(A/N)- This idea had been kicking around in my brain for a while but when I saw Whumptober 2019 had "Laced Drink" as one of the prompts I basically went, "Okay, well, you pretty much HAVE to do it now."

This is a dark one, so heed the warnings. I am not even kidding.

Sabezra-ish, but can also be read as platonic, as is typical for how I've been writing them. (I mostly just wanted to write some violently protective worried Sabine again, I'm an addict.)

Trigger warning for non-consensual drugging and an attempted date rape (unsuccessful).

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Star Wars. Apparently I need to though, given the dumpster fire Rise of Skywalker looks like it's shaping up to be.

Mal Nocturne

The laser light display on the ceiling was giving her a headache. Sabine shifted her balance to the other foot, leaning up against the pillar and rubbing her forehead and temples.

She scanned the crowd—again—for their contact. Hondo had told them to watch out for a Chagrian with a jagged scar down his right eye—"Or possibly it was his left."—and while she'd seen several since she and Ezra had arrived and set up their cover stories—too many honestly, for her preference—none matched the description given.

Of course, given Hondo, their description could be wrong entirely.

And in any case she could barely see anything in this blasted psychedelic lighting.

Sabine huffed, brushing a purple-tinged bang out of her eyes. Her hands itched to press the button on her wrist comm but it, along with her beloved WESTAR-35s, had been confiscated at the resort's front door and sealed in a locker behind the desk, as part of a strict "no weapons" rule.

Ezra had already been privy to her hour-long rant to the desk clerk about it but she really wanted to call Hera and grumble to her too. Hera would have agreed that hanging out overnight at a seedy Outer Rim "luxury estate", catering mostly to the denizens of the criminal underworld, without a blaster by her side was…

Well, uncomfortable at the very least.

Sabine checked the chrono on the wall, squinting through the flashing lights to read it.

Little after one in the morning, she noted. Well, I'm bored.

She straightened up, pushing off the pillar. Her eyes cast about for the familiar orange jacket that belonged to her companion.

Maybe Ezra was having better luck.

She spotted him seated at the bar, a drink by his elbow and… chatting animatedly with a girl.

A very pretty girl, Sabine noticed with some disgruntlement.

What was weirder was that the honey-blonde young human woman—nineteen or twenty if Sabine had to guess, with ice-blue eyes and a comfy-looking red silk scarf wrapped around her neck—was leaned forward in her seat, keenly interested, playing with the ends of her hair and looking at Ezra with an enamored expression.

Sabine's frown deepened.

Okay, maybe that wasn't so weird. Since his growth spurt had hit, Ezra had been attracting a lot more female attention lately. Sabine wasn't entirely sure if she liked it.

In any case, she started making her way over. Whoever she was, Little Miss Pretty was clearly distracting Ezra from their mission. Time to flick some sense back into his hormone-addled brain.

Sabine maneuvered around an Ithorian and squeezed in-between two Theelins having entirely too much drunken fun on the dance floor. Stumbling into the clear, she crossed her arms, reorienting her eyeline towards the bar.

To her surprise, the girl was already moving off, waving goodbye to Ezra as she left her seat. Sabine eyed her suspiciously as she walked past, then continued on to join Ezra at the bar.

"Making new friends I see," she commented lightly.

Ezra was still grinning from whatever he and the girl had been talking about. "Her name's Amaya," he said. "Her father owns some kind of refinery down on the Wharfs. She's on break from university and came home to visit."

"Fascinating," Sabine drolled, eyes flat. She swiveled on her heel and leaned her back against the bar. "Any luck spotting our contact?"

Ezra's good mood dulled in an instant, his shoulders slumping. "None," he said glumly, turning on his stool. He swept up his drink glass with his hand and tossed it back in a long gulp. Finishing, he exhaled and set the glass back down. "I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist," he grumbled.

Sabine shrugged. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time Hondo's pulled a fast one on us." She scanned the crowd again with wary eyes, feeling the empty spots in her hip holsters keenly. "I just wish the repairs on the Ghost were finished so we could go. I hate it here," she said.

A hint of Ezra's boyish grin returned. "I dunno, it's kinda growing on me," he quipped.

Any other time Sabine might have rolled her eyes at the comment, but the unease that had been plaguing her all evening had returned. She glanced towards the door, and the dance floor, trying to pin her feelings on some kind of concrete reason. She looked to Ezra, serious.

