Let Me Go - SilverWingWitch (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue: One More Kiss Could Be the Best Thing

Chapter Text

Starting over was easy.

Clumpy black goop dripped on the gray durasteel sink inside a tiny closet sized ‘fresher, the young woman inside rubbing it onto her head with gloved hands and carefully dabbing it onto her eyebrows in neat lines. Her eyes were a cool gray blue, staring into the mirror to make sure she got every bit of her short hair with the dye she worked through. The pale platinum blonde at the roots vanished, and as she worked it to the tips the faded grayish undertone darked to jet.

Once she was satisfied with her hair she wrapped it in a sheet of thin duraplastoid to keep it from dripping. She was too practiced at this by now to let the tell-tale gray marks on her skin give her away. She wiped down her hairline and ears, then stepped out into her tiny little apartment to carry on with her day. The apartment was cheap, a single room with a fresher and kitchenette attached. She’d gotten lucky, it was above a little storefront she’d managed to buy to keep herself afloat by growing and selling medicinal plants and salves made from them. She was off work for the afternoon, there was no reason to rush or see anyone, and she needed to do laundry and clean up. The grocery list needed finishing too, and she could go to the market once her hair was done.

She had been in Nevarro since just after the fall of the Empire. It was the longest she’d ever stayed in one place since she was a child, she’d actually started to know people and be recognized around town. She wouldn’t exactly call anyone friends, but it was familiar and solid as the volcanic earth beneath her feet. Almost like putting down roots... It felt odd to have those again, even if the people she interacted with didn’t know the truth from the lie. That was the beauty of the aftermath of war, though. Everything was displaced, with lives so easily wrecked there was no one to say she wasn’t exactly who she claimed to be. More importantly, there was always a handy unspoken reason to not want to talk about the past.

Speaking of which….

“How long are you going to stay here? You have obligations.” A man was standing in the corner of her apartment, in a creme colored tabard and a brown robe. He had ginger hair and a neat beard, and was faintly transparent. And not so faintly grouchy, the irritation bleeding through his cultured Coruscanti accent.

“As long as I want. Forever sounds good.” She stretched lazily out on her battered couch, curling expertly to avoid the broken spring that always wanted to dig itself into her left hip. She still had a sizeable bruise there from falling asleep on the couch a few days before, instead of going to her equally battered but less uncomfortable bed after a long day drying jorgan fruits to sweeten her medicinal teas.

“Zenaria…” He huffed. “You should have long since returned to-”

“I will rot before I go back there.'' She cut him off. “And don’t you dare think you can pull him in here to guilt me. Do you know how long it took me to stop panicking last time? I lost three days of work.” She rolled up the edge of the shorts she was wearing around the house, eying the fading circle of purple and yellow on her hip and trying to ignore her spectral guest. Her pale skin marked up so easily with the least little pressure, scars lingered for years in bright pink before they finally faded to silvery white. Her arms were more scarred than her legs from years in heavy duraweave pants and boots, and the constant exposure to some kind of danger or another.

“I’m sorry, it was never my intention to frighten you my darling.” He murmured. “I thought you needed to... Talk.”

“I don’t mind the fact that you’re haunting me, if a little confused as to why you’re bothering to waste your afterlife on my banthash*t. But I never want to see him again. Not even dead. Not redeemed or whatever happened.” she said sourly, looking away from him to disguise a panicked expression with petulance. “I don’t owe him my forgiveness. I don’t owe him sh*t.” Her teeth gritted. “And I can’t pay you what I owe you so I don’t understand why you don’t go somewhere you’re treated nicer.”

“Dear one, aren’t you tired of running from your destiny?” his voice was so kind, actually considered for a moment the enormity of what he was asking her. Sometimes she was tired of running… but she was more tired of failing every time she tried to be anything more than mediocre.

Zena sighed, tugging up her loose shirt a little more. A round, still pinkish scar sat between her navel and sternum, about as big around as her looped index and thumb could circle. “Would you look at that? It’s still here… so nope.”

The ghostly face looked sad, and walked over to her. Well, he made the motion of walking, but he sort of glided like a holo recording until he was in front of her. “I’m so sorry, my dear girl.” She closed her eyes, feeling a cool tingling on her forehead when the spirit pressed a kiss to it. “I’ll be back to check on you soon… there’s so much you’re capable of, when you’re ready. And I’ll be here until you are.” He faded away as she opened her eyes, leaving her deflating on the couch with her hand over the ugly scar on her middle.

She looked down and eyed it again. It was a horrible reminder, but she doubted anyone she decided to let see her body would really notice; her experience with most men told her they rarely looked anywhere but the chest and apex of her thighs. Not that her sex life hadn’t been one long dry spell for the last few years… noone got laid when being haunted by a father figure. The very air turned to parental disapproval and even those who weren’t Force sensitive still noted something was off.

Pity about it, too. She’d always thought she had a nice face. Not exactly vanity, but she could admit it was symmetrical and soft featured, with expressive eyes. She kept her hair short, never longer than her shoulders, so as not to bring too much attention to it, though she couldn’t help but play around with scraps of fabric until she’d made false flowers to decorate a headband, and wore that almost every day. The bright colors stood out on her midnight black hair that she religiously touched up with dye.

She sighed, stretching herself out again and pulling her shirt down again. She found a million reasons to complain when the ghost was there… but she missed him the second he was gone. Or maybe… she missed when he’d been alive. She missed the closeness they’d shared until she’d f*cked everything up. She missed making him proud of her, instead of knowing he was spending his precious afterlife waiting for her to get her sh*t together. And she was refusing to.

She’d spent all her life running away from what she wished she could hold in her hands one more time.

Yes, starting over was easy. It was the constant fight to destroy who you used to be that was hard.

Chapter 2: Chapter One: One More Lie Could be the Worst

Chapter Text

“Morning, Miss Ty.” Greef Karga owned the local cantina, and flirted with every woman that showed up. And every one of them showed up at one point or another; the cantina was the closest thing to a religious experience a place like Nevarro had. The bar was the altar of the sinners and bounty hunters that skulked the planet, and they gambled their tithes in games of Sabacc and took their communion straight.

“It’s past noon, Karga.” Zena chuckled quietly. She looked out of place here and she knew it, though it was more familiar than her own greenhouse to her mind. There was a time when a dark bar was her haven, a place to hide and forget while she licked her wounds. Now she pretended she didn’t belong here, dressed in an ankle length skirt and apron, carrying three stacked boxes in her arms. “Just making a delivery to a customer.”

“Don’t you own a store?” He waved her to come sit in his booth, and the barkeep droid brought them both a glass of spotchka. “Why haul all this stuff over here when you could have made them do their own carrying?”

“The order said they liked to only make one stop when they could help it. It’s probably one of your guys.” she chuckled. Karga led the Bounty Hunter Guild and the cantina was where his hunters came to exchange pucks and collect payment.

“What did they order?” Karga asked curiously, trying to peek in the boxes.

“That’s customer privacy, Karga. None of your business.” She set the boxes on the booth seat beside her, away from grabbing hands, and eased her hip into the booth. “But thanks for the drink.”

He chuckled. “I probably should have ordered something a little sweeter for a lady like yourself. That spotchka might be too strong.”

Zena wanted to laugh. Not that long ago this was considered light fare, and she’d drunk men with twice his stamina and half his age under the table. She told herself she didn’t brag anymore, and instead politely inclined her head with a smile. “Of course. I’ll drink it slowly.” She kept her voice soft and delicate, like she’d been taught long ago when she gave a sh*t about manners for more than just keeping up appearances. When she’d wanted to be thought of as a nice young lady.

He chuckled warmly, reaching over to pat her hand in his larger one. He was so ostentatious, more of a showman than a leader to the bounty hunters who came through Nevarro with their quarries. Every hunt was legendary, every hunter the best ever seen in one way or another. His real genius was in recruiting, because he spun a story that made every young prospect dream of joining him when he pulled back the stage curtain and becoming one of the greats.

She’d almost fallen for it herself when she’d come to Nevarro.

Zena felt it when the cantina stilled, the usual dull murmuring going dead quiet. The faint hair on her arms prickled, skin turning to goosebumps under her clothes. Something had sucked the very air from the room, the sudden burst of bright and commanding energy welding her spine straight and her face straight ahead. But her eyes turned to the side, catching the shine of polished metal in her peripheral vision.

She wasn’t expecting the armored bounty hunter to drop into the seat next to her, his weight bouncing her a little in the cushioned booth, turning her just enough she could look at him without obvious staring.

He was big, tall and broad. The armor probably made it look like more than it was, but judging by his trim, belted waist the illusion was more fact than fiction. The armored plates on his chest, shoulders, and thighs were worn and painted durasteel that had seen better days. But the helmet… That was smooth, polished curves of something stronger than standard durasteel. Judging by the honeycomb chest plate and helmet, this was a Mandalorian. And if he was a Mando, that helmet might actually be real beskar.

He set a handful of bounty pucks down in front of Karga wordlessly, not acknowledging her in the slightest. Zena decided that was for the best, because it let her keep examining the armor without the risk of him catching her staring and possibly being angry. She didn’t handle anger well, especially angry men.

She was wary of Mandalorians. She had to be, it had been a Mandalorian who’s DNA seeded a billion clones throughout the galaxy over twenty years ago. The aftermath of that single decision had altered almost every single life in existence. Most for the worse.

“Those are imperial credits.” The Mandalorian said sternly, voice fuzzed out and raspy through the filters and vocoder in his helmet.

“They still spend.” Karga countered, eyes lighting up. He loved a good challenge, though Zena had seen enough Sabacc games to know he was sh*t at knowing when to bluff and when to fold.

“Maybe you haven’t heard, but the Empire is gone.” Mando put his hand back over the pucks and started to pull them away from Karga, the threat implied. No pay, no bounties. Mando could always find someone in the New Republic who’d be willing to pay to have wanted criminals off the streets.

Karga folded immediately instead of attempting a counter bluff. “I can do calamari flan, but I can only pay half.”

Mando snatched the gelatinous looking money from him. “Fine.”

Karga grinned again. “I’ll have the bounties picked up from your ship.”

“What’s the next job?” Zena had to admit Mando’s single-minded determination for what he wanted was impressive. No wonder they had such a reputation…

“Bail jumper… bail jumper… grambling debts… bail jumper.” Karga lay pucks down one at a time. “Not a single one worth over 5000 credits.”

“That doesn't even cover fuel these days.” Mando didn’t sound… angry. He didn’t really sound like anything. Just a measured, factual statement from inside his shiny bucket. Zena idly caught herself wondering if he had an inflection in his voice without it, or if he’d been in the helmet so long he didn’t bother even attempting to communicate anything but the most direct speech. No subtext, no emotion, no unspoken thoughts.

“There is one job. Direct commission. Deep pockets.” Karga mused. “No puck either, just a chit to meet with the client directly.” he held it up. “Do you want it or not?”

The Mandalorian held his hand out for it expectantly.

Karga chuckled and handed it over. “Alright then.”

Their exchange over, the Mandalorians helmet swiveled immediately to Zena and ignored Karga now. Maybe too much time without the use of his peripheral vision had made a habit of him only focusing on one thing at a time. It had been nice to play party to the previous exchange without being regarded, but now she was caught in the menacing spotlight of his T-shaped visor.

Blaster fire, white helmets, whimpers as they huddled together. There were too many, what did they do?

She shook the memory from her mind and stared up, trying her best smile. “You must be my customer too!”

Mando had noticed the girl, of course. He didn't become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by not paying attention to his surroundings. His helmet had scanned her as he approached, determining she was unarmed and there was nothing in the three boxes beside her except what he’d ordered from her little apothecary and tea shop.

He knew she was watching him as he dealt with Karga, hands clasped firmly in her lap and her spotchka ignored in front of her on the table. She wasn’t a bad looking woman, maybe in her late twenties, with tousled black hair pulled back in a flowery headband of blues and purples. Her dress was a faded blue, boots and leather belt worn and black, and the pinafore style apron over the top a light dove gray. It was clearly freshly washed, even through the filter of his helmet he could faintly smell the floral scent of the detergent she used.

When he turned around to face her, a pair of dark brown eyes looked back at him. They were a little wide, startled, and he was used to that reaction. He rarely failed to unnerve someone when he first met them, which is why he’d requested his supplies brought to a public space instead of crowding her little shop with his presence. He didn’t mind making a few people nervous, but it wasn’t his preference to utterly terrify a perfectly innocent girl in her own space.

What he didn’t expect was the smile, or the attempt at a polite conversation. Most people in her position would have hurriedly pushed the boxes to him and collected her payment before scuttling out like a frightened womp rat. Instead, she turned to carefully lift the boxes and set them on the table in front of him. “If you want to check the quality, go ahead. If anything’s wrong, I’ll replace it with my own credits.” she said cheerfully. “My business holo is there too, if you need anything else.”

The helmet dipped slowly and he opened the top box to check the sealed transparisteel jars of a dried plant Karga didn’t recognize. “Looks good. Thank you.” the Mandalorian said, helmet moving back up to the face in front of him. “What was your name, Miss?”
Her head tilted to the side when she smiled, round apple cheeks pushing her eyes closed. “They call me Zen or Zena. I don’t mind either way.”

He nodded. “Zen.” He reached into his belt and pulled out an already prepared bag of credits, handing them to her.

She appreciated he wasn’t the kind of person to linger too long, as he gathered his boxes and the bounty chit and rolled out easily. Karga chuckled. “Looks like Mando’s a good tipper. You gonna tell me what he ordered?”
“Absolutely not. It’s a matter of principle.” she smiled, picking up her spotchka and startling him when she chugged the cup without so much as a blink. She needed it to settle the heat that had settled in her skin after the Mandalorian left. Fear was cold… but whatever this was he stirred up in her was hot.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you drink like a soldier.” he raised an eyebrow. “You serve in the Rebellion?”

“Why would the Rebellion need a tea maker? If I had useful skills like a real doctor, maybe I’d have ended up there.” Her deflection was too fast, she knew it the second it left her lips. But she’d already said it, and she doubled down and stared at him until he decided it wasn’t worth the argument.

“I guess you’ll see more of the Mandalorian then, since this went well. Valuable customer.” He grinned. “You should thank me for introducing you.”

“And you should thank me for the ointment I made for that rash you picked up in the twi’lek healing baths.” She winked. “Let’s call it even.”

Karga’s cheeks darkened under his chocolate complexion and he looked immediately around to see if anyone had heard. “You’re awful, Ty. Absolutely terrible.”

“But I’m useful, which is why I’m still breathing. Have a good night, Karga.” She bounced out of the booth and headed back out of the cantina.

“Master, there’s too many of them. What do we do?” The boy beside her was no older than five, and she was even younger than that. The world was huge, and cold, and frightening. What was happening? Why were the soldiers here? They were their friends, right?

There was no response from the towering figure in a black cloak, standing in the doorway. Only the heavy buzz as a blue column of light extended at the press of a button.

Her tongue was too heavy in her mouth, her words slurred and confused her own ears when she took a tiny step back. “M-master…?” a tiny voice whispered. “What’s happening?”

Zena sat up with a shriek, hurling her pillow across the room and nearly knocking over her entire shelf of cubbies she kept her clothes in. For a moment, her eyes were wild, searching everywhere for proof she was safe in her dingy apartment on Nevarro.

For a half second, she expected to look up and see the domed ceiling of a temple and hear the galaxy-shattering scream of blaster fire. Or the ominous humming of a lightsaber, punctuated with the slow thump of boots on a polished floor.

“You were screaming in your sleep, young one.” Her favorite apparition appeared beside the foot of the bed. “Are you alright?”

She hugged her knees tightly. “N-no…” She finally whispered. “I’m not, Dad… I’m not alright. I’m never going to be alright.” Her breath shuddered in her chest like she’d run a marathon. “Why’d you save me?” She hiccupped. “If you hadn't, maybe I’d be the ghost, and you’d be alive…”

“Why on earth would that be preferable?” He shook his head, and the tingling of his cool hand on her forehead only made her tears well up because she wanted him to be able to hug her and he couldn’t. He was dead and she was alive and none of it was fair.

“I wish I’d never left Tattooine.” she whispered. “I could have stayed with you and you wouldn’t have gotten killed…”

“Zenaria…”

“You should have been there on Yavin 4… and Endor… you should have been there for it all, Dad… They’d have made you proud, they’re brave…”
“Do you think I’m not proud of you?” The tingly touch of the dead rubbed her back. “Look at what you’ve accomplished, my girl. My daughter, I’ve always been proud of you.”

“I miss you….” She hiccupped. “I miss you so much…”

“I’m always with you, Zenaria. The Force is with you.”

Her tears slowly stalled and puttered out and she scrubbed her eyes, wincing when the back of her hand pulled her vision out of focus and she had to blink rapidly until she felt the disk over her iris settle back into place. “The Force is wasting it’s time too… I even suck at taking naps.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable to have a nightmare, you know.”

“You’re always so kriffing reasonable, Dad…”

He chuckled. “Of course I am. But it’s time for you to wash your face and go about your day. Isn’t that star shaped fruit you picked up on Naboo ready to pick?”

“I am not being manipulated by a ghost to eat dinner.” She grumbled and got up slowly, testing the strength of her legs. She’d overdone it carrying those boxes through town today, with the Force. She’d just needed a little nap, and according to her chrono she’d barely gotten an hour. But she was hungry.

“I’m insulted that you would accuse me of manipulation.”

“Do you remember how you used to trick me into drinking that awful blue milk?”

“That was parenting. It’s different.”

Chapter 3: Chapter 2: All These Thoughts are Never Resting

Chapter Text

Mando took his boxes down into the secret tunnels of the covert, listening to the quiet echoes of his people going about their lives. They had to stay secret, in sewers when they’d once been a proud race of mighty warriors. Now secrecy was their survival, and it was never more apparent than when children of about thirteen ran by him with helmets on. Just old enough to have taken the Creed, the foundlings who would be warriors one day were still enjoying a sliver of childhood. When so many of them were here because of the death and destruction the war had left behind, it was a small miracle to hear any child laugh here.

He walked down the tunnels into a large room, with about thirty kids under ten sitting in their bunks. This was the children’s med bay, and all these foundlings looked the same. Sallow skinned, anxious, with dark circles under their little eyes. The Mandalorian woman in teal armor who was watching over them was a healer, and she was trying to soothe the littlest ones who cried with exhaustion, but were too scared to sleep.
“How are they?” Mando murmured, kneeling to set the boxes at her feet.

“They still have insomnia, or wake from nightmares.” She sighed. “I fear for the youngest… They say children grow when they sleep but I think they may never grow again.”

“Where are they from?” he sat on the floor and let a little girl of about six clamber into his arms with a sniffle.

“Most are from the same town, destroyed by remnants of the Empire… they were in school, and it was the only building left standing.”

He nodded, looking at the child in his arms. “Hey… I’ve got something for you guys.” he raised his voice just enough to get their attention without frightening them. They'd seen enough fear.

Sleepy, sad faces turned to look as he reached to open the boxes beside him. “Come here, everyone get a jar.”

The foundlings lined up and he and the caretaker passed out the jars of herbs to each child, and then she put the extra half a box away in the medical supply closet. Mando waited until the little ones were all looking at him before he held up an extra jar for them to see. “The herbs in this jar are supposed to help with sleeping, and reduce nightmares. I know you guys have had a hard time, and the mind healer will help in the long run. But if you open the jar top, there's another little grate inside to keep it from spilling out, see?” he demonstrated, revealing a fine mesh under the airtight jar lid. “You put it in your bed with this open, and the smell helps. It’ll work best if you put it near your pillows. Understand?” He wasn’t coddling, but direct and open with them. Most of them had seen horrors, there was no point in babying them.

There was a murmuring of affirmation and they started waddling back to attempt naps, the older ones helping the younger to open their jars.
“Where’d you get this?” The caretaker asked, taking the example jar he had and holding it up to her visor. “And what’s in it?”

“Little apothecary shop in town… the ingredient list is on the bottom of the jars. The shopkeeper said if there’s any allergies, she can come up with something else for specific cases.”

“Did you tell her about the foundlings?”
“No. But I did order sixty jars, so she knew it wasn’t all for me.” he shrugged, watching the kids start to snuggle into their blankets and pillows. He could smell the herbs a little through his helmet, and it was actually pretty soothing. He needed to get up before he ended up dozing off and missing his rendezvous with his client. “She just asked when I needed them, and said she’d have them ready.”

“Shopkeeper sounds pretty nice. She really didn’t ask anything about you getting so much?” She chuckled a little.

“Not really. I ordered through the store’s kiosk and she delivered it to the cantina. I’m actually pretty impressed she carried it across town like that, she’s a pretty willowy little thing.” he mused thoughtfully, stepping out of the room with her to let the children take a blessed and long awaited nap.

“I wonder what else we could order from her… and if she’d do discrete drops.”

“She seems pretty trustworthy, but I’ll scope it out more before I put the covert at any risk.” His voice was firm through the modulator. “She makes healing salves and such, might be useful for as often as we get hurt. Between fighting and sports and foundlings tripping over themselves. Especially with the price of bacta these days…” He pulled out the business holo, the little metal card displaying the girl with the flower headdress’s face when he pressed a button on the side.
“Zen’s Herbs and Tea, for all your supplemental needs. When bacta can only get you so far, come see me!” The holo chirped, voice tinny but unmistakable.

The Mandalorian caretaker chuckled. “She’s perky.”

“She’s… yeah. That’s a word for it.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she blinked the entire time we were talking.” He muted the recording before it repeated itself, looking at the smiling expression on her holographic face. Her eyes weren’t as dark in the holo… the colors were distorted, of course, but she’d had such dark eyes when he’d met her… why did they look so light here?

“I’ll tell the Alor what you did… it’s a blessing.” The caretaker murmured quietly, patting his shoulder and shaking him from his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“This is the Way.” he nodded solemnly.

“This is the Way.”

“I swear to the Maker I will punch you right in your little leafy face.” Zena growled as a particularly feisty tendril of reeksa root wrapped around her watering can and tried to pull it out of her hand “I do not care that you can cure Blue Shadow. I will actually fight you if you don’t behave. Are we clear? Bad reeksa!”

The plant drooped a little, thoroughly scolded, and wrapped around her hand loosely like it was apologising.
“Now that’s more like it. If you play nicely, I’ll move you to a bigger pot tomorrow. If you take things, you can stay in there until it’s crowding your roots and you’re sore. Understand?” She gave the leaves a pat and watered all the other plants in the greenhouse, giving the handful of carnivorous ones strips of dried bantha. She was sweaty and hot by the time she finished picking the ripe fruits from a couple of her trees, and walked out with a heavy basket on her hip from the greenhouse to the actual store.

“You still open?” Came a modulated voice from the front door, nearly scaring her out of her skin. Her basket went up in the air, and she had to double over to catch some of the more delicate fruit from going over the sides and onto the floor. She peeked up, spotting a humanoid shape standing in the doorframe.

Keep it together, Zen! It’s just a customer! She scolded herself but smiled. “Yeah, come on in.”

Mando walked in, and standing up he was so much bigger than he’d been in the cantina booth. Sitting down, he’d been a big man. Standing, he was a monument. Zena tried not to stare, knowing she was the only thing to look at in the shop and she’d be found out. Something about his presence fascinated her, like he was a black hole dragging her to him. “Sorry to drop in so late.” He didn’t sound the slightest bit sorry, but she wasn’t sure an actual apology could come out of that helmet without the wearer combusting. She couldn’t actually imagine a Mandalorian being sorry for anything. They seemed like the kind of people to disintegrate the wrong person and then ask why they put their bodies in the way of the rifle.

“It’s not that late, just barely getting dark.” Zena chuckled. “How can I help you?”
“Your kiosk mentioned you carry healing salves. How do those compare to bacta?” he crossed his arms, his size crowding her in the small shop.

“They’re not as quick.” She got straight to business, face smoothing out into quiet contemplation. “If you’re in a medical emergency, you want bacta to close a wound. What I make is best for non-life threatening wounds, when you don’t want to waste limited supplies. If you’ve got a blaster shot to the gut and an oil burn from wrist to shoulder, put the bacta on the shot and the salve on the burn.” she looked up at him with a thoughtful smile. “They smell better and don’t sting like bacta, but they aren’t a replacement for it. Sorry if you were looking for a miracle cure, but that’s not my stance. You can take herbs and teas for colds or burns, but you still need antibiotics for an infection.”

“You’re honest. I appreciate that.” he nodded, the arms crossed over his chest loosening slowly.

She chuckled. No. No, I’m really not… “Thanks.” She decided to leave it at that. “So what do you need?”

“Stocking up.” he didn’t elaborate either.

She chuckled. “Got it, Mando secret. Okay, so for your stockpile, what kind of injuries are you dealing with? Limbs? Body shots? Superficial or bone deep?”

“Mostly superficial… all over. The occasional broken bone, usually fingers or arms. Bacta is expensive, we need to reduce cost without sacrificing health.”

The “we” didn’t go unnoticed but she didn’t mention it, instead walking over to the case of dried herbs that ran floor to ceiling. “Pink jinka petal speeds up bone healing. Reduces healing time from six to eight weeks down to about one.” She pulled down a jar of fluorescent fuchsia powder and set it on the counter. “Curlewi root for muscle healing, just be careful because it’s a pretty decent numbing agent and people forget they’re hurt and make it worse after taking it.” She set a jar of thin green dried roots that twisted into a knot like witches hair. “You need something for pain or are you guys super stoic, tough-it-out kinda people?”

His visor leveled back at her and she tried not to freeze like an ash rabbit in a snare. “Better to have it than not.” He finally murmured.

She reached up for a jar of red flower petals with black middles. “Here we are then. Opia blossoms.” she looked back over her shoulder at him. “Oh, is that shoulder piece new?”

He paused, touching the shiny pauldron he’d gotten that afternoon. “You noticed.” It was surprising, he hadn’t actually thought she’d been paying attention beyond their transaction. The fact that in one meeting she’d been able to pick out a change in his armor was… oddly endearing.

Zena chuckled. “Yeah. It matches your helmet. Looks nice.” She wasn’t sure why she was being so complimentary, but she wasn’t lying. She’d always loved art, especially sculpture and poetry. “Whoever made it’s a master, it’s obvious. Impeccable craftsmanship.” She pinked a little. Oh, she sounded so stupid now. Trying to make small talk with a tower of armor who was only here because her barely-middling level medicines were cheaper than the real stuff.

“I’ll… pass that along to the one who made it.” he finally inclined his head. She packed up the jars of herbs for him and wrote dosage instructions on cards she taped to the sides.

She shuffled her feet. “Oh, the jars… from before. I wrote it on there, but they need to be refreshed about every 4 months or they aren’t as effective… if you need a new batch, since you ordered in bulk… if you bring the empty jars back it’ll only be half price.”

He co*cked his helmet to the side. “That’s a hell of a discount.”

She shrugged. “I… I know that combination works because I use it. I don’t like the idea of someone struggling with it on their own, you know? Not being able to sleep.”

“That’s not a great business model.” He watched her wrap the jars he was buying in flimsi to protect them, her deft hands moving neatly. She had scars on her knuckles and the outer forearms, he noticed. Defensive scars.

“Maybe I just wanna be nice to you, Mando.” She grumbled. “You’re making it really difficult.”

“Why bother with nice?” He followed her hands still as she bagged the jars. “I’m buying whatever you’re selling regardless.” Her knuckles looked like someone who’d trained in hand-to-hand, but the little burns along the backs and outer forearms were unfamiliar to him. He felt like it was some kind of weapon training….

“Call it balance. I’m nice to you, and other customers I like. Then I don’t feel bad when I overcharge someone like Karga, who can afford it and won’t even notice.”

“So I’m a charity case?” Mando snorted. He was almost insulted.

She rolled her eyes. “No. A charity case is when the hospital got overwhelmed from that fire out on the lava flats and needed help with sixty eight burn patients.”

“You helped out with that?” He leaned back on his heels, regarding her. He remembered that fire, only last year. He’d been out on a bounty the day it started, but it burned for weeks and half the sector was even smokier than usual as building after building was consumed by the unstoppable lava that decided to take a new detour and wipe out a residential area of the town.

“It was just burn salve. It takes maybe a day to make, and I had a vat to make plenty. The hardest part was getting it across town on a speeder bike..” She shrugged. “No, giving you a discount here or there is no commentary on your ability to pay. Just that I think you don’t get enough nice gestures, so I’m tipping the scales in your favor.

“You are the weirdest woman I’ve ever met.” He took the bag when she held it out to him, jars clanking muffled by the flimsi. He handed over the credits he owed her, watching her grin splitting her face.

“Thanks. I like it that way.”

He almost chuckled. "Can you get a crate of your salve… and maybe something for burns? I'll be back in a week or so to get it."

"Can do. You're turning into my best customer." She chuckled. "I'll bring it to your ship when you get back, here's my comm frequency." She scribbled the number down on a scrap of flimsi and he tucked it into a pouch on his belt.

"Good. I'll see you then." He murmured. Something in the way he said it was… warm. Despite the vocoder. Maybe her theory that he had no inflections was wrong.

He was about to take his bag and go when she tossed in a sachet of purplish looking ground herbs. "It's tea." She explained as the helmet canted her direction again. "For muscle aches. Can't be easy lugging all that armor around. Consider it a gift."

"Thank you, Miss Zen." He finally murmured, after an agonizingly long stare. Then he turned and left, clearing the length of the shop with long strides and closing the door behind him.

"You're flirting with a Mandalorian." She groaned when her father’s voice came from somewhere behind the stack of dried jorgan fruits.

"I am not. I'm being friendly! " she grumbled. "Go haunt Luke or something."

"Luke and Leia are busy."

"And I'm not? " she picked up her basket of fruit and locked up the shop before going upstairs to wash up and eat.

"You need more in your diet than fruit."

"You need a hobby."

"Raising you is a full time commitment. Especially if you're going to flirt with Mandalorians." He followed her into the apartment.

"Who made you an expert on it?" She grumbled, turning on the sink to wash the fruit off.

"Me, actually. Did I ever tell you about duch*ess Satine Kryze?"

“Many, many times.”

Chapter 4: Chapter Three: You’re Not Something I Deserve

Chapter Text

The Mandalorian was back on Nevarro. Zena was almost embarrassed by how pleased she was to receive the buzz on her comm. Maybe her father was right, she was… interested. She wouldn’t say she liked the Mandalorian, per se. She didn’t know a thing about him. But his presence piqued her interest in a way that made her want to know more.

What am I thinking? How would that even work? He’s always hunting, according to Karga. And the helmet would get in the way, don’t they never take those things off? She scolded herself as she finished filling a crate of medical salve jars. There was no way she was going to date a Mandalorian. It sounded stupid to even consider the warrior dating anyone. But maybe she could get him to sleep with her. He could leave the helmet on, she didn’t mind. Kisses were overrated.. Right?

She looked up when the bell on the door rang and couldn’t help the stupid grin on her face. “Mando!”

He was walking in with careful strides again, heading right for her little display counter. “Hey.”

Something felt… off. Familiar and foreign, a transient contact with something that made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Another Force Sensitive… he’d been around one and the electric crackle that surrounded him made her want to run. Away from him or into his arms, she hadn’t decided, though she doubted either was a good look in front of the steel warrior. “What’s up? I was just about to bring the supplies out to your ship…” She trailed off when he handed her a heavy duty leather utility belt, like his, with duraweave pouches already clipped on. “What’s this for?”

“I noticed yours was coming apart.” he said simply. “Seemed practical.”

“This looks expensive. I can’t take it.” she tried to push it back into his hands but he just closed her fingers on the oiled leather.

“You can. And you will.” He said firmly. “I want to... be nice to you.”

That made her laugh, hearing her own words reflected through his vocoder. “I didn’t know you were allowed to be nice. I thought it was all bounties and butt kicking.”

“There’s a lot of that. But you were nice first.” he said quietly, and he hadn’t quite let go of her hands holding her fingers around the belt. “And I thought about what you said… about there not being a lot of nice gestures. I don’t think you get them either.”

Heat tried to roll to her cheeks and she willed it down, the lingering echoes of something in the Force pulling at her from every direction. Too much. Too much in the Force, too much in her head, too much him. And when he didn’t let go of her hand, it was no longer enough. “Well… thank you, then.” She murmured. “I appreciate it.”
“I have to visit someone for a while this afternoon.” he said quietly. “But if you’re still at the Crest when I get back, I wouldn’t mind talking to you for a while. About an order I’d like to make with… specific requirements.”

“I’ll bring my datapad.” She nodded. “I’ve got nowhere else to be, I’ll wait around if I finish up before you get back. Deal?”

“Deal.” He stepped back to watch her pull up her apron and swap her old belt for the new one, curious at the way she put two fingers between a pair of pouches on her right hip like she was checking to see if something would fit clipped between them.

“You got my size down cold. I’m impressed.” She chuckled. “How’d you do that?”

He tapped the side of the helmet. “Measurement filter. It’s usually used for scoping, but it comes in handy.”

She chuckled. “I gotta get me something like that.”

“Going to take up bounty hunting?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been shot at enough for the rest of my lifespan.” She huffed, then froze. She hadn’t meant to mention that, and didn't need an open door for questions. She knew she was a crappy liar...

Mando’s helmet tilted in such a way that she knew he was sizing her up, but he didn’t ask the question she dreaded. Instead he just finally tilted his head towards her face. “See you later.”

He walked back out as quickly as he came. It was starting to feel like she was being haunted by more than one spirit.

She’d been in here for hours. He’d set the ships commands to open to her chain code, so she’d had free run of the Razor Crest. It was exhilarating to just be able to poke around what he called home and get glimpses of who he was under the armor. It was a bare-bones operation, just a co*ckpit and cargo hold. His bunk was half the size of his armory, and while she didn’t go into the closet he stored his body in when he wasn’t using it, she could see inside and determined he had no idea what comfort was. His cot was a metal slab with a paper thin hospital style gurney mattress.
She actually felt bad about how little he seemed to care about his own comfort, so once she’d unloaded the salves and put them in his nearly empty medical cabinet, she ended up taking her speeder back to the store three different times. She restocked his bacta from her own stash, telling herself realistically that he would need it more than her. His job was way more dangerous, even with a snappy reeksa sprout.

She’d stashed some pillows and a thicker mattress pad for him to find later, and clean sheets. Then she swept, wiped everything down, and even spent a little while patching frayed wires in the open panel in the wall he’d been working on. She just… needed something to do with her hands. She was bored, that was the reason. And getting hungry, so she sat at his work table with a couple juicy jorgan fruits she’d brought to munch on, trying not to drip all over the table she’d just cleaned.

