A/N: Trying something different (i.e.: writing about something other than Kanera). This deals a little with mental health, I guess, if you squint. Forgive me if I didn't handle it quite right.

A Long Night

Nothing made Sabine angrier than waking up in the middle of the night. She was a light sleeper to begin with and if anything, anything woke her up, it was next to impossible for her to go back to sleep. She wasn't sure what woke her this time—maybe a noise from out in the hall—but it was zero four thirty, and she was irreversibly awake. For a few minutes, she sat cross-legged on her bunk, staring at the wall resentfully. Then she decided she could do that anywhere on the ship; might as well do it in the galley with some caf. She stood and stretched. There was a brief internal debate about putting on different clothes. All she had on was a pair of cropped leggings and a longline athletic bra, leaving her midsection exposed for several inches. She knew Hera would have a stroke to see her walking around like that, but even the Twi'lek wouldn't be up for a couple hours yet. Zeb was away on a mission with Rex, and Ezra was in the command center pulling his last watch duty for the week. If she happened to run into him on his way back to bed and see his face go red and splotchy when he noticed her bare skin, well then, so much the better. That would make for about thirty seconds of fun, and it would be the only consolation for being up at this unholy hour.

She was still rubbing sleep from her eyes when she left her cabin and turned toward the galley. It was a combination of inattention and her hand in her face which caused her to knock into Kanan. Falling was inevitable and the best she could do was try and control their descent to the floor.

"Sith spit!" She swore, grabbing his arm. She lowered him to the floor and then plopped down beside him ungracefully. "I am so sorry," she said. "I didn't expect anyone else to be—Kanan?" She broke off abruptly as she looked at him. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. His breaths were shallow and rapid, hands shaking as he lifted them to cover his eyes. And that was the worst part: his eyes darting back and forth as his brain tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Sabine realized she was witnessing a panic attack, one that had to have started before their collision. She knew exactly what to do; she'd been through this before.

"Hey," she murmured in a low voice. "Kanan, it's Sabine. I'd like to sit with you for a while, if that's alright."

He nodded jerkily.

"I'm gonna take your hand, okay?" He nodded again and she pulled one hand away from his face, clasping it firmly. "I'm moving closer now, and we're going to sit against the wall." She shifted so that their legs were touching from hip to knee and they were sitting with their backs firmly against the wall. "Now," she said, holding their joined hands against her upper chest, "breathe."

She inhaled deeply through her nose and then released the air in a slow stream through parted lips. About the third time, Kanan started doing it, too, and about the eighth time, she could feel his trembling start to subside and his breaths start to come easier. "You're okay," she said. "You're safe. We're okay."

"Okay."

"Okay." She paused. "Do you know where you are?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

Sabine felt a modicum of horror at that, but she kept her voice even and unwavering. "You're on the Ghost," she explained.

"I know that," he snapped. He ran a hand through his hair and she noticed he was shaking again. "I just don't—I don't know where in particular—"

Oh. "You got disoriented."

"I've been living on this ship for a decade. Disoriented," he repeated flatly. He was starting to come back to himself and his voice was tinged with sarcasm. "That's a really nice way of saying I got so lost I couldn't tell which way was up."

"It's only been a week, Kanan," she said quietly. She looked at his eyes, once so sharp and focused, and her stomach knotted. Kanan's blind, Hera had said simply. It's permanent.

"I don't want to talk about it."

That's going to make it worse, but okay. "Okay."

"What time is it?"

"Almost zero five."

"Why are we up?"

Sabine sighed. "Me, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I was headed to make some caf. You?"

He didn't answer her. "Caf sounds good."

She pushed up out of the floor, still holding his hand. He followed suit and stood slowly, tightening his grip on her hand and groping the wall with his other as he tried to get his bearings. He drew himself up and let go of the wall, and then he started to wobble. "Sabine," he gasped, panicked.

It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up to hear him sound so broken, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Her brain had already decided to act, and her body was in motion.

"I'm right here, Kanan." Her voice was firm, and he anchored to it.

"Where?"

She stepped in front of him, bracing her back on the wall and her hands on his shoulders. "Here. Find my hands, Kanan." He felt along her forearms until his hands were touching hers. "Good. I'm going to turn you around, okay? We're going to take about four steps, starting on your right."

She nudged his foot with hers and they walked in a small circle so that he, then, was the one with his back against the wall. "I'm letting go," she said, and she released his hands, guiding them to his sides. "Your back is on the aft wall. My room is just a few feet to your left. What's in front of us?"

He blinked, processing. "My room."

"Yes."

"I know where I am."