"Does… does this place give you any bad vibes at all? Like, through the Force or something?" she asked.

"Not any more than any other underworld slimehole. Why?"

Her face pinched. "I dunno. I just… I don't like not being allowed to have my weapons on me when I'm surrounded by criminal sleezebags." She waved a hand to gesture. "No protection, no means of self-defense… I feel almost… naked," she complained.

Ezra chuckled. "Welcome to how I feel any time I have to leave my lightsaber behind for a mission," he said. Sobering, his blue eyes met hers. "And you're not defenseless, Sabine. Even without a blaster you can still flatten me."

She huffed, her breath tickling her bangs, but felt something warm worming through her heart at the words. "I'd still feel better with at least one thermal detonator on me," she said.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to protect each other then," Ezra replied, that glimmer of earnest resolve and heroic charm shining in his eyes.

Sabine's mouth quirked into a smile. She'd admit it, he could be sweet sometimes.

Dropping her smile she pushed off the bar and sighed. "I don't think he's showing up, Ezra. You want to just call it a night and head back up to the room?" she suggested, thumbing off in the vague direction of the door.

He shoved his stool back, getting to his feet. "Yeah. I think that's a good—"

He stopped. His eyes unfocused and the next second he was suddenly pitching forward.

"Woah, hey!" Sabine exclaimed in alarm, hands darting out and catching him by the arms before he could faceplant into the floor. She carefully tilted him back upright, concern taking over her face. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" Ezra shook his head hard, blinking furiously. His balance wobbled. His chin was drooped and his eyes wandered somewhere around the floor. "Yeah I just… feel really dizzy… all of a sudden…" He gripped her arms to keep himself steady.

Sabine slid a look out the corner of her eye at the empty glass on the counter. "How many of those did you have?" she asked suspiciously.

He struggled to focus through bleary eyes. He couldn't keep his head up.

"Just… just the one…"

Sabine snorted. "Well you're either a ridiculous lightweight—"

She stopped, her eyes caught on something. Grabbing up the vessel carefully, she squinted at the residue left in the bottom of the glass.

There was an odd trace of something milky and white floating in the last few drops.

"—or someone drugged your drink!" she finished in horror, smacking the glass back down on the counter like it was something cursed.

Her head whipped around, searching the crowd with wide eyes, her hands gripping Ezra a fraction tighter. She strained to see through the mass of alien bodies.

A frantic few seconds turned up nothing. No sign of the pretty girl who'd been chatting Ezra up just moments ago. Sabine squinted through the dim blue lighting but Amaya—and her red silk scarf—were nowhere to be found.

The immediate panic faded, but Sabine was almost nauseous now, realizing that—that sicko that had seemed so giggly and interested in Ezra was just pretending, waiting for an opportunity, buttering Ezra up with flattery and compliments to make him lower his guard so she could—

Her teeth ground furiously. Alarms still ringing through her body, she slung Ezra's arm over her shoulder, squeezing his wrist tightly.

"C'mon, let's—let's get up to our room," she whispered urgently.

He was already growing leaden, offering no protest. "Okay…" he replied dully.

Sabine pulled him quickly through the crowd, going straight for the door without stopping.

-SWR-

The filtered yellow-white overheads illuminating the hallway were much easier on her eyes. Sabine guided Ezra from the turbolifts and down the corridor, counting the numbers on the doors as she looked for their room.

"37… 38… 39…" she whispered to herself.

The soft carpet that crunched under their feet muted Ezra's awkward footsteps. The boy was practically hanging off her now, struggling not to become deadweight. His eyelids hung low over his eyes, sleepy, taking long blinks. He mumbled softly under his breath.

"…'m'tired…" Sabine managed to pick out.

She squeezed his wrist reassuringly. "I know, Ez. We're almost there," she promised.

They passed room 42 and Sabine sped up a little, spotting their room a few doors down.

"47!" she announced, breathless. "All right, here we are." She reached across with her free hand, digging in Ezra's right pocket.

She frowned, trying his left.

"Ezra where's your keycard?" she groaned in frustration, checking his jacket pouches and his empty blaster holster too.

He raised his head a bit, his unfocused eyes squinting. "Idon'… um…" His brows wrinkled in concentration.

