A/N - This is the third part of a series, the first one being 'In One Piece' and the second being 'The Last Of The Light'. There;s no requirement to read either of those first, as long as you're aware that Ezra's eyes were hurt at Malachor and he's just finally come to accept that the medic might have been right when they told him it wasn't going to get better.

Moving Forward

Sabine froze two steps into the lounge. Ezra was seated at the holotable, so still and silent that she hadn't even noticed him there. He was leaning forward slightly, arms resting on the table, and there was something in his hand. As she watched, he turned the hand over, hiding whatever it was from view. His eyes searched left to right and back again, as though looking for something. Looking for her, she supposed. He knew she was there. Or rather, he knew that someone was there. Whether or not he knew who that someone was, she wasn't certain.

She knew she should say something, but for a moment she found herself standing, watching him. He turned his head, aiming an ear in her direction, listening. His expression appeared curious, but not concerned. He knew he was safe there.

He was sitting in exactly the same place that he had been two days earlier, when he had laughed at her efforts to describe a painting that she was thinking about doing.

"Hey, Sabine? You know how some people can paint a picture with words? Yeah, you can't do that. Maybe you should stick to actual paints."

She had punched him in the arm, while trying not to cry. Just like with Kanan, words were all she had to give him. Whether he believed it or not, she didn't think he was ever going to see the actual painting if she did it, so if she couldn't find a good way to describe it, what was the point?

Ezra hadn't picked up on that, and had laughed even harder, proud of himself for getting to her.

He wasn't laughing now. Hera had told her that morning, a quick, whispered warning, that Ezra had finally decided to accept the truth. He had decided it was time to believe the medics. He was no longer holding on to that last hope that he would be able to see again.

So no, he wasn't laughing. He looked as though he was carrying a heavy weight, he looked tired, like he hadn't slept in a week, and he was looking increasingly nervous about the other, unidentified person in the room.

She forced herself to exhale, releasing the breath she had been holding. "Relax," she said. "It's just me."

She watched embarrassment flicker quickly across his face before he smoothed it away and forced a grin. It didn't look real. It didn't reach his…

"Hey Sabine," he said. He pushed his hair off his face with a hand. "Long, uh…" the grin grew a little wider, a little more desperate. "Long time no see."

Still with the jokes. Yesterday, she would have rolled her eyes at that, and played along with the fallacy that he was on the road to recovery, that although he couldn't see very well right now, in another week, or a month, he would be healed up. She had no idea how she was supposed to react now.

"Hilarious," she deadpanned, but she knew she had hesitated too long.

Ezra shrugged and turned his face away. "I work with what I've got. Hera told you, then," he said. It wasn't a question, it was the only possible conclusion he could have drawn. She was still tempted to play dumb, maybe give him the chance to pretend for a few more hours. She decided against it; there was a good chance that instead of pretending, Ezra would tell her for himself. From what Hera said, it hadn't been an easy thing for him to do, she didn't want to be responsible for putting him through it again.

"She might have mentioned something," she said.

He adjusted his grip on the thing he had in his hands, turning it over, fidgeting with it, feeling the hard edges and the corners of the thing with his fingertips. He didn't look down, he didn't even pretend to be looking at what he was doing.

His moving fingers caught her eye and she found herself watching. The object, whatever it was, looked familiar. She took a step closer to see, then almost recoiled in horror. It was the holodisk she had given him for his birthday a few years back, the one she had found in his childhood home on Lothal.

The one containing the picture of his parents.

She felt her breath catch in her throat.

He heard it. She saw him frown, turn his head to one side as though listening out for something. His hands, still holding the disk, stilled. She saw now that he wasn't only fidgeting with it, his fingers caressed it in an almost reverential way.

She forced herself to breathe, and took another step forward. He was okay; he was going to be okay. He had the Force. Kanan, in those rare moments when he ventured out of his room, had spoken of Jedi of the past that had been able to use the Force to compensate for the loss of a sense. He didn't know how they had done it, but he knew that it was possible. He was going to work it out. Either he would develop a technique and teach Ezra, or they would work together to figure things out. Either way, they were both going to be okay.

But even if that was true, Ezra was never going to see that picture again. Yesterday, he had still believed that there was a chance, today the possibility was gone. She couldn't even begin to wrap her head around what that must feel like.

