of the Force, asking him pointed questions to make him see his own insecurities, his worries bout Ezra. And then again, with the Grand Inquisitor, the former Jedi Sentinel, again making pointed remarks and demanding an answer of him. Even Hera couldn't let him hide, would always find him and demand to know what he was hung up over. Out of respect for Sabine he could do no less.

"Good, good. You are perceptive."

The memory of the Bendu echoed over him again, the sense of approval vibrating across his chest and in his skull. Was the manifestation of the Force here...? The memory was so strong he could taste it. There was a smile that wasn't his, and a sense that something good had happened.

And then he felt it. More footsteps. Light and uneven, and in the air was the scent of chemicals and oil. Sabine had returned.

He turned to her. "I owe you an apology," he said softly.

"... I can say the same," Sabine replied.

Kanan's perception was stronger after the meditation, he could see details in Sabine's presence he never could have before, and now with his new understanding came even further clarity. The coil of emotions he sensed, the twisted indecision, they did spin around a deep sense of pain, and Kanan marveled that he had never seen it before. He silently thanked Hera for the push, and reached down to the darksaber. He held it in both hands, showing it respect, and he could hear it humming in anticipation, the kyber crystal excited for its new partner. Kanan stood, turning to Sabine's presence, and offered the blade.

Hesitation flared brightly to Kanan. "Uh... maybe I should practice more first."

A refusal to commit. Hera had been right all along.

"Take it," Kanan said, somewhere between an order and a request, insistent. "It's yours."

Sabine took her time; reaching out to the blade and just touching it. Kanan retreated his hands. He had let her waver long enough. Now it was his turn to push. Sabine, like Ezra, did not respond to being coddled. She would never get passed this until she admitted there was a problem, that there was pain. That was his job tonight. "Ignite the blade," he ordered.

The darksaber hummed before igniting, and Sabine let out an immediate, "Whoa..." as the energy came alive. Kanan could feel the kyber crystal, doing its job, pulling at its wielder's energy, and Kanan could just perceive the tug at her coiled knot of emotions. "It's heavier than I thought," she said, giving an experimental swing.

Good, she felt something of the pull. She would feel more before this was done.

Kanan explained: "Energy constantly flows through the crystal. You're not fighting with a simple blade as much as you are directing a current of power. Your thoughts, your actions, they become energy. They flow through the crystal as well and become a part of the blade."

Sabine wasn't listening, Kanan could tell. She was swinging the 'saber around left and right, feeling the power. Just like Ezra... He almost wanted to shake his head and pulled out his own lightsaber, igniting the crystal. Sabine's emotional range changed immediately, wonder evaporating to surprise and then resignation, her hesitation clouding everything else.

"The blades will be drawn to each other," he said, and he could hear her listening. Taste her anticipation. He felt her feet spread. Ready position. Excellent. "Block high," he ordered, taking a slow, simple swing, one arm behind his back. The two blades locked, and Kanan could still hear the hum of the darksaber, excited for combat, and his own kyber crystal tickled up his arm, the flow shifting, the Force building. "There's pull," he said, "can you feel it?"

No response. Sabine was concentrating fully on the locked blades, ace student seeing something she didn't understand and trying to equivocate it to something she knew. Kanan tried to break it down for her, arm behind his back still and pushing easily against the blade: "That sword is old; heavy, but powerful. Respect its strength." Kanan let go quickly, surprising Sabine and she stumbled forward. Kanan gave her time to recover, let her have that miscalculation. He had seen Sabine in action enough to know she was fighting far below her skill level. It wasn't her thoughts that he could tell, her focus was on him and the forms, but the coil of her emotions was winding tighter and tighter.

"Block low," he ordered. "High. Middle. High. Low. Middle."

Her balance was good, footwork only barely passable. Breaking her would be easy, but she had the basics. "Good. Let's work on a series, are you ready?"

"Yes."

Kanan held his laser sword up, a Knight's salute, and the sound of the darksaber shifted as Sabine did the same. The Force was gathering around them, a river flowing through them. "Remember the forms Ezra taught you," he said. "Ready position. We'll start slow." He made his last sentence wry, cocky, the sound of talking down to her. He felt her ire immediately, but she suppressed it, adding it to her coiled knot of suppressed emotions. That was okay, for now.