"Never mind, I've got mine," she dismissed, yanking it out from her belt with some difficulty and stabbing it through the access panel.

The door unlocked and slid open, letting cool air from inside the room hit their faces. Sabine shuffled them inside quickly, smacking the button to close the door behind them.

As the light from the hall cut out, leaving them in the dim silver moonlight, Sabine let out a shuddering breath of relief.

Carefully, she helped Ezra over to the bed, tossing her keycard on the nightstand along the way.

He slid off her almost immediately as soon as his legs bumped the side. Keeping one hand firmly gripped around his forearm, Sabine eased him down. He sank into the pillows and sheets with a soft moan, his eyes fluttering barely a crack.

Biting her lip, her face pinching, Sabine tucked his legs into the bed with the rest of him, then grabbed her small flashlight from her belt and flicked it on. She leaned over Ezra, prying open one of his eyes and shining the light in it.

His pupil was shrunk to a tiny pinpoint and he barely had any reaction to the flashlight searing his eyes. Sabine leaned back, her fingers curling around the flashlight tightly. Force, what was she supposed to do? Did they have anything in the room's small medkit that could help?

She doubted it.

Exhaling, she sat on the bed, setting aside her flashlight and scratching her hands up through her hair. Her worried eyes watched Ezra for a few moments, agonizing, and then she shook herself and took his right hand, reaching for the wrist comm he wore there.

"I need to borrow this a moment, okay?" she said, fumbling with the leather cuff a moment or two before it unstrapped.

His gaze slid over her groggily. "N'kay…" he mumbled.

Sabine rose to her feet, beginning to pace the length of the room as she opened the channel.

"Spectre 5 to Ghost, reporting in."

Kanan answered, his bright, warm voice soothing the edges off her nerves. "Nice to hear from you Spectre 5. You sure took your time."

Sabine let out a nervous laugh, holding the comlink up by the side of her face as she rubbed her head. "Yeah, sorry about that. My comlink got confiscated at the gates for having a pulse generator sitting next to it."

"They took your comlink?" said Hera, her tone already painting a picture in Sabine's mind of the Twi'lek pilot's furrowed brows and critical frown.

"And my blasters, and the grenades, and my detonators," Sabine listed. "They even filched a couple of Ezra's lockpicks."

"Is this a resort or a prison?" she heard Kanan muttering in the background.

"All right, other than that has there been any trouble?" Hera asked.

Sabine's jaw tightened. "If I ever get my hands on that schutta there's going to be," she growled.

"What was that?"

Sabine gave a sigh through her teeth. "Some bitch roofied Ezra," she explained.

"What?!" Hera and Kanan exclaimed almost in tandem.

"Is he all right?" Kanan asked urgently.

"He's safe," she answered quickly, with a quick glance at him. "She didn't get a chance to do anything. We're up in our room." She shook her head. "I dunno what she gave him but he's pretty out of it. Awake and semi-coherent but… not really functional, you know?"

"…heard th't…" came a mutter from the bed.

She heard relieved sighs from the other end.

"Can you guys make it back to the ship?" Kanan's voice held a twinge of worry now.

"Not easily," Sabine answered, grimacing. "They enforce curfew on the grounds in thirty minutes. And I'm not sure Ezra will last that long before passing out."

"All right," Kanan acknowledged in defeat. "Then just stay put for now. Stay with him. We'll pull you out in the morning."

Sabine shuddered, her pacing coming to a stop. "Don't worry, I'm not letting him out of my sight. Spectre 5 out."

She clicked the button, her arm dropping by her side. She tugged on her ear a few more moments before stirring, turning around, returning to the bedside.

She set the wrist comm on the nightstand next to her keycard. By her elbow, Ezra's breathing was shallow, labored, his eyes pinched closed.

His head turned weakly. "'s'hot…" he complained.

Sabine placed a hand on his face and flinched at the heat coming off his skin. "Stars, you're burning up," she whispered, quietly horrified.

She darted around the bed to the window, throwing the curtains open a bit more. Moonlight slanted across the room, giving her a bit more means to see. Sabine quickly crossed the room again to the dresser, grabbing for the lid of the little courtesy ice bucket.

She bit back a curse as the lid revealed a bone-dry empty interior.