She’d brought her knitting, a big rope basket of chunky yarn she was working on making into a thick and cozy blanket, so she settled down after washing her hands of the sticky fruit juice and started working. Was she getting too comfortable here? Her homey little skirt and knitting seemed out of place in the sterile metal case of the Razor Crest, but she didn’t mind. Maybe it was appropriate to have a squishy center encased in metal. Was that what Mando was like, a bleeding heart under the steel and layers? Did he sit in this echoey hull alone with his helmet off and think of the future the way she did sitting on her balcony? Did moonlight on other planets catch his attention and make him feel like he wasn’t all alone?

Was she thinking about him too much?

It was getting late, really late. She was going to doze off against the table from sheer boredom when she heard distant commotion. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and wandered to the front hatch. That sounded like blaster fire… was there a shootout in a bar or something? It wasn’t unheard of on Nevarro… and it was the reason she stayed in her store after dark most of the time. She couldn’t stand the loud…

She froze on the ramp, staring at the absolute hell unfolding in front of her. There was blaster fire being exchanged, a lone figure hauling ass for the ship with a bundle tucked in his arm. A Mandalorian in brand new, shiny armor. Behind him, there were bounty hunters she recognized including Karga, taking shots at him from behind. And then there were Mandalorians everywhere. They had jetpacks, guns and flamethrowers and armor painted in all kinds of colors, and they were all covering the broad shiny one’s retreat.

That had to be the Mando she knew, because his helmet jerked to the side when he saw her still on the ship, like he’d forgotten she was supposed to be there. But he raced past her, grabbing her arm with his free hand and hauling her up the ramp. “No time to explain. Inside.” His order was sharp and brooked no arguments. He shoved the bundle in her arms and started heading for the ramp controls to close them. Her head turned after him, confused and her mouth half open to ask him what the actual f*ck he thought he was doing bringing this kind of firepower down on her.

Click.

Zena froze, heart dropping into her boots in a cold descent as several truths became apparent all at once.

One: What she was holding in her arms was alive, and in tune with the Force. It wiggled in the blanket wrapped around, a single massive green ear peeking out. A baby. A little green baby that looked like the former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

Two: Greef Karga was standing on the open ramp, with a blaster pointed at the Mandalorian and slowly walking towards her, free hand reaching for the bundle in her arms. “It didn’t have to end like this, Mando. You were a legend, one of the greatest. But you broke the code. I’m taking that bounty back to the client, and I’ll drag your corpse if I have to.”

Three: Any decision she made was going to change her life from top to bottom. If she handed the child over, she’d never forgive herself even if Mando didn’t shoot her right in the head. If she sided with the Mandalorian, her life on Nevarro as she knew it was over. Her greenhouse, her store, her veneer of safety through mediocrity she’d tried so hard to cultivate.

But she had to make the choice.

Before Karga could reach her and try to snatch the little one out of her arms, her hand jerked up and a hose snatched loose from the carbonite freezer beside Karga, spraying him with the freezing gas. Mando seized the opportunity and fired, shooting Karga right out the open ramp. Zena ran for the control panel and shut it, the Mandalorian glancing at her before climbing the ladder to the co*ckpit in a single fluid motion and taking off.
Zena sat quietly on the floor as gravity shifted, ears popping when they reached the atmosphere. She slowly pulled the blanket off the baby a little more, looking at him. “Hey, buddy…”

His inky eyes blinked up at her, and she felt her stomach twist when he reached a little three clawed hand towards her face. He babbled at her insistently until she finally gave him her hand to hold, dropping her guard just the tiniest of a fraction for him.

It felt like knowing. The child couldn’t speak, still an infant by his species, but he could impress his feelings through the Force. He could tell her what he needed to say with the tiny little claws he wanted desperately to press to her temple.
Fear. He was scared, and his little body was sore from being poked and prodded.

Zena pressed him against her shoulder gently, fingers tracing the soft batlike ears. “You’re safe now, okay? I got you.”

He snuggled immediately into the curve of her neck, claws in the front of her apron, and sniffled. The bubble of relief she felt roll off the tiny creature was massive, and she let the sorrow fall out of him as he did what all frightened babies did and cried his poor little heart out. She rubbed his little back, humming until the crying stopped and he relaxed. There was a sizable wet spot on her front now, but she smiled at him when he nervously touched it and looked at her like he was worried she’d be angry.

“It’s okay, bub. I’ll dry.” She smiled, giving him one of her fingers to wrap his little hands around. “I’m Zena, by the way. And you are just the cutest little thing. You look like someone I knew a long, long time ago…”

She held him a little tighter when the hyperdrive engaged, so they didn’t tip over. “Mando went through a lot of trouble to bring you back here, didn’t he? Those big eyes musta got him, right under the helmet. Right?” she chuckled.

Warm feelings, awe and happiness and safe contentment drifted from the little head snuggling against her again when she mentioned the Mandalorian. “Yeah… I gotta admit I think he’s pretty cool too.” She smiled. “Go to sleep, sweet thing.”

The baby was out like a light, and Zena had found a scarf she hadn’t finished knitting in her basket and made it into a sling, tucking him against her chest so she had both hands free. She had stayed in the cargo hold for hours, not sure what to make of the silence and cleaning up and repairing the carbonite freezer just to have somewhere to be useful.
He hadn’t meant to bring her along. It would be a miracle if he didn’t just dump her on the next inhabited planet and hope she made it. She knew she could, she’d been in many a sh*thole kind of place over the years. That didn’t make it fun, especially when she wasn’t the one who made the choice.

So, snuggling her left arm around the sleeping infant, she used her right to ascend the ladder to the co*ckpit of the Razor Crest. On the small landing, she lightly wrapped her knuckles on the blast doors, loud enough she was sure he could hear but not wanting to wake her sleeping charge. “M-mando?” Is it okay if I come in…?”

There was no verbal answer, but the doors opened.
He was sitting in the pilot's seat, back stiff and straight as the lines of the beskar he was in. Top to bottom, all the painted durasteel was replaced. She swore it made him look bigger, if that was even possible. Zena shuffled carefully over to the co-pilots seat, absently patting the baby’s back with one hand. His seat swivelled towards her, helmet unmoving, until he was facing her. “I didn’t think you’d stay on the ship so long.” he murmured faintly. “I was… out… for hours.”

“I did say I didn’t have anything else to do.” She chuckled weakly. “Though, if I’d known it was gonna be a firefight, I might have charged by the hour. Or at least asked someone to water my plants.”

His helmet tipped down, looking at the baby snoring squeakily into her apron front. “The kid’s special.”

“I see that. Why else would anything the size of a melon cause such a big ruckus?” She nodded. “Who’s after him?”

“Empire.”

Zena flinched visibly, eyes wide. “E-empire!? But they’re supposed to be gone!” Her arms tightened around the greenling on sheer instinct. She tried to dampen her immediate fear, but it sank icy claws into her stomach. No, not the Empire, not that nightmare of power and cruelty… They were dead. Did nothing in the galaxy stay dead if she wanted it that way, while only the things she loved refused to rise again?

“He has powers, and can do things I can’t explain. I’ve never seen a Foundling with that kind of strength.” Under the visor, Mando’s eyes watched the woman’s hands on the child’s back. There was something pleasing and primal about watching a pretty woman holding a Foundling. It begged the question what now?

“Yeah, he’s Force-sensitive…” she said, looking down at him.

“What?” The modulated voice wasn’t playing dumb, he really had no idea what that meant. Which meant she was about to have to reveal a lot about herself.

She winced immediately. “You...uh, have you ever heard of the Jedi? You know, before the Empire?”

He shook his head. “Not really… I’ve been in the covert since before the Empire. During the Clone Wars… I think I was ten.”

She did quick mental math. Ten during the war, war was three years, twenty two from the rise of the Empire to its end five years ago… “So you’re around thirty five to forty?”

“I lost count. Don’t get sidetracked.” He co*cked his helmet, wondering why she cared about his age.

She flushed, chasing the mental math determining if they were within a compatible age range away.. “Sorry. Okay, the Jedi was an Order of… they were knights, but they were kinda monks too. You had to be sensitive to the Force to join them, but they took in children who were and raised them in the temple on Coruscant.” She shivered a little.

“So they all had these powers.”

“Yeah… some were stronger than others, of course, but they all had the ability. The Force is… all around us. Inside us. The life energy of the galaxy. Those who can, can move that energy the way they want. Move stuff, influence minds, that kind of thing…” She looked away. “It was… kind of a religion. And a way of life.”

“So if they were so powerful, what happened to them?” He co*cked his helmet to the side.

“The Empire happened.” Her eyes fell, and he felt the strangest curiosity well up in his chest. This wasn’t just a history lesson. There was something personal about this.

“That bad?”
“Yeah. You remember… Darth Vader? Everybody heard about him, right?”

“Yeah, I know that name.” He nodded.

“He was a Jedi. One of their best and brightest, but he… he fell to the Dark Side of the Force and betrayed them. Had most of them killed the day the Empire took power, and hunted more down over the years until he finally f*cking died.” She hissed the last part, arms curling more protectively around the little cabbage in her arms.

“You know a lot about this.” He leaned in a little, curious. Her eyes, reflecting the streaking stars of hyperspace, promised him a story he couldn’t begin to imagine. And he wanted to hear it, if she was going to be on the ship he needed to know who she was. He’d already been curious about the woman he just met and was so persistently nice for no apparent reason.

She shrugged, willing the tremor in her muscles to stop. “I…my… my dad… he knew a lot. He taught me a lot.”

“He's back on Nevarro? I can find a way to get you passage back from another planet, once I fi-”

“It’s okay, Mando. He’s dead.” she held a hand up, a sad smile on her lips. “He died a couple years ago… helping the Rebellion.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it sounded so pitiful compared to the full truth. He died, facing down darkness itself in single combat like the most badass man to ever walk the galaxy.

“I… I’m sorry for your loss.” he murmured, sitting back in the chair again. He wouldn’t pry for that story, not now. Not knowing the pain of losing a parent. “What about your mother?”

“Never knew her… she died during the war. I was… what did you call him? A foundling? When I was four, Dad rescued me from… a bad place. I grew up on Tattooine.”

“Kind of a sh*tty place to grow up. It must have been bad if that was better.” He felt like he should be doing something. Patting her arm or something. Some kind of gesture of sympathy that he couldn’t otherwise convey through the helmet. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t give a sh*t about what she was saying.

He was actually glad of her company. Usually he was content alone, but with the daunting realization that he’d brought a literal baby onboard a bounty vessel with no plan or preparation, her soft features made this less… impossible. Her voice was a reassurance that he wasn’t going to totally f*ck this up. She definitely seemed like the kind who knew something about kids… if he could convince her to stay.

“It wasn’t so bad. Especially if you stay out of Mos Eisley. We mostly kept to ourselves, I studied at home instead of in town. I was… I didn’t do well with people for a long time. He had to help me learn how to make friends.” She chuckled weakly. “Used to take me to do charity for the less fortunate, so I could talk to people and still have something to do with my hands.”

“Is that why you wanted to give me stuff? You only know how to make friends if you’re giving?” The realization dawned on him and was audible through the vocoder. Was he taking advantage of a trauma response?

“Do you know how lame that makes me sound? Why can’t I just be philanthropic and friendly?” She huffed, trying to change the subject. “Where are we going, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Some backwater. Somewhere with no population center or spaceport.”

“Oh, wow. f*ck, do I at least get some credits?” She sighed. “There’s nothing in places like that but spotchka farms and I don’t know anything about brewing… I guess I could get an apprenticeship but I’m getting old for it….”

“What are you babbling about?” he snorted. She tried not to flinch.

“If you’re gonna leave me on a planet where there’s no spaceport or population center, I’m never gonna get back to Nevarro unless I get stupid lucky and someone else is going that way and happens to stop for some spotchka.” She shrugged, eyes down. “So I guess I’m starting over.”

“Do you want me to leave you somewhere?” he was incredulous. And a little insulted, again. She was very good at getting under his skin entirely by accident.

“Not particularly, no.” She glanced over at him. “But you didn’t really mean to bring me along… “

“Do you think I’m the kind of person who’d dump a helpless woman on a strange planet and maroon her?” His voice sharpened.

“You’re mad.” she whispered, curling into herself tightly, protecting the baby with her body. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…”

Mando took a deep breath, the vocoder translating it somewhat musically. Okay, this was also a trauma response. She didn’t handle anger well… This was going to be a challenge, he wasn’t the most tactful person. But he did feel bad for scaring her, and held up both gloved hands to her. “Hey, hey. Easy. I’m not going to dump you anywhere… I was going to ask you if you’d like to stay.”

She peeked up. “Really?”

“I don’t know anything about babies.” he shrugged. “And he likes you. I can… give you a percentage of what I make. Jobs might be scarce since I’ve pissed off the guild, but we’ll get by. I’ll pay for supplies since I kind of kidnapped you. You just look after the kid and the ship when I’m gone.”

Zena blinked, nodding slowly. “That… that sounds pretty good, actually. I like kids…” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry… I really don’t know you well enough to know if you’d drop me off somewhere or not…”

“I guess you’ll learn. What matters anyway.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out. “You got any ground rules I should know?”

She blinked, a little charmed that he was so… respectful of boundaries. Blunt as hell, but respectful. She appreciated it, even as her teeth worried her bottom lip. “Please don’t yell at me? And… I don’t like being snuck up on?”

“Fair. Anything else?” He nodded, turning his helmet over to look at her directly. Her eyes were wide and bright, hand resting on the foundling’s little head gently. She had a good recovery from where she’d cowered down at his voice, like nothing had happened. He was in no hurry to repeat it though; he didn’t like the fact that she’d been afraid of him. He’d liked the easy conversations between them on Nevarro, the last thing he wanted was to see her terrified at his presence and lose it.

“Nothing I can think of on the spot…”

“Okay. Here’s mine. Listening?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “I cannot take this helmet off in front of another person. You cannot ever see my face. If you try to take it off me, I will have to kill you. I doubt you would, but I have to warn you to be fair. That also means every meal on the ship, I’ll have to be up here with the door shut and you’ll be in the hold alone. Can you live with that?”

“Yeah… I live alone, I’m used to that.” She smiled weakly.

“Good. Unless I invite you into it, my bunk is off limits. If you need something that’s in there, ask me first.”

“That’s just good manners.” She smiled faintly. “Anything else?”

His head co*cked to the other side and slightly up, thinking. “If you have to get anything out of the armory for whatever reason, do not touch the long rifle in the middle. That’s an Amban disintegration rifle, and it takes a long time to use correctly.”

“So leave you alone to eat, leave you alone to sleep, don’t touch the big guns. Good rules, reasonable ones.” she smiled.

He nodded. “We’ll get along just fine, then.”

Chapter 5: Chapter Four: In My Head There’s Only You Now

Chapter Text

Mando had been sitting in the co*ckpit for nearly six standard hours, spine rigid as his beskar, as they approached Sorgan. They’d been flying for over three weeks from Nevarro with only a handful of stops for fuel and supplies, and the deal he’d struck with Zena had been going well.

Too well.

He hadn’t heard the kid cry since she’d come on board. He spent most of his time in the sling on her back while she cleaned or cooked or organized one thing or another, one little green fist curled in the back of her short hair. She’d made herself a bed in the cargo hold, on a thick shock blanket from the medical cabinet and a mattress pad he’d found out she’d snuck aboard for him and initially refused to take back. He’d had to roll it in the middle of the floor and pointedly explain he wouldn’t take it, so she could use it or it could be an obstacle to trip over, he didn’t care. She did make him take the clean sheets she’d brought though.

He shouldn’t be dissatisfied with anything, she’d done everything he’d asked of her and more since the first day. The Razor Crest had never been cleaner or better organized, three times a day she brought food to the co*ckpit and left respectfully so he could eat, and at night he heard her singing the kid to sleep before handing him off so Mando could tuck him into his little hammock in his bunk, or his makeshift crib they’d made from a metal container and scrap fabric, which she’d added to by knitting the baby blankets and bumpers. .

Maybe that was the problem, that there was nothing left for him to do. Usually when he had something to think about, he’d crack open an access panel and fiddle with old patched wiring while thinking about solutions. But she’d taken to working on that while the kid napped, too. She stayed out of the way, made herself useful, and in general stayed pretty quiet. And that was the killer part.

The first day, he’d gotten so close to hearing her tell him something personal. He’d liked hearing her talk, feeling like he was going to get to know her. Maybe she’d had her guard down because of the fight with the Guild and Karga. But since that day, she barely spoke to him. It bothered him more than he’d realized, until she asked him in a hushed voice if he’d mind watching the baby while she hopped in the ‘fresher for a few minutes.

Sitting with the green toddler on his knee, he looked down at the kid. “She talk to you, kid?” The silver ball from his gearshift twisted itself off and floated into the tot's hands, the boy making a happy burbling sound. “I bet she does. Probably can tell you all about that Force thing, so you know what you’re messing with.” he felt a grumble in his throat as he said it, knowing he was being unfair but unable to really stop himself. “What do you think of her, anyway?”

The kid clapped his little hands, still clutching the ball as hard as he could. Tiny approval, complete with kicking little feet under the potato sack that was his clothing. Mando chuckled a little. “Yeah? Me too.”

The baby’s shrieking laughter echoed through the co*ckpit and he climbed down from Mando’s lap and waddled towards the door. “Where are you going, kid?” Mando got up to grab him, just in time to watch him cannonball his tiny little body down the ladder and land in a thump of pillows and blankets that had most definitely not been laying strategically at the bottom earlier. “Did you pull those out of her bed?”
The kid looked up and giggled, waddling out of the pile. Mando had to climb down carefully, trying not to put his boots on Zena’s bedclothes while getting off the ladder. He picked the blankets up and dragged them back to the corner she slept in, awkwardly making it back up like he thought she’d had it. She liked a little nest, with her back pressed against the hull of the ship. From the fresher, he heard her singing to herself faintly what he was sure was the Coruscanti Planetary Anthem. Then he realized with a faint horror that the fresher door was open… and the kid’s little waddling silhouette was walking in there.
“Kid, dont.” he whispered, sliding over on his knees to try to grab the back of the little robe before he was caught. The kid turned his head, made direct eye contact, and waddled faster into the steamed-up fresher.

Mando winced under his visor when the greenling set up a series of squeaky babbles that got Zena’s attention over the water. The door to the sanistream opened and her head and shoulders peeked out, wet hair slicked back with trails of faintly gray water sliding down to disappear where she held the door half in front of her figure. “Sweet baby, what are you doing?” She smiled. “I thought I left you with your dad.”

Dad. Mando leaned back like she’d hit him in the helmet. Dad. She thought of him as the foundling’s dad. Technically, that was the Way if he accepted the kid as his own. But he hadn’t given it that deep of thought, other than knowing he couldn’t let Imp bastards have something so innocent and small to do Maker only knew what to him. He was still quietly furious at himself for turning the kid over in the first place. He should have just asked her to come along, let her settle her affairs properly, and left. But there was no time to contemplate this failure in potential fatherhood, because the kid was in the damn fresher with her and he could not go in there to get him. As much as Mando would have liked the view.

The baby burbled and held his little hands up to show her the silver ball, cooing with delight. “Aww. Did you just want me to see your shiny toy, baby?” she smiled. “Tell you what, if you wait outside the door until I finish in here, I’ll make you some soup and we can roll it around the floor after you eat. How’s that sound?”

The baby happily cooed again, and she leaned down to pat his little head with her damp hand. From his spot on the floor outside the half open door, Mando could see a faint gray stain spreading across the towel she’d pressed to her front when she’d spotted the baby.
The kid instantly was bumbling back to him, chattering cheerfully until he was out of the door and Mando scooped him up. “Sorry, he got away from me.” He said gruffly, eying the kid under his helmet and wishing he had a first and middle name to growl and thoroughly scold the measly few pounds of green menace in his hands. He tried to make it clear by the direction he tilted his helmet that he wasn’t staring at her wet shoulders and outline of her body… as much as he would very much like to.

He heard Zena giggle faintly. “He’s quick. Will you shut that door, please?”

Without answering, he pulled it shut and shook his head. “What was that about? She’s trying to take a shower.”

The baby wiped some of the moisture from Zena’s hand off his head and patted a damp three-fingered handprint to the front of Mando’s cuirass. Mando sighed. “I swear I think you plan this stuff.”

A few minutes later, Zena came out in a pair of worn duraweave pants and the form fitting shirts he’d seen Rebel soldiers wear under their battle armor. She was wringing her hair dry, and he’d been right about the color leeching out. It was starting to look a little… grayish, instead of jet black.

“Where’d you get that outfit?” He mused. “I thought you just had the dress.”

She nodded at the speeder bike hung up in the corner, the only thing of hers that she’d been able to grab. “I always keep stuff in there in case I get stuck somewhere. Couple days of food, clean clothes, toothbrush, hair brush. That kind of stuff.” She chuckled. “He already ate all my fruit, though.” she pinched the baby’s chubby cheek as he squealed with delight in Mando’s arms. “I had a couple other dresses I’ve been swapping out under the same apron, that’s probably why you didn’t notice. I’ve just been washing them at night and hanging them over the air vent to dry.”

“How much do you have in that speeder?” He handed her the child and walked over, pulling up the undercarriage cubby to look.
Zena winced as he examined it. Oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh kriffing sh*t.

“How’d you fit a week's worth of clothes in here with it still half full?” he finally asked.

“I… uh… rolled it. Learned that from an Old Republic army officer…” she said sheepishly. “There’s not much space in a standard issue foot locker.”

He nodded, thankfully closing the cubby without actually going through her belongings. “Guess I never thought of that. Can’t roll armor.” He murmured.

That made her laugh, out loud and bright in a way that warmed his skin under the beskar. “I’d like to see someone try, though.” She shifted the baby to her hip. “Hungry? I’ll bring it up to the co*ckpit.”

Mando winced in his helmet, glad his visor hid his expressions. And here they were, right back to square one. f*cking great. “Yeah… thank you.”

Zena leaned in and nuzzled her freshly cleaned nose against the little green one. “Come on, bub. Let’s make lunch.”

He watched her walk away with the kid, happily fawning over his little ball while she put him in his sling on her back so she could cook. Laughing, joking, talking.

He was so jealous of the kid right now.

So she understood why he’d picked Sorgan. There really wasn’t a damn thing here, which meant no one would think to look for them. There wasn’t even a real spaceport, so no docking trackers or hangar fees. Mando landed them in the woods a good distance from the nearest town, just to be sure no one would mess with the Crest for however long they were here.

Once he was assured that the ship was secure and he’d initiated ground security protocols that he idly told her were impenetrable, Zena adjusted the happy baby on her back and followed him. She’d decided to keep the pants and shirt, but put her apron back on over the top. It had nice big pockets for a few things she might need.

When they got to the tavern in town, Mando plucked the kid from his sling and sat him at a table. The barmaid walked over with a smile, asking if she could get them anything.

“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando said simply, then looked at Zena expectantly. She was startled to realize he was asking if she wanted anything. It was… thoughtful.

“I just took down a gringer, so there’s plenty. Can I get either of you a porringer of broth?” The barmaid coaxed.

“Just the one, but thank you.” Zena inclined her head in a polite bow, a very old habit she’d never quite learned to break.

The woman nodded and walked away as Mando scanned the crowded bar. “You sure you’re not hungry?” He murmured.

“Don’t you dare start trying to spend credits on me, Mando.” She chuckled. “You can hunt us a gringer while we’re here and I’ll make us bone broth.”

“Didn’t I say I’d buy supplies?”

“Well, yes. But I had a ration pack before we left. I’m fine.”

“You should have something hot.” He pressed lightly, and she tried not to smile quite so hard. Maker, he was such a mother tooka when he wanted to be.

“I’m okay. I promise.” She patted his plated shoulder. “But thank you.”

Once the broth came back, Zena busied herself feeding the kid, but she was glancing around too. And she was not thrilled to see green armor and a distinct Rebel Dropper tattoo. “Three o’clock.” she murmured.
“Got it.” He nodded. “Stay here.” He got up, but in the shuffle of tavern patrons she lost sight of both him and the Dropper. They’d both somehow slipped outside.

She sighed, spooning another bit of broth into her tiny charges mouth. “How long do you think till he gets into trouble, bub?”

The baby whined, and a cold and pressing worry jammed its way under her lungs. “Yeah, I feel it too.” She sighed. “Stay here, sweet thing. I’ll go look for your dad.” She stopped at the bar and offered the barmaid a handful of credits to keep an eye on the baby before taking off at a quick lope after her Mandalorian.

It wasn’t hard to find him, he was the only person on this planet who’d get into a fistfight on a planet that literally made hard liquor as it’s chief export. And he wasn’t even winning!
Zena took a running leap as the Dropper reached for her blaster, having pinned Mando’s vambrace to the ground. She tackled the armored woman and went rolling, both of them using similar hold breaks and strikes. Mando scrambled up as Zena managed to get the upper hand entirely because she was just a hair faster, straddling the woman and pinning her arms above her head.
They stared at each other for a moment before Zena paled. “Holy kriff…. Dune?”
“Typhe?!”

Zena scrambled off of her, eyes wide with absolute horror. “What are you doing here?!”
“I could ask you the same thing, Typhe! And why are you running with a damn Mandalorian-” Her tirade was cut off by a very loud slurp.

They looked over to see the kid holding his little bowl of broth, watching all three adults layed out in the grass.

Mando was the first to respond. “Uh… you want some soup?”

“You fought in the Rebellion?” Mando eyed Zena as she sat at the table between him and Cara Dune. She had her hands up, half shielding her face from him.

“Oh yeah, Typhoon Typhe here is a hell of a pilot. She flew on Yavin-4.” Cara chuckled.

“I hate you.” Zena murmured

“Weren’t you on Hoth, too? And Endor? And what did you do to your ha-”

“I’ve been to a lot of places, now shut the kriff up.” Zena hissed.

“You didn’t think to mention that?” Mando asked.

“You haven’t told me much more about you than I have about me, so I hardly think you’re in a superior position.” She grumbled, eyes on the table. “Yeah. I fought. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I left after Endor… planet hopped for a while until I landed in Nevarro and decided to stay.”

“How’d no one ever figure it out?” Cara leaned in curiously.

“Because I didn’t get tattoos, for one.” Zena flicked a finger against the Rebel tattoo on her muscled arm. “And two, I always had a go bag ready, so when I finally decided where I wanted to be I landed my fighter on the lava flats and let it melt behind me while I walked away.” Zena shrugged.

Mando sighed, helmet facing her as she went back to feeding the baby for a welcome distraction. “You know we have to talk about this.” He said quietly.

“I really wish we didn’t.” She didn’t look at him. She hated this, being outed for a million things. Even if being a Rebel solider wasn’t shameful, per se, she had deserted. She could be court marshalled, or called back to serve if she was found by the wrong people.

Cara sighed. “Look, I defected and I’m hiding here. I can’t risk you two attracting attention from the Guild or the New Republic… so how long are you staying?”

“We’re not.” Mando shook his head. “We’ll find somewhere else to lay low once we get supplies here.”

Cara nodded. “Sorry, you seem nice. And I do admit I missed you, Typhe. You were always a sight for sore eyes.” She flirtatiously put a hand on Zena’s wrist. “Sure you don’t wanna spend a couple nights with me while your friend babysits?”
“Still not interested, Dune. You’re not my type.” Zena rolled her eyes. “You show off too damn much.”

“Pity. I’d have shown you a good time.” Cara grinned. Zena just scooped the child up and put him on her hip, holding a little three fingered hand and waving bye to Cara before taking him out.
Mando shook his head and got up, following her after throwing enough credits on the table to cover Cara’s three spotchkas.

“Zena, wait.” He had to jog a little to catch up, despite his longer legs. She was fast when she was mad.

“Keep up, shiny.” she grumbled

“Shiny? Is that where we are now?” he sighed. Why the hell was she so mad at him?

She looked over at him quietly. “Sorry… Just frustrated.” She finally said. “I don’t like to deal with that part of my life. Or any other part of my life. I don’t like when the past sneaks up on me.”

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “Bad?”

“You have no idea… Remember when I said my dad took me away from a bad place?”

“Yeah…” he remembered everything she said, burned into his mind without enough detail to satisfy how badly he wanted to know anything about her.

“That bad place followed me. To Tattooine, when I ran away from home, to the war when I joined up, when I ran away from that… Hell, apparently it even turned up on Nevarro.” Her shoulders deflated. “I have a lot of things I regret, Mando. Fighting the Empire isn’t one of them. The way I got there and the way I left… yeah, I really regret that.”

His fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly. “We don’t have to talk about it right now… but eventually.” He finally said.

“Thank you.” She looked up, and there was a little redness rimming her eyes, though they didn’t seem like they were tearing up. Maybe the dust from rolling around the ground with Cara was bothering them.

They were getting back to the Razor Crest when two men with a hover-cart arrived. They looked nervous and stammered a good bit. “Are you a Mandalorian? We… we’ve got a job for you. We can pay.”

“How much?” Mando didn’t even stop what he was doing halfway inside the open door of the ship.

“Two thousand credits.”

“What’s the job?”

“Our village is being attacked by raiders. If you’d drive them off, I’m sure they won’t come back again.” One farmer said hopefully.

“Three thousand.” Mando simply demanded. Zena side eyed him. These were poor farmers, that was steep….

“We’ll take up a collection, you’ve got a deal.” The farmer handed over the first portion. “Will this count as a down payment?”

“Yes. Do you have lodging?” He fixed them with the T visor and they nodded numbly. Mando reached over and grabbed Zena’s wrist, clipping something to her comm unit. “Take her there. I’ll be right behind.”

“What are you doing?” She whispered as the farmers offered to let her ride with the child in the cart.

“Going back to get your friend. If it’s a group, we’ll need backup.”

She sighed. “Alright, what did you just hook to my wrist?”

“Tracker. I can find you now. I’ll take it back when I catch up with you.” He ushered her down the ramp and she climbed into the cart with the baby in her lap. The tot cheerfully waved goodbye to him before getting comfy in the cradle of her thighs and holding her thumb in his hands.

Yeah, Mando was still jealous of the kid.

It was indeed a pretty little village they were led to. Zena sat on the porch of the loghouse they’d been leant, watching her little green bean running around with the village kids. And eating whole frogs, which was faintly horrifying. Mando had found them, and Cara was supposed to be there by the next morning to get started in earnest with sorting out the raiders.

“He is your child?” The woman who let them use the loghouse, a pretty widow named Omera, came and sat beside her with a cup of spotchka, offering it to her with a friendly smile. “You seem to care for him very much.”

Zena chuckled. “Not exactly, but close enough. He… Mando kind of adopted him, and I’m the hired babysitter. I haven’t even known the cute little womp-rat all that long, but he’s got a way of endearing himself to you.” She took the spotchka gratefully. “

“You’re fond of the Mandalorian too.” Omera said wisely. “I understand. He’s… alluring.”

“You trying to feel him up? I don’t know what he’s like under the beskar, but I know he’ll tell you the helmet stays on during sex.” Zena laughed.

Omera shook her head. “The thought had… crossed my mind. Seeing him with the child, and how he’s agreed to help us. But… I think what he really wants he brought with him. For a man who covers his face, he doesn’t hide much with body language.”

“You’re cryptic, Miss.” Zena frowned as her sage youngling swallowed another live frog. “I don’t know if I should be worried they’re toxic or that he’ll spoil his dinner…” she brought her cup to her lips

“I’m not being cryptic. The Mandalorian is interested in the woman who mothers his son. Which is very clearly you.”

Zena snorted on a sip of her spotchka and groaned in pain. “Oh Maker… it burns… you can’t just say stuff like that, I might actually die.” She coughed, eyes crossed with spotchka coming out her nose. “sh*t, ow…”

Omera handed her a handkerchief. “Tell you what. I’ll keep the baby after dark. If nothing comes of it, you’ll get peaceful sleep before your friend arrives and you start handling the raiders. But otherwise…” She chuckled. “Well, if you get peaceful sleep, I might shoot my shot.”

Zena kept dabbing at her watery eyes, irritated with her own emotions all of a sudden. It was easy to deny there was any desire between her and Mando in the short time they’d known each other… but the minute Omera offered to try for herself she found herself hot under her sternum. She was jealous.

Her father would have kicked her ass.

“S-sure… I’m sure he’d like the sleepover anyway.” She mumbled awkwardly around her blinks and sniffles.

Omera got up to give her peace, knowing she’d flustered the woman half to death. Mando came by after checking the perimeter of the village for the evening. “You okay? You’re… leaking.” He looked her up and down, noting the watery eyes and blue spotchka running out her nose.

“Omera told a joke… while I was drinking spotchka. Kinda unpleasant.” she chuckled weakly, looking up in the setting sunlight. It struck her eyes at an angle and Mando expected to enjoy it. She had brown eyes, the sunset should pattern out honey gold and amber into them. They’d be beautiful….

Nothing. The brown was flat, unaffected by the warm sun. He could see patterned motes in them, but they looked black. Fuzzy, perfectly symmetrical and almost too evenly spaced..

“You wear colored contacts.” he suddenly crouched in front of her, catching her chin between his fingertips.

She startled, blinking at him. “How’d you guess?” She finally murmured.

“They don’t catch the light right. And when you gave me your business holo, your eyes in the recording were too light.” He co*cked his helmet to the side. “Are they prescriptions? Do you need them to see?”

“N-no… just for color…” She mumbled, still stunned he’d noticed something so tiny.

“Your eyes are getting irritated, you probably haven’t changed or cleaned them since we left Nevarro.” He let her chin go. “Take them out. Let me see.”

Her stomach did a drop at the way he murmured the last bit. He sounded… almost hungry. Like seeing her real eyes was as alluring as lingerie or something for him. Coming from a man who had hidden his face since he was a child, maybe it was.
She leaned her head down slowly, carefully pinching the thin lenses off her irises one at a time. The dull brown circles clung to her fingertips, and she gave up the idea of trying to clean and reuse them and just wiped them off on her pants before looking up.

Mando sucked in a quick breath. Her eyes were a cool blue-gray, soft and bright and when the light hit them they shimmered with hints of lavender. “Mesh’la.” He didn't even realize he’d spoken until he heard the Mando’a word for beautiful sliding out of the vocoder.

Zena blinked at him, unfamiliar with the term but not wanting to break the spell he seemed to be under. He reached up again, the gloved fingers sliding up to her bangs poking out of her flowered headband. “This is fading… and the towels on the ship have gone gray. You dye your hair, too.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Yeah…” How the hell was she so easy to read for him?! No one had caught on for years and years, and he could pull her apart in a month and see the cracks in her cosmetic armor.

“What color is it?”

“Blonde… light blonde.”

“Let it go back.” The orange leather caught a couple strands between his fingers and rubbed them, like he could brush away the pigment she used. “I want to see you as you are.”

