#she'd probably make sure kanan and ezra made it out

[antianakin]

The most hilarious thing about Twilight of the Apprentice is that Anakin is so terrified that Ahsoka will reject him the way Padme and Obi-Wan do, that she won't side with him, that he completely misses exactly HOW bad of a mental space she is in in that moment and that if he'd asked her to go Sith with him in that moment, she probably would've just to assuage her own guilt and keep him from being lonely or whatever it is she's upset about in Rebels.

[the-yearning-astronaut]

when the pain is true -- Chapter 4: Sabine

This fic is now fully written! Hazzah! I think it’s the first fic over 10k that i’ve written solo and finished.... last two chapters will follow the same posting schedule <3

check the notes to read on ao3!

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Sabine yawns as she walks back to her room, mug of tea in hand. She should probably just go to bed but she's so close to having her current project finished and she's on a roll. Sleep can wait; inspiration cannot. The tea is her last ditch effort at staying awake. Technically she could nab a stim from their small medbay but the last time she did that for an art project she ended up on the receiving end of both Kanan's and Hera's perfected Disappointed Parent expressions.

Staying up to finish wasn't worth seeing those looks again. Nothing was, really

She's just passing Kanan's door when a cacophonous sneeze resonates from Zeb's and Ezra's room, startling her. It's immediately followed by low grumbles and Ezra loudly complaining.

"Oh, gross!! Zeb!"

There's a snarl that devolves into a hacking cough as Sabine gingerly shakes the scalding hot tea off her hand from where it had landed after she jumped. She looks up in time to see their bedroom door open, the rather pungent smell of a sick lasat wafting out.

Sabine winces in sympathy as Ezra practically runs out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "I can't deal with this anymore – I'm gonna go sleep in the gunnery seat. Or at the table. Anywhere's better than in here!" He looks directly up at Sabine then and gives her a small wave. "Oh, hey. He's got a cold or something," he says, jerking his thumb at the now closed door. "I don't wanna catch it sooo I'm gonna…"

"Sleep elsewhere?" Sabine says drily, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." His eyes light up. "Hey, could I maybe bunk in your–"

She cuts him off before he can finish. "Nope."

Ezra scrunches his nose but shrugs as he begins walking to the small galley. "Worth a shot."

Sabine rolls her eyes but calls after him, "You know humans can't catch the same things that get sentients like lasat and wookiees sick, right?"

"Yeah, sure. That's cool. But that does nothing to alleviate the smell." With that, the galley door slides shut, leaving Sabine in the relatively quiet hall.

Ezra had a valid point. Still. Poor Zeb. She'd only ever seen him sick once or twice before and each time took a lot out of him.

She stares at her still-hot mug of tea, thinking. Zeb is a warrior; he's probably as stressed about feeling off his game as he is about actually feeling sick. As a fellow warrior, she can relate. Being sick sucks but when it leaves your primary weapon, your own body, feeling weak and vulnerable? It's a special kind of hell. She sighs, decision made.

Looks like she won't be finishing her project tonight after all.

She raps her knuckles on Zeb's door and is greeted with another low growl.

"Who'sit and waddaya want?"

"It's Sabine. Can I come in?"

There's a pause and she's pretty sure she can hear him shuffling around. "Sure. Don't know why'd you want to though."

Sabine takes a fortifying breath and opens the door. Yeah, she can definitely understand why Ezra wanted to get out. But Zeb is family and could likely use some comfort right now. She steps inside the dark and gloomy room, moving carefully as to not trip over any of Ezra's stuff; she knows none of it would be Zeb's because, like her, his early training prevents him from being anything other than clean and tidy.

"You're sick," she says in response to his last comment.

There's a low, humorless chuckle from ahead and she can make out his form on his bunk. "Whatever gave you that idea?" He says sarcastically.

Sabine stops in the middle of the room and raises her eyebrow again. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the sneeze from a minute ago? It was loud enough to wake a pod of purrgil in the next sector over."