"Oh, figures!" she cried, almost throwing the lid back on the dresser.

She tensed her shoulders, her fingers twitching, willing herself to take a long, deep breath and calm down.

She checked the medkit. No fever-reducers.

She turned the cold tap in the refresher as high as it would go. It didn't feel nearly cold enough.

She still wrung the small handcloth out in the sink and placed it across Ezra's forehead anyway.

Ezra frowned, his features squeezing. He reached up weakly, grasping for it and pulling it off once he had hold of a corner.

"Ezra, come on!" Sabine groaned, picking it up from where it had dropped.

"'ches," he said. "t'warm…"

His voice rasped like his throat was dry. Sabine looked reluctantly between the door and the empty ice bucket.

"Really gonna make this difficult for me aren't you?" she asked.

His skin already looked like it was glistening with sweat. If she didn't get him cooling off soon…

She bit her nails, weighing her options. With a wilting glance at Ezra she made her decision.

She grabbed up the ice bucket.

Pausing by the bed to take her keycard, she leaned over him, palm on his cheek, turning his face towards her.

"I'll be right back, I promise," she told him.

"…'kay…" he replied in a whisper.

She gripped the rim of the ice bucket tightly as she rose and crossed towards the door.

The hallway was still quiet and empty as she beelined for the ice station. It was further down than she liked, and she darted anxious looks back over her shoulder at their closed door. Her nerves rattled and buzzed inside her as she stepped into the utility room and held the bucket under the nozzle for the ice dispenser. Reassuring words repeated in her head and only once did she try to lean out and look around the doorframe, making sure the door was still shut and the hall was still quiet.

It's okay… It's okay… she kept telling herself. She didn't do anything. He's okay.

And then as she was standing there she frowned. Her brows furrowed at the trickling ice.

That was… odd, wasn't it? Why hadn't she done anything? She had already been leaving by the time Sabine was making her way over, so it wasn't like seeing the Mandalorian coming had scared her off. And with how quickly the drug took effect, surely she should have wanted to be on hand to shuffle him off somewhere secluded. Why just drug his drink and then leave unless—

Her eyes widened. With a cold flash of horror she remembered Ezra's missing keycard.

Unless she was planning on coming back.

There was hiss! from out in the hallway.

Sabine dropped the bucket, spilling ice all across the floor as she flung herself out of the utility room.

"Hey!" she yelled, pounding towards their room and the flash of red fabric that was disappearing into it.

The door was already closing. Sabine's lungs screeched for air as she willed herself to run faster, sharp jolts passing up through her legs with every step.

She lunged for the opening only for it to close in her face, a horrible-sounding chunk! sounding in the lock.

Her keycard slammed through the access panel, earning a red indicator and an error beep.

"NO!" she screamed, smacking a fist hard on the unyielding door. She practically punched the door as she shouted though it. "You leave him alone! Ezra? Ezra!" she cried, panic making her voice shrill.

Her fingernails pried at the gap, scratching for purchase. She stepped back, desperately looking up and down the hallway for something—a guard, another guest, a heavy potted plant—before kicking the door in frustration.

Why did I leave him?! Kanan said not to leave him! ran through her thoughts in despair.

With a feral snarl, she whirled on her heel, running down the hallway towards the turbolifts and aft staircase.

Hold on Ezra! she prayed as she crashed though the stairwell door, slamming it against the wall.

-SWR-

He turned his head at the sound of the door closing.

"S'bine?"

Ezra's eyes wouldn't focus. It was too dark to see. That whole side of the room was a shadowed blur.

Something came forward, stepping into the moonlight. A figure with soft edges. Blue cascaded down her, a vibrant red line circled thin shoulders, and her hair gleamed… yellow?

Ezra squinted.

That… wasn't right…

Her features dissolved in and out, pulling at something in his memory. Her face was suddenly very close and a heady scent—rich, floral, with just a hint of some kind of tropical fruit—entered his nose, jogging his thoughts, stirring something inside his head.

Ezra's breath hitched. It was suddenly no longer hard to keep his eyes open.

Not Sabine…

He tried to shift away, a fearful squeak sounding from him.

There was finger on his lips, soft and scented, and he heard Amaya's voice, whispering soothingly.

"Shh… Don't worry," she said. A warm smile beamed out from her blurry face. "It'll be over quickly."

