Soooo this one was a little long in coming. I blame school. I don't own Star Wars or Disney!

"Ezra, hold still."

"'Kay"

"Now turn, juuuuust a little….more….more…there!"

"So…."

"So?"

"Do you think they're cool?"

"I think they make you look like a half-whiskered tooka."

"…."

"…."

"Zeb told you to say that, didn't he?"

"Maaaaaaybe." The answer was emitted in a higher pitch, a sing-song quality to its tone, as Sabine sketched her younger crew mate. The face he made at the reply was adorable, but it was also messing up her sketch, so the artist held back a laugh and squelched his cheeks back in place- making sure not to touch the initial subject of her piece. Though Ezra had gotten in trouble with Hera for losing the synthskin placed over the scars, he had quickly removed the replacement when Sabine had asked him to model them for her. She had poked fun at him for it, and he had returned to usual spiel of flirting, but both teens knew they were past that stage. There were crew mates, partners in crime, and Sabine had to admit Ezra had quickly become like a brother to her.

She hadn't wanted to draw them at first. When team B had noticed them for the first time, she had been shocked. When he had told them how he had got them, she had been horrified. But they were a part of him now- it's not like the marks could be scrubbed away by an eraser or water- it was high time she relearned how to draw Ezra Bridger.

Humming a small tune as sweeping motions outlined the scars, Sabine considered what they meant- did it mean that Ezra was on a path to be a great warrior? Or did it mean that he just got away really kriffin' lucky? Could he get away again? Slowly, as Ezra rambled on and her hands moved of their own accord, there came to be two force-users on the page. With a sniff, the Mando held up the sketchbook, reconciling it with the second subject- one Kanan Jarrus- who was currently playing Chopper in holochess. It was amusing, to see him so serious- everyone knew Chopper cheated anyway.

The Kanan on her paper was cocky, half smile on his lips as uncolored eyes glanced towards the equally confident Ezra in the foreground. Both had sabers out, crouched in stances that screamed- 'come at me!' Another look between real Kanan and his 2D counterpart- would they ever see that Kanan again? This time, Sabine tapped out another tune on her thigh as she considered what mediums to color the sketch with. Airbrush? Color sticks? She had once made this really cool picture with oil stains from various leaks about the Ghost. It had turned out looking ancient, a real masterpiece- only, Hera didn't much appreciate the way her ship had provided for the teen's art. A small smile lit her face at the memory, before disappearing in concentration- this piece, she decided, would look best in black and white. Though she wants to focus, there's one question that's bugging her.

"What did it feel like?" Ezra stops his ramblings to look at her.

"Huh?" Sabine's eyes don't leave the paper she's shading with graphite.

"What did it feel like? To get hit by a lightsaber." She can't see his face, but from his tone, she knows he's sheepish.

" T' be honest, I don't really remember… I just know that it hurt." A smirk, as she gently uses a thumb to smooth soft lines into shadows. There's something still missing from the picture, however , even as every hair is in place, noses perfect, posture realistic , sabers accurate.

An invasive groan sounds from across the room, and both teens turn worriedly to see Kanan hunched over the holotable, head in his hands. Ezra starts, but the split second Kanan flicks his eyes towards her, he remains seated. The senior force user gives a tight smile and shambles out of the room. Both teens look at each other, and Sabine can tell- Ezra wants to, needs to go. She rolls her eyes dismissively- I don't care.

But even as he takes off, she does. Do they really think they can keep her in the dark forever? That nightmares are something she needs to be protected from? The utterly fake expression that everything's okay sets her on edge- she's had parents before, she knows what that look means. And Sabine finds herself still holding onto a small piece of jealousy- why is Ezra privy to all the-!

It comes to her in a flash, the missing presence in her piece. Working quickly, a diligent hand sketches out the connection, an electric line between the two figures. She colors it a blue-tinged white, and fills in soulful eyes with the respective hues. She holds it up satisfied with the answer to her mystery- the Force. The Force is what bound Ezra to Kanan, allows Ezra to provide him comfort and understanding. The Force was something she didn't have- she wasn't sure she had faith in it either- and since she didn't have it, how could she hope to be let in? How could she ever find words to say, I'm here, without being pushed away?