The gentle teasing does just what she hoped it would; Zeb laughs again and this time there's humor in it, even as it ends in a barking cough.

"Can I turn on the lights or…?"

"Ah, no," Zeb says, sounding apologetic. "They, uh. My eyes're sensitive right now. Lights feel like laser beams directed into my brain." He pauses briefly and Sabine waits for him to continue, both hands holding her mug to her chest. "I suppose you could...turn on the small desk lamp Ezra picked up a while ago. I still forget you humans can't see for Bantha shit in the dark."

Sabine shuffles over to the small desk and finds the light. It lets out a soft, yellow glow and Zeb sighs.

Instead of putting her mug on the desk, she looks up at Zeb and offers it to him.

"Want my tea?"

Zeb is sitting on his bunk, hunched over and looking miserable. His ears are low, his shoulders slumped. Kriff, even his bristling sideburns drooped. His armor and jumpsuit are in an uncharacteristic pile at the side of his bed, leaving him in a dark tank top and undershorts. He looks…small.

He eyes her skeptically for a second before nodding and accepting the mug; the bright yellow and purple splattered cup is dwarfed by his large hands and the delicate way he holds it up to take a sip would be comical if he wasn't so obviously sick.

Sabine shifts from foot to foot, arms crossed, while Zeb sips at the tea. These kinds of moments are difficult for her and she never knows what to say during them – unlike Hera or Kanan. But she can do this. She can. She just has to set aside her own discomfort for a moment.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" There. That wasn't so hard.

Zeb sighs and passes her mug back to her; she takes it back carefully and lets it dangle from her fingers by the handle as she recrosses her arms. He shivers slightly, causing his short fur to stand on end.

"I don't wanna put you out or nothin' but do ya happen to have any spare blankets?" Zeb asks, rubbing at the back of his neck and averting his eyes. "'m always cold when I get sick."

Sabine smiles softly. "Yeah, I think I know where to find some. I'll be right back."

"Thank you," he says as she turns towards the door. Anything she might have said in reply is cut off by another deafening sneeze. Zeb groans pathetically and turns to lay back down and bury himself in the blankets he already has.

Sabine wrinkles her nose and makes for a quick exit; she'll see if they have any tissue boxes hiding somewhere, too.

–

It doesn't take Sabine long to track down the few spare blankets they have on the Ghost. Hera even helps out after she explained why she's looking for them.

"Poor Zeb," Hera says sympathetically as she tugs another blanket out of one of the storage lockers. Placing it on top of the others stacked precariously in Sabine's arms, she continues, "I remember the first time he got sick when it was just me, him, and Kanan. Lasat immune systems are apparently very robust and efficient so when they do get sick…."

"They get really sick," Sabine finishes.

"Yeah." Hera looks thoughtful for a moment. "Did he say if he wanted anything else?"

Sabine shakes her head and they start heading back towards the sleeping quarters. "No. He seemed reluctant to even ask for these, as though it'd inconvenience me or something."

Hera tilts her head back and groans. "Foolish lasat. Oh." She holds up a finger and Sabine stops walking to look at her. "Based on past experience, he probably has a migraine and various aches and pains. Let me grab a few med stims."

She darts off and is only gone for a second before she returns with what she was looking for.

"Give him this and he'll start feeling less sore in minutes. It'll probably make him sleepy but extra sleep never hurts anyone."

"Thanks, Hera," Sabine says sincerely, shifting the stack of blankets in her arms. "By the way, Ezra will need somewhere to crash for the night. I think he was tired of being surprised by Zeb's sneezing and said something about sleeping in the gunnery."

Hera pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Of course he did," she sighs. "I'll find him and make him stay with Kanan.

"Or you could room with Kanan and let Ezra take your room for the night," Sabine teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Oh, hush." Hera's cheeks darken slightly. "For that I'm giving him your room."

"Hera!"

"I kid! Mostly. Now get those to Zeb."

Sabine narrows her eyes at Hera; it's sometimes hard to tell when the twi'lek is joking.