Terror strangled his throat as he felt her moving to take off his boots.

-SWR-

The desk clerk's face twinged red, flustered.

"I'm sorry, Miss Yuna," he said, his reedy voice strained. "But as we had previously, extensively, discussed," he continued, referencing Sabine's earlier objections that afternoon, "the no-weapons policy is strictly enforced, especially this late at night close to resort curfew."

"Look, I know what you said, okay?" Sabine fumed, throwing up her hands in stiff gestures. She burned with anger—at herself, for leaving Ezra's side, at the harpy up in their room preying on him, at Hondo for this whole stupid mission, and right now, most especially, for the weaselly bureaucratic stickler behind the counter in front of her. She was going to murder him with her bare hands if he kept stonewalling her like this. "But this is an emergency!"

He rolled several pairs of eyes at her. "It's always an emergency, Miss Yuna," he sighed. "But if I made an exception for you then the other guests—"

She'd had it. She threw herself over the counter, grabbing the clerk by the lapels of his immaculately ironed uniform and yanking him up towards her face, making him give a fearful yelp.

"You listen here you miserable little piece of bantha dung," she growled, her face twisted with absolute fury. "My friend is up in our room being assaulted by one of your guests right now!" Her teeth bared at him as she snarled. "So you're going to unlock that case and give me my weapons or so help me I will reach down your throat, rip out your tongue, and FEED IT TO YOU!"

Her shout echoed loudly across the foyer as she finished.

The clerk timidly reached up to adjust his collar.

"…I'll get the key."

-SWR-

Amaya's hands were ice cold on his burning skin but it brought no cool relief, just frozen splinters of fear that pierced through the murky haze.

The drug made it hard to concentrate, hard to understand what was happening outside of the cloying fear. It was like he was submerged in deep, gloomy, thick water, all sound and sensations muted and far away, happening somewhere out of reach on the surface.

Fabric was sliding off his skin. Ezra squirmed weakly as Amaya slipped his arms out of his sleeves, pulled his head through his collar.

He fell back into the pillow again, limp, leaden, something in his mind screaming at him to move.

A strangled noise escaped his lips. He strained. He thought he felt some movement in his numb arms and then dull, fleshy thuds hit his palms. His tunneled eyes glanced down across his chest and saw himself pushing her, shoving at her disembodied shoulders and hands.

"Nn… no…" he heard his own voice choking out. "D—dn't…"

Her voice floated above him.

"Cute as your begging is," she was saying, "you're resisting a little too much for my liking."

Pale hands reached up towards her neck, unwinding a long string of red. Ezra's fingers curled, scratching at what thought might be her face.

There was a firm pinch as she almost easily caught his right wrist. The red fabric was wrapped around, cinching tightly, and Ezra couldn't breathe, watching the scarf circle his arm like it belonged to someone else.

He heard a whimper. Shadows fell across him and her perfume filled his nose. He pulled away, sinking down, down, into the softness beneath him, barely registering his right wrist pinning over his left, above his head, and the silk looping around them both.

The blackness was constricting his chest, filling his head. Everything was far away. So far away…

He couldn't… think…

-SWR-

Amaya threaded her scarf around one of the slats at the head of the bed and yanked down, pulling the binds tight. She tied a knot, anchoring Ezra's wrists in place, and sat back with a look of satisfaction.

"There," she said, brightly. "That's better."

His fingers clenched and he was shaking, staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, pulling weakly at the fabric around his wrists. Amaya reached up, brushing her fingers against his hairline and he flinched, shuddering, a terrified gasp-like noise filtering out his mouth.

A comlink line clicked open suddenly from her side. A man's voice, strained and panicky, called out.

"Spectre 5?! Come in Spectre 5! What's happening? Spectre 6! Ezra!"

Her face soured. "Ugh." She reached over towards the nightstand. "Scrab off, killjoy," she grumbled, and firmly punched the button to close the open channel and turn off the device.

Ezra had turned towards the voice when he'd heard it, some confused and desperate expression on his face. Amaya turned his face back towards her, a hand under his chin, leaning in close.

"Now where were we?" she asked huskily.

