time || a Sabine Wren fic||

IV

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Paths. Kanan Says. Choices lead to paths, paths lead to everything.

Everything?

How long has she searched for those colors?

;;

Sabine leads the attack to free her father and the rest of them follow. It's all a blur, shooting dodging, hitting, and then again, and again, and again. Ezra on jet-packs he can't control, Kanan somewhere in the fog.

She imagines tall grass somewhere around, rare flowers. She imagines a breeze that does not smell like death or ash. She imagines a blue sky over the grey one; passing clouds, rays of light.

She imagines Mandalore without these wars; but pictures of somewhere else always seem to appear in her mind.

;;

Clan kryze ends up saving them all.

Lady Bo-Katan has red hair and green eyes. Her voice is rough and her grip is hard.

There is something for a moment, where the thrumming between her fingers and the darksaber grow stronger, as a color seeps somewhere into her; it feels like this pull between the darksaber and the woman in front of her. The colors of home and hope bloom between them; they blend together to form something Sabine isn't sure of yet.

Sabine gives it to her but she does not accept it.

;;

Her father isn't there.

Ezra joins her over the platform and Sabine's eyes smart. Ezra is even taller now, nearly as tall as Kanan, and his colors have grown softer, even though the colors of time have grown darker.

He feels like many things now; leaves in the wind, peace, hope. He feels like laughter after a joke and flowing water. The small dark streaks in the colors that belong to him; though they are still there; have faded to grey.

But he is still the same; his colors are still the brightest and his smiles are still the widest and his eyes still tell stories Sabine will never know.

He is this; many things and some things.

He's her best friend; sometimes everything.

;;

Kanan speaks with Hera and Sabine still smiles.

She still sees the crimson between them; she still sees the crimson between all of them. But they take on different shades sometimes. Sometimes she will see that the crimson between Hera and Kanan is gentler, but darker. She'll see that it curls between their fingers and slips into their eyes every time they blink; every time they see each other. She'll see it in the way Kanan's eyes shine every time Hera laughs and the way Hera hugs Kanan when he comes home.

Ezra sees it too; Sabine thinks. She thinks he's beginning to understand the colors around people; the warmth of their fingers; the stars.

He turns to Sabine after watching Kanan, and some small unspoken thing passes between them.

;;

Sabine catches Ezra just before he falls off the cliff and he scrambles up.

She turns and he is there.

Alrich Wren is still surrounded by the colors of warmth and his eyes are still as brown as ever and his hands are still callused.

He turns and everything stops.

;;

In his arms, Sabine pretends the war never happened, she pretends she's still a little girl; blindly faithful, lonely, peaceful. She pretends that the colors of time haven't darkened over the years and that she never betrayed Mandalore.