“That’s a tall order from a Mandalorian.” She chuckled faintly, but her stomach was tying itself into Mon Calamari shipyard knots. “Lucky for you, my Creed doesn’t mind if I take my armor off.”

“Is this armor?” He picked up one of the contacts off her pants leg and examined it.

“In a way. It protects me. Keeps the past from following too closely.”

“You don’t need it. I’ll do it. I’ll protect you.” He turned his head, eying the setting sun. She could only imagine the filters and readouts telling him information, counting down until darkness, giving latitude and longitude and which way was North. “Where’s the kid?”

“Omera offered to let him spend the night with Winta…” She felt her voice strain. Oh sh*t, what would he do? Would he go get the baby, or sleep alone with her in that cabin behind them? If he picked the latter, were they going to actually sleep? And if not, how the hell did she touch someone she wasn’t allowed to look at?

He nodded, head swivelling back to her. “The sun will fully set in six minutes. Go inside… please.” His added, forced politeness made her lips twitch into a smile. He had no idea how to talk to people, because most of the time he didn’t have to. So to have him try for her was… endearing.

She nodded, gathering her legs up under her and getting up to walk inside. She hadn’t really paid attention to the inside here, having dropped a few things they’d brought in and run back out after the greenling. It was cozy, one big room with a fireplace, kitchen blocked off by the polished wooden counters, and a large comfy bed big enough she could lay between him and the child and they'd never touch each other. The fresher was the only separate room, and it reminded Zena of those vacation hotels on Naboo, with the pretty rustic views and gourmet room service.

She turned around slowly as the Mandalorian walked in behind her, her nerves alight with sudden heat. It was rolling off him through the force, the kind of powerful aura that she’d always been told must be held back, controlled and tied down to avoid making her a target or to fall into the darkness herself. His feelings made her dizzy, the dull aching longing for something that overlaid the raw lust and softened it. He shut the door behind himself, hand resting on the lock for a long minute. “If you tell me you don’t want to do this, that’s fine.” He said, slow and measured. It might even have been comforting if she didn’t hear the bite of him talking through gritted teeth. “I’ll walk back outside and you can sleep in here alone tonight, and I’ll never bring it up again unless you do first. Is that fair?”

She nodded, staring at his profile. The hard set of his shoulders, the way his head was angled to look at her, the fist clenched so tightly over the still unlatched lock, she thought he might warp the metal or rip it from the wooden door. “Y-yeah… that’s fair…”

“You can’t see my face.” he repeated.

“I know.” Her voice was breathy now, shaking and strained and ready to snap like his self control. Or the aching bones in her clenched fists at her sides. “How long til it’s dark? I know you’ve got a countdown.”

He was surprised, and his head jerking up confirmed she’d been right.. “Three minutes and sixteen seconds.”

“We can… close the blinds, and turn off the lights. You can’t see me, I can’t see you.” She tried to sound confident but her knees were shaking and there was no way he couldn’t see them. “There’s curtains too, and they’re thick… we’ll draw those too.”

He nodded, helmet bobbing slightly as he swallowed hard. “You’re sure… is it okay for me to touch you?”

“Do you want to?” Zena braced herself for another wave of desire as his ramped up another notch. She couldn’t tell where his began and hers ended at this point, but she was very aware the space between her thighs was slick and feverish.

“So f*cking much.”

“Lock the door. I’ll get the windows.” She breathed. “As soon as it’s dark enough, you can.”

He nodded, the lock sliding into place with a thunk while she fumbled the blinds and windows closed.

“Fifteen seconds. Get on the bed.” Mando murmured.
“Do you want me to strip?” She threw a leg up on the big bed, feeling the washed soft fabric of the quilt and softness of a real mattress after three weeks on the floor of a bounty ship.

He groaned faintly. “No. L-let me… Wanna feel you.”

She nodded, kicking her boots off as a haphazard afterthought and kneeling, eyes locked on the man in beskar.

Five.

He was so big, and strong. She wondered if he even knew how to be gentle. Would he hold her, slow and sweet, or shatter her like a broken mirror so she felt him on her skin for days?

Four.

His fists clenched in the gloves, visor locked on her. "You look good like that." He murmured, low and dark and wanting. It made a shiver go through her spine, another ripple of heat through the Force dragging more slickness between her bent legs.

Three.

"Yeah?" She could barely breathe, her mouth was so dry with nerves. How long had it been since someone touched her? How long had it been for him?

Two.

"Yeah. F-f*cking pretty." He sounded as wrecked and anxious as she was, even through the vocoder. "And soft."

One.

"Come over here and find out, Mando."

The lights went out, plunging them both into the inky blackness as the sun vanished outside.

She heard him moving, he could usually be so quiet but he didn't care to soften his steps as he crossed the room in rapid strides. He wanted her to hear him coming. She held out her hands, reaching for him until the cool beskar of his cuirass met her palms.

Two quick swipes removed the gloves and warm hands wrapped around her wrists, strong and smooth. He could snap the delicate bones on a whim, but instead glided his palms up her arms and shoulders, coming around back to untie her apron.

She leaned back a little so he could pull it off and drop it, the loaded pockets letting it make a thud when it hit the floor. He was already reaching for the buttons on her shirt before the sound faded, knuckles brushing her skin as he pulled them open. "Don't want to rip-" he started, half stammering as his shaking hands struggled to get the buttons open. He was usually so graceful when he moved, but he was so overwhelmed with just this little bit of access to her skin. She flushed at the idea she could make this perfectly composed bounty hunter turn into a fumbling teenager. She felt powerful.

"I'll sew them back on. I brought another shirt." She skimmed her open palms across the back of his hands.

He grabbed her lapel and snatched, buttons flying and skittering across the floor, half hidden by a low growl.

"-f*cking perfect girl, perfect-"

Zena whimpered when he grabbed at her skin, molding her shoulders like clay and kneading her breasts, feverish in his exploration of her body. She was soft, skin smooth and cool. He yanked her shirt out from where it was tucked in her waistband, shoving it down her shoulders so he could keep touching, stroking everywhere he could get.

Zena reached up again, following the ridges in the honeycomb pattern of his cuirass. "Can I…?"

The warm hands left her and she heard clicking and shuffling, before something heavy thudded to the floor. Snapping preceded more metallic clanks as he shed the beskar and untied his boots, toeing them off. The mattress depressed with his weight, and the hiss right beside her head as the helmet unsealed made her dizzy. His bare face was right there, within arms reach...

Then his mouth found her shoulder and he was all over her.

She whimpered when he pushed her onto her back, teeth testing her collarbone eagerly while a hand pushed up under her breast band. "Maker…" she sounded drunk to her own ears.

Mando sucked hard on her pulse, feeling her arch under him and her hands start unzipping his flight suit. When her palm met his bare chest, his muscles dissolved into shudders. She chased the heat, sliding both hands up over his heart, kneading his pectorals like a lothcat. "You're so warm…" she sighed, starting to tug the open suit over his shoulders so she could feel more of him.

Maker he wished he could see her. What expressions crossed that pretty face as she undressed him and lightly ran her nails down his back, testing his skin and tracing old scars? When his tongue dipped into the hollow of her clavicle, did she bite her lip at the same time he heard that wanton little gasp?

"You can't see me, but I… I wish I could see…" he mumbled against the mark he left on the junction of her neck and shoulder, and Maker his voice. It was a beautiful, rich baritone laden with honey and heat. Disguising that was the only reason she hadn't jumped him in the co*ckpit of the Crest by now.

"You can blindfold me next time." she groaned, lifting her hips when his fingers found purchase on her belt.

"Do you already want a next time?" Warm air puffed against her cheek when he chuckled.

"Depends on how good you f*ck me, Mando." She felt the belt buckle release and he yanked her pants down her legs, shifting his weight off her just enough she could kick them to the floor.

"Oh f*ck, Zen." He groaned, head resting on her decolletage. "Keep talking like that and we won't get that far…"

She fumbled his belt open less gracefully than he'd gotten hers, peeling the flight suit past the swell of his ass and playfully grabbing two handfuls of firm muscle, pushing him into her pelvis as she ground it upwards. "I think you'd break my heart."

He moaned against her skin and she felt the vibrations through her sternum, right into her pounding heart. Then he was sitting up, ripping the flight suit off and hurling it across the room. "Take your f*cking panties off before I rip them off you." He hissed, voice wrecked and desperate.

Zena thought about it for a second before pointedly grabbing his hands and putting them on her hips. "Do it."

The fabric ripped at the thinnest point when he snatched, leaving a stripe of burning ache across her left hipbone. She yelped, but it was swallowed by a sobbing moan when he effortlessly lifted her hips, scrunching her lungs in her chest as only her upper back remained on the mattress. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles in the dimples of her lower back, making her forget the burn. Her knees folded over his broad shoulders, manhandled into following his motion as he lowered himself between her drenched thighs.

A hot tongue swept through her folds, searching for her cl*t. When he found it, he knew by the shuddering of her cramped breathing. Mando licked into her heat like a man on Tattooine searching for water, drunk off her whimpers and spasms when he moved one hand from under her ass to probe her entrance.

She tasted sweet and hot, and when a fingertip pressed inside her she clenched and soaked his jaw. "Mando, f*ck." She gasped, keening high in her throat.

"Good?" He parted his lips from her cl*t long enough to bite her inner thigh, possessively proud of the marks he knew he'd leave behind on her ivory flesh. He could imagine, perfectly, her fingertip trailing over them in the light, thinking of him when she was alone in the quiet of the Crest.

"Yes."

He returned to her heat with vigor, adding a second finger and curling them to search for the spot inside her that sent electric shocks behind her rolled back eyes. "You gonna come?" He breathed between caresses with his tongue on the screaming bundle of nerves at her apex. "Go on, pretty girl. I wanna feel you come from my mouth and fingers before I f*ck you out of your goddamn mind."

Zena had never liked orders, but something about him made her like his. His could be trusted, he wouldn’t lead her astray. The winding coil in her belly snapped, unceremoniously leaving her to arch and scratch at the quilt under her while her thighs snapped shut around Mandos head. He'd expected the mouthy little healer to scream, but he found the pitiful whimper of ecstasy more appealing.

He had to wrench himself free of her thighs to breathe, and set her lower half back onto the bed carefully, feeling tremors twitch through her.

He laid down next to her, one hand propping up his head and the other tracing over her skin, still exploring her as she came down from the high. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah…" she shivered as his fingers stroked down her sternum, tracing the bone between the valley of her breasts.

He chuckled softly, petting the soft skin of her tummy, pausing when he felt the ridge of circular scarring between her chest and navel. She hadn't noticed yet, lost in the feeling of his warmth leaching into her chilled skin. "Catch your breath, pretty girl." He murmured.

"Can I kiss you?" She smiled, dazed and comfortable, snuggling into the curve of his chest. Maker, she felt good; her whole body was tingling like he'd lit off Coruscanti firecrackers under her skin.

"Probably should have done that before I put my mouth somewhere else. " he leaned in, granting her access to his mouth, catching her jaw between his fingertips to guide her lips to his.

He tasted like her, and some kind of warm spice that was his own. She loved it, reaching a shaky hand up to stroke his stubbled cheek. She wasn't great at transferring touch to a mental image, but she could tell he had high cheekbones and a dignified, aquiline nose. He tensed slightly as she explored his face, but didn't stop her. Her fingers traced along his brow, then back through his hair before curling into the shaggy length at the back of his neck to pull him more firmly into her kiss.

When her lungs burned for air she finally parted from his plush lips, smiling dopily though she knew it was unseen. "I bet you're gorgeous." She murmured, lips brushing against his jawline.

He hummed low in his throat, nosing her temple. "You're co*ckdrunk and I haven't even f*cked you yet." He was laughing under his breath, she heard it. But she didn’t have the heart to even be offended; he was absolutely right.

Zena chuckled. "Mn… what are you waiting for, then?"

His arms tightened around her. "Stand up and bend over the bed."

She nodded, leaning up to kiss his jaw again before rolling up and following his instructions.

He followed her to his feet, skimming his palm up her ribs and testing the weight of her breasts before one hand fisted in the back of her hair and pushed her head into the mattress. He lightly kicked her legs apart, her moan filtering into his ears when she heard him take himself in hand and pump his length.

"D-do you want me to-"

"I want you to stand there nicely while I wreck this tight little c*nt. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh huh." She wiggled her hips back, shivering as his co*ck pressed against her.

There was no preamble, just an iron grip around her waist and the hand in her hair before he split her in half when he sank into her.

She sobbed out a moan immediately, arching back as Mando set a pace that bordered on brutal. "Do you have any f*cking idea-" he growled into her ear. "-how good you look on my ship. With my kid. Like a f*cking buir." He slammed the air out of her lungs with each snap of his hips. "All I've f*cking wanted… f*cking weeks now…"

Zena moaned, clawing the sheets. She wasn't absorbing anything he said to her at this point, entirely lost in the sound of his wrecked, tight voice without filter or helmet, whimpering his name as he branded himself into her heat.

"You gonna come again, sweet girl? Go on, let me feel it." He leaned over her back, releasing her hair to press against her cl*t and stir magma into her veins. "One more, come on."

She nearly broke her spine when she did, arching up and back against his chest with a ruinous whine.

Mando set his teeth back into her shoulder, her clenching muscles dragging him to his peak. “Where?” He hissed darkly, shoving down the fantasy of filling her with himself, staying as close to her as he could and relishing the stolen moments of touch that came so rarely to him

“I-implant… anywhere y-you want... “ She gasped, shaking as he snapped his hips into her again.

“f*cking hell…” He gave, doubling them both back over across the bed, his weight compressing her breathing a moment before he rolled them properly into the mattress and pulled her across his chest. She shivered when he slid out of her, a hot trail of spent arousal running down her thighs.

Mando smoothed her hair back gently, exhaustion settling into his bones. "Gonna keep you…" he mumbled. "Pretty f*cking girl…'

She pressed her lips to his chest sleepily. "Mmkay…"

Chapter 6: Chapter Five: This World Falls On Me

Chapter Text

Mando, Zena, and Cara were out scouting for what exactly they were up against by dawn. There was a pleasant ache between Zena’s legs, her patchwork of bruises hidden under her clothing. She’d enjoyed admiring them in the fresher mirror after her shower.

He’d pulled the blankets over his head before she turned on the light and gotten dressed while she was under the hot water, Creed intact by the time she came out rubbing the damp from her hair and dressed. And considering the depth of the mud they were now currently slogging through, they were both going to need that sanistream again by nightfall.

“This is why invasion is bad for the environment. They’ve pulled all the grass up hauling stuff, and now when it rains it’s just nasty eroded muck that washes downhill.” Zena grumbled, crouching low to examine tracks. “Oh f*ck. Dune!”

Cara trotted over curiously. “What’s up- dank farrik!”

Mando co*cked his helmet to the side. “You two finished swearing like Hutts?”

“You’ve got a filthier mouth than a Trandoshan whor*, Mando.” Zena huffed. “When you bother to talk, anyway. Look at the tracks. That’s an AT-ST. They’ve got a Walker, and the village didn’t see fit to mention it to anyone.”

“We’re three people. We can’t fight a walker.” Cara shook her head. “I’ve seen these things wipe out entire companies.”

Zena sighed deeply. “Okay. We gotta come up with a new plan. With this kind of firepower, the raiders could kill the whole village. We can’t leave them to die.”

Mando looked at her for a long, thoughtful minute before offering her a hand up. “Got any suggestions?”

“Think we can convince them to move?” Cara offered.

“Doubt it. You know how long it takes to cultivate fields and ponds like this? It’d take ten years to get three fourths of the production back up. That’s a lot of lost revenue and supplies, not taking into account being able to find the land to even start.” Zena shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you were a farmer too?” Mando huffed.

“Knew some people who owned a moisture farm back on Tattooine.” She said noncommittally. “We used to help out a little… labor for water, that kind of stuff.” When she’d first come on board the Crest, he’d have left it at that. But now he knew a little more about her, and he knew she was hiding something. It probably should have gotten on his nerves but it felt more like a puzzle cube; something he could keep working and turning in his hands until the answers were revealed.

They walked back through the muck until they reached the village again, where the townspeople had gathered and were murmuring amongst themselves. Cara hopped up onto the nearest porch. “So how many of you knew they had a Walker?” She put her hands on her hips.

Nobody looked up, shuffling around between them and mumbling indiscriminately. Mando leaned against the porch railing, listening thoughtfully. Zena sat on the ground at his feet, watching Cara try to argue with the villagers to leave.

“Told you they wouldn’t go for it.” She said softly, subtly leaning back against his leg. No one was paying attention to them right now, arguing with Cara instead.

“You did.” he shrugged. “What’s the new plan, since you’re so smart?”

Zena chuckled, hopping up. “You waited til I got comfy, didn’t you?” She climbed the porch. “Hey, hey, settle down. Alright, no one wants to leave. I get it. Who here knows how to use a blaster?” Everyone quieted down, but only Omera held her hand up. Zena chuckled, co*cking her hip and looking around. “Who wants to learn?”

Mando looked up at her through the forest of raised fists, and his chest felt warm under his cuirass when the morning light softened her features, animated as she and Cara started formulating a plan.

He liked capable women.

“Staves up!” Zena was demonstrating staff fighting with a group of men and woman, while Mando gave blaster lessons and Cara helped them by digging in a krill pond to trap the Walker “Keep your guard across your chest, and watch your footing. Tuck elbows in or you’ll catch a fist to the kidney.”

“Miss, how the heck do you know all this stuff?” Gasped one noodle armed teenage boy, who had the fire but not the coordination. “This is exhausting and you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

Zena smiled faintly, looking up at the sky. “My dad… taught me.” She finally said. “I’ve been training since I was a child. Come on, one more drill.”

She looked over as Mando walked over, blaster slung over his shoulder. He looked good, strong and capable and in his element. “How’s your hand to hand?” She chuckled.

“Looking for a fight?” He holstered the blaster with smooth, practiced ease.

“Just a demonstration. I promise not to make you look bad.” She teased, holding her staff up. “Just try to disarm me, and after every set I’ll explain what I did to them.”

He nodded, watching her take a defensive stance with the staff up. “Now.”

Mando was unbelievably fast for someone in a billion kilos of heavy beskar, and it took all her concentration to avoid him just snatching the staff right out of her hands. He crowded her, making the length of the staff useless, trying to pin her wrists or disrupt her footing, until she crouched and slung the staff, using it to knock his knees out from under him. He went down on his back, grabbing her ankle and snatching her to the ground, sending them both rolling across the ground.

Right into the krill pond.

Zena came up sputtering, indignantly holding her staff up. “I still got it!”

Her students cheered as Mando surfaced, helmet turned towards her. “This is your fault.”

“It’s just water. Beskar doesn’t rust like durasteel.” she chuckled.

“No, but now the padding is soaked. It weighs a ton and it’s uncomfortable” he groused.
Zena smiled. “You done teaching marksmanship for the day? I got an idea.”

“Yeah…”
She smiled, looking back at her students. “Class dismissed. Pair off and practice.”

As the villagers started swinging on each other, she and Mando clambered out of the pond. Her clothes were glued to her skin and he just moved like he was very unhappy. “Come on, I’ll fix you up Mando.”

They went to the loghouse and she smiled. “Go take a shower, toss your clothes outside the door and I’ll hang them on the line outside. Your armor we can set in front of the fireplace for the padding to dry.”

“Uh huh. And how am I supposed to avoid you seeing me while that happens?” He crossed his arms, the wet cloth making an unpleasant sound as it rubbed together.
She smiled. “Well, there’s a handful of options. First one, I hang up your stuff and go stay with Omera and the kid for the rest of the day and probably night, and bring everything back in the morning when it’s dry.” He didn’t respond, just leaned against the wall and regarded her. “Option two is that I hang everything up and start the fire, then blindfold myself before you get out of the fresher.” She chuckled faintly. “Since, you know, firelight will stop it from being totally dark. But it’ll be cozy.” She chuckled.

The Mandalorian pondered a moment, then nodded, starting to turn towards the fresher. “Second one.”

She chuckled. “I figured. Though… I do have a question. About your Creed… if it’s alright for me to ask.”

“You can ask.” He turned back to her, wondering what had crossed her mind. Everyone wanted to know what was never their business, why he’d taken the Creed or if he was allowed to do this or that…

“I know I can’t see your face, if I accidentally saw your wrist or something, would that endanger your creed? I haven’t seen anything, I was just thinking… when we get back to the Crest… I don’t want to mess up your whole life if you got hurt and I had to put a bacta patch on your back or something.”

He regarded her for a long, long minute. “You’ve been thinking about it.” She’d been occupying her time with a Creed that wasn’t her own, that she didn’t totally understand, not scheming to sneak a peek but to preserve his honor.

“Well… yeah.” she squirmed. “I… you trusted me enough to be in bed with me.” Her cheeks turned a little red. It felt weird to describe it like that, but she had a feeling it was a big deal to him. It had to be, based on the little she knew of his culture. “I mean, you wouldn’t even take your helmet off without a locked door between us so you could eat when I first came on board… And it’s important to you. I wanna make sure I don’t mess it up, you know?”

He reached up, wet leather gloves sticking a little to her equally wet cheek when he ran a thumb over her skin. “The way I was raised, it’s about the helmet. You can’t let anyone see what’s under it… if you do, you become dar’manda, no longer Mandalorian… disconnected from your culture. And your soul, according to the Way..” he explained. “But it’s the helmet, the face, that has to be hidden.”

She smiled. “So technically you could walk out in the middle of the village in nothing but your helmet and you’d still be good. I’d pay good credits to see that.”

“Keep dreaming.” He swatted her shoulder, lightly as he was able but it still made her wobble a little, before walking to the fresher. She waited patiently for him to toss the flightsuit, cloak, cowl, socks, and underwear out the cracked fresher door. Once he shut the door she changed into a dry shirt and took his wet clothes and her own outside and hung them up. Then she carried in firewood and got the fireplace cheerfully crackling, before carrying his beskar piece by piece to lay in front of the fire. He had his helmet in the fresher with him, an insurance policy against her failing to put the blindfold she’d agreed to on.

Once she was sure it would start drying, she went and got a couple fluffy blankets from the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and lay them out close enough so she could enjoy the warmth from the fire. Then she pulled a strip of cloth she’d used as a bandage from her bag, snuggled between the blankets on the floor, and tied her eyes.

She heard the fresher turn off after a while, but she was starting to doze in contented warmth. His footsteps didn’t even register until he sat down next to her on the blankets and she heard the helmet laying on the hearth to dry out.

“Mn.. hey there.” She yawned.

“You gonna sleep on the floor?” he chuckled quietly.

“I like sleeping by fire. Used to have one all the time as a kid.” she leaned up, moving her head to rest against his thigh.

“On Tattooine? The hottest place I can think of besides Mustafar.” He ran his fingers through her hair, noting where the roots were beginning to show and the color fade more.

“Deserts are kinda cold at night… but it was for the light.” She chuckled. “I was scared of the dark for years. Had awful nightmares, Dad would stay up all night with me a lot…”

“He sounds like a good man.”
“He was. No one would have ever blamed him for sending me away, I was a hard kid to handle. But he didn’t…”

“You miss him.” It wasn’t a question, but a forgone conclusion.

“Yeah. I wish I’d spent more time with him before he died… He’s the one who taught me how to take care of the kid. We used to help out our neighbors and watch their nephew… “ she chuckled faintly. “Come get under the blanket with me? It’s cozy here.”

“You’re unbelievable. Who in their right mind would invite a Mandalorian bounty hunter to cuddle?” He muttered, pulling the blanket up and sliding up behind her, spooning her despite his protesting.

“You like it too.” she pulled his arm around her waist and leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder.

He didn’t respond, just adjusted her wet hair so it wasn’t soaking his shoulder. “You gonna be okay with that blindfold all night?”

“Yeah. You just tell me when you’re decent in the morning.” She dozed off against him, and he had to just lay there and try to figure out how exactly this happened to him.

How’d he ended up with the kid, and the girl, with his armor off, in a sleepy village on a dead end planet, waiting to fight a bunch of Klatooninian raiders who’d somehow gotten an AT-ST. And why he didn’t actually mind the fighting and location, because he knew the kid was safe and he got to hold onto Zena.

“Hold your position!” Zena was planted at a barrier in the village, artillery fire all around her. Cara and Mando had gone to stir up the raiders, and it was like kicking a hornet's nest. The damn Walker had chased them back to the village. Her fighters were just frightened farmers trying to survive, she had to get them there. “Blasters, prepare for volley! DUNE! GET THAT WALKER OFF OUR BACKS!”

Cara was struggling to get under the AT-ST, firing at the viewports until she managed to take one out. “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” The machine was following her into the pond when she dove, and it sank down deep.
Zena popped up, hurling her staff with all her strength right through the chest of a raider moving to shoot at Mando as he lined up to throw a thermal detonator. Mando’s helmet spun around and looked at the shishkebab, then back at where Zena was still ordering her people to keep shooting and fighting.
No time to wonder, he threw the explosive and he and Cara took shelter inside the pond, the water absorbing the worst of the shock. The rest of the raiders quickly realized they were outgunned and took off into the forest.

A massive cheer went up and Zena grinned, looking around at everyone before walking over to give Mando and Cara a hand up out of the water. “Aww, Mando. We just dried those.” She chuckled.
“I’ll drag you in here too.” He grumbled, but she pulled him up with both arms.

“Sweet maker, you weigh a ton!” She groaned, getting him out before helping Cara. “Ugh. I threw out my back just pulling Mando up.”

He snorted as she bounced off to go get the baby, complaining about her back and shoulder playfully to Omera.

Cara chuckled. “You see her throw that stick straight through someone?”

“Yeah. How?”

“Not a clue. But stuff… always happened around her when I served with her. Impossible shots made, real good luck, that kind of stuff. When she left, we had normal luck.”

Mando nodded, going back to the loghouse as the villagers prepared to celebrate til dawn and then clean up. He needed to dry off. Again.

When he got back to the loghouse, she was sitting in front of the fire with the kid, cooing at him as he impatiently pulled at her fingers for attention. “I know, I know. You want to talk about it.” she murmured. “But let’s wait a little longer… until we see how he handles it. Okay?”

The baby squeaked and she carried him to the bed and laid down. He cuddled to her and she started gently stroking his itty bitty nose and up between his big eyes until they started to close.

Mando took off his armor and clothing again, and she politely didn’t look until he had on dry pants again and was laying his armor back out to dry. “This is getting old.” He murmured.

“Well, come cuddle with us and we’ll make it better.” she teased. “Blindfold’s in my bag.”

“Helmet stayed dry, it’s fine.” he slid down on the other side of her, watching her hands stroke the baby’s ears delicately.

“You sure? Can you sleep with it on?” She looked up, taking a proper glance at the golden expanse of his chest without a shirt. There was no hiding the way her cheeks turned red.

“I’ve done it before.” he said simply, climbing into the bed beside her. “You’re blushing.”

“You’re half naked.” she cuddled around the baby to her. “And better looking than I realized when it was dark.”

He actually looked down instinctively, helmet digging into his collarbones. She really thought so? He’d been painfully aware of how many scars littered his skin the moment those eyes of hers looked up at him, every fiber of his being wishing to go back to the darkness and covering before she was put off from ever letting him lay his hands on her soft skin again.
She smiled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The big bad Mando is self conscious?”

“No. I’ve just never… considered what this looks like to someone else.” he shrugged. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Scars aren’t conventionally attractive.”

She chuckled. “I’m covered in them too. You make them look better.”

“Go to sleep.” he murmured, bonking the helmet against her head lightly before putting it on the pillow. The soft firelight danced on the elegant curves of the beskar and reflected in the visor.

Zena nodded, cuddling around the little green baby and turning the man under the metal beside her inside out as her breathing deepened into steady puffs.

He didn’t have a name for whatever he was feeling, not really. He didn’t know enough, hadn’t known her long enough, but there was something there for her. For the woman who took care of his kid and threw javelins through raiders and danced around the truth like she was in an Alderaani ballroom…
He would find a way to see her scars, just to tell her she was beautiful wearing them.

“Where’s your little froggy friend?” Zena chuckled as the little green toddler waddled to her. “Did you eat him? If you eat your friends, you can’t play with them anymore.”

They’d been outside all day while he alternated between toddling around with the bigger kids and running to her and Mando to be held. He was starting to get sleepy again, so he clambered into her arms for a nap in the warm sun. “Sweet thing, aren’t you?” She cooed, kissing his wrinkly little head. His adorable little yawn against her neck had her falling in love with this baby boy a little more.

Is this how it happened? Dad held an innocent kid and couldn’t let go? She mused, rocking her sleepy charge until he conked out and she moved him from her shoulder to her lap. They’d been here for weeks, snuggling and playing in the sunshine. It was filling her chest with a rosy and contented glow, almost like having a family again...

Standing on the porch with a happy Cara and her mug of spotchka, Mando watched her get comfortable sitting cross legged and smile for the other kids as they brought her flowers and cool rocks they found. She even showed some of the kids which flower in the immediate area was safe to eat and would turn their tongues blue.

“You ever think about settling down?” Cara mused, watching where the visor went. “Raise the kid in a pretty, safe place. See what happens with Zen.” She took another sip of spotchka. “I see the way she looks at you. And she loves the baby. You could pack all that armor up in case there’s trouble and build a life right here.”

“If I take the helmet off, I can never put it on again.” he murmured, not looking away from Zena. “I can’t stay.”

“What about them? She’s not gonna leave that kid now. She adores him.”

“I’m gonna give her a choice. I’m leaving him here, he’ll be safe and happier… a life with me, on the run… it’s no life for a kid… it’s no life for her, either, but she’s an adult. She can decide for herself.”

“She’s gonna be mad as hell, you know. You leaving… she never handled leaving well.” Cara frowned. “She wouldn’t get close to anyone, said it hurt too much to miss them. When inevitably you start caring about the people you’re fighting alongside, she’d start to pull back. Ask for transfers, or solo missions. I was actually surprised to see her as attached as she let herself get to you.”

Oh, he felt like an asshole. She was going to think he was abandoning her, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Or she was going to think he was abandoning the kid, and be mad. There was no winning here. He watched her face, tilting down to smile at the sleeping child in her arms, all soft and devoted like a real mother and so at odds with the sharp soldier that had covered his back only weeks before, or the shy tea shop girl offering his discounts on the sly just because she wanted to be nice. He just kept finding more facets of her.

Suddenly her head snatched up like a startled fawn, eyes flying up at a high ridge. She curled around the baby flipped a neat combat roll, reaching in her pocket with one hand while the other moved to protect the baby. Where they’d been sitting a split second before, a blaster bolt struck the ground.

Mando swore, drawing his blaster and taking off up the ridge with Cara on his heels. Zena darted into high grass, curling around the now wailing baby in her arms as the villagers set up yelling and panic. “It’s okay. I got you.” she murmured, one hand in her apron pocket, fingers locking around something long and smooth and cool. “Shh… we’re not scared. Okay? We’re not scared.” She was lying, and badly, but she needed to hear the words. That blaster shot was so loud, and still echoing inside her head like the shot had ricocheted around her skull.

The baby hiccupped, clinging to her with his little claws when she heard another blaster shot. A hostile bubble on the bridge popped, the finality telling her the attacker was dead. She took her hand out of her pocket and stood, the child pressed to her chest tightly as she spotted Mando and Cara coming back. There was a flashing red light in the Mandalorian’s hand.

A tracking fob. They were still after the baby. And they’d tracked them to Sorgan.

Mando dropped the fob at her feet when he got to her. “They found us.” She sighed, aggressively stomping the little device.

“Yes.”

“And they’ll keep coming.” She looked back up at him.

“Yes.” he just nodded. “We need to leave.”

Zena nodded. “I’ll get things packed up. Omera might be able to help us with supplies.”

He reached out, stopping her from striding off in a hurry. “Are either of you hurt?” the hand holding onto her free wrist was gentle. Concerned and kind… the kind of touch she could press into to settle the racing of her heart.

Her expression softened. “No. He was just scared…. So was I.” She let him pull her a little closer, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently. “Thank you.” She breathed.

His helmet tilted in a nod. “Let’s go.”

Leaving Sorgan was hard for everyone involved. Omera and her child Winta both cried, the kid sadly sagged in Mando’s arm in the co*ckpit, unwilling to be set down for Zena to handle organizing their supplies. There was food (and some spotchka for Mando and Zena), a few new clothes, some bedding for the baby to make his little crib more comfortable, and a little packet of seeds Omera had given Zena when she’d found out she liked to grow plants. Just a few things that made good tea, according to the kind widow.

By the time she’d finished organizing everything, the baby had dozed off in Mando’s arms. Zena climbed into the co*ckpit and gently took him, taking him back to his crib down below and putting him securely behind the ladder where he’d be safe and rest well.

Zena sank into the copilot's seat with a slow breath. “You okay?” Mando asked quietly, the streaks of starlight fluttering over his visor.

“Yeah… that sniper scared me. More than I realized, now that it’s quiet.” She sighed. “I thought the kid was gonna get hurt… I don’t think I could stand it. He’s so little and innocent.”

Mando winced under the visor. If he’d left the day before, the kid would be dead. He’d been thinking about it, only Zena’s insistence that he rest because it was safe had kept him on that planet another day. He’d almost abandoned a foundling… “You saved his life.” he finally decided to say. He didn’t want to tell her he’d almost left the kid, and would have left her too.

She shrugged, reaching out from her seat to tangle her fingers in the loose edge of his cloak. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, almost lost in the droning of the ship's engines.

“You both almost got hurt.” he finally grumbled.

She chuckled. “Hey… we’re okay. The baby’s safe and sound in the hold. I’m right here. You can see how fine we are.”

“Come here. Please.” he said quietly, rotating his seat to face her. “I wanna put my hands on you. Feel that you’re okay.”

Zena stood up and walked over, standing between his open knees and placing her hands on his shoulders. She’d put back on her dress and apron, and was back to being a soft nursemaid type instead of the hard lined soldier he’d seen. Her left hand moved down his right arm, tracing the steel and duraweave, until she reached his glove. “May I?” She asked, pinching the leather between her thumb and forefinger but not pulling until he gave a slow nod. Then she tugged the glove off and cupped the back of his large hand, pressing it to her chest. “Heartbeat, see? Still breathing. Still right here, Mando.” she smiled.

“Yeah.” he curled his fingers into the front of the apron, less aggressively than he wanted, and pulled her a few steps closer until he could pick her up and put her in his lap. Her dress bunched around her thighs where they wrapped around his waist instinctively. The uncovered hand left her chest to slip under the back of the dress, laying itself on her back comfortably. “Thought about this a lot… you sitting in my lap up here.” He chuckled quietly, barely picked up through the vocoder. “I’d stay with the door locked way longer than I needed to eat, trying to get my head on straight.”