They began, Kanan's senses attuned to Sabine: listening to her footwork, feeling her breathing, reverse-engineering her form as he began walking through the forms. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sabine was a gifted student, and Ezra had been highly motivated to teach her, making him focused. Her technique was good – for a first timer – but Sabine was anything but a first timer. Everything she was doing was tepid, minimal; her hesitation was telegraphed in everything she was doing. They went through it again, faster. Her form was still there but much more shaky. The muscle memory hadn't been developed yet, she was still thinking through the movements, but she held it together, giving ground but keeping to the technique.

Her mind was starting to relax, Sabine was focused on her work and that made it easy for her to turn away from her pain. Kanan learned more about her in those first two series than he had in almost all the time he'd known her, and he was remiss for failing her like that. He let the emotion go, promising himself that he wouldn't let that continue, listened to the Force as he ticked up his speed again.

"One, two, three; four, five six." The darksaber was humming again, in tune with his own, the energy vibrating through him. Sabine's last step faltered, misjudging the distance and the balance and falling back. He felt a spark of frustration from her, and he pushed again. "You're making it easy on me," he told her, firmness in his voice. He had to be rigid, unbending – a practice wand unable to absorb Sabine's energy – resilient to her pain until she could actually express it, name it, allow herself to feel it.

Sabine's surprise spread all the way to the darksaber, and a prickle of hurt. She hadn't expected that. Kanan steeled himself, and gave another unquestionable command.

"Ready position."

Sabine got up and started circling, mind refocusing, calculating. Kanan could very nearly hear her reverse analysis of what had happened, her feet shifting in the Bendu's circle as she better prepared herself. Her form was off, she was leaning on other learning. Kanan advanced, one-two-three, four-five-six. She made every block perfectly, she finally felt like she was doing Form I, and the darksaber hummed; Kanan could see it pulling at Sabine's coil again, this time with more ease.

"The blade feels lighter," she said, somewhere between curious and surprised.

"You're connecting with it," Kanan explained. "It's becoming a part of you."

That caused a small cascade of changes in Sabine's mind, too fast to name, as the thought of her being worthy of the blade began to sink in, and the small moment of connection with the blade disappeared.

They circled again briefly, Kanan's mind attuned entirely to Sabine's presence. He didn't call out his strikes – she blocked the first two but then made an offensive thrust – a perfectly Mandalorean move, full of passion and expecting the blade to do all the work. She had all but forgotten about Form I, she was focused on fighting now. She thought one moment of connection was all she needed, and Kanan taught her very differently as he used her own energy to move the thrust away and exposing her back to him. "You cannot rely solely on the blade," he instructed, making his voice harsh, disapproving again.

Something about that sentence flittered across Sabine, too fast for Kanan to label, and she made another thrust, clumsy this time, easy for Kanan to deflect with just his hand. Her focus was narrowing to the fight, she wasn't thinking about her pain anymore, just on winning and proving herself. It echoed with her knotted coil of emotions, there was a memory in her that was making this hard. She suppressed again, winding tighter.

"You must you all your skills together. Ready position."

Going back to start caused more obvious irritation, her heart-rate changed and Kanan could perceive a grinding of teeth. This time she tried to attack, Kanan deflected the first strike with ease and with a casual flick of his wrist sent the darksaber spinning. The kyber crystal was still humming, even louder know, understanding the lesson and happy to partake. The air shifted, Sabine had turned to look behind her, and Kanan belatedly realized they had an audience: Ezra and Rau. He could afford them no more attention, however; it was going to take a lot to break Sabine, and he pushed again, tone flat and unyielding. "You'll have to do better."

Teenage frustration and irritation and disappointment and hurt culminated in Sabine activating her lasso, using it to grab the darksaber and yank it to her, igniting it to begin her new assault. She wasn't connecting to the blade anymore, nothing she did was Form I, and Kanan – just for spite – used Form I to block her amateurish thrusts, watching the coil of her emotions as more pressure started to be applied. She managed to duck under one swing, but that was a feint as he thrust one foot out, taking her off her feet with no effort at all. The darksaber was starting to drown out other sounds for its volume, displeased with its owner and staying ignited, sinking into one of her gauntlets.

Sabine cried out in pain, and Kanan held himself firm as he explained the problem:

"You're not fighting me. You're fighting yourself." He paused, giving weight to his words before adding, "And losing."

Anger.