She remembered giving him the disk. It was probably the first birthday gift he'd had in years, and he had treasured it, she knew he had. And now it had been taken from him. He was holding it in his hands, but it had been taken from him just as surely as if it had been crushed underfoot or the disk had been wiped.

He turned the disk carefully in his hands one more time before appearing to notice what he was doing. He stopped, covered it with his hand, and when he moved, it had disappeared. A trick, a sleight of hand. A byproduct of his pickpocketing days. It didn't appear to be any attempt at showmanship, just something he did without thinking.

He sighed. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She frowned. Of course she was okay.

He was 'looking' in her direction, his eyes searching left and right as though trying to find her through darkness, or thick fog. As though if he just kept looking hard enough, eventually he would find her. She glanced away, unable to bring herself to watch.

Maybe it would be easier to see him if he covered his eyes, like Kanan. But what would be easier for her was irrelevant. If he could still see something, it would be stupid and selfish to expect him to give that up. She would get used to it, eventually. It was nothing compared to what he was adjusting to.

"Sabine?" he said, sounding concerned now. "Don't try to pretend you've gone, I'm good enough with the Force to know that's not true."

She hadn't answered him. She had been so concerned with her own spiraling thoughts that she had forgotten. "I'm not gone," she assured him.

"Good. So, are you okay?"

She nodded, then felt ridiculous. "Me?" she said. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Are you?"

"Apart from the whole 'can't see' thing," he shrugged and grinned like he had made the funniest joke. "But I'll get over that eventually."

He sounded too damn normal. Yes, he had had time to get used to it already. It wasn't like this had all just happened; those months he had been insisting he was going to get better, he had to have at least suspected that wasn't true. He had to have been preparing himself for the eventuality. Still, it didn't feel right. He was still pretending.

"Well," he clarified, "No, I guess I won't get over it, that's the point, right? But I'll get used to it."

The tone of his voice belied his smile and she felt something deep inside her clench tightly. She slipped into the seat opposite him at the table, wrapped her arms around her own body and squeezed. "Yeah," she agreed. He probably would, and Kanan probably would; she wouldn't. She was never going to be okay with this, it was impossible.

She realized now that she had been lying to herself right alongside Ezra. Or if not actually lying to herself, then still holding on to hope, still refusing to give up on that last glimmer, the possibility that somehow, he was right and the medics were wrong. And now Ezra himself had dashed that hope.

Maybe it was for the best; if Ezra wanted to move forward, he needed to be able to accept what had happened instead of waiting for a recovery that wasn't coming. But, would he move forward? Kanan hadn't. As far as she knew, the only place he had moved recently was from his bed to the 'fresher and back. And yes, he was still recovering from the injury and he might still be in some pain, but she hadn't seen any improvement in his state of mind as he had started to heal.

Ezra might have been lying to himself, but at least he had been functioning. At least he had been getting out of bed, talking to people, even cracking jokes at his own expense. She didn't know whether that was going to continue now, she didn't see how it could.

She rested her elbows on the table. "Did you talk to Kanan yet?" she asked.

He frowned, then scoffed. "Kanan talks?"

"I'm sure he would. If you tried. About this."

Ezra looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "What's the point?" he said. "It's not like he's got any answers, is it?"

There was nothing she could say to that, he was right, and while once, Kanan would have at least been able to offer some words of encouragement, she didn't want Ezra to start taking cues from him now.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Ezra slid out of the seat and got to his feet. "I'm going to go," he said, offering no explanation as to where, or why.

She didn't ask. "Okay," she told him.

He hesitated. He didn't move around in front of people often. He did move around, she knew that because she had found him all over the ship, and even around the base on occasion, but once he was in a place, he tended to stay there until he was alone. Pride, she supposed. Not wanting people to see him struggle, or maybe not wanting them to offer to help.

She swallowed, and resisted the urge to follow him to his feet. He took a halting step to his left before finding the wall with a hand and walking slowly in the direction of the door. Sabine watched him go. She didn't want to watch him, but she couldn't stop herself.

When the door closed behind him, she turned back around. In the centre of the table something caught her eye. The holodisk was still there, laying flat on the surface.

Carefully, she reached out and picked it up. She glanced back at the door, then to the object in her hands. He hadn't left it by accident, she was sure of that.

She got to her feet, holding the casing gingerly, as though it might break. Maybe he wouldn't be able to see it again, that didn't mean it should be discarded, and she didn't think that had been Ezra's intention. She knew just where she could keep it for him, until he wanted it back.