Zena bit her bottom lip and looked at the visor, hoping she was close to where his eyes were. “You want to…?”

“Do you?”

She shivered and nodded, and the hand on her back slid down to her ass and it and it’s partner lifted her to her feet. He tugged her panties down her legs with the hand still up the back of her dress. “Step out.” He guided her back into his lap once she’d kicked them to the side. She’d be looking for them later, but she didn’t care. She started reaching for the hem of her dress, to pull it over her head, when Mando stilled her hands. “Leave it… just open the front.” he murmured. “It’s… pretty. On you.” It was one of the dresses Omera gave her, a deep blue and studded with decorative stitching. She’d been pretty certain it was a special occasion dress not suited to playing on the ground with children, but Omera kept insisting she take and wear it.

She pinked and nodded, letting him pull the ties on the front open and push it back over her shoulders, tugging her breast band down to her waist in the same movement. He could take a moment to appreciate her body in the light, the delicate skin that caught the starlight in silver and pink streaks. He’d disposed of the other glove at some point, both hands skimming her sides and smoothing her ribs. When he came around her front, he brushed his thumb over the scar on her middle. She shivered, starting to move her hands up to cover it.

“What did you tell me the other night? You’re better looking than I realized in the dark, or something like that?” He caught her hand and put it on his shoulder to prevent her from covering her skin. “Scars tell stories, ones like that say you’re a survivor.” he said it gently as he was able, and that washed away the anxious twist in her insides more than anything else. “I like that about you. You’re strong, you’ve got a history. You think I’ve got any business with my hands on some innocent little thing who’s never been in a fight?”

She nodded, and her muscles trembled faintly when he moved her hands to his belt and let them go. It took her a second to remember that she had to open the belt to get what she wanted Mando to give her, but then she pulled it open much more gracefully than the first time and pulled him free. He groaned faintly when she took him in hand, going slow and a little teasing to make up for how flustered he’d managed to get her just talking about a scar. No wonder he didn’t talk much most of the time, his thoughts were too profound or filthy for the galaxy to be guarded by loose lips. He was going to be the f*cking death of her.

She pushed him back in the chair, sliding to her knees out of his lap. “What the f-” he started, reaching to pull her back up, until she ran a hot tongue up the underside of his co*ck and looked up. His own shudder reflected in those starry eyes. “Oh f*ck…” he groaned. “Z-zena…”

“Shh.” She murmured. “Just wanna make you feel good.” Before Mando could say anything, she’d engulfed him, hands stroking the inches she couldn’t fit into her mouth and throat. He had no choice but to sag back into the seat, her elbows propped up on his metal plated thighs, watching from under his helmet as she gave him the best head of his life.

As the precipice rapidly approached, especially when she hummed with him in her throat, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to grab her hair and f*ck her mouth until she gagged, or pull her up and bury himself so deep between her legs he could feel her heartbeat again.
She made up his mind for him, letting him slip from her mouth with a begrudging expression and rising from her knees, gathering her skirts and sliding back into his lap. His hands pulled at her waist and hips, aching from denial and twice as sensitive when her leg gently brushed against his leaking co*ck.
“You…” she murmured, putting her arms around his neck, pressing him back into the chair with all her weight. She knew he could move her if she wanted, he was so much stronger than her, but she liked the feeling of holding him down even if it was only because he let her. “You make a mess out of me, Mando. I forget everything but you whenever you so much as look in my direction. How the f*ck do you do that?” she pressed a kiss to the visor, around where his mouth would be. “You touched me one f*cking time and now the sky’s falling…”

She heard the faint gasp of air inside the shiny helmet, vocoder translating it as a hiss. “Ze-zena…”

“Tell me it’s not just me.” She half whispered, breath fogging up the beskar. “That I’m not the only one who feels this. Please…”

“It’s not…” he moaned. “Please, cyar’ika. Let me feel you. Let me show you it’s me too.”

Zena nodded, shifting her hips so he slotted against her entrance and he dragged her the rest of the way down, breaking her open. Her open dress let her soft chest press against the cold metal of his cuirass, her head resting against the space between his neck and paldron as she rolled her hips and panted in his ear, setting a pace for him to follow this time. He moaned her name back for her, and it occurred to her she had no way of knowing his to whimper in response.

Just because this wasn’t one sided didn’t mean it would last, or that it was more than this. But right now, she wanted to do something reckless and stupid and brave. She wanted to be close to someone for the first time in years. She wanted to tie herself to something she could lose, so she could fight to keep it instead of cutting it loose when it got too real.

When the sky fell, she wanted it to land directly on her and shatter into diamonds.

Mando felt her shuddering, clenching down around him and squeezing her arms around his neck so his helmet was buried in her chest. Not that he was complaining about the view, but it was somewhat disappointing to not be able to get those pretty pink buds in his mouth. He planted his feet, chasing his own release and holding her hips tightly until he was spilling up into her. Zena sagged, boneless in his arms, eyes closed and breathing hard. She was content now, the words off her chest and the Mandalorian still filling her as she started to doze off.
“Mn… I should go… lay down…” she mumbled, trying to remember where her legs were.
Mando’s arm tightened around her waist when she found them and started to slide one back to get up. “Just stay for a while. You can sleep right there.”
“I’m heavy…” She lifted her head for a second, but a warm hand gently pushed it back against his shoulder.

“You are not. Stay, I want… wanna feel you a little longer. Please.” he said the last word awkwardly. He didn’t want to break the spell that might actually let her agree by putting into clumsy words how he just wanted to hold her close, and this was the only way he knew how.

That made her smile and she nodded. “Alright, Mando…” She snuggled up against his neck, where only one layer separated her warm breath from his skin, and fell asleep with him holding her.

Chapter 7: Chapter Six: In This World There’s Real and Make Believe

Chapter Text

"And here I thought you liked me." Zena grumbled. "And you bring me to Tattooine."

"It's where I can get work. We need credits, and repairs.” Mando shrugged. “You wanna eat? I gotta work.”

She grumbled, but went back to bouncing the baby on her hip. “See how your dad treats me, green-bean?”

The boy giggled and looked at Mando, who’d suddenly gone stiff limbed in his armor. She’d said it before, plenty of times by now, but every time she referred to him as the kid’s dad, it shattered his concentration and replaced every thought with the idea of family. Of clan, foundlings and honor and the only reason a Mandalorian could ever take their helmet off in front of another. Zena was heedless of the way her words affected him, still talking in a singsong voice and pecking little kisses to the green face peeking out of his little flour sack outfit just to make the kid giggle and babble.

“Just keep him out of trouble.” Mando said, shoulders straining under his armor. “I’ll be back.”

Zena chuckled. “Trouble? This sweet little squishy thing?” She cooed. “Oh no, he’s no trouble at all.” She squished her cheek against the baby’s, his ears folding up a little behind her head. “Say bye bye to your dad. Tell him to bring us some jorgan fruit for a snack.”

Mando walked by her and headed out, stopping to speak to the frizzy haired mechanic who’s hangar they were parked in. Zena walked out, her happy charge on her hip, chuckling as the Mandalorian left the dock. The mechanic eyed her, smiling a little at the kid. “Hey, miss…”

“You can call me Zena..” She chuckled, good naturedly trying to remove a three clawed hand that was grabbing her hair. He was impatient-babbling at her, determined to get a little finger to her temple. “Not now, sweetling.”

He pouted, but sagged back against her chest as she walked out to talk to the mechanic.
“How’s it looking, ma’am?”

“Got a lot of carbon scoring… if I didn’t know better I’d say you guys had been in a firefight.” She looked up, squinting against the bright glare off the hull, then looked at Zena. “I’m Peli Motto, by the way.”

“Us, a firefight? With a baby on board?” Zena said innocently, idly thinking about the fighter duo that had tailed them through hyperspace for a week before Mando dropped out to shoot them down. It had been impressive flying, but was the reason they’d had to come to Tattooine for repairs instead of somewhere less… Tattooine.

Peli nodded. “Well, I’ll get started but it’s gonna take a while. Your buddy didn’t want me to use the pit droids, and it’s gonna cost extra to do it manually.”

Zena chuckled, tucking the baby from her hip to the sling on her back. “Need a hand? I’ve worked on a ship or two in my life.”

Peli chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. You turn out to be any good at this, I’ll only charge half price for labor” she held a hand out to shake.
Zena grinned, taking it. “You got a deal, Miss Motto.”

“If you keep bouncing on my tummy, bub, I’m gonna reintroduce you to lunch.” Zena cautioned. She was laying half under the crest, on a mechanics creeper, trying to splice a couple damaged wires. The toddler was babbling, bouncing up and down as he rested on her middle and determined to have her attention. “Yeah, I know. You wanna talk about something important, and you wanna touch my head to do it. But you see, I do not in fact want that. At all. And you think you do, but you don’t. It’s a mess in my head, you don’t wanna touch it at all.” A stray spark zapped her hand and she yelped.

A little hand patted her tummy comfortingly and she smiled. He was so sweet, and she just wanted to curl up around him and sing him lullabies until those big eyes closed so she could watch him nap. This kid was wreaking havoc on her ovaries.

His slight weight suddenly lifted and she rocketed forward on the creeper, reaching in her apron pocket and preparing to fight whoever took him. Peli would have said something, she’d been helping Zena mind him all afternoon.
“Relax.” The modulated voice slowed her attack, but he still had to catch one swinging fist with his free hand. Luckily for her, because it was coming straight for the beskar over his chest.

She stared up at him, shoulders unbunching as she looked from him to the giggly green menace in his other hand. “S-sorry… I thought…”
“Don’t be sorry. You were protecting him. That’s what I expect you to do.” he shrugged. “I got a job, I just came back to let you know I’ll be out for a while… I don’t trust this Calican kid not to screw up a hunt.”

Zena nodded, still looking slightly rattled. “I appreciate the notice.” She sighed, reaching out to take the baby again as she got off the creeper. “Do you need anything before you go? I can pack a bag for you if you want.”

He paused. “A bag?”

“Yeah. I’m not gonna cut the crusts off your lunch for you, but if you need food or a canteen, extra ammo or something like that… I don’t mind getting it ready for you.” She chuckled. “You take care of us, and I take care of the baby, and the ship, and you. That was the deal, right?”

“The deal was the kid and the ship.”

“I added you to my job description. When was the last time someone took care of you?” She smiled cheerfully. “Now what do you need?” She was pretty sure he was staring at her under that visor, incredulous. Which meant it had been a very long time since someone took care of him. It made her all the more determined to do it, too. He deserved someone being nice to him.

“Just… whatever you can throw together.” he finally murmured. “I’m going with someone, I can’t take food or water.” She didn’t like that, it was too hot on this maker-forsaken planet not to take some….

She smiled, coming up with a plan on the fly. “Gotcha.” His hand reached out, landing on her shoulder as she turned to go up the ramp. Her and the baby both turned to look at him one more time, and she heard her own heartbeat pick up with his proximity.

“Thank you.” His voice was so low the vocoder barely picked it up.

She nodded and he let her go, walking up the ramp with the kid and setting him in his makeshift crib as the Mandalorian double checked his weapons and she quietly made up a bag of supplies for him. She tucked a handful of flash grenades in there just for good measure, along with a canteen that came with a flexible straw. The last thing she needed was him to collapse from heatstroke and leave her with a kid on Tattooine. She wasn’t ready for that level of deja vu.

“I gotta go.” His deep voice murmured after a while. He sounded… regretful. Like he wanted to just stay there with her and the baby, and maybe enjoy a few moments of peace. She hoped that was what he wanted, anyway, because she wanted to provide it later. She held out the bag for him to take and smiled.

“Be safe, Mando.”

“You’re so fussy tonight, aren’t you…” Zena bounced the kid on her knee as he pitched a tiny fit. “What’s the matter? You miss Mando? Come on, bub. He’s coming back…” It had been hours. Defeated, she sat the whimpering tot on the work table in front of her and sat in front of him. “You’re gonna make me do this, aren’t you?” She leaned her head towards him. “Alright, fine. Show me.”

He looked up with those big dark eyes and reached a little hand towards her head, still sniffling. Itty bitty claws pressed against her temple, and for a split second she started to relax. Maybe he couldn’t do it, he was just the sort of baby that wanted to hold her hair and pat her face-

Then she was swept under a raging river of memory and feeling.

Terror, unbridled and overwhelming, screamed its way through his body. Icy as claws in his belly, he trembled as an older woman clutched him tightly in her hands and ran down the hall. “Be very quiet, youngling. They are here.”

Harsh, loud sounds hurt his ears. People in white armor, the woman holding him pulling back and hiding behind a pillar as they ran by. There was an open room across the hall that he could see into. He played there with his friends, or the Masters taught them things…

There were little figures on the floor curled in angles that didn’t look comfortable. He reached out a hand, trying to connect with his friends, and instead only felt a single flickering consciousness fading. Everyone else was already gone.

Zena came back to reality laying on the floor of the hull, flat on her back. She’d fallen out of her seat, judging by the sharp pain in her shoulders and head. One leg was still tangled in the bench seat, the baby was still sitting on the table looking down at her, and her face was soaking wet from tears. “Y-you.. You were there… at the temple…” She gasped. “You survived…”

His ears drooped and he held his hands out to her, looking so sad and pitiful. Zena couldn't help but drag herself upright and scoop him to her chest, bringing her knees up to make them both feel safe. He snuggled up tightly. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know… I didn’t think you were… I’m sorry.” She shook her head. He was a survivor of the massacre at the Jedi Temple. Imperial Order 66.

The end of the world.

He cuddled a little closer and quietly pressed a thought into her mind though the lingering connection between them.
Grogu.

“Grogu. I got you, Grogu.” Her cheek rested on his head, comforting him until he started to doze again. She was just starting to think of laying down in her little pile of bedding with him, so he wouldn't wake up alone, when she heard a knock on the hatch. Her mind was a puddle of soft feelings and traumatic memories, and she was half asleep. So shuffling to her feet with the baby against her chest made sense. It had to be Mando, right? He must have just gotten back, maybe he was having tech issues with this vambrace connection to the ramp. She could just let him in…
She opened the door and found herself facing Peli, who looked terrified. A tall young man with dark hair had a blaster pressed to her temple, her arm twisted behind her back. “Hey, miss.” the man smiled. “Heard a Mando ran off from the Guild with a high price bounty… so the question is... is it you or the kid?”

She stumbled back, clutching the baby close as terror sank into her stomach. “Wh-who the f*ck are you?!”

He stepped into the ship with ease, pushing Peli, his stupid face looking so smug and arrogant. Fury replaced some of the cold fear. Who the f*ck did he think he was, coming into her home and threatening her baby?! “Name’s Toro Calican.”

Calican. Mando had said he didn’t trust him not to screw up a hunt…. “Where’s Mando?!” Her voice wavered; if she hadn’t been scared before with the blaster right in front of her, she was now. What if he was hurt? She couldn’t protect Grogu alone, she wasn’t even sure if she could fly this bucket fast enough to run.

“He’s been… delayed. Plenty of time for me to set a trap.” The blaster muzzle dug into Peli’s head a little. “Put the kid in the cradle.”

Zena glanced at Grogu, who was starting to tear up. “Shh, little one. It’s gonna be okay.” She set him in the little crib. “Stay here for me.”
Calican slapped a pair of electrocuffs on Peli and magnetized her to the hull, leveling his gun at Zena’s chest. “Good. Do what I say or I’ll shoot her in the head. Got it?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m listening.” She lifted her hands up, watching for an opening. She didn’t have to fake looking afraid, but she did try to disguise the whirring of her mind. Mando would be back soon, she couldn’t let him fall into a trap. She had to protect Grogu at all costs.

Mama nexu mode engaged.

Calican was smirking darkly. “You’re kind of a cute little thing. What are you doing on a ship with a tin can, anyway?” He waved her to come closer. “Turn around, lemme get a good look at you.”

She bit her lip but did a slow turn, trying to keep her eyes on where the blaster went. It poked between her shoulder blades. “I asked you a question. How’d you get on the ship with him?”

“He hired me. To mind the baby.” she murmured, freezing in place. The gun stayed in her spine as he leaned over and picked up a lock of her hair off her neck, rubbing it between her fingers. Bile threatened to come up her throat as she swallowed hard, disgusted. His touch was nothing like Mando’s. Mando’s hands felt worshipful almost, reverent in the way they pressed into her skin. Respectful and appreciative of the moments he was allowed to feel another's touch.

Calican felt entitled. He was demanding, arrogant, and expectant of her cooperation. His touch felt like it stained her skin and it made her want to puke. When his hand moved from lightly playing with her hair to curling around the back of her neck, she almost did. She was alone, with no one to save her. Not her father, not Mando. Just her.

But she had to save Grogu.

Her eyes darted up to Peli, then the sweet little frightened boy who’d seen so much… “He’s scared… Can I turn the cradle?” She whispered. “Please?”

“That’s fine. Just come right back here when you’re done.” he moved the blaster from her back and she walked over, kneeling by the crib.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” She breathed. “Cover your ears.” She pushed the crib around to block his view as his little hands went up to pull his batlike ears closed. Then she stood slowly, reaching into her pocket and pulling something out that Peli couldn’t see clearly, moving it as she turned to keep it out of Calican’s sight. She clasped it behind her back as she walked back to him, eyes wide and helpless looking as the baby was. But there was a sudden surety in her walk that he missed as he admired her figure. “That’s it, come right on back to me. This is going to be a fun bounty.”

He reached for her again, letting the blaster lower just a fraction. No longer pointing at her chest, but at her hip. Nonlethal if he fired, the kid was protected in the crib if it ricocheted…

It would have to do.
He was blinded as the dim light of the hull was sudden burning, vibrant blue. The light whirred, humming through the air, and his blaster hit the floor with a clatter and his severed hand still clutching the grip. The finger contracted on the trigger, sending a bolt of red plasma shooting at her hip. She twisted the bright light into an arc, the bolt striking it and reflecting backwards and out the open hatch. Calican was screaming wildly, high pitched with pain when he tried to grab her again. This time she went back and low, knees bent with an arm outstretched and two fingers pointing, the other holding the silver hilt of a blue lightsaber. “Don’t f*cking touch me.” She gritted her teeth, then twisted and lunged, separating the wannabe bounty hunter's head from his shoulders.
She stood over the body for a second, shaking so hard she almost dropped the saber when she deactivated it and let it drop back into her apron pocket. Then she slowly dragged herself back to Peli, almost hitting her. She was trembling so badly she had to press her hands to the wall for a couple seconds. It took a minute for her to get the cuffs off. “S-s-sorry, M-miss M-mo-moto….” She hugged her arms around herself. “Are y-y-you ok-kay?”
Peli nodded, rubbing her wrists. “Are you?”
“Th-theres… he’s d-d-dead…” She couldn’t make herself turn around to see the body, squirming at the knowledge it was in the ship and near her. Limp. Going cold. Dead. She wasn’t unfamiliar with death or killing, but the aftermath bothered her deeply. She wasn’t the one to gather the fallen, she couldn’t make herself do it. And she’d tried.

“I’ll get the droids to drag him out to one of the canyons, okay?” Peli put her hands on Zena’s arms. “Look at me, missy.”

Zena looked up, horror etched in her features. “I k-killed him…” Zena’s teeth were chattering like she was on Hoth.
“You think he wasn’t gonna kill your baby, or your Mando? Take a deep breath, we’ll talk in a minute.” She walked Zena to the worktable and sat her down before flagging down her pit droids to drag the dead guy out of the hangar.
Zena got her breath together and, once she was sure the body was gone, she turned to the crib and scooped out her little green menace. He stared up at her, whimpering, as she sat him back on the table and gently curled her fingers under his little jaw, holding his face like it was the most precious thing in the galaxy. Maybe it was. “You’re safe now, sweet boy.” she breathed, eyes watering up. “I thought he was gonna take you away from me…”

He curled his little claws around her thumbs and cooed at her. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his gently, sobbing out a laugh. “Yeah, silly right? He was a big old wuss, no one’s gonna take you from me except your dad. Right?” she hiccupped. They sat there a long time, heads pressed together and trying to quell their racing hearts.

Peli finally came back with a bottle of Toydarian moonshine and two metal glasses. “Here, you look like you need this.” She poured them both some liquor.

Zena shivered. “Thank you…”

Peli drained her cup and poured more. “So… you’re a Jedi.”

“Not exactly…” Zena didn’t look up, holding her cup with one hand and Grogu with another. She tried not to flinch at the word Jedi. “My dad was. He taught me… some stuff.”

“Is that his saber?”

“No… it’s mine. I… he helped me build it.” She took a long swallow, letting the liquor burn through the achy cold that settled in her chest. “I was only a little kid when the Order fell. My dad brought me here, to Tattooine… I think I was about four.”

Peli nodded. “You haven’t told Mando?”

“No… We’re not… there yet.” She looked at Grogu. “And there’s a lot of bad memories to deal with. Ghosts…” Maker, speaking of ghosts she hadn’t heard from her dad since she’d joined Mando on the Razor Crest…

“You’ll get there. I can tell.” Peli smiled. “I thought you two were closer, though. He seems more approachable when you’re around.” She poured Zena another cup of moonshine.
“Last cup.” Zena said, despite wanting to chug the bottle. “I’ve got to be… can’t get messy. Not with the youngling.” She pressed an affectionate kiss to Grogu’s little head and he leaned into her touch.

“He’s a lucky kid. You two as his parents.” Peli smiled and patted Zena’s hand with a light touch. “Get some rest, miss. He’ll be back soon enough.” She got up to check and see if the droids were back.

Zena settled into her little nest of pillows with Grogu and snuggled him into her arms. “We’re okay, right bub?” His response was to climb onto one of the pillows and use it as a mattress, hogging the softest blanket. “You’re the size of a loaf of bread, how do you steal all the covers?” She teased, stroking his ears until he dozed. He was alright, tiny breaths puffing up his cheeks. No one had hurt him. No one took him away.

She lay her head on the pillow and watched him breathe, unable to quell her thoughts enough to sleep when she heard the distinct huffing breathing of a dewback. It sounded like it was right outside the hangar, so she carefully stood and stepped lightly to lower the ramp, trying not to awaken her bug-eyed babe. The ramp was just coming down when she spotted Mando, coming into the hangar with his blaster out and moving smoothly. Clearing the area. She stayed still, not wanting to startle him into shooting her. When he spotted the burn against the hangar wall from he blaster shot, his shoulders stiffened. Then he spotted her in the open access and craned his neck to look into the ship behind her.

“We’re alright, Mando…. He’s gone. Dead.” she murmured. His helmet whipped around to look her up and down.

“Dead.” his blaster lowered fractionally.

“Yeah… he came after me and the baby… I couldn’t let that happen.” she murmured faintly, with a crooked smile. “Nobody messes with my boy.”

He was holstering the blaster before he even realized it, darting up the ramp to get to her. His hands lighted on her shoulders and ran down to her wrists and back up. “Are you okay?” He rasped. “Did he hurt you?”

“No… he just pushed me around a little…” She leaned into his hands, eyes closing slightly. The comfortable weight of his gloved palms on her arms settled her more than the moonshine had.

“Did you kill him?” he took a step closer, so she was pressed up to his cuirass.

She looked up at him, looking at her own reflection in the polished beskar. “Yes.”

“And the kid?”

“He’s asleep in my bed… he needed a cuddle after all that.” She chuckled weakly, fingers coming up to catch in his bandolier. “Are you hurt? He was here hours before you… I was scared you’d…” she trailed off, unable to put words to the persistent worry that he’d come back to her bloody and broken. Or worse, not come back at all.

He huffed out a faint chuckle. “I’m alright. Takes more than some prick to kill me.”

“Let’s not test that theory.” she put her cheek on his chestplate.

"You were worried."

"Yeah. I was. " she admitted quietly. "l thought…" she shivered. "He kept touching me."

"Zen…" he started to pull back, giving her space. But her hands clung tight to him, looking up with a frantic look in her eyes.

"It felt wrong." She was talking too fast, voice hitching up a notch. "Because it wasn't you. I like it when it's you. I want you to touch me. Not him. Not anyone else." She was starting to panic, she felt it bubble under her sternum like a volcanic eruption, building momentum when her body realized that with Mando here she was finally safe. A full blown meltdown loomed mightily in front of her and she couldn’t stop it.

But Mando could, without even knowing it.

His arms tightened to steel around her, squishing her into his cuirass. He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat as it rocketed sky high under the beskar at the simple admission. He walked her back into the ship, pausing only to raise the ramp, before sitting her on the work table. "I'm here. I'll… do you want me to…"

"Make his touch go away." She whimpered faintly, heartbeat settling like his proximity was a shot of tranquilizer. "Please, Mando."

His helmet canted over to the dark corner where the baby was squeakily snoring. He made a calculated decision and wrapped his arms around her again, picking her up effortlessly. He had been so tired before, but right now she was pleading for him and so afraid looking. He could have walked the Dune Sea from beginning to end just to see her smile again.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to his bunk.

She hadn't gone in here before, wanting to give him what privacy she could in the confined quarters of the ship. When he set her on the cot pressed up against the wall, she glanced around. It was sparse, his few belongings set neatly on a single shelf and the fewer articles of non-besker clothing folded in a cubby underneath. There was a rack bolted to the wall for his armor, neat and orderly and controlled. So opposite her life of constant guesses and instability. She wanted to cling to his iron will, accept the rough and dangerous life he led, if it meant that the place inside her chest would quell the storm within. Both feet off the ground in a leap of faith, she could accept that sacrifice of physical safety if it meant he'd be there.

I don't even know his name and I think I-

"Lay back for me, cyar'ika. I want to see you." He breathed hard into the modulator. "See how pretty you are."

Zena nodded, tipping herself back onto the bed. Mando stripped off his gloves and leaned over her, one knee pressed against her side. He pulled at her apron strings, untying the loose bow. He was careful, gentle with her for now. She'd seen his strength, now he seemed determined to show her something soft. Something he didn't share with anyone but her and the kid.

Her dress buttoned in the front, so he started at her throat and worked down. Inch by inch he revealed her skin, tracing fingertips over the dips and curves of her throat and collarbones. "When you said he touched you…" he kept unbuttoning, baring her chest. "I wanted to kill him. Even though you said he was already dead. I hate the thought." The next button revealed her navel, her stomach jumping when his fingers stroked over the soft skin. "I shouldn't be jealous. You don't belong to me. But I want you all to myself." His fingers moved eagerly to her hips, resting his knuckles on her thighs and bunching the skirt up one button at a time.

I could be. She breathed, closing her eyes as the last button parted and his palms moved up her thighs, chasing the chill off her skin. "I’m yours for tonight.”

His breath hitched under the helmet. "Ner cyar'ika." He murmured

"What's that mean?" Her eyes flickered back open as his hand cradled her cheek. She was dimly aware he was reaching with the other one towards a control panel by the cot, but her eyes never left his visor.

"My sweetheart." He breathed, and the room went dark.

It only took him a moment to yank his helmet off before his mouth was pressing into hers, holding both sides of her face as he kissed her. "How are you even real? " he let her breathe begrudgingly, continuing to kiss her cheeks and forehead. "You said I make you a mess… you have no idea what you do to me."

Zena cooed and purred as he kept exploring her softly, kissing her thighs and nuzzling her stomach and latching his lips over her breasts. "Pl- please…" she whispered, desperate for more of his skin. More him.

"You still feel him on you? " he nosed under her jaw to trail his lips there too.

"Who?" She mumbled.

Perfect.

He sat up, making her whine at the loss of his warmth until she heard beskar hitting the floor. She reached for him when the mattress dipped beneath his weight again, pulling him atop her.

The Mandalorian captured her mouth again, lowering his hips to hers, and slid inch by inch into her waiting heat. Her little sounds of approval were met with a slow shift of his body, one arm bracing beside her head as the other pulled her leg up over his waist, granting him a few more inches inside her.

His pace picked up, sharpening the soft and sweet into blinding heat. It pitched her towards her climax rapidly, her breathy whispers now outright moans and cries as she writhed under him. He answered her cries of his name through bitten lips with growled praise half in basic and half Mando'a. "f*cking mesh'la, my pretty f-f*cking… feel perfect, f*cking perfect… ner cyar'ika…"

He was grateful for the soundproofed bunk when she came, her loud whine echoing in the metal room. He didn't break his rhythm, just reached between them to rub her cl*t while she sobbed and scratched her nails down his back. The sting felt good. "Come on, ad'ika. One more. You get so f*cking tight when you come, gimme one more…" his hips snapped into her harder, insistent on her pleasure while he chased his own. Wanting her to get what she so desperately needed right now, but only from him. He wanted her to come back to him again and again. To belong to him.

Zena wasn't actually sure if she came a second time or if the first one never ended, but Mando groaned and hissed something filthy and unintelligible in her ear before shuddering. Heat spread through her as he came, his co*ck twitching between her thighs. When his forehead came down to rest against her shoulder, she couldn't help but press a kiss where she could reach at the underside of his jaw, and felt him twitch inside her again.

Mando tucked her closer and rolled, laying her across his chest as she panted into his skin.

"You okay?" He shuddered faintly when she shifted to get a little more comfortable, holding him inside her.

"Mn…" her lips found his collarbone. "Better. You?"

"Yeah. Go to sleep. We'll settle up with the mechanic in the morning." His hand settled low on her back.

She nodded. "Gotta let Grogu say goodbye."

"Who?" He frowned, fingers tightening on her skin.

"The baby…. His name. " she yawned.

He relaxed a little. The kid had a name… that was nice to know. He was just starting to get comfortable when Zena sat up and stretched, leaning over to kiss him again before she stood up and wobbled to the door. When it cracked, her hand was firmly over her eyes.

He watched her walk out into the hold. "Where are you going?" His chest felt tight.

"I don't want him to wake up alone." She paused, tilting towards the sound but not moving her fingers pressed tight over her eyes.

Mando chuckled. "Bunks not big enough for the three of us… go lay down. I'm coming."

Her heart did a somersault. "Really?"

"Yeah. Might as well"

She all but bounced to her little pallet, dropping her open dress in favor of a loose shirt to sleep in.

Grogu made a fitful noise as she lay down next to him, and she gave him her thumb to hold. When Mando joined them in his helmet, he let the kid hold his hand too, stretching his fingers out to rest over the back of Zenas hand and securely snuggling the baby between them.

Laying next to him in a post-org*sm afterglow was amazing, but watching the tough warrior being so careful with the elderly infant shattered her heart to stardust.

I don't want to run anymore.

"Can we go somewhere before we leave?" Zena tugged Mandos' sleeve gently. They'd paid Peli for the repairs and docking, and he was ready to put the desert behind them. "I need to do something."

He didn't really have the heart to deny her, not when she looked so serious. "Alright. Where are we going?"

"I already got the speeder ready while you were paying Peli. Just come on."

Mando sighed but nodded, watching her settle the baby into his sling on her back before leading him out to the speeder. He swung a leg over and she got behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Once they got outside of Mos Eisley she directed him with pointing, taking them out to the edge of the Dune Sea. They passed the remnants of a vaporator farm, left abandoned and seemingly torched, before she stopped him at a cave system. "Here, right here." She murmured.

"This is the middle of nowhere."

"I know." She swung her legs off the speeder and walked to the cave, revealing a door made of scrap and in some degree of disrepair. She pressed her palm to a makeshift scan pad and it slid open.

"What is this? " he frowned as she ducked inside. "Zena?"

"This was my home." She whispered, the echo of the cave not hiding the tremor in her voice.

Mando followed her in. It was a small little homestead, a kitchen with a wooden table and two chairs in front of a stone hearth. There were a few odds and ends scattered around, a chipped tea set and a few dishes gone dusty on a shelf carved into the rock wall. A scrap rug sat in front of the hearth, a sonic shower off to the side of the main room, and an open storage room half full of stale or dry rotted food supplies. Books sat, undisturbed, on another low shelf near the table.

There were two doors on the far side of the main cave, and Zena touched the nearest one. "This was my room…" she murmured. "I took everything I cared about saving when I ran away…" she pushed the door open slowly, facing a room dusty with disuse but neatly organized. "He kept everything the way I left it…"

Her heart clenched tight in her chest. He'd left everything, hoping she'd come home. How many nights did he sit up, hoping for a call? How often did he wonder why she'd run?

I should have stayed longer. I should have been here for him when he needed me.

"Your dad?" Mando took a step towards her.

She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I ran away when I was seventeen… I was on the run for six years when he left Tattooine… he died right after. I never said goodbye or made it right…'' She pushed the second door open.

Her fathers room looked just like she remembered. His bed, his clothes, his books neatly put away on the shelf he'd built. She walked though, running her fingers through the dust. He'd hated dust, always cleaning and wiping and fussing over things. Fussing over her.

"I felt it when he died. Like a hole punched through the Force itself, and right into my chest. I was on Corellia, shaking my ass in some sleazy bar for credits." She whispered. "And in five seconds everything I was running from was what I needed to get back to. And it wasn't there when I turned around…" she shivered, fingers wrapped around a pair of Clone Wars era arm braces, painted with the old Republic insignia. "I abandoned him. I was always afraid he'd leave me, but… maybe if I'd stayed, he'd still be alive."

Mando put an arm around her. "Why'd you decide to run?"

She looked up at him, tearful and pale in the dim light from the open door. "There was… a man I was afraid of. Someone who… hurt a lot of people. When I was little." She whispered. "His son… his son lived nearby, at that farm we passed. Dad and the father used to be friends, so he was protecting the son… that's why we stayed on Tattooine. But…Dad wanted to stop the father…trained me to fight. And he wanted to train the son… thought we could beat the father together. But I… I was afraid. Of failing, of the son and the father, of letting Dad down… so I ran away. If I didn’t try, I couldn’t fail, that’s what I thought." she shivered. "And I was right about one thing. That man I was terrified of... killed the only family I had. Dad fought him, and he murdered him too. If I'd been here, maybe I could have saved him. I was a coward." She clutched the braces to her chest.

"You were a scared teenager. Asking you to face a murderer was asking too much."

"I was supposed to be brave… he raised me better than to run. He didn't run… I shouldn't have…" she turned her face to his side and sniffled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you out here."

"No. I'm glad you did… you don't need to be alone with this. " he ran a hand over her hair. "Where I grew up, there's a special afterlife for brave warriors… and those who truly know them keep their names in their memory. When we put on the helmet, we give up our name except to the people we want to remember us. Telling someone your name is like… putting your afterlife in their hands." He pulled the braces from her hands and slowly put them on her arms, one piece at a time. "What was his name?"

Zena sniffled, eyes bright in the dim cavern when she looked up at him.

"His name was Obi-wan Kenobi."

Chapter 8: Chapter Seven: This Seems Real to Me

Chapter Text

"Credits are running low, sweet girl." Mando murmured. Zena was sitting cross legged on the floor of the hold folding clean laundry, her unhelpful little helper seated on a pile of unfolded bedding.