Sabine's presence erupted in emotion and she swung wildly with the least amount of technique yet. Kanan didn't even need his lightsaber, just ducked and dodged with no effort, and he could smell the sweat of frustration apply even more pressure to her coil. He added fuel to the fire. "You're not committed to this. You should quit."

Pain.

"I don't quit. I never quit."

She advanced again, moves clumsy and unplanned. Kanan twisted around each swing like water, following the flow of the Force and occasionally pushing out a hand to spite her even further. "Really?" he demanded, two slaps of his palm nearly sending her off balance. "That's not what it looks like. You did run, didn't you?"

Denial.

"No!" She thrust again, Kanan whipping his hand out and grabbing her grip on the darksaber. Its kyber crystal vibrated in his hand as Sabine fought his grip, and Kanan could hear agreement from the sword. She was ready, and he struck home.

"But that's what your people believe isn't it?"

Sabine leapt out of his grip, a bitter cry on her lips, trying to find better footing. She was swinging again, not at Kanan but at something else.

"You ran from the Empire, you ran from your family."

"Lies!"

"So what's the truth?" Kanan demanded, finally igniting his own lightsaber and blocking her strike, letting the energy of the two kyber crystals mix together and pull at both of them. Kanan, a Jedi, knew to allow the lightsaber to adjust his energy as necessary. Sabine, a Mandalorean, could not take any more pressure, and then,

"The truth... is... I left to save everyone!"

Anguish.

Kanan, so finely attuned to Sabine's presence and emotions, was overwhelmed as the damn broke. The darksaber kyber crystal skittered over his senses and exacerbated the problem, Sabine gave another strike and Kanan, so consumed with the Mandalorean, could not perceive the world around him and tripped over a rock. The Force was throbbing around him as the air changed – not the cold of the Sith – but the heat of anger pain denial lies ANGUISH – it almost physically hurt him and it was everything Kanan could do to block the strikes as Sabine unleashed years and years of pent up emotion in a sudden maelstrom, amplified by the Force and by the darksaber and nearly swallowing Kanan whole.

"My mother! My father! My brother! Everything I did was for family, for Mandalore!" Kanan scrambled to his feet, uncertain what to do now. He hadn't thought far enough ahead to know how to react to this, only that it was necessary.

"Let it be."

Bendu...?

Sabine was still screaming. "I built weapons – terrible weapons! The Empire used them on Mandalore, on friends, on family...! People that I know. They controlled us through fear," Sabine thrust the darksaber forward, to Kanan's throat, unaware of the power of the darksaber, so consumed with her pain she couldn't stop. Self-hatred, loathing, doubt radiated off her like lightning, firing along Kanan's nerves. "Hah! Mandalore, fear of weapons I helped create. I helped enslave my people!" They were out of the circle now, up the hill, and Kanan couldn't get a good read of the ground, lost more footing as Sabine's pain poured out of her in one great rush. "I wanted to stop it, I had to stop it! I spoke out! I spoke out to save them, to save everyone!"

She kicked, and Kanan perceived it at the last second, not enough time to react, and he was the victim of gravity, something striking his head and all senses bereft, all he could hear was the darksaber crystal and Sabine's pain.

"But when I did...!"

Sabine was over him now, and Kanan couldn't quite stop a hand coming up in self defense. He was blind and so overcome with the Force that he didn't know what was going to happen next. Sabine's words were echoing in his mind, he could see vague images, snow and ice, a face that echoed Sabine's, her mother?, backs turned, shame, her helmet, painting it as a child, things he would have never been able to see at the Temple, skills he had never had before, and the overwhelming sense of loss, why didn't they stand with me?

"... my family didn't stand with me," Sabine confessed, voice shaky, tears on her tongue. "They chose the Empire. They left me... Gave me no choice."

The darksaber retreated, its work done, and all that was left was Sabine.

"The empire wanted to destroy worlds... and they did." She knelt down. "They destroyed mine..."

The Force bled away, leaving Kanan alone with Sabine. Her tears were everywhere, pain bleeding out in one fell rush, and now all that was left was the sadness, the guilt, the loss. Abandoned and alone, Sabine had been forced to strike out in a cold, unforgiving galaxy. Everything he had ever known about her had been defined in this one moment, this ultimate betrayal, and she had no way to put herself back together again. Sabine Wren coped the only way she could: she pretended it was nothing, pretended she was fine, and that there was nothing wrong with her. Kanan should have seen all of this – he knew all the stages she had gone through, had gone through them himself. They were perhaps a little too similar, and Kanan wasn't sure if he would be a good role model to help her through this.