The question weighs on her all afternoon, making her quiet. Nobody questions why the usually outspoken specialist sat there in the common room, eyebrows furrowed- they're all used to a period of time when Sabine wants to plan out something just perfect. And she is planning. How to speak without speaking? Very simple. How to make sure an exact message comes across? Somewhat complicated. So complicated, it doesn't come to her 'til the evening hours fall and she's half asleep.

There's a sudden jolt as she realizes, and in the next minute, she has her finest paper brought out, her most precise pencils, her purest color sticks. And she draws. She draws for hours, letting her artistic hopeful mind get the best of her. It's not a very big piece- it doesn't need to be- but it has all of them, confident, smiling. Zeb's in the background with a longer beard, a formal bo-rifle at his side. Ezra is taller- no beard, she decides- and in newer clothes, lightsaber in the open. She's still the same, helmet fitted over her head and new sections of armor to flaunt, leaning on Chopper, who's still grumpy and cantankerous as ever. The real heart, however, is the joint hands of Hera and Kanan, looking into each other's eyes instead of the viewer's direction. It's a small gesture that Sabine wishes she saw more often- it's painstakingly obvious how much they care for each other. How much the two of them want nothing but the best for their other half- yeah, it was that bad. And it was nearly hair-pulling, teeth-grindingly frustrating that they couldn't have the time to indulge themselves. But they did have an empire to defeat- a task that seemed nearly impossible, even if there were other rebel cells.

Here, in the space that her hands created, there was no Empire- it was long gone. Here the crew could be themselves without having to worry about whether there was work to feed them, or if they had to go into hiding. And it was a euphoric moment when the finishing touch had been placed- simple golden rings upon interwoven fingers. A luxury that surely- surely- they would be able to have once the Empire was dead. A glance at her clock told Sabine that most of the night had flew from under her- with tired eyes, she inspected the piece once more before slipping out of her hideaway.

She winced as the doors to Kanan's cabin hissed, sounding her presence. Stealthily, not wanting to wake him- although, he could be up already- she laid her picture, her message, gingerly upon his desk. Bones stiffened at a light snore, before moving again to whip out a pencil and write a title for the image. The Future- in the bottom left corner, simple, clear, and full of hope. Then, with light feet, Sabine fled to grab some sleep.

The next morning was not unlike the others- Hera was at the helm, and Specters 4 and 6 were harassing each other as always. The Mandalorian herself was on her chair in the bridge of the Ghost, humming again a tune with which to sketch out her thoughts. Although, her thoughts kept on roaming to last night- did he see it? The anticipation was eating at her- she could see the sidelong glances Hera kept on tossing towards her, and towards the door. It was unlikely for their leader to sleep for so long, but the past few days…. The bridge doors opened with a whoosh, and familiar boots stepped in.

The look on Hera's face was enough to tell Sabine that it was Kanan- only Kanan could bring that brilliant expression about. As he stepped past her chair and started speaking to the pilot, a smile slid across her face, glad to see he was a little bit better than yesterday. But did he see it? With a small grumble to herself, Sabine squashed the anxious feeling down. It didn't matter if he saw it this morning or not. She did her best and it would attract his attention sooner or later. Graphite struck itself furiously across the page- so distracted was her mind that she didn't notice the quiet conversation had ended.

But she did notice when a faint feeling of gratitude- not her own- brushed up softly against her jumbled thoughts. A hand lit upon her shoulder, and with mild surprise Sabine found herself facing Kanan- not happy, persay, but definitely better. What came next was softer than the foreign touch beside her mind.

"Beautiful as always, Sabine."

And then he left, probably to go stop Zeb and Ezra from turning Chopper into scrap metal. The tune she hummed became a bit brighter though. Full of hope for the future, both immediate and long in coming.

That's why she prided herself on being an artist- the ability to spread her hope.

And that's Sabine! She was a little harder to write for this time around, but I think my own experience as a artist helped a bit. Kinda wanna draw out those two pictures I described myself! After this it's Ezra and and then one final scene before completion. And I'll be moving on to a new story. Or two. I've got so many things running in my brain it's not even funny...

P.s. Okay, okay, Zare likely isn't in Star Wars VII, you guys and my own brother set me straight. Doesn't mean Dhara couldn't end up being an Inquisitorius apprentice in the show's timespan (myyy heeeaaaart wiiiillll breeeeeeaaaaake!) Thanks for all the reviews!- CC