"Figured it was coming soon. What's the plan?" She looked up at him. He'd been wearing just the helmet and normal clothing for the last couple weeks, since they'd left Tattooine, and she had been consistently fascinated by the way he moved when he was unburdened and somewhat relaxed. It was almost domestic, just enough of a reminder to make her ache and hold Grogu to her chest a little tighter when it was time to sleep.

But now he had his armor back on, pulling on his gloves. "An old associate reached out. I've got a job lined up."

"When do we start?" She smiled, folding a pair of his pants.

"We?" His arms crossed over his broad chest. "Who said anything about you coming along?"

Her brow immediately furrowed. "We're not doing this, Mando. You're not leaving me on the ship like on Tattooine. I'm coming with you."

"So you want to leave the kid on the ship. Alone." He said, voice level.

"I can make him sleep." she said softly. "And put him in your bunk. He'll be safe there"

"How do you make sure he stays asleep?"

"I… it's a Force thing… I can… I'm sensitive to it. Like him." She admitted slowly. "I was worried you'd think I was dangerous at first. That's why I didn't mention it…"

Mando sighed. "I just find new stuff out about you every day, don't I?"

She shrugged. "Isn't that how you get to know someone?" She pointedly did not mention she knew next to nothing about him. He wasn't forthcoming, and his presence made her want to open up in a way she couldn't ever hope to coax out of him with her own.

"Fine. But on one condition." He crouched down beside her, crowding her with his knees. "This is an old contact. Someone who knew a very different version of me. They, and the crew we'll be dealing with, are dangerous."

She nodded, eyes unmoving from the visor in front of her even though it would be so easy to put her hand on his thigh and pull him down to her…

"They cannot know there's anything between us, and they cannot know about the kid. They are opportunists, they'll use anything to get an upper hand. Including hurting or killing either one of you to get to me. Tell me you understand."

"Grogu stays hidden and if anyone asks, I'm your hired help." She nodded. "I can pretend to be a bounty hunter or something."

"Good. We'll be arriving on the station in a standard hour. If you can make him sleep, do it. And get yourself ready, you're not running with me in a dress. They'll make you a target immediately."

She smiled. "Alright, big guy. You don't have to worry so much about me."

His hand settled on top of her hair, eying the grey still leaching from it. It was lighter now, almost the color of durasteel… which gave him an idea. He bounced up lightly on his heels. "Get moving then."

Zena scooped their little green gremlin up. "Alright sweet thing. Bedtime." She bounced him in her arms until they got to Mandos bunk. The crib was in there already, so she tucked him inside, lowering her voice. "You gotta stay in here for me, sweet thing. There's gonna be strangers on the ship." She murmured, gathering the Force in her hand and stroking his forehead, soothing him until he was blinking sleepily at him. "You know how your dad feels about strangers. So you just rest your head, and we'll take care of everything. Shh."

Grogu dozed off quickly and she smiled. She knew that feeling, her father having many a time used the same trick to put her to sleep after a nightmare. She'd press up against his side on the rug in front of their little fireplace, his fingers carding through her hair and the fire crackling pleasantly along with his heartbeat in her ears.

"Sleep, dear one. I'll be here when you wake. You are safe with me."

She tucked the sleeping baby in, walking back out and sealing the door behind her before digging through her clothes to find something suitable. Her black under-armor and patched duraweave tac pants worked fine, even if her ass was a little bigger than it had been when she was younger and fighting the Empire. She tugged them on and buckled her belt, checking to make sure she could still move easily enough to fight if needed.

Once she'd tucked the pants legs into her boots, she pulled on Obi-wan's old braces and her own gloves. They fit decently once she adjusted the straps.

"Lift your arms up." Mando said from behind her.

Immediately he arms went towards the ceiling, and he dropped something heavy over her head and started strapping it to her torso. "What's this? " she frowned, looking down. Honeycomb armor in dull durasteel instead of beskar sat on her chest, affixed with buckling instead of magnetic plates like Mandos.

"My old armor… my first set. When I was a teenager in the Fighting Corps." He explained. "Fit okay? Not too loose?"

She wiggled and stretched. "It's good. Looks like teen Mando had the same size pecs as my tit*." She grinned, patting the metal. It was worn, a few places dented from projectiles, but serviceable enough.

He huffed through the vocoder. "Good. Glad I kept it, then. If it had been beskar, I'd have turned it over to the armorer to make a new set."

"Is it really okay for me to wear it? I know your armor is a religious thing…"

"I put it on you. And you don't have a helmet on." He shrugged noncommittally. "It'll keep you safe."

Zena smiled, taking off her flowered headband and putting it away in a cargo crate, along with the evidence of her bedding and clothes. Wearing his and Obi-wan's armor felt… good. Solid. Like the two men had come together to protect her… like she was worth protecting. She liked it.

Ran Malk’s station was gritty, cold steel. When they arrived, the bearded and portly man walked out to greet them and clapped Mando on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Mando. Surprised you took me up on this offer, since you’ve been running with the Guild. Who’s the lady?”

“Crew.” Mando said simply.

Zena threw a hand out, slipping into the easy military style banter she shared with Cara on Sorgan. “Zen.” She didn’t bother with last names, since she only knew Ran’s because Mando told her before they landed.

“Nice to meet you.” he shook it, sizing her up. “I didn’t think Mando ran with a crew. You get bored with the tin can, you come see me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when the credits dry up.” She smirked.

Ran nodded. “Alright, let’s meet my crew for this run.” He walked them around the Razor Crest. A ginger haired man with a spare sniper arm over his shoulder walked up, smirking. “This is Migs Mayfeld. Former Imperial sniper, now he’s with me.”

“Imperial sniper… you sure he can shoot?” Mando co*cked his helmet to the side.
“I wasn’t a stormtrooper, you asshole!” Mayfeld snapped as Zen snickered behind her hand.

Ran chuckled. “He’s a little high strung.” A very large Devaronian hulked up behind Mayfeld, Mando quickly sizing him up and starting to not like this situation. Zena just eyed the big red guy as Ran kept making introductions. “This is Burg. He’s the muscle.”

“Clearly.” Zena said dryly.

“Mando!” Came a shrill, slightly aggressive voice from behind them. Mando inwardly groaned. Oh for f*cks sake…

“Xi’an.” He turned. A purple twi’lek woman with echoingly restless energy was approaching, fiddling with a knife in her hands.

“You remember me.” She co*cked her head to the side, exposing sharpened teeth. “Did you miss me?”

Zena didn’t like the way she pressed her body up against Mando. It was an immediate, body jerking to a stop, stomach-burning kind of anger that caught her by surprise when she realized her fists were clenched and furious.

She was jealous.

She shoved the feeling down into her boots, as quickly as she could. She had no right to jealousy right now, no reason to want to snatch the other woman by her lekku and strangle her with them. But she wanted to, and that concerned her.

He’d told her she wasn’t his, which meant he wasn’t hers. Which meant she needed to shut the f*ck up and finish this mission or he’d never let her come with him again.

When a praying mantis-headed looking droid shuffled by, Mando visibly stiffened. “No droids, Ran.”

“Pilot droid, we need him. Even as good a pilot as you are, someone’s got to stay with the ship to monitor communications and you’ve got the skills for the actual operation. So Zero goes.”

There was an audible growl through the vocoder that went straight to Zena’s core. She told herself she had to at least attempt to act like she was competent, and co*cked her hip to the side. “You scuff the paint, Mando’s gonna make you pay for it.” She shrugged nonchalantly, getting the attention off his clear discomfort.

Ran laughed. “I like you, Zen. It won’t be hard, just listen to Mayfeld. He’s acting for me, he gives the orders. Alright?”

She nodded. “Fine by me.”

Mando nodded stiffly. “Then load up. Let’s get this over with.”

Zen followed the four interlopers, watching Mando follow the droid into the co*ckpit suspiciously. She sat in the corner, arms crossed and watching impatiently. Burg was poking around Mando’s stuff, opening his armory and eying the guns.
“I wouldn’t touch that.” Zen murmured.
He looked back at her and huffed dismissively.
“Alright. Don’t say you weren’t warned.” She watched him keep mashing buttons. Mando was gonna be pissed… and if the sound of footsteps moving around above was anything to go by, the Mandalorian was going to be coming down the ladder in just a few seconds.

Xi’an leaned in, still toying with her knife. “Where’d he find you, anyway?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Zena leaned back a little further, ignoring the almost predatory look in her eyes. “I’m just here for a paycheck.”

“Really? There’s easier credits than to be stuck in space with a tin can.” Mayfeld grinned. “He can’t be fun to travel with.”

“He doesn’t talk much. Suits me just fine.” She tried to square her shoulders and look more like a bounty hunter, hoping she was pulling off the mysterious background vibe that Mando made look so effortless. “

Xi’an giggled darkly. “I know Mando better than you do. He seems like a droid on the outside, but he’s just like every other selfish man in the galaxy under that armor. If he hasn’t f*cked you into the floor yet, he wants to, and when he thinks you’re getting too close, he’ll throw you away.”

Zena didn’t look at her, shrugging again even as something cold and wilted settled in her chest. “Didn’t come for a chapter of Naboo Nights. I came for credits.” She repeated, albeit a little hollow.

The armory shut itself when Mando pushed a button on his vambrace, and the armory snapped shut before the Devaronian could touch anything. He started trying to pull at the door, somewhat aggressively.

“Stop it.” Mando hopped down behind him, pushing past to sit beside Zena.

Mayfeld focused on him. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to work with someone we can’t even look at. How do we know we can trust you? Take it off.”

“No. This is the Way.” he said, straight-backed. The coil of anxious energy she felt wasn’t betrayed in his posture or voice. Only she knew, and she tried to keep her expression neutral as she sized up how this might play out.

Burg turned, a slow grin on his face, and hauled Mando to his feet with his arms pinned to his sides. Mayfeld smirked and reached for the helmet as Xi’an cheered.
“Don’t. Move.” Zena pressed a blaster against the back of Mayfeld’s head casually. “Let him go, big guy. Your hands so much as twitch, Imp, and I’ll paint the wall over there with your brain.”
“No need to be so touchy, we were just messing around.” Mayfeld froze, hands up, as Burg let Mando go. He stepped back, watching her. Quickly as she’d gotten up, she was putting her blaster back in the holster on her hip.

“So was I.” She smiled. “But I gotta come back here with him, and he’s no fun when he’s pissy. So let’s just all keep the jokes to a minimum. Right?”

Mayfeld just stared at her, Xi’an hissing behind him. She was all smiles now, but that voice when the muzzle of the blaster pressed into his skull… that had been deadly serious.

Before anyone could say anything, Zena crouched and held onto the floor. “Entering the Delestri System.” The droid at the helm said suddenly. Mando had a split second to react and brace himself before Zero sent the ship lurching out of hyperspace with no warning. Xi’an, Mayfeld, and Burg went sprawling.

“f*cking droid didn’t even give us a proper countdown!” Shrieked the twi’lek.
Zena glanced over at Mando and co*cked her head to the side, silently questioning if he was alright. He just nodded almost imperceptibly. Inside the helmet, he was immensely grateful she’d stepped in. If he’d had to stop them from breaking his Creed, he’d have had to kill them and throw off the whole mission. And added to the growing list of people who wanted to kill them. And f*ck, if they’d actually lifted the helmet… he didn’t have a problem killing these morons. But if she saw, he’d have to kill her too…

He hated that thought.

She stood back up, heedless of her near fate, and waited by the hatch for Zero to get them connected to the New Republic prison ship they’d arrived at. The Bothan -Five, which Zena thought was the worst possible name for any ship. You want a ship to survive, don’t put Bothan on it. “You’re up, Mando.” Mayfeld nodded him forward. “You stand up there with him, I don’t want you behind me any more.” His eyes slid to Zena.

“If you insist.” She waited for Mando to hack the security system and override it, opening the hatch and letting them drop in. Guns went up, and everyone was suddenly very much business.

It would have almost been entertaining to watch how stupid Burg really was, if he hadn’t been an active threat to their security. He was picking up guard droids and body slamming them when it was far more practical to just follow Zero’s instructions and avoid them. She gave Mando an incredulous look and he just shook his head, taking on a hallway of the droids himself once there was no other choice because their company had f*cked them over with stealth.

Watching Mando work was electric. He was graceful and steady, blasting through the obstacles with practice precision. Watching a fully covered man in metal turn droids to scrap shouldn’t have been this f*cking hot. She made the decision to distract her sudden desire to ride him til he stopped breathing, and back him up in the fight.

He was aiming another shot when she went sliding between his legs on her knees, something unseen pushing her right into a droid that she promptly shot through the wiring harness. She then used it as a shield from another one, shooting it too.

Hallway clear, she stood and looked back at him with a faint smile. “Which way to the bridge, Mayfeld?”

“This way.” he grumbled, pushing past her and Mando and leading through the glaringly white halls and fluorescent lighting. This place would suck to be locked up on, no wonder Ran was paying big credits to bust his person out. He needed them before they lost their mind.

When they reached the bridge, Mando and Zen froze. There was a single New Republic officer with a dumb looking helmet on board. This was supposed to be an unmanned ship.

The man leapt from his seat, pulling a blaster. Mayfeld, Xi’an, and Burg surrounded him, Mando spreading out with them. “I’ll shoot.” The New Republic soldier was young, blaster shaking in his hand.
“Not if we shoot you first.” Mayfeld smirked.
Then a little square of metal. A homing beacon…
“Put it down, egghead.” Mayfeld hissed. “You’ll bring the whole damn New Republic down on top of us.”

Mando lowered his blaster. “What’s your name, kid?”

“D-davan…”

“Okay, Davan. You’re not gonna get hurt today, okay? Just put it down, we’re here for one person. Not a hostile takeover.” His voice was soft in the helmet, and the soldier started to nod, listening to him

“I say we just kill him!” Xi’an snarled.
“No.” Mando pointed his blaster at Burg when he leveled one at the surrounded soldier.. Mayfelds came up to point at him. Zena pointed hers at Mayfeld.
“Get that blaster out of my face, Mando!” Mayfeld was starting to get loud, about to lose his cool. Zena was preparing to take his legs out from under him and take him down, seeing no real reason for anyone to die.

At least until Xi’an’s knife flew through the air. It whizzed by Zena’s face in slow motion, her own wide eyes reflected for a second, before it buried itself in Davan’s throat. He crumpled like tissue, eyes wide and unblinking as he twitched for a few moments. Blood flowed freely across the sterile floor, eager crimson hands reaching to wrap around Zena’s ankles.

Mando watched her entire demeanor change, sheer terror in her eyes as she couldn’t tear herself away from the dead body. This wasn’t like Tattooine, where she could focus on Peli or Grogu and force herself through it. It wasn’t someone like Calican, who deserved to die. This was someone innocent. Murdered. On the floor.

Nera...

Mayfeld cursed. “He pushed the button. We’ve got fifteen minutes tops before the New Republic shows up and wipes us off the map. Find the f*cking cell.”

Xi’an darted to the computer screen in front of them and started clicking away. “Cell 57.” She hissed. “Let’s go.” Mayfeld led the way down the hall, with her on his heels and Burg trotting after.
Zena was still rooted in place, shivering, as the blood inched its way closer and closer to her boots.

It hurt, it hurt so badly, it burned! She couldn’t move off her back, could barely breathe. Nera’s lekku were laying over her wound, stopping her lungs from fully collapsing. There was blood and the smell of burning flesh everywhere, the hooded figure that had attacked them kneeling beside her broken body. She tried not to move or flinch, sure he’d finish what he began, when a shaking hand stroked it’s knuckles over her cheek.
He was crying. Why was he crying?!

She stumbled when Mando grabbed her wrist. “Come on, there’s no time.” he murmured, not unkindly but urgently, dragging her after him. Zena didn’t say a word, but he felt her shuddering violently under his palm. He didn’t know what had taken the capable woman he’d watched take this mission on head first and turn her into a shattered statue. He had to keep her moving or they wouldn’t make it back to the ship in time.
Dragging her had him falling behind slightly, so the others beat them to the cell and opened it. A male twi’lek, also purple, stepped out and pressed his bulbous forehead against Xi’an. “Sister.”

Mando slowed to a stop, still holding Zena’s wrist. “Qin.”

The twi’lek smirked. “What a twist of fate, the man responsible for my imprisonment is now my savior.” He took a step to the side.
Burg shoved Mando with all his strength, sending him and Zena into the open cell while Xi’an shut the door and locked them in. “You deserve this!” They ran down the hall, cackling.

Mando swore softly, examining the door lock. They had to get the f*ck out of here or they were screwed and possibly imprisoned for life. He glanced back at Zena, who’d huddled into a ball on the uncomfortable looking prison cot. She was no help to him or herself like this…
She flinched when his gloved hands cupped her cheeks. “Zen, look at me.” He watched her try so hard to meet his visor, her entire body shaking like a leaf. “Hey, I know something’s wrong. I know it’s more than what I understand. But the kid’s on the ship, we’ve got to get back to him. I need you to pull it together until we can, and then you can fall apart as much as you need to. Okay?”

“O-okay…” she nodded jerkily. “F-for Grogu…”

“Yeah. Come on, get ready. I’m busting us out of here, and we’re going to f*ck up their day.”

She nodded again, closing her eyes. “Alright.”

He wedged his arm between the bars at the top of the cell, taking aim at a guard droid with the dart lines in his vambrace. The dart punched into its middle and he retracted the line, yanking the arm of the droid back into the cell with them. It managed to squeeze off a shot from it’s blaster, which ricocheted around the room until it nailed Mando right in the back, thankfully in his armor. She heard him hiss in a breath and settled her resolve, snatching the blaster from the droid so he could rip it’s arm off. While he fiddled with the with the key in it’s hand, she leaned out and shot it in the head.

“I’m starting to understand why you hate droids…” she muttered quietly.

Mando unlocked the door and looked at her. “I’m going back to the control room to box them in.” he murmured. “Can you handle going back in there? If you don’t know, you don’t go.”

Zena took a deep breath. “I can.. I can do it.” she nodded.

“Alright. Come on.” he led her back down the halls, and when they reached the control room he glanced back at her. Her eyes were fixed upward, pointedly not looking at the body on the floor. “Initiate the lockdown procedures.” he murmured. “Leave yourself a way to the ship. I’ll handle them, you get back to the kid. And get the f*cking droid out of my chair.”

She smiled weakly. “Got it.”

He put a quick hand on her shoulder. “Once the ship’s clear, wait for me. If any of them get past me, you protect him. And if I don’t make it in ten minutes, take the ship and leave.”

She nodded, figuring out her way though as the emergency lights dropped to red alarms started blaring. “Get back quick… please.” she murmured before running out.
The plea made Mando stare after her for a long minute before heading out to hunt his quarry. He needed to make this quick, she and the kid were waiting for him.

The droid was moving when she crept slowly into the ship, still talking into the comms at Mayfeld. Mando must have scrambled their signal, since he was getting no response and had abandoned the co*ckpit and screens.
“If you can hear me, there is something on the ship. It is small and green. I am going to shoot it.” Zero was muttering, walking up to Mando’s bunk. When it opened, the bug eyed toddler was standing in the doorway, frightened looking. The droid raised a rifle and pointed it at Grogu, who teared up and lifted his little hands. He was trying to use the Force to protect himself, all the sweet little thing knew to do.

Bam.

The droid crumpled forward, motionless with a sizzling hole in the chest. Grogu immediately looked at his little hands, then back up. Zen was standing back, blaster still up from where she’d shot it. Then she looked at the baby. “What are you doing out of bed, little man?” She scooped him up again and put him in his crib. “See what happens when you go sneaking around? I gotta shoot stuff.” She kept her voice light and playful, but the horror in her eyes she was sure the kid could see. “I gotta help your dad with one more thing, bub. Can you be good for me a little longer?”

He snuggled in his blankets immediately, and she closed the bunk door.
Then she flipped upside down by her knees down the hatch, leveling her blaster and hanging from the ceiling of the prison ship. Just as Qin came stumbling down the hall with a horrified look on his face and Mayfelds scream behind him. “Freeze.” Zena said quietly. “On your knees, hands up.”

He looked at her, stunned and confused. “Whatever Ran is paying, I’ll make sure you get it. And the other shares too.” He breathed, clearly panicked. “I’ll get him to double it.”
“They murdered an innocent man in the control room.” Her voice and eyes were hard and cold as Hoth. “Why is your life worth more than his?”

Qin looked back as Mando walked up, also leveling a blaster at him. “Ran paid you to deliver me!” he sounded absolutely pitiful. “Are you not a man of honor?”

Mando seemed to consider it a moment. “Stand up. Hands behind your back” he murmured, pulling out his cuffs. “One false move, and she shoots you.”

Qin let himself be manhandled into the cuffs and once he was secure Zena’s head disappeared from the ceiling. Mando hauled him up and magnetized him to the wall in the hold. Subtly, he slipped something into Qin’s pocket without him noticing, and went up to the co*ckpit to take off.
Qin looked pitifully at Zena. “Let me free, dear girl. I didn’t kill that man in the control room, surely you see that.”

“You’re no better than the one who did.” She didn’t even look at him. “Your sister. And you were in no delay to betray Mando. So shut up, or I’ll wrap your lekku in a knot.”

“He means something to you.” His voice softened. “I can give you more than he can, there’s no armor wi-”
“I said shut the f*ck up!” The lights above pulsed, humming loudly for a second before she got herself under control. Her shoulders trembled, but she walked past him to the work table and sat down, hands clasped quietly, face giving nothing else away.
When they arrived, Mando manhandled Qin back out, looking at her. “Stay here.”

Her head jerked in affirmative, letting him march the cuffed twi’lek back to Ran and cut him loose.

“Where are the others?” Ran frowned.

“No questions asked, right?” Mando just shrugged, holding his hand out for the payment he’d been promised. Ran sighed and tossed it to him.

“Yeah. See you around, Mando.” He turned and started walking back with Qin as Mando went back in and started up the Crest. “Kill him.”

Qin beamed with wicked delight and went running towards a fighter that was emerging from the hangar when he spotted a faint light coming from his own hip. He slowly pulled out a little square of metal flashing a red light. And just as the Razor Crest moved to jump into hyperspace, New Republic X-wings appeared and opened fire on the station.

Zena was in the fresher, and had been for a long time when he finally heard the water turn off. Mando had been sitting at the table since he’d set the course, after checking on the kid who’d gone back to sleep. He needed to check on her, worry flooding his veins stronger than spice when he’d watched her shut down. In the middle of a mission.

She was strong, it didn’t make sense.

When she came out she was toweling off her hair, dressed in an oversized shirt that he was pretty sure was actually his. It looked good on her, like there was more between them than sex and an affection for a wierd green baby. Like she was his. “Zen.” he murmured, waving a hand. “Come here.”

She nodded, sighing internally. She was going to get a lecture, at the very least. She’d choked, f*cked up the mission, put him in danger. She’d be lucky if he let her stay on the ship. He’d never let her go on another mission… “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to get so freaked out, I-”

“What are you apologizing for? That wasn’t your fault.” he took her wrist and lightly pulled her into the seat beside him. “I’ve seen that kind of reaction before. That’s not the first time you’ve seen a dead body on the floor.”

“No… it’s not.” She shook her head. “I was in the Rebellion-”

“It’s more than that, I can tell.” he said gently, cutting her off. “Tell me the truth.”

Zena hunched inward, eyes looking at his big gloved hand on her little naked wrist. “I… the bad place Dad found me.” she finally murmured. “There was an attack… my best friend was killed and she fell on top of me… her body kept anyone from realizing I was alive and finishing me off, until Dad came… But it took a long time. And I couldn’t move… and she was dead and heavy, and she started to get c-cold…” she closed her eyes and put her free hand over her face, shivering. “I can’t handle dead bodies… especially innocent ones. I didn’t have to look at the dead raiders on Sorgan… and I could kind of tell myself Calican deserved it, and I killed him to keep you and the baby safe… If I’d shot Mayfeld for touching your helmet, it would have been justified to me. But that Lieutenant Davan… he was innocent and he was so young.” She whispered faintly. “It just… reminded me of Nera. One minute she was alive, and the next…”

“Hey, come here.” he murmured. She let him tug her down the bench seat and against his cool cuirass, resting her head in the crook of his neck and paldron. “It’s okay. It… that makes sense.” One arm settled around her waist, secure and comfortable, as the other hand rubbed slow circles across her upper back.

She closed her eyes, just starting to relax when a sudden memory of a cold voice flitted through her consciousness. “I know Mando better than you do. He seems like a droid on the outside, but he’s just like every other selfish man in the galaxy under that armor. If he hasn’t f*cked you into the floor yet, he wants to, and when he thinks you’re getting too close, he’ll throw you away.”

Mando felt her shiver again and her face turned up to look at the impassive helmet in front of her. “Did you date Xi’an?”

“Is that what she told you?” he angled his head down a little more, she was sure he was looking at her eyes.

“Not… not exactly. She said she knew you better than I do… and some less nice things.” She looked away. “I just… wondered what happened.”

“When I used to run with Ran’s crew, there was… something between us. I wouldn’t call it ‘dating’.” he sighed. “Neither one of us actually trusted each other, we weren’t good for each other either. She’s an unhinged sad*st, and I…” he paused a moment, arms a little tighter around her middle. “I was taking everything bad out on her. We hurt each other, and some sick part of me liked it as much as she did. It wasn’t… I never took any part of the armor off around her. She’d have stabbed me, hell she managed to a couple times with it on… but I never would have been in the dark with her, or fallen asleep next to her. It wasn't-” he shook his head. “Not like with you.”

She shifted so her chin rested against the center of his chest, looking directly up at him. “She said you’d throw me away when I got too close.”

“Of course she did.” He groaned. “She’s got reasons to be vindictive, Zena. I double crossed and put her brother in prison, and that’s probably the only thing in the galaxy she actually loves. Yeah, I absolutely left her because I realized if I didn’t get away from her, I was going to end up just as violent and sad*stic as she was. I joined the Guild to get away from her.” He leaned his head down until his forehead rested against hers.

She smiled a little. “You know, this is the most personal thing you’ve ever told me about yourself.”

“You never asked.”

“I didn’t want to scare you away… you always seem so private. You’re entitled to whatever secrets you wanna keep, Mando. I just… it’s nice to know, when you want to share.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’ll share one more thing. Whenever she’s around, I just think about how quickly I can leave. When you’re not around, all I think of is how quickly I can get back to you.”

Her face burned red and she nestled a little more in his arms. “Didn’t think you’d be a romantic.”

“Never had an opportunity to try. You’re not what I’m used to.”

“What are you used to?” She shifted, turning on the hard metal bench so her back was to his chest and he was holding her around the middle, reclining comfortably as she could be in his arms.

“Quick hookups, bad decision flings, and brothels.” he shrugged. “No one I actually bothered to see a second time.”

“So what makes me so special?” She ran her fingers over the stitching of his glove, following the curves of his fingers over her middle. His hands were so much larger than hers, he could probably close his fingers around the thinnest part of her waist.

“The first thing I noticed was you being nice.” he mused. “The stuff you made for me… you always threw something in extra, or gave advice, or cut a discount. Just because.” he hooked his chin over her shoulder. “Then it was you with the kid. It’s… I like it. Then throw in that you can fight, that you’re a survivor… doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful. So yeah. I think you’re pretty special.”

She giggled. “I like the way you are with the baby too… You’re so strong all the time, but with him you’re… soft. It’s kind of nice to get to see that side of you, that no one else does.”

“Only you and the kid.” he agreed, enjoying the comfortable honesty between them for a moment. He could have fallen asleep holding her and been happy.

“Mando?” she murmured after a minute, catching his attention with the sudden urgency in her voice.

“What is it?” His arms tightened around just a fraction more, trying to be comforting with the sudden concern she might say something that shattered this dream he was building around them in his head.

“Before we left Tattooine… you said you shouldn’t be jealous that Calican touched me because I didn’t belong to you.” She shuffled her feet a little. “What if… I wanted to? Belong to you, I mean.”

He squeezed her, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make sure the effect of her words on him were known. “I think I’d be happy to walk your pretty little ass across this hold to your bed over there, and show you exactly what I think of that.”

Zena’s skin went electric and hot, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Show me.”

He scooped her up, arms under her shoulders and knees, and was on his feet and moving, dropping to his knees in a few short strides to lay her in her pile of bedding. “I want you to see.” He said, almost softly, starting to pull off his cuirass and pauldrons. “So I can’t kiss you. Is that…”

She smiled and nodded. “I understand.”

“Ner cyar’ika.” He startled slightly when she slid up to her knees and put her hands over his on the magnetic plates that held his armor to him.

“Let me.” she pressed her forehead against his sweetly. “Show me how.”

She heard his breath shudder slightly through the vocoder. “T-twist here. It cuts the power to the electromagnetic plate…” He guided her hands under his pauldrons to a pair of dials. Piece by piece, he instructed her on how to take the beskar off him. One by one, she set every piece carefully down on the floor, with an almost reverence to her motion. “Why-?” he started.

“It’s your religion.” She cut him off with a faint smile that sucked the air out of his lungs, those eyes of hers looking at him like she could see straight through him. “It’s a part of you that you let me hold. I should take care of it.”

He could have pounced her right there, but his fists clenched at his sides as she took the last plate off his thigh and set it aside, kneeling in front of him so close their legs were touching. Slowly, she reached out to his collar and tugged his cowl and cape loose and off before locating the zipper of his flight suit and easing it down to his waist. She leaned in, pressing her lips against the column of his throat and down his chest, smoothing cool palms over his skin to push the clothing off him.

He winced slightly when her hand trailed a surprisingly tender spot on his back, and her head shot up immediately. “Let me see.”

“Aren’t we in the middle of-” he grumbled.
“Let me see.”

He sighed and let her crawl around behind him, running her fingers down the length of his muscled back until they paused over a rapidly darkening bruise on the left side of his lower back. “It’s fine, just where that blaster shot hit the beskar. Just a br- ah…” he started to assure her, until her soft lips were pressed against the bruise and her arms twisted around his waist from behind, sliding down his thighs enticingly. “Z-zen…”

She smiled against his skin, finding the zipper again and pulling the last few inches down his inseam while she nuzzled into his spine. She was soft against the new bruise, bolder against old scars, and her tongue moved up the ridges of his spine when he all but moaned her name. While he was distracted with her mouth, she slipped a hand down and took his length in hand.

“Oh f*ck, Zen…” he mumbled, head tipping back a little.

Her chin looped over his shoulder as she straightened up, having to stretch a little even as he sagged back into her arms. “You wanted me to see, right?” She cooed, nipping at his shoulder lightly. “I’m looking. Show me.”

He moaned again, hands fisting the blankets under them and hips shaking. He was still kneeling, a bad angle to do much more than grind into her palm as she stroked him with her dainty little hands and sucked purple marks against his neck. “You look good.” she breathed, nuzzling the line of hickeys she’d left. “No one will see it, but I’ll know you’ve got my mark on you. That you’re mine and I’m yours…”

“f*cking hell.” his voice was wrecked and wanting, and as hot as it cranked her desire to see him f*cking her fist, she wanted the more intimate side of this more. The connection.

She let him go with a final squeeze and held him tightly for a second before he sat his weight up off her and she crawled back around in front of him. His chest was heaving, and she couldn't help but run her fingers down his skin once more. “Maker, you’re lovely.” She smiled.

Mando didn’t think anyone had ever used that specific word about him before, but he found it endearing. He caught his breath just a moment more, before scooping her back up and laying her into the blankets as softly as he knew how to be. He kicked out of the rest of his clothes, leaving just the helmet, and pulled her out of hers. “Is this my shirt?”

She chuckled. “Y-yes… it smelled like you.”

A shiver ran down his spine and he tossed it to the side, hooking his thumbs in the sides of her panties. She lifted her hips, letting them slide down her ass and legs at his insistent tugging, until she was completely bare before his eyes with the lights on. His thumb ran over her hipbones, pausing on old and new scars. The most prominent was the circular one between her navel and sternum, but she was peppered with others. Blaster bolts and shrapnel, training and defensive wounds on her arms, a faint one he only now noticed across her cheek. He rubbed his thumb across it and makeup came away, revealing the whitish scar a little more in detail. “Stop hiding.” he murmured. “Everything you keep thinking is a flaw, I think makes you real. Let me see it.”

She nodded, eyes wide and her heart in her throat. Mando bumped his head with hers before sliding onto his side next to her, letting one arm ghost down between her legs. They opened for him immediately and he chuckled. “Eyes stay open, cyar’ika.”

“O-ok-ay…” she whimpered as he found the bundle of nerves and stroked it, gathering wetness from her opening to smooth his path. Her knees twitched and she tried her damndest to keep her eyes open and on his helmet while he toyed with her. When a finger pushed inside her, Zena bit her lip and bucked, taking it to the second knuckle when her hips jumped. He pumped it in and out, rubbing the curves of the helmet against her shoulder, cold metal rising goosebumps over her skin. A second finger made her moan.

“How’s that feel, mesh’la?” he practically purred, helmet vibrating against her shoulder. A third finger had her squirming and panting desperately, him still working her cl*t as he dragged her dangerously fast to her climax. Her eyes were starting to close when he squeezed her hip with his free hand, which had at some point snaked around under her back and was holding her to him. “Eyes open.” he repeated. “Answer me.”
“G-good… so good…” She gasped half incoherently. “Ma-mando, I-” her whimper was replaced by an unhappy whine when his fingers removed themselves, leaving a trail of wet down her inner thigh. “Mandooo…”

“Not yet.” he soothed her, pulling her up and around until he was laying back where she had been and he was guiding her trembling legs on either side of his waist. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

She nodded, mouth suddenly dry, as he gave her a minute to get her brain together enough to realize what he was asking her. Finally, she put her hands on his shoulders and adjusted her positioning, feeling him pressed hot and hard against her stomach. She reached between them and took him in hand, absently stroking a bead of leaking fluid over the head before lifting her hips and guiding it to her entrance. Then she sank down slowly, sheathing him completely and pressing her hips down until she was helplessly impaled on his co*ck and clinging to his chest and shoulders. He groaned faintly, trying not to buck up into her just yet.

Zena finally settled her hands back on his upturned knees and leaned back, rocking her hips forward and up and giving him an absolute show with the way her breasts bounced with each steady rock of her hips. She was full and the stretch burned in the best way, and his hands stroked her thighs and squeezed her hips where he could reach, urging her motions this way and that. She squeezed her pelvic muscles together a little harder, just to hear him grunt and swear underneath her. “Z-zen… I’m gonna f*cking…”
She tugged his hand from her hip and pushed it between her legs. “Do it… take me with you…” When he ground his thumb into her cl*t she arched back a little further, and her nails dug into his knees.