-SWR-

Once again she didn't bother with the turbolifts, hammering up the stairs in a violent rush. Adrenaline streaked through her, giving speed and strength to every movement, and she let it carry her up, up, up, her feet smacking on the stone floor. She barely saw the stairwell passing by, her mind's eye flooded with hateful images of that girl locked in the room with Ezra, touching him, hurting him.

At their floor she yanked open the stairwell door, rushing through and thundering down the hallway.

Red heat crowded around her head, licking at the corners of her vision.

Both blasters were already out and she was firing at the door controls. One shot, two shots, missed, missed.

The third shot found its mark, exploding the panel with a small pop of white sparks. The door slid open. Sabine screeched to a stop as she swung around the frame into the room and all her eyes registered was Amaya straddling him, her lips on his, breaking off as her head pulled up, the flash of a wide-eyed startled expression.

She let loose with a hideous banshee screech, squeezing the trigger of her blaster.

The bolt hit Amaya square in the chest—Sabine didn't register whether it was a stun shot or not and she didn't care—and she toppled headlong off the other side of the bed with a scream.

She didn't reappear.

For several seconds, Sabine panted, hearing only the rushing roar of the blood in her ears.

Slowly, her adrenaline rush began to subside.

The anger left her. She buckled as if cut from a string, her fumbling hands sticking her blasters in their holsters shakily, and then flung herself towards the bed.

"Ezra!" she cried, her voice choking with relief and hysteria.

He jerked with a violent startle when her hands found his face. "'Bine?!" he blurted, his constricted blue eyes straining, trying to focus on her.

He looked so terrified she wanted to cry.

"Shh, shh," she whispered. "It's okay, it's me." She unwrapped the knot in Amaya's scarf, quickly loosening it and untangling Ezra's wrists before pulling him upright into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "It's me, I promise. It's okay. It's okay. You're okay," she repeated, breathlessly, pressing her face against the side of his head. His feverish bare skin was hot against her chest but she didn't care. "You're okay. She didn't do anything. You're okay."

She didn't know how much he was comprehending, but he sagged in her arms, tension disappearing from his muscles.

"'Bine…" he strained, his voice quivering with relief. His face slipped down to bury in her shoulder and she didn't comment on the wet trails that soaked into her shirt. "'Bine…" came his muffled sob.

She furiously blinked back hot tears herself, squeezing him harder, as she heard the estate guards finally making it to the doorway and filing into the room.

-SWR-

"What kind of establishment are you running here?!" Hera yelled at the increasingly contrite desk clerk, who was practically cowering behind his desk, hands raised to mollify the Twi'lek's fury.

"Yes yes, we are so very sorry that Miss Yuna and Mister Taachi's stay here was so unpleasant—" he was trying to say.

"Unpleasant?!" Hera bellowed, shaking a fist. "I'll show you unpleasant you spineless little glorka worm!"

Sabine wished she could take some kind of mean satisfaction from Hera's thorough dressing-down of the resort staff but all she could do was stand there, holding her arms numbly, staring off across the foyer with blank eyes.

Hera's rant was noise in her unhearing ears, her mind far away. It was only when Hera began personally threatening the desk clerk with bodily harm that she stirred, walking up and catching the pilot by the arm, gently drawing her away.

"All right Hera, he got enough of that from me last night," she said. "Let's leave him alone for now."

Hera huffed through her flaring nostrils, but jabbed a last warning finger at the desk clerk, spinning around and storming towards the door.

Sabine followed behind her quietly, shadowing her wake all the way back to the launchpad at the hanger where the Ghost was docked.

Kanan met them at the foot of the ramp.

"I checked in with the med center," he told them. "The girl's stable."

"How unfortunate," Sabine said flatly, eyes narrow.

"They've called her father. He wasn't too happy to hear about her condition. Or what she was up to last night."

Hera crossed her arms, leaning back on one leg. "Think he'll cause any trouble for us?" she plied him.

"Hard to say," Kanan admitted. "He didn't seem very shocked to hear about what she did—or tried to do—but he wasn't exactly rushing to apologize either." He sighed heavily. "I think he was just blustering, but he threatened to press charges."

"For what?!" Hera exclaimed, scandalized. "His brat is the one who almost—"

"Forget it, Hera. Not like there's anyone on this rock he can go to for it," Sabine interrupted bitterly. The low-to-nonexistent Imperial presence on the planet meant that there wouldn't be Stormtroopers snooping around to investigate the disturbance… but it also meant there weren't any authorities they could report it to. No one to haul the girl off to prison where she belonged. No one to arrest her.

