A/N: This isn't supposed to make any sense. It's just a fluffy little reunion scene; the first of many I'm going to think of, I'm sure.

Let's Go Home

The mission had been to stay with Hera, support her through her pregnancy and Jacen's infancy. The secondary objective had been to fight the war. Win.

That was done now.

Sabine no sooner heard official confirmation of Palpatine's death than she set off in earnest looking for Ezra. And she was going to strangle him when she found him, if she didn't kiss him first; he'd left her a trail of galactic breadcrumbs that had taken every bit of her mental acuity to follow.

But follow she did. And she found him. On Tatooine.


She had half a mind to chew him out for that first thing. Did he have any idea what the blowing sand was going to do to the new finish on her armor? Never mind the Gauntlet.

Those were the nervous thoughts she distracted herself with as she sat in some Mos Espa bar, waiting and hoping and trusting that he'd find her there. She was on her second glass of she-didn't-know-what when the skin on the back of her neck prickled and she turned to look at the door, and there he was: tall and tanned and handsome and wiser than she remembered.

His thousand-watt grin lit the room.

He ambled toward her, almost nonchalant, but she still knew him so well and she knew that it was taking every ounce of control he had to keep from running toward her; the same kind of control it was taking for her not to do the same. He sat at the bar right next to her, lounging lazily in the seat. She gave him a reserved, coquettish smile, but her insides were quivering, like maybe she was about to cry.

He cleared his throat, looking her once-over. "You changed your hair."

She shrugged, running a hand over the close crop, trying to act like the sound of his voice hadn't just sent a thrill shooting through every nerve in her body. "I got bored without you around to kark things up."

"Awww." He exaggerated the syllable playfully, but he leaned forward in his seat and his eyebrows drew together, eyes turning suddenly earnest. "Sabine Wren." There was a quaver in his voice as he said her name. "Are you saying you missed me?"

He was setting her up for banter and—Force, how she'd missed this spark and repartee between them—but she just couldn't take the bait. She nodded, blinking rapidly as tears pooled and she slid off her stool so she could throw her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest for a long moment, just breathing him in. "Yes," she said thickly as she finally pulled away. "But this—" She stopped, stroking the goatee on his chin. "I will not miss. It has to go, Ezra. Immediately."

He rolled his eyes—which were red and teary now—and pretended to take offense. "The first time I see you in like five years and you're insulting me? Give me one good reason—"

She huffed, punching his shoulder. "Because I'll never kiss you until you do."

"Wh—" He gaped at her, then a slow grin started. "You're—serious?"

"So serious." She looped her arm in his and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go home."

Squinting in the afternoon glare as he looked at Sabine, Ezra asked hesitantly, "Where is home for you now? Krownest?"

She stopped in the middle of Tatooine's blowing dirt and scorching heat and looked up at him with a smile that put the twin suns to shame. "Lothal," she said softly. His eyebrows raised in surprise. She thought of the planet and how much it had changed and flourished in the Empire's absence, and she thought of the time she'd spent patiently waiting to share it with him. "You're going to love it, Ezra."