Mando did exactly as she asked and made her come, right as he did. She pitched forward into his arms and across his chest, shivering as he filled her and hugged her tight to his chest. They were breathless and clinging to each other, Zena nuzzling in his neck and smiling to herself.
“My pretty girl…” he mumbled, reaching for a blanket to put over her shoulders before she started to shiver.

She threaded her fingers through his and put their joined hands on his chest, yawning sleepily. “My Mandalorian…”

That seemed to make him laugh, chest vibrating under her cheek. “Hey… I got a transmission while we were on that prison ship… we should ta-”

Zena was asleep on his chest, and he smiled under a visor and adjusted the blanket a little more securely. “It can wait til you wake up.”

Chapter 9: Chapter Eight: You Love Me But You Don’t Know Who I Am

Chapter Text

“It’s a trap, Mando. He’s trying to kidnap Grogu.” Zena watched her lover replay the holo of Greef Karga again. “Really, I’m surprised he’s alive after you shot him on Nevarro.”

“That’s what I was thinking, that’s why I rolled it back. It definitely seems like him… either I missed or he had something up his sleeve.”

She bounced Grogu in her lap quietly. “What do you want to do?” She asked in a soft voice.

“The best way to get the guild off our backs is to take out the source. We’ll need to go to Nevarro one way or the other.”

“And how do we keep them from taking him and shooting us in the head?”

“I think there’s some friendly faces we could call.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Dune, and an Ugnaught I met on Arvala 7 when I found him.”

She nodded. “That’s good. You think they’ll help?”

“Dune can be paid. The Ugnaught… I might need to talk to. But neither are fond of the Empire."

“Is anyone?” She nodded. “Alright, let’s do it. Where’s closest, Sorgan or Arvala 7?”

“Sorgan. I think I can convince her, but I might need your help.”

Zena chuckled. “You always have my help. That's what I signed up for." She looked at the baby. "Your dad worries too much. "

Mando shook his head. “And your mom’s not worried enough. "

Her face turned red when he said ‘mom’ and she buried her face behind the baby’s big ears. “He’s trying to embarrass me.” she cooed, flustered.

“I’m succeeding. Get strapped in so I can get us into hyperspace and to Sorgan.”

She nodded and buckled herself into her seat, holding Grogu tight in her lap and feeding him pieces of dried meat to keep him happy. Fussy toddlers and flying were a bad mix.

Mando reached over and offered the kid the silver handle of the joystick when he made baby grabby hands at it, and Zena’s heart melted a little more.

Cara was attached at the belt to a Zabrak, free for all fighting for credits when they arrived. And winning. "Pay up, mudscuffers!"

Mando rolled his head to look at Zena. "She always like this?"

"Oh yeah. Used to host spars in the barracks, any girl that beat her was invited to a pantsless round two in her bunk." She laughed. "She's incorrigible."

"Sounds too classy to describe… this."

"Dad was Coruscanti. Everything sounded classy, even getting chewed out." She bounced Grogu on her hip and walked over as the betters paid up. "Hey Dune."

"Typhe! Didn't expect you back so soon. "

Mando walked up behind her. "Looking for work?"

Cara rolled her eyes. "Come have a drink with me. Let's talk."

They settled down at a table and a barmaid poured spotchka and Mando explained.

"Sorry, guys. I'm out." Cara shook her head. "If I even book passage on a New Republic ship I'll rot in a cell for the rest of my life."

"Thought you were a veteran." Mando leaned in.

Zena eyed Cara's face. "Dune, what did you do?"

"A lot. Most carry a life sentence. And I'm not willing to play soldier anymore, especially fighting some local warlord."

Mando shook his head. "He's not a local warlord "

Zenas grin was sharklike. "He's Imperial."

She waited a beat for it to sink in, watching Cara's eyebrows jerk up into her hairline as she took a swallow of spotchka. Three, two, one…

"Then I'm In."

Arvala 7 was basically another Tattooine. Zena almost felt at home in the dunes, following Mando to a scrap camp surrounded by pens of the strangest creatures she'd ever seen. Bluurgs, the old Ugnaught called them.

He invited them to sit in his tent.

"It hasn't grown much. " he said as he examined the child in Zenas lap. "But I cannot imagine what the Empire wants with something so small and helpless."

"I think it's gene farmed." Cara shrugged.

"No. I've worked in the gene farms. It is too organic, too ugly. " he fondly patted Grogus little head. "But this one. She looks like she was made in the Cytomines." He nodded to Zena, who flushed. "Where did you find such a companion, Mandalorian? "

He shrugged. "Got lucky."

A click at the tent flap had Mando and Cara whipping their blasters out. Zena curled around Grogu, looking over her shoulder at an IG unit carrying a tea tray.

The Ugnaught held his hands up. "The droid has been reprogrammed. It will not hunt."

"It tried to kill the baby! " Mandos voice was firm, hard. Zena imagined him gritting his teeth.

"Because it was programmed to do so. I staked it as my own when you left. Little remained of its neural harness, reconstruction was difficult. It learned everything from scratch, and developed a personality with my guidance and affirmation."

"I don't want it near him. " Mando practically growled. "Zena, take him outside."

The old alien chuckled softly, shaking his head at her. "Please remain where you are. Why did you return?" He looked at Mando again, as Zena looked back and forth like a tooka watching a water ballet.

"There's been trouble. I want to hire your services to protect the child."

"I am not suited to such work. I can update IG for nursing…"

"I don't want that thing near him!"

Zena looked over Grogus little head, eyes soft. "Mando… please. Hear him out at least."

The Ugnaught got up, waving for Mando to follow while IG served Cara and Zena tea. "I do not serve anymore, Mandalorian."

Mando sighed. "I can pay, Ugnaught."

"I have a name. It is Kuiil."

"Kuiil. I don't want that droid near him. Or her."

"Why are you so distrustful of droids? They are neither good nor bad, but reflections of their programmers."

"I've seen otherwise."

"Do you trust me?"

"As far as I can tell, yes." Mando sighed, glancing back at the open tent. Zena was holding a cup of tea for the toddler to sip, smiling brightly when he put little hands over her fingers and looked up at her with those inky eyes.

"Then you will trust my work. IG will come with me. Not for credits, but to spare the child from Imperial slavery." Kuiil saw where the visor was pointing, and the way the armored man relaxed a little looking at the girl. "The bluurgs will come as well."

"The bluurgs?"

"I have spoken."

Bluurgs on the already tight quarters of the ship made things somewhat… difficult. The minute he’d suggested it, Mando had told Zena to move her stuff into his bunk, because there was no way he was making her sleep next to what might actually be his least favorite animal in the galaxy. Now they were making their odd grunting noises in the makeshift pens in the cargo bay, while Mando and Cara arm wrestled and Kuiil talked philosophy with Zena. Mando was half listening, half trying to win against the former shocktrooper.

“So you say you do not follow the path your father set for you. What exactly does that mean, young one?” Kuiil asked curiously.

“He was a Jedi… they followed a path of non-attachment. You can love someone, you can miss them when they’re gone, and mourn them when they die. But you must let them go.” She sighed. “I… struggle with that last bit. Tried to just avoid loving a lot of people for a while.”

“How did that work for you?”

“Poorly. I have a lot of regrets… and not a lot of closure. But I’m trying to do better. I’ve got these two.” She smiled.

“Could you let them go if you had to?”

“I think that depends on the circ*mstances.” She glanced over. “If the baby was in a better situation, someone who could do better by him… even though I love him so much, yes. It would hurt but I’d let him go to be happier. But if he was in danger, I’d rain chaos on the galaxy until I found him again.”

“And the Mandalorian?” Kuiil gave her a knowing smile.
“As long as he wants to be with me, I want to be with him.” She chuckled. “If he tells me he wants me to leave… I’ll have to make peace with it. There’s not a lot you can do to tell a Mandalorian what to do, you know?” she chuckled.

He nodded. “That seems reasonable to m-”

Before he could finish, Cara was suddenly sputtering, clutching at her neck. Mando was staring, confused, until Zena spotted Grogu’s little hands extended. “Grogu, no!” she squeaked, scooping him up.

Mando jumped. “She’s our friend! Let her go!"

The kid's eyes popped open and he burst into sobbing, burying his face in Zenas shoulder. She sighed, putting a hand on his head. "Shh… shh."

"What was that?!" Cara gasped. "He almost killed me!"

"He thought you were hurting Mando." Zena explained, comforting him. "Now he thinks everyone's mad at him."

Mando let out a crackling huff. "Give him here."

Zena placed the squalling bundle of brown cloth in the warrior's arms. "Hey, it's alright. He's not mad, okay? Give Mama a smile." The baby squeaked and clung to Mando, looking from Zena to Cara. "Tell him you're not mad at him, Dune. He's scared."

The shock trooper sighed. "It's alright, kid. Just… don't do it again. Deal?"

Mandos' big hand patted the tiny back and Grogu grabbed his thumb, sniffling. "You sorry?" Mando murmured.

Squeaky affirmations settled everyone down as the tot started getting sleepy. Mando let him snuggle into his neck, taking one paldron off and setting it on the table.

"What was that? " Cara kept rubbing her neck.

"I have heard of this ability. Rumors from when I was in service. " Kuiil murmured

"You served?" Cara looked at him. "I was in the Rebellion."

"On the other side, I'm afraid. " Kuiil shook his head. "I paid off my clan's debt with the skill of my hands, over the course of three human lifetimes ."

"For the empire!" Cara hissed.

Zena put her hands up. "Stop it. Cara, he had no choice. Of all people, an Alderaani should know what it's like to be out of options. Sit down. Everyone calm down." Zena pushed out with the Force, eyes flashing in the dim light. Kuiil’s whole body visibly relaxed, and even though she wanted to be angry, Cara felt herself calming

Mando leaned back with the baby, watching her settle everyone back into submission. He'd be lying if he didn't admit he found it hot to see her take charge.

He turned toward Kuiil. "Could you make the crib more padded, so he'll sleep better? "

The Ugnought nodded. "I will build a better one. The skill of my hands bought my freedom. Let it buy this child's comfort."

Mando followed Kuiil through the ship to help as Zena checked Caras neck. "How the f*ck did that little womp rat do that?"

"The Force." Zena chuckled weakly.

"I don't even know what that is."

"Remember Skywalker? That stuff he did." She glanced over as IG walked by, announcing he'd prepared food.

"Not hungry." Mando waved the droid away tensely.

"He really hates droids." Zena explained when Cara co*cked an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"I… actually have no idea." She frowned.

"Thought you guys were all lovey dovey now."

Zena huffed. "He's more of a shower than a talker. When we do talk, he wants to know about me, more than talk about himself."

"So you know next to nothing about him. The man you're trusting to protect you from the empire. That's dangerous, Typhe."

"I know enough. If he was going to stab me in the back he'd have done it by now."

Cara rolled her eyes. "You know you're insane, right? Do you even know his name? "

Zena didn't answer, just rocked the baby closer to her chest. His name didn't matter. Right?

Nevarro was its usual hot, dusty, ashen self when they arrived. Three hunters and Greef Karga was waiting for them, grinning his usual 1000 kilowatt smile. "Mando! It's been a long time, my friend. And the lovely Miss Ty!" He boomed. "I wondered if you were safe or if the man of the hour had dropped you off in the middle of nowhere."

"Pick up another weird rash at the healing baths?" She chuckled, hand on the floating orb that housed her favorite greenling. "I'm quite alright, no thanks to the bounty hunters you've been sending after us."

Kargas smile faltered slightly, but he shook it off. "Let's see the asset!"

Mando quietly pressed a button on the vambrace and the round structure opened. Karga examined the child, reaching down to pick him up. Mandos' hand inched towards his blaster.

"What a precious creature. I see why you didn't want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head " he set the baby back down and the pram backed up close to Mando again. "This is a lot of people, Mando. Sure you need everyone?" Karga eyed them. "Shouldn't someone stay with your ship? This place is lousy with jawas."

"No crew, no deal" he said stiffly.

"Alright, alright. We'll head towards town and make camp on the lava flats, then go in at first light."

Mando nodded. He knew this was a setup, he'd minimized every risk and left the droid on the ship, had only the people he trusted… but it was still dangerous. He stole a glance at Zenas' lovely face a moment before they packed up what they'd need on the bluurg and followed the guild leader into the wastelands. They'd brought 3, so she climbed up behind him once they were packed and put her arms around his waist.

"Your hair is lighter, Miss Ty." Karga commented dryly.

She turned blue, not brown, eyes towards him. "I couldn't get my dye. But I think I'm better suited to blonde anyway. Don't you?" In the months in space, especially the time spent in the sun, the black had stripped itself from her hair and left behind a shimmery white blonde. A few grayish bits clung to the palest streaks, but she didn't mind.

"It's striking." He wondered if Mando liked it better this way. He must have liked her enough to keep her on board... it was a little tragic to think she'd die right beside him over the asset. A little cute green monster; he almost understood why they'd be willing to throw so much away. Almost.

They walked in contemplative silence for the rest of the afternoon, until it was time to make camp.

They set up quick tents, shoveling coals from the lava river to start a fire and roast a wild ash ram they'd shot. Kuiil doted on Grogu as everyone ate, feeding him bites of meat.

"Guess the little buggers a carnivore." Mused Karga. "Can't imagine what the empire wants him for. Some highfalutin menagerie maybe?"

"Let's go over the plan again." Mando wasn't looking at Karga, but at Zena and Grogu as she gently scolded him for eating more than half of Kuiils dinner.

"We go in, show the client the bait, and you kill him. The rest will scatter when their paychecks are gone."

"And if they don't?"

"They will."

"That's not good enough." Mando finally tore his gaze away from them to look at his former employer.

"If they don't, that battle hardened shock trooper, you, and Mama Nexu over there will handle anyone that bucks. Miss Ty has to be pretty good with a blaster if you've kept her around this long, right?"

"Something like that. How many men will he have?"

"No more than four. He travels with a fire team at most." Karga got up to cut himself more meat. "Nothing's going to go wro-"

A screech sounded a split second too late for Karga to react before something swooped, claws gouging his arm.

Everyone was on their feet in a split second, shooting. "Reptavians!" Zena yelped as one giant flying lizard came into view in the firelight.

Mando hurriedly shut the pram and whipped his flamethrower up when one of Kargas hunters was dragged away screaming. The reptavians were trying to take the bluurgs, already having taken one and killed a second, while Kuiil bravely fought to protect them.

Cara was trying to help him when one lizard pounced on Mando.

Zena screeched, running towards him and punching the creature in the face. With her bare fist.

Mando was very aware of Zenas physical strength. He'd had her trying to pin him down plenty of times, and he knew there was no way she should be able to knock a full grown reptavian off him and through the air. But he was suddenly loose, with her standing over him, as it screeched a retreat.

"You okay, Mando?" She breathed hard, eyes wide as she looked back at him. "It didn't hurt you?"

"N-no. I'm good." He got up slowly, shaking his head. Hers jerked back around when they heard Karga groaning in pain.

"f*ck." She ran over, as Cara gave the injured guild leader a bacta shot.

"So this is how it happens…" he gritted out.

"Don't be so dramatic." She snarked, examining the jagged wound on his arm. "The poison's spreading. I need another med pack. Typhe, you got one?"

"N-no, but let me se-" she took a step forward as Grogu toddled past her.

"It's gonna eat me!" Karga tried to jerk away, but his strength was fading fast. Little baby claws landed on the bleeding gash, and Grogu closed his eyes.

Zena felt it. The rush of cool peace, dragging the air from her lungs achingly as the festering lesions on Kargas dark skin closed and the poison in his blood bubbled harmlessly to the surface and ran into the thirsty volcanic soil. Grogu opened his little eyes and plopped back on his butt, cooing tiredly.

Karga stared at his own arm as Zena scooped the baby to her chest. "Sweet thing." She breathed as he nuzzled into her neck.

"What was that?" Karga gaped.

"Force healing. The rarest ability in the galaxy." She whispered, before pressing her lips to the tiny green head.

"I cannot teach you how to master this ability, dear one. It is rare, and must be used wisely. It will tire you, but it is a great gift. All Jedi were trained in the art of combat, which is used to end lives. But only a rare few can use the Force to save them. Mercy is your greatest strength. Do you understand me, Zenaria?"

"Yes, Dad. I understand."

Morning dawned clear and gray as the survivors made their way towards the town. Karga and his remaining men walked ahead, arguing between themselves in hushed voices.

"Think they're having second thoughts?" Cara asked dryly, in the middle with Mando and Zena as Kuiil brought up the rear on the remaining bluurg.

"Maybe." Mando shrugged. "I need your eyes."

"I'm watching."

Zena was quiet, hand resting on Grogus pram. She'd been restless all night, Mando having heard her tossing and turning. He'd wanted to talk to her about what happened, but there was no way to be private in camp and he was sure this wasn't a conversation she wanted witnesses for. He already longed to be back on the Crest, in their bubble of pretended domesticity, where he could watch her raising the child they'd both come to love while he sorted out his complex feelings about her.

Karga stopped on top of a rocky outcropping, overlooking the town. "Here it is." He said mildly.

Zena felt tension in her bones threatening to snap her in half, radiating from him. She quietly shut the pram lid

Karga spun around and fired two shots, right into his own men, before holding his hands up. Cara and Mando had already trained their blasters on him. "There's something you should know. The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after last night I couldn't go through with it." He kicked the gun out of the nearest downed hunter's hand. "If you want to shoot me I don't blame you, but the kid will never be safe until the Imp is dead."

"I say we kill him and get out of here." Cara snarled.

Mando put his blaster in his holster slowly. "What's your plan?"

"Same as before. Take the kid and kill the Imp."

"Kid goes back to the ship." Mando shook his head. "Kuiil, take the baby back to the Crest. Lock yourself in, engage the ground security protocols and nothing on this planet will breach those doors. Zen-"

"Don't ask me to stay behind on the ship, Mando. I'm coming with you." She said quietly.

He sighed. "Fine." He looked back at Karga. "We can say you caught us, take the empty crib and fool the Imp long enough to get close."

"I'm going too!" Cara looked stunned.

"That'll make them suspicious." Karga shook his head.

Zena tore a strip from Grogus blanket as Kuiil took him from the pram. "I'll make you a new one. Promise. " she told him, before handing it to Cara. "Cover your tattoo. We'll say you caught us both."

"That could work." Karga grinned. "Give me your blasters."

They handed them over, Mando spotting the glint of durasteel under Zenas apron. "You're wearing my armor again."

"We knew it could be a trap." She rolled up her loose sleeves and showed him the arm braces too. "But I thought looking less like a threat might work in our favor."

"Smart girl." He handed Karga a pair of cuffs and let him put them on him. Cara did the same to Zena.

They marched them towards the town, as Kuiil took the concerned looking baby the way they'd come.

"You said there'd be four." Cara hissed. She and Karga were marching Mando and Zena through a city crammed with Imps.

"Guarding the Client. There's a lot more in town."

"Give him his blaster."

"Not yet."

Zena eyed the troops in white, biting her lip hard. This was more terrifying than she'd realized it would be.

Troops in white armor running up and down sacred halls. Blaster shots rang out, those brave enough to face them fell to superior numbers. Why? Why was this happening?!

"You okay? " Mandos voice dragged her back to reality, low and worried and strangely soothing.

"I will be."

They reached the cantina, Zenas eyes locked up at the holy monument of Nevarro. Strange interlopers to the holy land, dingy ash on their armor, co*cked their heads as the four passed.

The Client was an old man in black, with a thick accent Zena didn't recognize. "Such craftsmanship." He ran his knuckles over Mandos' armor, and she wanted to headbutt his teeth out. How dare his filthy imperial hands touch that beskar? Mando’s people lived scattered because of the murderous Empire. She knew the stories, the Great Purge and Night of a Thousand Tears. Her towering warrior was too good, too honored to have filth lay a hand on him.

She was pushed into the cantina booth as Karga accepted the Imps offer of refreshment. The four troopers that had been his guard multiplied to ten. That she could see.

"I wish to see the baby." The Imp crooned.

"It's sleeping." Karga tried to stall.

"We will all be quiet." The Imp reached for the pram when the distinct ring of a comm froze everyone in their tracks. "I hope you don't think me rude. I must take this call." He got up from the table.

As he went to a holo set up on the bar, Mando slipped his cuffs. Zena uncurled her fingers as well, sliding free. Cara and Din had just slipped them their blasters when shots rang out through the cantina, blowing out the windows.

Mando slung the table to the side and everyone piled behind it as whoever was shooting killed off the Imp and troopers.

"Is it help?" Karga blinked.

Zena peered around the broken window carefully. "No. Very much not help." Her voice sounded dry, listless to her ears. A transport full of storm troopers, a squad of black armored death troopers, and a landing TIE fighter were the furthest thing from help she'd ever seen.

Her lungs turned to ice when the fighter opened and a man in black, with a cape strode out to stand in front of the garrison of Imperial bastards pinning them down.

No. He's dead! Darth Vader is dead!

"You are in possession of something I want." The man had a thin voice, smug and demanding. But it wasn't Vader, and despite the predicament Zena breathed easier. "You may think you know what you are in possession of, but you do not. In a few moments, it will be mine. It means more to me than you will ever know."

Mando swore, hitting the comm. "Kuiil, are you back at the ship? They're onto us, we're pinned down! Get the kid out of here!"

"Not there yet, but nearly." The gravelly voice replied.

Zena took a deep breath and looked at her blaster. They were in so much trouble

Chapter 10: Chapter Nine: Torn Between This Life I Lead and Where I Stand

Chapter Text

"I would prefer to end this with no more violence." The ostentatious Imperial outside the cantina was still talking as the little group huddled inside. They had little choice but to listen, searching for a way out that seemed less and less likely to be found.

Cara was peeking out the broken window, and gritted her teeth. "They're setting up an E-Web."

"We're dead." Karga groaned. "I vote we hear him out."

"There's no point." Zena gritted her teeth. "If we walk out there, we're dead. If we stay, we're dead…" she closed her eyes and reached over, squeezing Mandos hand tightly.

"Well, I'm shooting my way out." Cara hissed. "They catch me, they'll strap me to a mind flayer."

"The sewers." Mando murmured. "The Mandalorians have a covert in the sewers. Let me scan for access points."

After a minute, he pointed with his and Zenas joined hands. "The grate leads down."

Cara nodded, opening fire on the grate. “Sewers. Sewers are good.”

Outside, the Imp chuckled. "I hear by your frantic action you understand the seriousness of your situation. My men here have just finished assembly of an E-Web heavy repeater. I'm sure Rebel Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan can tell you how many convoys she's seen shot down by the predecessor of this model. Or perhaps Mandalorian former bounty hunter Din Djarin can tell you the stories about the Night of A Thousand Tears. Or disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga?" He paused, then a low and mocking laugh echoed through the shot out cantina. "Or maybe you can just ask Jedi youngling Zenaria Typhe-Kenobi how the Empire leveled her precious Temple because the Jedi stood to defy us?"

Everyone's head whipped around to look at Zena. She had turned, ignoring them. "This isn't a creche full of younglings this time, you Darth Vader wannabe! You don't scare me anymore! Let's see you cowards in a real fight!" it was a lie, but she was willing to pretend right now. For Grogu, and Nera, and Obi-wan.

"Your Master taught you well. But he's still dead, and so soon you shall be. You have until sundown to consider my offer. Or I will level this cantina and take the asset from your corpses."

He walked away and left them to panic.

"How the hell does he know our names?" Cara gasped.

"I know who he is." Mando murmured. "It's Moff Gideon."

"Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes." Cara shuddered.

"No. He knew my name. I haven't heard that name spoken since I was a child. I wasn't born on Mandalore, I was taken in and raised in the Fighting Corps. The only records of that name would be in the registry, and Moff Gideon was an ISB officer during the Purge."

Zena nodded. "That's how he knows all our names." She couldn't look at Mando, the air heavy with revealed secrets. "Did Kuiil get the baby out…?"

"He's not answering the comms." He hated watching her hide from him. There was no time to weigh what Gideon had just revealed about them both, but her reaction… he wanted to crush Gideons head for putting distance between them.

"Try again… please." She whispered.

Mando started to reach out, put a hand under her chin and turn her to face him, but she looked so… shattered. He couldn't. "Alright." He stepped to the side as she went to examine the grate, poking at the bars. She could probably cut through this with her saber… Mando swearing violently broke her thoughts.
“What?” She looked up.

“The droid said Kuiil is dead.” He hissed. “It’s got the kid.”

“He programmed it for nursing, Grogu will be safe.” She took a slow breath.

“No, Zen. It’s bringing him here.”

She paled and ran to the window, just in time to see blaster fire coming down an alleyway. “There they are. It’s now or never if we’re fighting our way out of here.” Cara grinned, desperation in her eyes.

Zena nodded, setting her blaster down and pulling a sleek silver handle from her pocket, looking at it sitting on her palm for a moment. Crescent shaped cross guard, an oval little attachment for a pommel… Obi-wans hands had guided her own to make this when she was a child, and she’d spent years tinkering with it just to keep busy. Other than a few quick little skirmishes, she’d never used it in real combat. Calican was the closest thing until now.

“Let’s do this.” She got behind Mando as he kicked the door outward and started blasting.

It was absolute pandemonium almost immediately. Cara was aggressively blasting anything that moved, pinned down in a corner and sucking air like a wounded bantha. Karga was cautious, keeping cover and firing only when he got a good shot in. IG was quick, the baby giggling in the sack around it’s chest as the droids spinning swung him around.

And Mando. Stars, Zena could have watched him for hours. He kicked and punched as much as he shot, fluid and powerful and elegant. This was his profession, violence and death, and as frightening as the situation was he carried an aura of calm proficiency with him that settled her breathing.

She didn’t know he was watching her just as she was watching him. Her saber was out, deflecting blaster shots as she crowded the enemies, letting them shoot each other before she took the remaining one down with easy strokes. It was almost a dance, her footwork steady and practiced, saber in one hand and the other stuck out in front of her with two fingers extended every time she selected a target.

The little group was valiant, but IG had taken some fire and was on its knees. The baby was in danger; Mando wouldn’t stand for it. He dodged Imps to get to the E-web, wrenching it from its tripod and opening direct fire on as many troopers as he could. His spray of avenging firepower was impressive, but as he lined up to take down Moff Gideon the caped bastard eyed him impassively. Then his aim with his blaster canted down three inches and he shot a fuel cell right at Mando’s feet.

The explosion rocked the cantina front battlefield, sending Mando flying through the air and landing hard on his back. Grogu whimpered, Zena almost broke her neck to turn and look for her silver warrior.

He wasn’t getting up.

She practically skidded to his side as Cara grabbed the limp Mandalorian under his arms. Karga and the droid covered their retreat as the two women dragged Mando inside and leaned him up against a broken panel on the wall. “Mando, talk to me.” Zena whispered, squeezing his hands.

His voice was gritty, broken sounding. “I’m not gonna make it.” he mumbled, struggling to turn his head towards her.

“Don’t say that. You just got your bell rung. We’ll get you out of here, buddy.” Cara tried to sound tough.

Zena put her hand on Mando’s shoulder, fingers curling around to check the back of his neck as best she could. He winced, hand wrapping around her wrist loosely. Too loosely. Her hand warmed with wet, sticky blood pouring down the back of his head. “You’re not gonna die, Mando. I won’t let you die. I won’t.” She hissed, leaning in and pressing her forehead against his helmet.

“Protect… the child.” he muttered. “Go through the sewers. Tell the… the covert that Din Djarin sent you… that the child was under my protection… they’ll help you.” He fumbled weakly with his chest, pulling a pendant out of his cowl and tugging it off. He placed it in Zena’s bloody hand. “I can… hold them off. Please… let me have a warrior's death…”

Zena stared at him, clutching the pendant tightly. “Don’t make me leave you.” She was shaking from head to toe. “I can’t.”

“You have to.” His breath was so ragged under the helmet, it made her sick. He could not be dying. Not when she…

“But I love you.” She whispered helplessly. Hiding didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but the two of them and the five minutes they had left to live. Not that she hid the truth about her childhood, not that there was hundreds of years of ugly history between their people, and not that she knew almost nothing about him but a name he hadn’t even been the one to give her. Nothing on this planet mattered right now to Zena except that he know that she loved him with what she was willing to make become her final breath.

A worn leather glove moved up to catch the tear on her cheek, before they all heard the distinct rush of an Empire-issue flamethrower. Zena doubled over Mandos chest, doing her best to shield his frame with her smaller one, as the flame trooper walked into the broken door frame.

Little Grogu climbed to his feet and toddled up even to Zena and Mando on the floor, looking right at them. They both stared back, Mando dazed and going slowly limp under his helmet and Zena tense and frightened. The baby blinked back, calm, and held his tiny claws up at the raging inferno that was billowing towards them. At the last second, Zena heard his plea echoing between the bond that had grown between them in the Force without her realizing it.

Push.

She rolled on her hip, one arm still over Mando’s chest, and held one arm back with Grogu, shoving with all her might at the fire.

Karga and Cara were blatantly open-mouthed when the flames hit an invisible barrier and reflected back with a vengeance, engulfing the trooper with his flamethrower and roasting him alive in his armor.

Grogu fell back on his butt again, blinking sleepily all around. Zena collapsed on Mando’s chest, head down on his cuirass.

“Go… go.” Mando murmured, weakly pulling at her arms. “Take him and go.”

Karga peeled her off his chest as IG handed Grogu to Cara. “I will stay with the Mandalorian.”

Cara plunked the baby squarely in Zena’s arms, knowing she’d only leave if she had to protect him. “IG cut the grate. You gotta save the kid, Typhe.”

“You bring him!” Zena’s eyes sharpened on the droid. “Promise me you’ll bring him.”

“I promise.” It’s clipped tone sounded less sincere than she needed to hear, but Karga and Cara dragged her into the tunnels.

She hugged Grogu tight to her chest and pressed her face against his soft head. “I’ve got you. He’ll be back, he’ll find us. Your dad will find us, I promise… I promise, I promise…”

Mando lay back, closing his eyes under the helmet. The world was going gray and watery, his vision swimming. He needed to get up, cover their escape with the droid… Zena had to get away, with the baby. His beautiful girl and their son…

Their son. He was theirs, there was no question about it. All the jokes about being the kids mom and dad weren’t jokes now. He’d handed off his son to the woman who meant so much to him in just a few short months together, that as they walked away it blew a crater-sized hole in his heart to match the one in his head that was killing him. He was going to die here, without her beside him. But he’d die defending her.

“But I love you…” Her voice had been so lost when she said it, not the way he wanted to hear those words for the first time. For the last time. He’d never hear them again, never see her face in the light without the helmet between them, never tell her his story and let her really know who he was under the beskar. She’d held his heart in her dainty little hands, and she’d never get to hear those same words from his mouth. She’d never know…

He was startled out of those aching, desperate thoughts when he felt the beskar of his helmet move. “I must remove this if I am to save your life.” the clipped voice of the droid brought him back to the here and now, the very real physical pain of his wounds combined with the agony in his chest that it was a neutral droid face looking at him instead of Zena’s soft blue eyes. He wanted her there desperately, to see her as she was like he’d asked of her all those months ago on Sorgan.

He pressed his blaster shakily into the droids chest. “No living thing… has seen me without my helmet… since I swore the Creed.” He mumbled. If anyone was going to see him, it shouldn’t be a blasted droid. It should be her, with those eyes and that smile… Zenaria… her full name is Zenaria… my Zenaria.

“I am not a living thing.” The droid froze, vaguely… respectful but insistent.

Mando stared at it for a long minute. The droid… was offering to save his life. Reunite him with Zena and Grogu, let him make right all the things he hadn’t shared with her and let him tell her the truth. He slowly lowered the blaster, and the beskar plating lifted off his brow and left him squinting in the broken light of the ruined cantina. He felt blood in his hair, on his face in hot rivulets that dried in his facial hair and the curls at the back of his neck. He could imagine Zena’s fingers carding through them, fussing over where the blood had dried and stuck his hair together. He needed to get back to her.

A chilling, stinging spray hit the wound on the back of his head. “This is bacta, it will heal you in a matter of hours. You received extensive damage to your central processing unit.”

Mando blinked, still dazed as he felt the flesh and bone beginning to slowly knit. “Y-you mean my brain?” his voice sounded strange to his own ears without the helmet’s echo and modulator.

“That was a joke, to put you at ease.”

Mando blinked again. A droid just told a joke. He must already be dead, but if this was his afterlife, he was going to spend it looking for the child and his girl. He fumbled the helmet back on slowly, and let the metal nurse slowly help him to his feet. He was wobbly, weaker than he could ever remember being since he was a child.

But he was going to live, Maker dammit. He had somewhere to be, and someone to get back to.

It seemed like a million years they’d been wandering the tunnels, but it was only a few minutes of Karga muttering to himself as he tried to get his bearings and Zena whispering comfortingly to the infant in her arms. When they heard IG’s heavy metal feet they all turned and found the droid supporting a wobbly Mando.

Zena sighed with relief and put Grogu in the bag again so she could run over and pull Mando’s arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve got him…” he protested.

“Let me have you both for a little while.” She grumbled back, refusing to let go. He finally accepted her help and they headed through the creepy tunnels.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Cara grumbled after a while. It wouldn’t be long before the Imps found them and she was getting restless.

“No. I always came through the bazaar.” he murmured, starting to feel better with the bacta spray IG had treated him with. “I can walk.” he finally murmured to Zena, pulling away from her.

She tried not to let it hurt.

“I’ll look for tracks.” He fiddled with his helmet settings. “Here, this way.”
They followed him, all relieved at his progressively stronger strides. At least until the tunnel opened up and they were all facing a pile of empty Mandalorian armor. Mando sank to his knees next to it, lifting a helmet in his hands and staring at the broken visor.

Karga looked around, faintly horrified. “Maker…”

“Did you do this?” Mando demanded, helmet turning to face him. “You and your bounty hunters?!”
“No! When you left with the kid, the hunters left too. They’re after pay, they’re not zealots!”

Mando was on his feet in an instant, voice raising to a fever pitch as he got in Karga’s face. “Did you do this?!” he was shouting, he knew it and he couldn’t stop himself, even though he spotted Zena flinching visibly and everything was echoing in the curved tunnel.

“It is not his fault.” Came a strong female voice from behind him. Mando turned, finding himself facing the armorer. She had a hovercart, and started loading armor into it calmly. “We revealed ourselves, we knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials came soon after.”
“Did anyone survive…?” Mando was cautiously hopeful, leaning in towards the golden-helmeted woman.
“I hope so. Some may have escaped off world.” She mused over a broken cuirass before putting it in her cart.