"Let her own it, and who she is. Help Sabine face her demons."

Hera...

He put a hand on her shoulder. "The empire rules with fear," he said quietly. Fear of stormtroopers, fear of weapons, fear of oppression, fear of individuality, fear change, fear to loss... the list was endless. Fear lead to anger and hate, and worst of all, fear made people freeze. Kanan had spent almost a decade in stagnation, unable to change for fear of being discovered, for fear of facing his own pain. It took him years before he was strong enough to face it. Sabine had just done so in the span of a few days. Not only that, she had dared to stick her neck out, dared to say what was right. Did she know how rare that was? "Not everyone can be as strong as you've been." She needed to understand what she was doing to herself, to know that the guilt she was carrying was not hers to bear. He absolved her of her sins, and lay the blame where it was supposed to go: "Your family is in a prison, one of their own making."

Kanan had – eventually – broken out of his self-made prison. But he hadn't done it alone, and he now understood what Sabine's roll was to carry the darksaber. "It's up to you to help them out of it."

With the Force retreated, his sense of her was less sharp, but he could feel the rapidfire changes of emotions in her, could sense her eyes dart up to him as she shied away from the very thought. She stood, the sound of her limbs indicating she was hugging herself, emotionally spent and unsure. Of everything.

"But how?" she asked. "Why? Why would they believe me? Why would they follow me?"

… Kanan didn't have an answer for that, but before he could think of one someone else spoke.

"I know this might not be what you want to hear," Rau said, approaching the two of them, "but for what it's worth... I would follow you." The scrap of the ground indicated he was kneeling.

Ezra of course followed suit.

"So would I. And I mean it."

Sabine was radiating surprise, Kanan didn't need the Force to sense it. He could also sense distrust, discomfort, the pain of her old family's betrayal. She wasn't going to accept this.

"You've come a long way in a very short time," he said, voice low, soft. She needed to understand this, understand what she had created since coming aboard the Ghost. However carefully she guarded herself, however long her arms were, something had happened over the years of her tenure. Slowly, gradually, inch by inch and memory by memory, moment to moment, she had entered another family. Hera, Zeb, Ezra, Chopper, Kanan, all of them accepted her as part of the fold, took her as she was, and trusted her with their lives. The hurt of her old family would never go away, but she needed to understand that she now had the support of a new one.

"Where you go from here is up to you. But know: this family, will stand by you no matter what you choose."

The moment held in the air, drawing out as Sabine absorbed the words, realized what was in front of her. The darksaber kyber crystal was humming again, softly, adding its own voice, pulling at its new master, a gentle tug.

And Sabine wept.

A long keen swelled into an anguished wail, Kanan could hear Rau and Ezra startle at the reaction, but Kanan had seen it coming, had spent the entire evening getting to this moment, and he was on his feet instantaneously, pulling her into a hug. A shaky breath expanded her chest and she cried out again, tears streaming down her face and dabbling onto his shirt, emotion once more pouring out of her.

"That's all I ever wanted," she said between sobs. "Why couldn't they say that? Why did it have to be you?"

Kanan had nothing to say, no way to answer those questions. All he could do was hold her as the storm swept her away, accepting her pain and feeling his own echo with hers. It had taken a long time for Kanan to forgive the clones their betrayal, to forgive Rex. Sabine's betrayal was even deeper, in some respects, and no less total. He took solace in the fact that he had been alone, while Sabine had the support of everyone on Chopper Base, and no one would lead her astray. All he could do was watch and do his best.

"Good. Very good."

Bendu...?

But the thought was gone as quickly as it had come, and Kanan felt new arms around him, Ezra, being a diligent padawan and taking after his master.

End

Author's Notes: Just a little tag to one of our favorite episodes of the season. Of course we take a Sabine episode and put all the focus on Kanan - we're trying! But we were both a little put out that Kanan had his ass handed to him - he took on the Grand Inquisitor and freakin' MAUL and came out on top. He's no longer a sucky duelist, and so we tried to explain it.

New episode tonight after the break, can't wait for what happens! Also, this fic is unbeta'ed . Hope there aren't any mistakes...