"Good. Is the dizziness getting better?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Sabine exhaled, relieved. "When you're ready, we can go to the galley for that caf."

"Not yet," he said quickly. "I need—I need everything to stay still for a minute."

"Okay."

They stood on the wall for a while. Maybe five minutes, maybe twenty-five; Sabine couldn't really tell. She'd stand there the rest of the night if that was what it took for him to be okay enough to walk on his own. She listened to him breathe deeply, calming himself down, which reminded her to do the same. When Ezra and Kanan had come back from Malachor—sans Ahsoka—it had been obvious there was a lot of damage done, physically and mentally. But she hadn't realized until now just how deep the damage was. Kanan had seemed so…composed. Withdrawn, maybe, but trying to take everything in stride. Or so she'd thought.

"You're worried about me," he said suddenly, breaking their long silence.

"Not—I mean—well—" she faltered, trying to find the right thing to say. It didn't exist. "Yeah."

He stiffened. Sabine knew Kanan couldn't see her, but he actively avoided turning his face in her direction just the same. "I'm sorry you had to see all…that."

"Listen." Her voice was hard, which surprised even herself. "Don't apologize, okay? That's—don't apologize. You were having a panic attack, Kanan," she said plaintively. He winced at the words. She took his hand again. "I know what that feels like—it's ugly and it sucks. Don't apologize."

His brows drew together questioningly. "You—this kind of thing—"

"I was pretty messed up after the academy," she admitted reluctantly. It still made her want to shriek just thinking about what she'd done, the weapon she'd designed. "But it got better." She paused, reflecting. "It got a lot better."

"That…explains so much about the day we met you. You're not that trigger-happy kid anymore." His tone was almost wry and Sabine couldn't help but smile.

"And to think you once told Hera you were afraid I'd never mellow out."

His expression cratered. "Hera." His hands tightened into fists at his sides. "Don't say anything to her."

"I won't."

A pause. "You're lying."

"Through my teeth," Sabine said with a nod. "But I'll wait to talk to after she's had her first two cups of caf."

He nodded and didn't argue. He was silent for a long while. What he was thinking, Sabine could only guess. It made her distinctly uncomfortable that he wanted to keep the panic attack from Hera. She was his anchor, Sabine knew, and if he was beginning to withdraw from even her, that was a problem. The last place Kanan needed to be was stuck in his own head. Yet Sabine knew from her own experience that's exactly where he'd end up. She just hoped he'd find his way back.

"What are you guys up to?" At the sound of Ezra's voice, Sabine looked up sharply. She cursed herself for noticing he'd come back. He was standing at the end of the hallway, looking at her and Kanan like they were a little bit crazy. Maybe they were.

"Hanging out," she said.

His eyes, blood-shot and drooping, shifted ever so slightly to Kanan. "At zero five?"

"Trouble sleeping," he mumbled.

Ezra shuffled his weight uncomfortably. "Oh." Then he brightened. "Well, I've been trying to work on that meditation technique Ahsoka showed me. If you want, we could do it together."

Sabine held her breath. Please say yes.

Kanan hesitated. "Not…not right now. You need to rest, Ezra."

"Right." He looked profoundly disappointed for a flicker of a second. Then he quickly rearranged his expression, nodding. "No, yeah. I should probably go to bed, anyway. Third watch has really been kicking my butt." He smiled half-heartedly at Sabine as he ducked into his cabin. "'Night, you guys."

"'Night," Sabine returned with a small smile of her own.

Kanan cleared his throat. "I think I'll go back to bed, too."

Go talk to Ezra. "Need me to walk you?"

"No," he said. He took a tentative step forward. "I've got it." He reached a hand forward, stepping carefully until he came in contact with his door. "Thank you, Sabine."

"Good night, Kanan." Her reply was simple, because she knew he wouldn't want to acknowledge it any more than they already had. She went to the galley to finally fix herself a cup of caf, and she sat alone at the table, her ears ringing in the silence as she processed everything that had happened. She held her cup firmly in her hands, and the heat from the ceramic burned her palms. But it quieted the buzzing in her mind, so she didn't move. She was still sitting like that when Hera came in for breakfast about an hour later.

"You look awful," the Twi'lek said, concerned. She looked tired, too, and a little sad. There was no way she hadn't heard all the commotion in the hallway. None at all; she was as light a sleeper as Sabine, if not more so. But Sabine shook her head, not ready to divulge. She'd told Kanan she'd wait, after all.

"I didn't sleep well," she hedged. "Had a long night." She thought of Kanan and Ezra and how they were most definitely not okay, and how that wasn't likely to change any too soon. "A very long night."