“Come with us”

“No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.” She filled her cart and waved for them to follow. “Come. Let me see the creature who’s safety warranted such destruction.”

They walked into the forge and Zena carefully presented Grogu to the Mandalorian woman, who looked at it thoughtfully. “This is the one you hunted, then saved?”

“Yes. And who saved me.”

“From the mudhorn.” she mused. “It looks helpless.”

“It’s injured, but not helpless. It’s species can move things with its mind…”

“I’ve heard of such things. There are tales of Mandalore the Great doing battle with an Order of enemy Sorcerers called Jedi.” Zena flinched at the description and hugged Grogu tighter.

“It’s an enemy?” Mando looked at her, and the child in her arms. They couldn't be enemies... If the armorer declared them so, he’d have to honor the Creed and destroy them. The woman and the child, and even if it was The Way, it wasn’t his Way. They were…

“It is a foundling.” She chuckled instead. “By Creed, until it is of age or returned to it’s kind, you are it’s father.”

“You want me to train him?”

“It is too weak, it would die. So you have only one choice, return it to the Jedi if they still exist.” The armorer began melting beskar on the forge, a small amount, which she took over to a workbench and poured into a mold. “If they do not, you must protect it until it is of age.”

“Where do I even begin to look?”

“This you must determine. Turn, you’ve earned your signet.” She pulled his pauldron towards her and began welding a new piece to it. As she worked, she looked at Zena. “She wears your pendant.”

“I thought I would be killed in the cantina. I sent her with the child to ask for aid.”

She swiped the glove over the signet on his shoulder. “Then you are a clan of two. For now.” Something warm and metal pressed into his hand and he didn't have time to look before she was urging him to pocket it and move along. “Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

“When I was a boy.” He nodded.

“Then here.” She pressed a jet pack into his hands. “Hurry and restock your munitions. The Imperials will be close behind. Take the descending tunnel, you will come out by the river. I will cover your escape.”

He nodded, stocking up and heading out. “Thank you.”

“This is the Way. Now go, you have a foundling in your care.”

“The ferry droid’s fried.” Karga groaned as they reached the lava river. Mando picked up a metal pipe and started trying to dig the crusted black char off the dock to free their only vessel of survival.

Cara sighed and looked at Zena. “Men. Move, both of you.” She waved them out of her way with her gun and proceeded to blast the ferry loose.

“Nice.” Karga chuckled. “I like her, Mando.”
“Just get on the boat.”

IG helped Zena, since her arms were full of baby, checking on the child carefully. The droid was the only one not super creeped out when the ferry droid unearthed itself from it’s rock restraints and stood. It was an astromech, and those things did not need arms and legs.

“We’re home free.” Karga grinned.

“Not quite.” Mando was looking straight ahead. “I’ve got a whole platoon in the scanners. They know we’re coming.”

“Stop the boat.” Cara panicked. “Stop!” The ferry droid ignored her until she shot it in the head. “We’re still moving.”

“We’re caught in the lava stream.” Zena gritted her teeth, hugging Grogu tight.

IG’s processor whirred a moment. “The odds of survival are impossible. I still have manufacturer protocol that dictates I cannot be captured.”

“Then get a blaster and help us fight.” Mando growled.
“No. There is no scenario where the child is saved and I survive. Please tell me the child will be safe in your care, so that I can proceed with my next directive. I will engage the enemy and initiate self destruct. That will clear a path for you and the child’s escape.”

“But you’ll be destroyed…” Mando looked at the droid, and his voice betrayed regret. The droid had saved the kid. Saved his life… and it was sacrificing itself for them now. Maybe not all droids were awful… It was an uncomfortable feeling, to be wrong. And a lot to process right now.

“Do not be sad. I have never been alive.”

“I’m not... Sad.”

“Yes you are. I am a nurse, I’ve analyzed your voice.” IG reached out, lightly stroking Grogu’s giant ear before throwing it’s legs over the side and shuffling ahead of the boat to get to the waiting platoon of troopers.

Zena looked down at the baby and kissed the top of his head. “Close your eyes.”

He sniffled and covered his big eyes with his hands, and she turned him to face her chest. When the explosion happened, he didn’t have to see the finality of it. But she did, the fire reflecting in her eyes.

The empire destroyed everything it touched, judging by any metric. Freedom, quality of life, disparity between rich and poor. And they thought themselves the saviors of the galaxy. The Old Republic hadn’t been perfect by any stretch of the imagination. It had turned a blind eye to slavery and corruption, especially in the Outer Rim. They’d been complacent, letting vipers in their midst that turned into the Empire. But negligence was not worse than active cruelty. Maybe the New Republic would do better, care more…

They reached the shore outside the underground river, squinting into the gray sky.

The shriek of an approaching TIE fighter sent everyone for their weapons. They were sitting ducks in the boat. “Our blasters won’t touch him.” Cara shouted as shots rained around them from the fighter as it passed overhead. “And he won’t miss on the second pass.”

“I got an idea.” Mando grabbed his jetpack and secured it on. When Moff Gideon came around once more, he jumped and launched himself into the air. An arm dart shot out and hooked onto the TIE Fighter, dragging him along behind it.

Zena looked up as he was thrown around like a ragdoll, before managing to get a thermal detonator slapped onto the hull. He disengaged and she sighed, snuggling Grogu. “Your dad looks pretty cool up there, doesn’t he?” Her response was a cacophony of sweet giggles and claws holding the mythosaur pendant around her neck. Mando came back and landed, a little wobbly but mostly okay, and looked at them.

Karga grinned. “I think Nevarro might actually be respectable again after wiping out the scum and villainy here.”

Cara nodded. “I’m thinking of sticking around to find out. Karga’s offered to sort out some… clerical issues with my chain code.”

“And you’re cleared with the Guild.” Karga explained hurriedly. “Whenever you’re ready, you come back and you’ll have the pick of all quarries. Your Guild rates just increased too.”

He nodded and walked over to Zena, who peeked up through her lashes at him nervously. If he took the baby right now and left, she’d totally understand…

Strong arms swept her up into a bridal hold and took her into the air with the jet pack. She squished Grogu tight in her arms and closed her eyes, trying not to look down.

The future was suddenly, painfully uncertain.

Chapter 11: Chapter Ten: Let Me Go

Chapter Text

Mando brought Zena back to the Razor Quest, and they buried Kuiil with a silent but respectful ceremony in which they both silently prayed to two very different philosophies to grant their fallen companion rest. Then she followed him back up the ramp, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’d ask her to leave. Of course he’d ask her to leave, he just needed help burying Kuiil. Maybe he’d known she’d needed to say goodbye to the kind, brave Ugnaught… She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the much smaller creature starting to doze in her arms. Part of her hoped Grogu would be so cute that Mando would permit her presence.

She sat on the floor with the baby as he sorted out the hold, then sealed it up and went to the co*ckpit. He was… letting her stay?

It was more than Zena had dared hope, so she quietly put the baby to bed and cleaned up the cargo hold like she’d done before, the last time they’d left Nevarro. Then she carefully dragged her bedding out of his bunk and back to her corner, settling everything into her little nest again. He wouldn't want her there, and she wanted to respect that. She didn’t want to bother him. She needed a shower, her hands still bloody and whole body covered in ash and grime, so she sat beside the pillows without touching them. She just needed to get her head on straight and accept this new, muted reality. She’d survive, she always had...

She didn’t remember dozing off, but she jolted awake when his heavy boots landed from the ladder. She lay on her back, staring up at the gleaming metal and muscle and trying not to choke up again. He’d almost died and all she wanted was to close her eyes and press his face against the curve of her neck and hold him tight, but she couldn’t.

“Why are you out here?” he said quietly, crouching beside her.

“I-I thought… you’d want some space.” She looked away awkwardly. “I didn’t want to cr-crowd you, Mando…”

Zena had never quite figured out how he was so quick but there were fingers curled under her chin and turning her back to him instantly. “Why are you still calling me Mando?” His voice softened a little. “He told you my name-”

“It wasn’t his to give me.” The words went rolling out in a rush, eyes wide. “You deserve to decide who knows what about you, and he took that away, and I’m not gonna use your name unless you’re the one that t-”

“Zena.” he cut her off. “Did you mean what you said? In the cantina, when I was…” he trailed off.

Warm wetness flooded his gloves when she burst into tears at the memory of his fading strength and the blood on her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to put you on the sp-spot, I just..” her breath came in stuttering hiccups, but she didn't look away from his visor. “B-but I meant it… I love you. I love you so much, and if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll never bring it up a-”

“Stop.” He swiped his thumb over her lips to pause her tidal wave of apologies and promises, sitting back on his ass and leaning against the wall. “Just… come here. Let me hold you a minute.” Zena nodded, crawling between his open and upraised legs, letting his arms wrap around her as she leaned into his cuirass. He put his head on top of hers. “You think I don’t want you. Don’t you?”

“I know the history between Jedi and Mandalorians.” Zena closed her eyes. “I… at first I was scared if you found out, you’d just drop me somewhere… but then, the more time I spent with you… I couldn’t stand the idea you’d hate me. I didn’t want to… without you, and the baby…” She squirmed. “You both matter so much to me now.”

He didn’t respond for a minute, just hugged her a little closer. “I’m not good with this.” he finally murmured. “Talking about… this kind of stuff. But I want to, for you… bear with me?”

She nodded, looking up at his helmet quietly as he got his thoughts together. His hand ran up and down her spine slowly, like he was tethering himself and her to the moment. It took him a long time to find his voice again; she’d almost forgotten what she was waiting for him to say. “I wasn’t born on Mandalore.” he finally said. “Mando’a isn’t my first language. It’s a… strange language. Because of the Purge, and the Occupation… a lot of it is missing. Lost.” He looked down at her for a minute. “The people who fled Mandalore… most of them were warriors. That’s the kind of language that survived, for the most part. They took foundlings or raised children and taught them what they needed to survive. So most of the language depends on context, things mean different things based on what’s happening.”

“Does it get confusing?” She listened, fascinated.

“Sometimes. Usually it makes itself understood pretty well, even if every word can mean several things. But the verb for ‘to know’ is kar’taylir, and I’ve always liked it’s other meaning… ‘to love’.”

Her eyes widened. “To know is to love.”

“Yeah. It makes sense, if you think about it. A Mandalorian giving their name to you is them trusting you with their afterlife. Trusting you to remember them. And that’s just a name, the significance of a Mandalorian letting you see their faces is even greater. They’re either willing to give up their religion for you, or they’re marrying you. Either way, you don’t know everything about them until they love you.”

Zena nodded, eyes wide, hardly daring to breathe as she soaked in the information. She didn’t want to break the intimate quiet between them as he spoke in a low voice and held her as if she was as frail as the snoring baby in the crib in the corner.

He picked up her hand and held it, examining the bloodstains still lingering on her skin. “I should have told you more about me, but I just wanted to hear about you. I wanted to know you, without letting you know me. It was selfish of me. Ne ceta. You deserve more than that.”

“It’s alright, Mando…” she breathed.

“Din. Din Djarin.” he corrected with a soft chuckle. “I’m giving it to you now.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I trust you to remember me. When we were in the cantina, and I was… when I asked you to leave. I hadn’t said anything, all this time. You never asked anything about me, I thought you didn’t want to know… until you said you loved me.”

“I never wanted to bother you.” She cuddled closer. “And I was keeping secrets too…”

“I won’t keep secrets if you won’t. I have to keep wearing the helmet, but… I’ll tell you anything. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know me.”

She laughed a little, leaning up to kiss the front of his helmet where she figured his mouth was. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad, pretty girl? In the last two days I’ve watched you calm down Cara Dune, punch a reptavian in the face, use a lightsaber against the Empire, and tag team a raging inferno with a baby. I definitely want to put my hands on you, but not in anger.”

Her face turned red and she squeaked, pressing her cheek into the curve of his neck and shoulder between the paldron and side of his helmet. He chuckled, hugging her a little closer. “I love you, Din.” she murmured against his throat and he shivered a little, fascinated with the way his name rolled off her lips.

“Ni kar'tayl su . I know you.” he breathed right back. “Can I ask about what Gideon said? Can you handle that?”

Zena sighed. “Yeah… We can talk about it.”

“What was it he called you? A youngling, is that like a foundling?”

She chewed her lip. “Kind of? Younglings were untrained children, brought to the temple as babies and raised there until they were old enough to be picked by a master and taught. When a master picked them to train, they became a padawan learner. And when their master thought they were ready, they’d take their Trial and become a Jedi Knight.”

“So what happened? I don’t know much about the Jedi…”

She sighed deeply. “I was born on Neral, and came to the temple before I can really remember… My earliest memories are in the temple, they brought me there a few months before the Clone Wars started when I was a year old. I had friends in the Creche, and other padawans and knights would come and teach us lessons while the crechemaster took care of us. Her name was Yaddle… she was the same species as Grogu… so was the grandmaster Yoda. He liked to come spend time with the creche. I remember he talked funny, and he wasn’t much bigger than we were.” her sad smile pulled at his heart. “It’s fuzzy, but I remember lots of people vaguely… they’d come into our lives and be kind to us, and we’d see them in the halls sometimes… I remember Master Plo had long claws and he’d let us paint them… and Master Fisto liked to sing… But I remember most of all, Master Kenobi. My dad.”

“He wasn’t your biological father.” Understanding broke through Din’s voice.

“No. But he used to bring his former padawan in to see us. They were best friends even after he was a knight… his name was Anakin. He used to smile for us, and tell us stories about growing up on Tattooine. We thought he was so cool because he could build a pod racer and had a scar on his face.” A bitter frown twisted her lips. “The Jedi were generals of the Republics army… they had clone legions each Jedi headed up. We were used to the clones, sometimes they were even invited in to talk to us younglings. They were our friends… Then one night, everything went wrong. It was close to bedtime, we were playing in the big creche room while Master Yaddle and Madame Jocasta, the librarian, were putting the little babies to sleep. And we heard it. The blaster fire, and boots on the stone floor. It was terrifying.”

“How old were you?”

“Four, I think. I just remember being so scared, and we all huddled together in the middle of the room. We could hear padawans and jedi screaming, fighting and dying outside. Grown ups came to try to get to us and were shot down, they used us as bait for them.. And there was nothing we could do. Not a single one of us was more than eight… And then the shooting moved away, down the halls, hunting down the dormitories for anyone still in their rooms. And he came into the creche.”

“Who?”

“Anakin Skywalker.” She shivered. “You’d know him as Darth Vader. He took his lightsaber, and at first I thought he was there to save us. He was our friend, he’d spent time with us. But then he started slashing… he killed us. He had to get so close, hear us crying and see our faces and he still cut us down one by one. My friend Nera landed on top of me, her body keeping him from seeing I was still alive. And then he knelt next to us and he cried. I never understood that, and Dad couldn’t explain it. So I just… laid there. Surrounded by my dead friends. With the man who’d killed them and stabbed me crying over us like he didn’t just cause all this misery. And then he ran away and left us. The clones turned against the Jedi, and killed them, we were just the biggest sacrifice.”

Din rubbed her back. “How’d you survive?”

“Dad. He came in and started killing the clones, thinking they’d killed his friend like they’d killed everyone else. But he found me in the creche room, and I managed to barely tell him what happened. Then I blacked out, but I remember him picking me up and holding me to his chest while he was running… I don’t remember until I woke up on a Nabooian cruiser, hidden in the medical bay. I found out later it was Senator Padme Amidala’s ship, and she didn’t know we were there. She was going to look for Anakin… they were married in secret. And she was pregnant.” her voice tore slightly. “He had a child on the way and he murdered so many children… I think about it all the time and I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to keep going. We can talk later, if you want.”

“No. I need to… get it out. Explain. I want you to know me.'' She took a deep breath. “Dad told me later he needed to find Anakin… he thought something had to be wrong, that he’d never do what he did unless there was something wrong with him and Dad wanted to save him. Padme… she loved him and she didn’t believe it. So Dad told her he was on Mustafar and then hid on her cruiser, because clone troops would have targeted anything under his name or the Jedi order. So he hid me in her medical bay and left the medical droid to save my life. He challenged Anakin on Mustafar, when he choked his own wife in a fit of rage… Dad beat him, but couldn’t kill him. He loved him too much. So he left him, and took Padme and me back to Coruscant. On the trip back, Padme went into labor and had twins… I lay there and watched them come into the world. Luke and Leia.” She sighed. “And I was afraid of those newborn helpless babies because they were so strong in the force and they felt so much like their father. And they were so alone… Padme died just after she named them. Dad said it was a broken heart… Dad took the boy to Tattooine and gave him to Anakin’s step brother and his wife to raise. We stayed nearby, watching him grow up while Dad trained me… The girl went with Senator Bail Organa, and grew up his daughter on Alderaan.”

Din nodded. “That is a lot, Zen.”

“That’s one day. Literally just one day.” she laughed weakly, eyes hollow. “And it’s been following me since then. I used to babysit Luke Skywalker and everyone thought I hated kids because I was so scared of him. He’s a sweet kid. He just looks so much like his dad… his sister’s worse. She’s got so much of him in her heart, she’s so powerful in the force and she had no training when I met her… Maker, it’s incredible and terrifying.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay with the New Republic after the war?”

“Yeah… Princess Leia Organa is running the New Republic and her twin brother Luke Skywalker is running the new Jedi Temple. Where the hell was I going to go and feel safe? So I ran. When I ran the first time when I was a teenager, I dropped Dad’s last name so he couldn’t find me, just went by Zena Typhe. When I ran again I cut it to Zena Ty, so they couldn’t find me. Luke wanted me to come along, help him with the Temple. He didn’t know I survived the old one…” She huffed. “I really am a coward…”

“No, you’re not.” he grumbled. “Stop it. You have a lot of good reasons to avoid things.”

“I don’t want to… anymore. I want to face them, like you do. I want to be stronger… braver. Like you, Din.”

He froze, before catching her jaw in both of his hands and pressing his forehead against hers almost reverently. How on earth did he tell her he hadn’t ever felt brave until he was protecting her and the child? That every kill and fight and bounty had been business, transactional and empty. If he died, he died and there was nothing to worry about.
Now he cared about survival, if only to come back to her and the child.

“We’re both a mess.” he murmured finally, still holding her head to his. She was almost breathless, knowing somehow this was more intimate than she understood. “Let’s… go. To the fresher. I’ll turn out the lights… Just let me feel you for a minute.”

She smiled. “I’ll get the blood out of your hair.”

He nodded stiffly. He’d have to wash the helmet out, the padding full of blood, but right now he needed to hold her and let them both know the other one was still alive despite the galaxy’s best attempts to kill them. She put her arms around his neck and he picked her up with his hands under her knees, wrapping her legs around his waist. It was a steady walk and a tight squeeze to fit the two of them through the door, but Din managed it without ripping her kneecaps off on the door frame. He set her on the sink, turning the water on to warm before pulling her apron off and throwing it out into the cargo hold. Then the old durasteel chest plate followed, clanging loudly. “You’re gonna wake the baby.” She giggled faintly.

“He’s in the crib, it’s pretty soundproof.” he didn’t even slow down, dragging her up so he could pull her dress over her head and chuck it with all his might. “You wear too many clothes.” he grumbled. “I would like to file a formal complaint.”

“Of all the people on all the planets to complain about clothing, the man in a full suit of armor and a flight suit and ten billion layers of bullsh*t is the one upset? I would like to file a counter complaint.” she laughed.

He pulled her breast band up and panties down in the same motion of his hands, scooping her up and setting her under the warm water before stripping out of his clothing while she peeked around the shower door until he was in nothing but the helmet. There were streaks of dried blood around the back of his neck, bruises down his muscled back from the bad landing and explosion. Her heart pulled up into her throat. “Oh Din…”

He turned, the T visor impassive even as his throat bobbed when he swallowed. He reached for the lights, though he left the fresher door cracked. “I’m fine, pretty girl. I swear.”

The room plunged into darkness and she heard the helmet set on the counter before he slid into the shower stall with her. With the door to the cargo hold cracked, the faintest trace of light let her see his outline without detail. It was the closest she’d ever had to unfettered access to him, and she was smitten with it immediately. Her fingers moved up his chest slowly, through the warm water running the opposite direction, until they lighted on the sides of his face and drew his mouth to hers. He tasted of salt and blood, but it was real and alive. The strong hands, grasping around her waist and molding her against him like he could press her into his ribcage and take her with him inside the armor, kept her steady between him and the cool wall of the little stall. She fumbled for the little shelf they kept their toiletries and found his shampoo by feel, working the cap open and getting some into her hand before reaching up into his hair. He leaned into her touch while she washed the blood from him, still pressing kisses against the corner of his mouth every once in a while.
“Where were you born, if not Mandalore?”

“A-aq Ventina…” he purred, focused on her hands. “I was a foundling…”

She skirted pushing anything that would pull him out of his contentment, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails. “When did you take the Creed?”

“I was sevent-teen…”

“Close your eyes.” she pushed him a step back to let the water rinse his hair out, fumbling for a bar of soap and beginning to run it across his chest and down his arms. “Did you really like seeing me with my saber that much?”

“Oh f*ck yes…” he leaned over and put his forehead against her shoulder. “I’ve seen you sw-sweet… and then seeing you s-so tough… I could have f*cked you right there in the middle of the fight. You looked so g-good in my old armor, taking out those Imp bastards…”

She smiled, pressing her lips against his neck. The taste of salt and blood was gone, leaving behind the scent of soap and his own smell, which she’d always liked. “I could have watched you kick their asses all day. You make combat look like art.” she murmured, nibbling the shell of his ear. He pressed her back into the wall, which was warming under her skin and the hot water.

He had a retort on the tip of his tongue when she wiggled from between his arms and slithered to her knees, taking his length in hand and running her tongue up the underside of his co*ck. Whatever he was going to say collapsed into a moan. “Z-zen…”

Zena grinned and pushed the shampoo into his hand, giving him a mission to complete while she swallowed him. And the steady gunman was now made of shaking hands and fumbled bottles as he tried to remember how to do something as normal as wash her hair. She kept her eyes shut to avoid the shampoo sliding down her face when he poured way too much on her head, but it did feel nice when he got his fingers in her hair. He actually managed to get it all lathered before he lost patience and got a fistful of the slick strands, holding her steady while he f*cked her throat. She let him, holding onto his legs until he came hot down her throat and sagged back against the metal wall. She swallowed audibly in the darkness, and he swore under his breath.

She stood back up and began rinsing her hair out, smiling and teasing as she cleared the suds. Once she was done, she picked up the soap and scrubbed herself down quickly as she could, anxious to smell nice and feel clean under his hands. He was doing the same for any spots she’d missed.

The very second she’d turned back to him, he pinned her to the wall and held her face in his hands to devour her mouth. Her arms twisted back around his neck, stretching her torso as long as she could to press as much of herself against his skin as possible. Her lungs ached when he finally broke the kiss only to slide his hands over her chest and down her hips, settling on the back of her thighs and pulling up. She squeaked, clinging to his shoulders, when she was lifted fully off the floor and pinned, suspended between his hips pressed sinfully hard into hers and the unyielding wall. Din held her steady, putting his lips to her throat. “I want you to say my name.” he murmured. “You’re the only one who knows it and knows me like this.” his length throbbed insistently at the apex of her thighs. “I want to know you remember me.”

She nodded into his shoulder, arching into him as he pressed forward and sank into her. He stayed steady, rocking her enough to make her see stars without pressing bruises into her flesh. They’d both been bruised and battered enough for a while, he wanted to fill her thoughts with nothing but his name and the taste of his mouth.
“D-din…” She moaned softly, breath right in his ear. He gritted his teeth and picked up the pace slightly, feeling her body tremble as she bounced lightly between him and the metal. He’d wanted this moment for months, never quite satisfied with hearing Mando roll off those honeyed lips of hers. That could be any one of his people. But it was him, and only him, that got to hold her and kiss her in the darkness, that got to make her come unglued. That got to know.

She whimpered his name again and he couldn’t help but turn his head and press his mouth right to hers, swallowing her desperate little gasps and feeling her mouth still moving around the syllable of his name.

He felt it when it happened, her body locking every muscle like she’d been electrocuted, and she whined high and pleased into his mouth. He gave her a few more steady rocks of his hips and followed, listening to the faintly contented sigh when he let her legs slide back to the floor and leaned into her against the wall. “Mn… you okay?” he kissed her cheek as she nuzzled into his face, ignoring the prickle of his stubble.

“Can’t use legs… hold the f*ck up. It’s me, I’m the f*ck up. Hold me.” She mumbled.

Din snorted. “Do me a favor. Keep your eyes closed.”
“Mmnkay.” She let him pick her up like a wet tooka and turn the water off, then wrap her in a towel and take her back out and across the cargo hold to his bunk. He installed her in his bed, still naked as the day he was born.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’ll be back.”

Zena just yawned contentedly and snuggled into the sheets that smelled like him. She heard the water come back on in the fresher and idly wondered if he was cleaning his helmet. There’d been blood in it…

When he came back, he had a towel around his waist and her bedding in his arms. He set it in the bed, moving it around in an approximation of the little nest she’d made. She could fiddle with it later, if she wanted. He set his helmet on a vent to dry out the padding, and turned out the hull lights. “You can open your eyes if you want to.” he pulled her into his arms.

She kissed his chin and snuggled close. “Din…?”

“Yeah?”

She sleepily fumbled the pendant still around her neck and started pulling it up over her head. “Here… this is yours…”

“I didn’t think I’d get this back…” He curled his fingers around her wrist. “No, you hang onto it a while.”

“You sure…?”

“Yeah. I want you to wear it.”

She nuzzled into his chest, wishing faintly he could see her face. Dopey eyed devotion had to be painted all over it. “I love you.”

“ Ni kar'tayl su, cyar’ika.”

Chapter 12: Chapter Eleven: I Dream Ahead to What I Hope For

Chapter Text

“If I can find other Mandalorians, I can use the network of coverts to locate this New Jedi Temple.” Din murmured, curled up next to Zena. Her back was pressed against his chest, hair splayed out over the pillow, and a blindfold tied over her eyes. “You’re sure you don’t know where they are?”

“I swear I don’t. I wouldn’t put us through all this if I did.” She tilted her head back as his hand stroked lightly up her shoulder and the side of her throat. “I tried to avoid Skywalker when I could.”

He nodded. “Then we’re gonna have to go somewhere unpleasant.”

“I grew up on Tattooine, Din. What’s more unpleasant than that?”

He chuckled, catching her chin between two fingers and turning her head so he could kiss her mouth. “Alright. Let me get my helmet on. Hold on."

She listened to him dressing, smiling a little. They'd been looking for other Mandalorians for over three months, and had settled into a pleasant sort of routine. It was better than before Nevarro, when they were grasping at the physical to tether them together. Now they talked as they worked on the ship, or played with the baby. And when it was time to sleep, Din shut out the lights and held her like she was everything in the galaxy to him. Even when they didn't have sex he was tactile in a way he hadn't been with her before. There was always a hand on her skin rubbing warm circles, lips pushed softly to her throat, or his nose pressed against her hair.

And when he did ask to bury himself into her heat, she'd hardly call it sex. It was making love, and every time he whispered to her in Mando'a a little more of the heart she'd revealed to him made its way from her hands into his.

"So where are we going?" She stretched out as best she could, naked skin already missing his body heat.

"Old contact, Underworld." He settled his helmet back on his head and patted her thigh to let her know she could take off the blindfold. "Names Gor Koresh."

"The Abyssin gangster?"

"You know him?"

Zena shrugged. "Used to work in a club he liked to visit."

"A club?" She could almost hear the co*cked eyebrow.

"A strip club. My years between running away and joining the Rebellion were… less than savory."

"Any chance he'll recognize you?"

"Not likely. It was one of those cabaret deals, big masks and little other clothes. And my hair was way past my ass and dyed bright blue back then."

Din chuckled. "I'm going to have way too much fun with this information."

Zena reached for her pants. "What are you talking about?"

"If you think I'm not going to find an excuse to see you in lingerie you've lost your mind, Zen. And I've had my hands all over those pretty tit* and ass enough to buy something that fits."

She laughed. "You're awful."

"Awful would be me installing a pole in the cargo bay"

"I didn't dance on a pole. Lap dances and private tables paid better." She smirked.

He pulled her up from the cot and held her close. "Good to know." His voice dropped low, and she knew that tone. He was imagining some strangers' hands all over her; he was jealous.

She kissed the beskar over his face. "That was a long time ago. But if you want a private show, I’m sure I can come up with something just for you.”

He bonked their heads together lightly in what he'd told her was called a Keldabe kiss. The only way a Mandalorian could kiss with the helmet on. "That's my girl."

She grinned. "Now let me get dressed. I gotta feed the baby before we go. You're not leaving us, right?"

"And miss a chance to watch you fight? Hell no. Where I go, we all go.” His grip on her softened only slightly so she could wiggle free, and his helmet never turned away from her as she put on her shirt, pants, and his old chest plate. Her saber hung from her belt instead of hidden away in pockets, and her hair was getting long enough she could pull it into a little ponytail.

She bounced into the cargo bay, still barefoot, and scooped the baby out of his cradle. “Morning, my favorite little green bean.” She cooed, kissing his little face. “Are you hungry?” Grogu answered with grabby hands at the mythosaur pendant she still wore around her neck. “Of course, you’re always hungry. Come on, Mama will fix you some soup before we go out hunting gangsters. That’ll be fun, right?”

Din watched her cook with the baby on her hip, talking to him while he cooed and babbled in her ear like he had some big idea on his mind. She looked at peace like this… happy. A faint idea rose in his mind, of settling somewhere with her and raising him. The two of them were strong enough to protect the child, and she could teach him to use his abilities… they didn’t have to send the precious little boy away when they both clearly cared so much about him. He hadn’t told Zena about this idea yet, not sure what she’d think. She was only just coming to terms with her own connection to the Force, and she’d tried to explain to him she’d been suppressing a lot of it for a long time but he hadn’t really understood much of it.

Once the baby was fed, she cleaned his dirty face and put him in his crib. Once she had her boots on, they were ready. “This place is an absolute sh*thole.” Din warned.
“Figured. We’ll be fine.” Zena grinned, hands on her hips.

Din chuckled faintly, mind sailing back to imagine her with that same smile, the little green baby on one hip. And maybe another infant on the other, with eyes like hers and skin a little more golden…

Focus, Djarin.

When Din had said it was an absolute sh*thole, Zena hadn’t realized he meant a Gamorrean fight pit kind of sh*thole. It was loud and crowded, with people on which of the steroided-up combatants was going to die first. She could almost hear her dad’s voice. How uncivilized.

Din headed in and sat beside a green skinned Abyssin man in a white suit. He reeked of a familiar expensive cologne and his combover was worse than she remembered, but there was no mistaking him. Gor Koresh smiled faintly, calculation in every part of his single eye. “A fight pit is no place for a baby, or such a pretty lady.”

“Where I go, they go.” Din said simply.

“So I’ve heard.” Koresh chuckled. “Word gets around the galaxy.”

“I’ve heard you know where to find other Mandalorians.” Din pressed. Zena was eying the bouncers around the fight pit. There were a lot, more than she’d think even a violent place like this would need…

“It’s uncouth to talk business immediately. Just enjoy the entertainment.”

The bouncers weren’t watching the crowd, or breaking up any disagreements between betting patrons.

“I’m in a bit of a tight spot.” Din’s voice was tense.

“Me too, my Gamorrean isn’t doing well. Kill him!” Koresh shouted at the pit. “Are you a gambling man, Mando?”
“Not when it can be avoided.”

Zena couldn’t focus. Alarm bells were going off in her head and she couldn’t figure out the source. The bouncers weren’t looking at the fight or the scuffle in the corner with a bookie. They were looking at them.

“I’ll wager my information that this Gamorrean is going to die in the next minute. And all you have to put up is your shiny beskar armor.”

“I’d rather not leave my fate to chance.”

The bouncers were staring at them. They weren’t being threatening, and they’d shown they came in peace with a baby… No, this was something else. They were waiting. Zena stiffened.

“Nor would I.”

It’s a set up.

Koresh shot the Gamorrean on the stage and the entire room panicked, spectators running left and right out of the pit. The bouncers were suddenly drawing weapons and pointing them at Zena and Din. Grogu whimpered, ears drooping with fright.

“I usually have to flush you Mandalorians out of your hidden hives to harvest your shiny shells, but you come to me.” Smirked Koresh. “Beskar’s value continues to rise, and I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me, or I will peel it off your corpse. Make it easy, Mando. Otherwise, where will your pretty companion be, with a baby and all alone? I’m sure someone would pay a pretty price to find out what’s under that chestplate. And I’m sure you’d let them, to assure the little one is safe. Wouldn’t you, darling?”

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.” Din said calmly. “Do not address her again.” His fist flexed and she spotted the blue light of his Whistling Birds. Grogu pulled his pram closed.

Koresh looked unimpressed. “Fine. Kill him.”

Before the bouncers could move, the Whistling Birds were flying. Zena threw up a force shield and curled around the pram until they stopped, then jumped up with her saber as he got into a bar room style brawl with the survivors. “Get Koresh. I got this.” She murmured, sliding between him and a dark colored twi’lek and settling into the pose he’d seen her make every time she was about to remove a limb from a body. Weight back on her dominant leg, other leg slightly ahead, one arm extended with two fingers outstretched.
He took off after Koresh as she cleaned up the rest of the combatants easily. Grogu peeked out of the pram with wide eyes as she finished up and turned off her saber. She smiled quietly, keeping her eyes off the scattered bodies.. “Let’s go find your dad, squirt.” She teased, putting a hand on the big metal egg and guiding it outside.

Din had Koresh hanging from his ankles by a light pole, the gangsters' bravado gone into pitiful whimpers. “Please don’t kill me! I’ll tell you where the Mandalorians are!”

“I swear you will not die by my hand.” Din said, head co*cking to the side. Koresh’s eye darted to the woman beside him, still terrified.

“Or mine.” Zena clasped her arms behind her back, feet planted and watching for instruction from Din.

“Tattooine!” Koresh yelped.

Zena’s brow furrowed. “There’s no Mandalorians on Tattooine, I grew up there.”

Din nodded. “And I have been all over that planet.”

“My information is good, I swear by the Gothra. He’s in the city of Mos Pelgo.” Koresh whimpered.

They looked at each other and Zena shrugged. “Tattooine it is, then.”

Din chuckled, waving her to walk ahead of him back the way they’d come with the baby. “Mando, you can’t leave me like this! Let me down.” Koresh wailed.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Din took aim and shot the streetlight out. Almost immediately, red eyes in the darkness started moving closer to the trapped Abyssin.

Zena looked over her shoulder at Din. “That was harsh.”

“I didn’t like how he talked to you.” His arm draped around her, settling a big hand on her hip. She smiled a little. He was brutal when he had to be… but she got his softness. It was a rare and much appreciated treat.

