#to be honest 70% of this au is just ezra's constant and somewhat aggressive instinct to protect sabine

[jessicas-pi]

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never ever ever ever get between a mandalorian and their jedi. you will die.

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It is muscle memory that makes Ezra slip his knife back into its sheath, because he has no thoughts for anything or anyone besides the girl across the room. She lies on her back on the interrogation table, strapped down, pale, eyes closed, blood dried and crusted in trickles down her face from a dozen separate cuts.

Ezra is beside her in an instant, ripping off the restraints that bind her arms and legs down. She doesn’t even notice.

“Sabine?”

She responds with a weak whimper. It’s a sound that should come from a wounded animal, not the fearless Jedi he knows.

He takes a risk, and runs his fingers across her cheek, brushing the sweat-damp hair from her face.

Now she gasps, lurching away from his touch with a choked, “no, no, please, please no—”

“Sabine. Sabine! I’m not going to hurt you—it’s me! It’s Ezra!”

Her struggling stops and her tear-damp eyelashes flutter; she looks without seeing.

“Ezra,” she whispers, trying the name out slowly. “Ez-ra. Ezzsraaah…?”

And then, oh, praise the stars—a light in her eyes.

“Ezra.”

“Yeah. Ezra.”

She raises a hand, shakily, searching blindly until her fingers brush the cold beskar of his helmet. They trace across it, following the shape, and even with the solid layer between them, he can almost feel her touch on his skin.

Her hand drops down and she stares at him for a long, heart-stopping second. Then she smiles hazily.

“You have wonderful eyes.”

Ezra can’t help his snort of laughter. He took the Creed years before they met. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“Did they drug you, or are you just having one of your weird Force moments?” he asks as he slides his arms under her, lifting her as gently as he can.

She rests her head on his chestplate and taps the beskar. “You’re shiny.”

Both, probably, he decides.