Hera waves her off and turns towards the ladder to the main storage bay. "Your room is safe, Sabine. Now get."

"It better be," Sabine mutters to herself as she takes her load to Zeb's room.

She kicks at the door lightly to let him know she's coming in, not wanting to startle him.

"Hey, Zeb, I bring gifts," she calls softly after slipping inside the room.

She finds the lasat curled up in a ball under his blankets. His eyes are closed but Sabine can't tell if he's asleep or not; the tips of his ears tremble with the light shivers wracking through his body. Wincing in sympathy, she sets the blankets down on the floor and the tissues on the small desk then grabs the stim. Fever chills were the absolute worst.

"Hera gave me something to give you for any pain you might be in. I'm going to inject it now, okay?" She pauses for a second and administers the shot when he doesn't respond. She gently rubs at his shoulder for a moment, soothing the injection site. "Right. That should help. Now let's get you under more blankets."

–

Sabine sits on the edge of the bed after settling the three blankets over the top of Zeb. He's curled with his back to her, head facing away from the desk lamp; his shivering has already subsided at least. She's unsure if it's because of the blankets or the stim.

Unbidden, a memory comes to her then of a time when she had come down with a fever. She must have been very young, as her mother was there, talking softly as she gently ran her hand through her daughter's hair and over her forehead. She remembers how soothing the gesture had been, how comforting.

She only has to think about it for a second before she's shifting into a more comfortable position. Gently, she places her hand on Zeb's head and draws it over the short fur there. She repeats the motion a few times, slow and careful, then strokes at one of his long ears. She idly supposes that might be a weird thing to do but then Zeb sighs contentedly and tilts his head back against her hand.

"Feels good," he mumbles, words slurring together slightly.

"Yeah? You finally feeling warm again?"

Zeb nods.

They sit in silence for a moment, Sabine continuing the soothing petting motions, before Zeb quietly speaks up.

"Thank you. For not pesterin' or fussin'. I hate being sick. Makes me feel…." He trails off and Sabine easily fills in the blank, already knowing the answer.

"Weak?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "I can't even see straight right now, let alone walk or fight or nothin'. 'm like a defenseless kit again."

Sabine stays quiet, letting Zeb say what he needs to. He's usually a little more withdrawn, a bit unlikely to share anything overly personal with the rest of them. Kind of like her. She thinks back to the Darksaber lessons with Kanan. Sometimes all that's needed to open up is a moment of vulnerability.

Zeb eventually continues, much like she thought he would. His voice is slow and rough as he says, "The warmth and the pettin' also remind me of being a kit...but not in a bad way. Reminds me o' my sister and brothers. We used ta curl up together in our parents bed for naps when it was especially cold outsi'..."

He doesn't say anything else, his words drifting off into a gravely purring sound. Sabine smiles and leans her head back against the wall. Not knowing whether he's asleep or not, she decides to share a memory with him, too.

"I also hate being sick...but I remember my mother making me this amazing soup every time I was unwell. It was spicy enough to drain your sinuses instantly, almost before you even got the spoon in your mouth." She chuckles quietly, then stops as a thought occurs to her: She can now make that soup and feel that comforting nostalgia when she eats it rather than the hollow pain and grief she had felt before reconciling with her family; Zeb would probably always feel his own aching loss as there is no way he could ever get his siblings back.

There's a growing ache in her chest and it almost makes her stop stroking his head but she doesn't. Instead she says, "Maybe I could make that soup the next time someone gets sick if I can get someone to send me a bit of the spices?" She doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but it does. She's afraid of inadvertently causing him pain.

But Zeb just grunts and mumbles a, "Tha'd be nice," before promptly letting out a rather loud snore.

Sabine huffs out a laugh. Taking that as her cue to leave, she pats his shoulder once and turns off the lamp. At the door, she turns back towards Zeb's sleeping form and says, "Jate ca, ori'vod," and leaves him to sleep off his illness.