They had to be content with the estate's promise to permaban Amaya from the premises and whatever scolding the girl's father might dish out.

Sabine steamed at the unfairness of it all, simmering in indignant anger.

Putting those feelings aside for the moment, her eyes and voice softened.

"How is he?" she asked.

Kanan thought for a moment, his mind almost visibly putting words together behind his mask. "Shaken," he finally said, "but… I think he'll be okay."

"Can I talk to him?" Sabine asked, her fingers curling together timidly in front of her. Kanan had been with Ezra all morning, shut up together in his room, and Sabine had wanted so badly to know what was happening, but didn't dare knock or even approach the door.

Kanan nodded, stepping aside for her. "Go ahead."

Sabine took the invitation gratefully, running up the ramp and quickly climbing the ladder to the cockpit, where she found Zeb and Chopper.

Zeb was still in holoconference with Hondo, who had been uncharacteristically sober when they had commed in to chew him out, asking simply if Ezra was okay.

"And you are sure you do not need me to hire an assassin to finish the job?" the pirate was saying.

"Tempting as that offer is," Zeb grunted, paying Sabine a brief glance as she emerged, "I think we'd rather just get off this rock as fast as possible."

"Of course, of course," Hondo acknowledged. "Still it would be very easy to make it look like an accident."

Sabine smiled privately as she left the cockpit. Her footsteps slowed as she approached the door to Zeb and Ezra's room. She stared at the cold gray metal for a moment.

She raised a hand to knock, then hesitated.

"It's open," came his voice, calling from inside the room.

Sabine dropped her arm. Steeled herself with a long inhale.

She pressed the button to slide open the door.

He was standing there on the other side, head down, hands wrapped around his elbows. He looked up with lined, tired eyes.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Sabine searched for what she had intended to say. "Hi. Um…" One hand curled around her forearm. "How… how are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Whatever she gave me wore off a few hours ago. Kanan has me drinking a lot of fluids to make sure it's flushed out." His words were hollow, clinical, too-casual, like he was trying to distance himself from what he was saying.

"You know what I mean, Ezra," she said, a stern undertone in her voice. "Are you okay?"

His face pinched. His arms tightened around himself protectively. His lips pressed together as he struggled to articulate his inner thoughts.

"I didn't…" he started, then shook his head. "I didn't sense anything off about her. Not through the Force, not with my instincts…" His face was gaunt. "I don't know how she tricked me."

Sabine offered a weak smile. "Hey, don't feel bad. She didn't exactly ping my radar either," she encouraged.

"Yeah, but you at least had your guard up. I just sat there and let her buy me a drink like a complete moron," he spat, his eyes growing hard.

"Ezra, you're not—" Sabine started.

"I just—" He stopped, inhaling shakily, the anger slipping away again and the haunted look returning to his face. "I felt so… helpless," he strained out. One hand raised up, mashing against his face, clawing up into his hair. "The Force was… slippery and out of reach and I couldn't… I couldn't move." Frightened blue eyes met hers and Sabine thought he might be trembling. "She could have done anything to me," he continued. "Anything she wanted and I wouldn't—" The words caught suddenly in his throat and he had to force them out, swallowing. "I couldn't have stopped her."

Sabine's heart yanked inside her, hating the fear that lined Ezra's voice. Her hand found his shoulder.

"But she didn't," she emphasized. "I stopped her."

His face softened. "I know," he said quietly.

She took his other shoulder. She had to make sure he understood. "Hey. She can't hurt you again. All right? We're leaving and we won't ever come back. Not even to the same quadrant if you don't want to. I won't let her lay hands on you again," she promised.

"I know," he repeated. He breathed out, calm settling over his features.

He stepped forward, embracing her. She stiffened in surprise, then relaxed, her arms coming around him.

"Thank you Sabine," he said. "Thank you for… for protecting me." He squeezed her tighter. "I'm… really glad you were there."

"No problem," she murmured, her words getting lost in his collar. "Just… don't ever do that to me again."

He chuckled softly. "I'll try not to."

They stayed in that embrace for a long time.

(A/N)- I love these kids, I love them so much.

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