“Miss Motto!” Zena grinned as they touched down in the hangar bay, spotting the familiar head of frizzy hair.

“Oi, it’s you! You’re blonder than I remember!” Peli laughed, peeking around her until she presented Grogu in her hip bag. “Thank the force! I’ve been worried sick about this little womp rat!” She scooped him out of Zena’s bag and snuggled him affectionately. “How much do you want for it? Just kidding, but not really. If this thing ever divides or buds, I’ll gladly buy the offspring.”

Zena chuckled. “That’s not how-”
“We need your help.” Din cut her off, ever pragmatic. “Where is Mos Pelgo? I can’t find it on any of the maps.”

Peli’s eyebrows shot up. “As far as I know, it was destroyed by bandits after the war. I thought you were from Tattooine, Miss Zena.”

“I spent most of my time in the Dune Sea. Jawas and Tuskans were easier than the thugs at the spaceport.” Zena shrugged. “I never even heard of Mos Pelgo.”

Peli rolled her eyes. “R5, bring the maps of Tattooine before the war.” Her ancient astromech hauled itself over and displayed an equally ancient holomap. Peli manipulated it, flipping through to show them different things. “Here. It’s a couple hour trip, but there wasn’t much to it even before the bandits. More of a mining settlement than a town, really. They’ll see this ship coming for miles before you can land.”

Din turned and looked at her. “Still got that speeder bike we left here?”

“Yeah. It’s a little rusted, but I got it.” Peli grinned. “Want me to watch the baby?”

“No. He’s coming with us. I just need to make a quick supply run, will you help Zena load the bike?”

On any other planet this would be peaceful. Riding on a speeder, with her face pressed against the rough cloak on the back of the man she loved and the tiny child she would gladly die to protect in her arms. It could almost trick her into believing she was on a joyride with a family, exploring a place to take their son picnicking or something.

But the twin suns eventually guided them to the dusty little town of Mos Pelgo, and she genuinely expected a tumbleweed to roll by. It was desolate, a wide open little mining settlement like Peli had said, with a heavy atmosphere of desperation that hung in the air.

Din parked the bike and helped them off the speeder, leading her into the cantina. Zena quietly paid for some juice for Grogu and sat down, watching Din lean over the counter to talk to the barkeeper. “I’m looking for a Mandalorian.” He said quietly. “Do you know where I could find him?”

“I don’t rightly know if I’ve ever seen a Mandalorian. Can you describe him?” The leathery-faced bartender kept wiping out the same cup calmly, eying Din and then Zena behind him with the child. Sizing them up, but she didn’t feel any animosity towards them. Just curiosity… and maybe some worry.

“He’ll look like me.” Din patted his chest plate quietly.

“Oh, you mean the Marshal. Well, look no further.” He nodded towards the door. Walking in behind Din was a tall, thin man with a red bandana around his neck over a heavily battered green set of beskar armor. He stood co*cked to the side, loose limbed and open for a moment, before walking over to the bar.

“Looking for me? Let’s chat.” He chuckled under the helmet, ordering three shots of spotchka from the bar and carrying it over to the table Zena was sitting at with the baby. Din seemed stunned, but turned around just as the man took the helmet off and set it on the table beside him. Zena choked slightly, Din froze stock still and stared. The man in the green armor brought a shot of blue liquid to his lips. “Never met a real Mandalorian before… I heard the stories. I know you’re good at killin’.” Without the modulator he had a smooth drawl in his voice. “I saw you pull up, thought there might be some trouble. That you might take exception to my wearing this hardware… so I figured only one of us is leaving here. But then…” He turned his eyes to Zena and the baby. “I see the gal, and the kid. So I’m thinking I might have pegged you wrong.”

“Where did you get that armor?” Din demanded, shoulders squared. Zena winced. This was about to get ugly. Din took his Creed and his people more seriously than anything.

“Bought it off some Jawas.”

“Give it here.”

“See, this is the problem. I understand it’s your ancestral peoples stuff, but this armor has been what enables me to keep the good people of Mos Pelgo safe from raiders and bandits. I need it.”

“Take it off. Or I will.”

The Marshal looked over at Zena and Grogu. “We gonna do this here? In front of the missus and kid?”

“Right here.”

The Marshal sighed and started to get out of his seat when the entire building shook. Zena looked at the baby, who wailed faintly and buried his face in her chest. “You feel that?” she whispered.

Din and the Marshal ran to the door and she followed, looking as a massive ripple in the sand displaced everything down the center of the main street. It was headed straight for a lone bantha tied at a water trough, and everyone paled as a massive head rose up and swallowed the damn thing whole.

The Marshal turned his head back towards Din. “Krayt dragon’s been killing our livestock for months. Even with the armor, it’s a little too much for me to handle… help me kill it and I’ll give you the armor.”

Din looked at the huge tracks in the sand. f*ck.

“Deal.”

Listening to Cobb Vanth talk about what happened to make him Marshal of Mos Pelgo, and the fight to protect his people from slavery by the Mining Collective softened Din’s resolve a little. It definitely affected Zena, who rested her head against the back of his shoulder as they rode through the desert.

“You alright back there?” he asked quietly.

“Yes… just thinking. We can talk about it later, okay?”

“Alright.” he took one hand off the handlebars to squeeze her thigh for a second before returning to his stoic driving.

They turned into a canyon when she stiffened. “All around.”

“Scanner sees them.” He murmured back, pulling over as they were moved in on by a pack of huge massiffs. Vanth drew his blaster, looking around.

Din took the bag of baby from Zena and let her dismount, holding his hand up so Vanth didn’t accidentally shoot her. She crouched slowly in front of the reptilian creature, watching it’s tongue slide from between the sharp teeth as it tasted the air of her scent. She held a hand out, reaching out tentatively with the Force to show it she was no threat.
Vanth blatantly stared as the massiff nuzzled her hand and she reached back to pat it’s leather hide. “Good baby, aren’t you?” she cooed sweetly. “Where’s your master? If you’re all out here they can’t be far.”

Almost on cue, a group of Tuskan’s peeked from behind the ridge. Din dismounted his bike and walked over the start signing to them, while Zena knelt with Grogu on her knee and let the massiffs sniff him and him pat their noses.

“What’s goin’ on, partner?” Vanth finally murmured.

Din looked back around at him. “They want to kill the dragon too. This way, to their camp.”

Vanth looked at Zena as she gathered up her little green charge and bundled him back in the bag, following Din as he walked the speeder back towards the settlement. “Why are we going to their camp?”

“Their people have settled the deserts of Tattooine for thousands of years. If you want to fight dangerous things, you need local knowledge. We can’t abandon the best chance for success out of bigotry.”
“I’m no-” he started indignantly, but the woman cut him off with a sharp look.

“Shh. Set a good example for the baby.” She followed Din to the tribe and politely introduced herself with signs, then showed them the tot as a sign of good faith. The Tuskans invited them to sit by a fire and talk.

Din did most of the talking, but occasionally Zena would contribute when asked a direct question. Vanth, who didn’t speak a lick of Tuskan or sign, sat in quiet grumpy confusion. The sun started to set as a Tuskan handed him a fruit, broken open to reveal very nasty smelling black water. He looked at Din. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The Mandalorian nodded to Zena, who was also given one, as she brought it to her lips and drained it. She didn’t even flinch. “You drink it.” Din chuckled.

“It stinks.”

“You want their help or not?”

“Not if I gotta drink this.” Vanth muttered.

The Tuskans started getting antsy, pointing and making noises, hands going swiftly and pointing at Vanth. Din’s fists clenched. “You’re agitating them. They say you steal their water, then insult them by refusing to drink.”

“I don’t know why you thought this was going to work, Mando. They can’t be reasoned with, they’re murderers..”

“They know how many Sand People you’ve killed, they consider you a murderer.” Din stood as Vanth got louder and more agitated, reaching for his weapon. A fight was about to break out.
Zena held a hand up. “Quiet!” Everyone froze and she gently set Grogu down, hands up and signing along with her words. “If we fight amongst ourselves, the dragon will kill us all. We have to work together.”

Din nodded, signing as well. “Now how do we kill it?”

The Tuskans let the little group camp with them overnight, to lead them to the dragon in the morning. Grogu was sleepy from chasing desert creatures and trying to eat them, so Zena tucked him into his little pack and hung it like a hammock in the separate zippered room of the tent she was sharing with him and Din. The warrior was laying out their bedroll, a small box laying at the foot of it. “What’s this?” She crouched to pick it up. It was tied with a black silk bow, and suspiciously clean for having been in one of their saddlebags.

Din looked up, chuckling a little and double checking the tent for security. They were on the outskirts of the Tuskan settlement, a little way off from Vanth’s tent, enough to have a warning if there was any trouble. “I’m going to get something off the speeder. Open it and put it on, I’ll be back.” He sounded smug.

“Put it on… Din, what did you do?”

“Got you something before we left.”

“You said you were getting supplies!”
“I did. Plus this.” He chuckled and lightly stroked her cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“You better not track any sand in here to end up somewhere that chafes, you hear me?” She huffed as he closed the tent flap and she picked up the innocuous looking box. She tugged the silk ribbon off and opened it, eyes widening when she pulled it out.

It was lingerie. Fancy lingerie, black with red flower patterns. It came up high on her throat and plunged low in the middle of her cleavage, and had a matching wide garter belt and panties, and black stockings that came up her thighs. She chuckled faintly, shaking her head. Of course he hadn’t forgotten…
She decided to get him back and carefully put the pretty silk on, putting her panties on over the garters. Then she put her pants and shirt back on and sat back on the bedroll, waiting. If Din wanted a show, he’d get one.

Her Mandalorian came back in a few minutes later and immediately co*cked his head to the side in confusion. Usually when he asked her to do something for him, he’d at least get an explanation if it wasn’t happening. Instead there was just a smug smile on her face. “Zen?”

“Why don’t you come over here and sit on the bedroll, and I’ll show you how much I like your present?” She teased, pulling her ponytail down so her hair curled back down to her shoulders.

The dignified Mandalorian was practically scrambling to switch places with her, sitting her on her feet and taking her place propped up against the saddlebags at the top of the mat. Zena chuckled, turning around in a circle. “You paid good money for the nice stuff. It’s soft.” she murmured, wiggling her hips.

“Thought… you’d look n-nice in it…” He was already breathless through the filter, and she was still fully dressed. When she was facing him again, she curled her arms to catch the hem of her shirt and pull it up over her head, hands crossed over her stomach and wiggling her shoulders like she was unwrapping a gift. For him, she was.

She tossed the shirt at him with a chuckle and turned around again, dropping her shoulder so she could look back over it at him through half lidded eyes. “This what you wanted to see?” She flipped her belt open with a smooth motion and rocked her hips side to side, letting the weight of it drag her pants down over the swell of her ass. They rolled down her legs inch by inch, revealing the smooth black fabric of the stockings. They had lace around the hems, which she let him get a good look at by stretching her legs as long as she could as she walked over to him.

Din looked up at her as she straddled his waist, tearing his gloves off to run his hands up the stockings. “Better… so much better when it’s you.”

“You wanted a show.” She cooed, leaning down so her chest was directly at eye level for him. “So just sit still and you’ll get one.” His helmet tracked her tit* when she stood up straight and put a foot lightly on his shoulder, nudging him back slightly against the bags. She stepped back again, then lifted her hands to her collarbones and drifted them down her breasts and hips, mimicking the featherlight touches he liked to brush over her skin when he was half asleep. She could only imagine his face, licking his lips and watching every twitch and shimmy.

He was so enraptured with her hands that he almost didn’t notice her straddling him until her ass was in his lap. Her hips rolled into his, her hands on his shoulders as she smirked right into the reflection of her own face in the polished visor. She wished she could see his expression, if just to know she did the same things to him he did to her.

His hand moved to settle on her ass and she chuckled when he curled his fingers into the fabric and started tugging it downward. “Thought you wanted a private dance?”

“Want you more.” He growled, trying to push her up to yank them off her.

Zena rolled her eyes, but slid off her lap next to him and hooked a thumb over the waistband of her underwear, sliding it down. He reached for the garter to be helpful, but she just snickered and tossed the panties into his lap. “If I put the underwear on last, I can still wear the pretty things while you f*ck me.” She smirked.
He pulled her against his chest for a minute, his arms shaking slightly under his heavy clothes. Then she was face down in the blanket and bedroll, Din’s big hand pressed against her upper back and her knees under her. He pushed her thighs apart, other hand winding into her hair hard and forcing her to look straight ahead when he moved off her shoulders. She heard his zipper coming down, and the helmet was sitting next to her on the bedroll while Din pulled his co*ck out of his pants. “Quiet.” He panted, leaning over her back and rubbing himself against her suddenly soaking heat. “You have to be quiet or you’ll wake him up. Can you do that?”

The very idea of waking the very cute and very disruptive toddler and having to try to sleep while she was this turned on was torture. She nodded with a tiny whimper.

“Good girl.” Then Din was pushing his way inside her roughly, compressing the air out of her lungs in a single long gasp. “Shh…” He murmured, tone so soothing compared to the absolute brutal pace in which he was rearranging her insides. She was pretty sure she’d have been screaming, except that the way he was holding her with her head up and chest pressed into the ground was unconducive to proper breathing. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs to give full voice to her appreciation, but there was enough to whimper faintly one single name like a prayer.

“Din, Din, Din…”

He rested his cheek against her jaw, as close as he could be to her face without her seeing him, murmuring back honeyed filth. “You like this.” he purred. “Dressed up in almost nothing, dancing in my lap and rubbing up on me. You like me thinking about other people you’ve danced for, and getting jealous.” He leaned in and bit down on the back of her shoulder hard, getting a whimper out of her. “Don’t you?”

“Y-yes… I l-like it when you’re j-jealous… I like it wh-when you do-don't want anyone else to t-touch me…” She gasped through every brutal stroke of his hips. She liked it when he took his jealousy out on her. She liked it when his teeth bit marks onto her that showed she was his. She liked that someone cared about her this much.

Din hissed faintly and drove into her a little harder, muffling his groan into her skin when he felt her come and squeeze around him to the point he saw stars. He chased the high, biting her again when he came as she pitifully squeaked into the blanket. She went limp and toppled onto her stomach, him still on top of her. His fingers loosened in her hair, mouth softening to kiss the bites on her shoulder. “H-hey… I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he murmured, nuzzling the back of her neck. He had gotten a little too territorial, judging by the rapidly blackening marks on her shoulders from his mouth and down her ribs from his fingers. Her thighs would probably bruise too, he still had his armor on.

“I’m okay…” she mumbled.

“You’re gonna be black and blue. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” His stomach knotted. f*ck, he’d never meant to be so rough with her.

“Din… shut up.” She smiled a little. “I like when you’re sweet on me. But sometimes you gotta let loose, and I can take it. Call the marks trophies.” she yawned, keeping her eyes closed. “Did you like the show?”

Din was startled, but before he could answer her, she’d fallen asleep holding his hand.

“It lives in an abandoned sarlacc pit…” Zena lay next to Din on a ridge, looking through binocs at a huge hole in the cliffside. “How big is this thing?”

Vanth made a face. “There’s no such thing as an abandoned sarlacc pit on Tattooine.”

Din shrugged. “There is if you eat the sarlacc.”

The marshal’s face paled. “How big is this thing? Mando?” Din politely ignored him and went back to watching the Tuskans. They were setting out a bantha in front of the cave to feed the dragon, hoping to keep it asleep longer. They’d been studying this thing's digestion for generations, it was so old and large. And that was where the problems lay, it was too big to be bought off anymore. Now it ate anything it damn well pleased.

The Tuskan tying up the bantha let out a low and loud cry before running for his life away from the cave mouth. Theoretically, the dragon would take the bantha and let the smaller pray go… but theory only got you so far. In this case, the bantha sidestepped and watched the massive charging dragon head eat it’s master before slinking back into the dark cave without giving it a passing glance.

Grogu peeked up over the rock ledge they were using as cover, and peeped unhappily. Zena patted his ears. “Scary, huh bub?” He looked up at her with a worried little look. “Don’t you worry. Me and your dad are gonna get rid of that big scary thing. Maybe you can even eat some of it.” She grinned.
That brightened his face and she picked him up to go back and look at the battle plan the Tuskans were working on.

“What are the bones?” Vanth asked, looking at a configuration of bones and tiny rocks half inside a stone cup.

“Dragon.” Din shrugged.

“And the rocks?”
“Us.”

“That can’t be to scale, then.” Vanth frowned, looking at how tiny the rocks looked next to the snake skeleton. There was no way…

Zena leaned in curiously. “No, I think it’s to scale. We’re not going to have enough people.” she looked at Din. He nodded at her and turned, signing to the Tuskan Chieftain. He nodded and threw more rocks on the diagram.

“What’s the reinforcements?” Vanth looked thrilled for a minute.

“I volunteered your town.” Zena almost heard Din smirking.

A town hall meeting seemed hysterically mundane after riding the wastelands and watching a krayt dragon eat someone, but here they were. Din leaned against the far wall with Zena seated beside him, holding Grogu. They were letting Vanth handle his people, hoping his status as their big hero was enough to convince them to see reason.

“You think this will work?” Din mused, arms crossed over his chest.

“Maybe? Tattooine has… issues, but there’s one thing that universally unites people. Not getting eaten.”

“I don’t think that’s specific to Tattooine.” He chuckled. “You ever hang out with Tuskans when you lived here?”

“I wouldn’t call it hanging out… I did trade with them every once in a while. Dad wanted to work with everyone as best we could… and there were scars to heal.” She sighed. “Dark deeds done in the night, he called it.”

“Ominous.” Din murmured. “What happened?”

“Same bad thing that always happened. Vader.” She sighed. “Before he was Vader.”

He patted her arm. “We’ll talk about it later, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll wear my new outfit.”

He very nearly banged his helmet into the wall, but decided to focus on the meeting happening in front of them. Vanth had just explained the Tuskans were involved, and everyone was yelling. “Hey, hey! This is serious, we’ve got a better shot together than apart to kill this thing. Otherwise, what happens? It’ll get sick of bantha and come after us. What happens if it decides to eat the school?”

Din took a step forward, letting logic soothe his suddenly rattled nerves and glad she couldn’t see his glowing cheeks. “I’ve struck a deal on your behalf. We kill the thing together, and as long as you guys leave them the carcass they’ll never raise a blaster against this town until one of you breaks the peace. They are raiders, but they keep their word.”

There was a smattering of nods and chatter before the barkeeper sighed. “Alright. When do we start?”

“Start hauling explosives, and we can start right now. They should be arriving.” Din nodded towards the open cantina door. Everyone looked out to see a line of bantha, carrying the Tuskans, coming towards the town.
“Sand people ride in single file to conceal their numbers.” Mused Zena. How many times had her dad said that?

The situation didn’t go off without a hitch. There were petty squabbles and a few near fistfights, but Vanth actually stepped up and made everyone play nice. Zena was actually kind of proud of him. They loaded explosives and trekked out to the krayt dragon’s lair, where a couple brave Tuskan’s stood outside the cavern and listened for the creatures breathing to determine if it was asleep. Once they gave the all clear, they started burying them.

Din was running the operation with ease, and Zena was just basking in the warm glow of watching him take charge. If there wasn’t a literal monster in a cave and a ton of witnesses, she’d have tackled him to the ground and kissed all over his helmet because it was unreasonably sexy. But she held herself together and they went over the plan one more time with Vanth and the Tuskan chieftain. “The belly is the only weak point, so we have to get it angry enough to charge and detonate the explosives while it’s on top of them. We only get one shot, if we mess this up it’s gonna eat us all.” He explained.

Zena sighed. “Avoid the teeth… and the acid spray.”

Vanth blinked. “Acid spray…?”

“Yeah… they can spray stomach acid across a wide range and it will liquify your bones.” She chuckled weakly. “My dad was a big nerd, we had books on everything… he was very insistent on knowing the dangerous flora and fauna of the planet you were on.”

“Practical. f*ck, there’s more danger than I thought.” Vanth grumbled.

Zena chuckled, looking back at Grogu sitting in his little bag on the speeder, then back at Din. “Some things are worth facing danger.”

“You sure about this?” Din murmured. “You said you’d been suppressing-”

“If I believe I can do it, I can. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” She breathed. “Are we ready?”

“Yeah. Everything’s ready.” Din murmured. “I don’t like this, Zena.”

“I know. But you need that armor, and the village needs the dragon gone.” She chuckled. “It’s the right thing to do… and I’m tired of running away.”

He watched her head down to the mouth of the cave and wait for everyone to get in position, looking back at the gathered menagerie of Tuskans and miners and shopkeepers, all trying to be brave.

Now she had to be brave. “May the Force be with me.” She breathed. Dad, if you’re listening I want you to know I’m trying.

She crouched, putting her hands down into the sand and pushed, as hard as she could with the Force. Every inch of her being vibrated, and a deep sound rumbled through the desert floor. Right into the krayt dragon’s half awake senses, as the tiny figure of a woman mimicked the vibrations of prey in distress.

Zena heard it roar and move inside the cave, and jumped to her feet and started running with everything she had. sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t!
Behind her, the creature was coming out of the cave hungrily and fixing its beady eyes on her running figure.

“Zenaria Kenobi, what have you done?” she heard a faint voice in her ear. “Why are you hunting a krayt dragon?!”

“Hi… dad… no time… to talk…” she kept running, dimly aware of a bluish fuzziness in the back of her vision. Then something cool and solid was wrapping around her waist and dragging her forward like she was in flight, until she hurtled into a sand dune past the Tuskans firing grappling bolts into the dragons face. She sat up, coughing sand.

Obi-wan Kenobi’s spectral face was giving her a judgemental look. “What on earth are you trying to do?”

“Be a Jedi…?” She breathed, looking up as the townspeople and Tuskans fought side by side. “Unity, right?”

“I’m very concerned that every padawan I’ve ever had was a reckless idealist that tried to get themselves killed on Tattooine at least once.”

“I do wish you’d stop comparing me to them.”

“Stop doing stupid things.”

“Hey Dad… you were right about the Mandalorian.” She looked up at the ghost. “Just so you know.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

Her head jerked to the side when the explosion went off, and the dragon was still moving. “No, no, no.” she hissed, getting up. They wouldn’t get a second chance! Then the dragon was retreating and she could feel it tunnelling up through the high cliffs above it’s lair. “MANDO!” She screeched, pointing up at the cliff face. “IT’S UP THERE!”

Din and Vanth both nodded, activating their Rising Phoenix and hauling up the mountain just as the dragon’s head emerged from the stone. Zena tracked the tiny dots as they shot at the creature’s face, driving it back underground. She couldn’t tell what Din was planning, too far to read his body language “Come on, Din…” she whispered faintly, eyes wide.

Din was shooting and desperately thinking when he heard a voice that seemed to be sounding inside his own head. Which he very much was not a fan of. “There are still charges strapped to that bantha.”

“Who the hell are you…?” he looked around.

“Introductions later, kill that krayt dragon!”

Din had little choice but to look at Vanth. “Hey, do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”
“Look out for Zena and the child.” He slammed the butt of his rifle into the very old jetpack and sent Vanth flying like a balloon with a hole in it. Then he went flying towards the Bantha and grabbed it’s tether, shooting the dragon in the eye to get his attention.

Then he was leading the frantic creature right into the cavernous mouth. Zena froze, staring at the dragon as it dove, vanishing from sight. With Din inside it. “No…” She sank to her knees.

Vanth crash landed next to her and sat up. “Miss, did he just…”

“It ate him…”

Before the tears could actually start, the dragon reared up shrieking so hard everyone clapped their hands over their ears. It’s maw opened, and out flew a silver figure, with a detonator in hand.
Ka-boom.

The dragon’s guts blew out sideways, and everyone fell over from the shock wave. But when they climbed to their feet they were grinning and screaming in joy. Tuskans were hugging miners, everyone was absolutely delighted.
Din landed just outside the blast radius, wobbling a little and covered in a gross patina of inner-dragon slime, looking around at the triumphant chaos. They’d actually f*cking do-

“Oomph!” He was tackled to the sand, looking up at a pair of blue gray eyes. Her hands cupped the sides of his helmet, staring at him as she straddled him in the middle of the sand and sun and battlefield adrenaline.

“I thought you died. Again!” She murmured, letting her head fall on the front of his helmet. “Stop doing that.”

“Wasn’t planned. Not even sure if it was my plan to begin with. I heard a weird voice…”

Zena got up and helped him up. “Voice?” Her eyes scanned the horizon, spotting a blue haze over by the speeder where Grogu was. “Come with me.” she hauled him over to the baby.

A faint bluish figure of a man was crouched by the child, talking sweetly to him about how brave he was. He looked up when he spotted Zena and Din.

“Who is that?” Din whispered.
She smiled weakly. “My dad…”

“Isn’t he dead…?”
“Does it change the dynamics of our relationship if I tell you I’m haunted?”

Din turned to stare at her.

“She’s not haunted. Not technically. She is just of interest to several spirits that linger in the Force and wish to make sure she’s alright.” That Coruscanti accent she’d mentioned was clear, and Din was pretty sure even with the blue tinge he could make out the ginger hair and blue eyes.

“So, yeah. I’m haunted.” she chuckled. “Uh… this is my dad. Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Din contemplated a minute, deciding this was no less weird than anything in their lives after a minute. And not technically a living person, so… “I’m Din. Din Djarin.” He put a hand on Zena’s shoulder. “This is… really f*cking weird. And not just because I saw the inside of a krayt dragon and lived.”

Obi-wan smiled fondly. “I won’t stay long. I only heard Zenaria’s calling to the force, and thought she needed help. Good luck, my darling… and I’m very proud of you for looking after another crecheling.”

She watered up a little. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too.” Obi-wan disappeared and Zena leaned on Din’s shoulder, trying not to cry.

“How the hell long have you been haunted and how many ghosts follow you around?” He looked at her.

“Um… since Dad died. And I’ve only seen a couple, though Dad’s the only one who ever really talks…. I saw grandmaster Yoda, right before the end of the war. And… someone I didn’t want to see once. Dad thought we needed to talk. I cried and punched a mirror, it was a bad couple days. He hasn’t shown back up again.” She wiped her cheeks. “They aren’t around all the time, and they have always given me the courtesy of a heads up when they’re there…”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Haunted… what the f*ck, Zen?”

“I did not ask to be haunted.”

He shook his head and picked up the baby. “You hear this, kid? She’s haunted and it’s the least weird thing about today.”

Grogu giggled. Zena smiled faintly. “You wanna go get some dragon meat and make Vanth hand over that armor?”

Din nodded, and they started walking down together. “So… those ghosts aren’t gonna turn up any time you have a… feeling or something?”

“Why?” She leaned up to look at him.

“I’d rather a bunch of dead guys, especially your father, not see what I had you wearing the other night.”

Zena nearly choked to death laughing as they got back to the dead dragon. “You’re awful!”

“Woman, you are literally haunted!”

Chapter 13: Chapter Twelve: I Turn My Back on Loving You

Chapter Text

Nothing could ever be easy. Din and Zena had packed up the armor from Vanth and a big chunk of dragon meat, and headed back to Mos Eisley. “That was our last lead.” Din grumbled as she snuggled behind him with the kid. “Where the hell do we turn now?”

“We’ll think of something.” She sighed. “If I knew where there were other survivors of the Temple, we could circumvent this… but I don’t even know if anyone but Grogu and I did survive…”

Din sighed. He couldn’t do much about the situation and it was driving him out of his f*cking m-

A rope snapped up from the sand suddenly, catching the speeder and shredding it. Din, Grogu, and Zena all went flying. Din managed to catch himself with the jetpack, poor little Grogu landed on his face in the dirt, and Zenas head smacked a rock with an audible crack. She didn’t move from where she’d landed. “Get the child!” someone snarled, and a fight was on, leaving Din with no time to check on her while he defended the kid.

He was winning until the smallest bandit snatched the baby and held a knife to his little green neck. Grogu whimpered, and Din put his hands up immediately. “Maybe we can come to a deal… There's lots of value in this wreckage. Take your pick, just don’t hurt the child.” The bandit pointed his knife at Din’s jetpack. “Alright. You can have it. Just let him go.” He took the Rising Phoenix off and set it on the ground, between them.

The bandit dropped Grogu on his butt and he went running for Din as fast as his tiny legs could carry him, whimpering and terrified. When his captor reached for the shiny silver jetpack, there was a buzz and he collapsed over.

Zena was standing behind him, saber in hand, with blood running down her face from a sizable gash in her temple. Din co*cked his head to the side and Grogu made a quizzical face as she disengaged the saber blade. “What?” she blinked, keeping her eyes on him and avoiding looking at the corpse. The splitting headache was enough to distract her from the usual reaction of nausea and panic. “He touched our kid.”

Din chuckled. “That’s my girl. Let me see your head.”

“f*cking hurts…” she mumbled, turning her head so he could see the lump forming just under her hairline and an inch long cut pouring blood. “I’m growin’ a lekku.”

“You gonna be able to walk the rest of the way? The bikes scrap.” He tore a strip off his cloak and tied it around her head.

“Gonna have too.” She sighed, and they started gathering up stuff and splitting it between them. “Guess what?”

“What?”
“I f*cking hate Tattooine.”

They made it back to the cantina in Mos Eisley just after nightfall. Din was hauling most of the stuff, but Zena had the kid and the green armor. They were dying of exhaustion and heat by the time they found Peli playing cards with an overgrown termite in a corner booth.

“You look like crap.” She commented, eying Zena’s bloodstained head. “Find your friend?”

“He wasn’t a Mandalorian.” Din grumbled. “But I did buy this armor off him.”

“What did that cost ya?” Peli set another card down, pretending not to be interested.

“Killed a krayt dragon for him.”

“Oh, is that all? Well, I hope you brought back some dragon meat.”

“Peli, that was our last lead to find other Mandalorians.” Zena gingerly touched her bump and winced.

The termite in the card game muttered something they didn’t understand. Peli grinned. “Dr Mandible here says he has a contact that knows where there are Mandalorians, and he can put you in contact. If… you cover his call this round.”

Din sighed. “How much.”

“Five hundred.”

“You’re playing high stakes?” The silver shoulders slumped. He hated gambling, it always led to a bad decision somewhere. He’d rather just work with his hands and earn what he earned…

“He’s on a hot streak.”

Din plopped down a bag of credits and, surprise surprise, Peli won the round and took the pot. “Thought you said he was on a hot streak.”

Zena chuckled. She was dizzy, disoriented. She just wanted to sit down… maybe take a nap. “She gotcha…”

Peli grinned. “The contact will meet us at the hangar in a while. Let’s get you cleaned up, this is no way to make an impression on someone new.” She dragged Zena by the arm and Din followed. “We can cook up some of that dragon meat, too. I’ve got a roasting spit and we can use the exhaust from your ship. How do you like your meat? I like it medium rare, you think that’s too cooked for the baby? You did mention he was a carnivore.”

Din shook his head. Better Zena than him. She had better people skills.

After she cleaned up, Zena decided to go lay down. Grogu had been obsessed with the cooking dragon meat, and Din had to deal with Peli and a Frog lady who wanted to travel sublight across the system to Trask to get her eggs fertilized. It was a no-win situation. He didn’t even have backup to tell Peli this was insane.

“Fine. But her husband is sure there’s Mandalorians on Trask?”

Peli translated the resulting frog croaks. “He’s seen them. He’s sure.”

“Alright… fine.” he breathed through his nose, reminding himself this was for his kid. “Tell her to go get strapped in.”

The little pink frog woman went bouncing into the ship with her backpack of eggs suspended in blue goop. Peli told Grogu goodbye and shared some mostly raw dragon meat with him before they headed into the Crest.

Din stuck his head in his bunk. “We’ve got a passenger, okay? We’re going to Trask.”

Zena nodded, curled up on the cot. “Can you turn off the light in here…? Feel a little nauseated...”

“Alright. You sleep, it won’t be too long even travelling sublight.” He flipped off the bunk lights for her. It looked like she’d collapsed into the bed with her boots still on, she must have been exhausted from the Force stuff and walk to Mos Eisley.

“Love you…” She mumbled and pulled the blanket over her head with wobbly arms. Grogu waddled to the door as it closed.

Din patted his head before setting him down. “Let her sleep, kid. She’ll play with you later, when she’s awake.” He got the passenger settled in, her eggs secure in the cargo hold, and set the navicomputer. “It’s gonna be a long flight. I’d suggest getting some sleep.” He told her. She stared back with those big, unblinking reptilian eyes of hers and smiled… or at least he thought she did. “I’m gonna go hit the rack, and check on my… partner.”

She nodded, but he didn’t speak any of whatever she croaked back, and so he left her to sleep in the copilots chair while he went back down to the bunk. Zena was out cold that fast, limp when he slid up behind her and put his helmeted head next to hers.

It felt like he’d only just closed his eyes when a co*ckpit alarm went off. He sat up, grumbling, as Zena whimpered faintly “Too… loud…”

“I got it. Go back to sleep.” he murmured, getting up.

He climbed up to the co*ckpit and groaned. New Republic officials…

"Razor Crest come in."

He hit the comm. "This is Razor Crest. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're sweeping the system for imperial holdouts and noticed you're not running a beacon"

Din sighed. "I'm pre-Empire surplus. I'm not required to run a beacon."

"That was before. The systems under New Republic control, all ships must run a beacon."

"I'll get right on that. Thanks for letting me know... May the Force be with you"

"And also with you. One more thing. We're gonna need you to send us a ping."

Din groaned inwardly. This had to be about that incident on the prison ship… and the X- wings opening on either side of him was not a comforting sign.

There was no way out now. He grabbed the controls and dove for the nearest planet.

Down in the bunk, the G-forces snatched a disoriented Zena out of the cot and slammed her already aching head against the wall. When they went into free fall, she almost threw up in the blanket still wrapped around her face.

She was going to strangle Din.

They skidded under a ridge of ice and held position as the X-wings raced over and kept looking.

"What the f*ck is going o-" Zena started, and then they were falling again. Her abused noggin hit the ceiling and she collapsed in a heap on the floor

Din woke up to the frantic frog shaking him and squeaking in distress. There was frost on his armor and she was shivering helplessly. "You okay?" He mumbled. "Stay here, I'll go find your eggs. And some blankets, gotta keep you warm."

He wobbled down the ladder and hissed. The hull was torn open, ice coming in. It was freezing in here, where was Zena and the kid?!

He found the egg container missing from where he’d left and tensed. Where the fu-
Slurp.

He snatched a spare tarp to the side and found Grogu with his hands in the egg container, stuffing one in his hungry little face. "No!" He scooped the kid up. "That is not food. How many did you eat?" He snapped the lid closed. "Let's get you to Zena, she'll keep you out of trouble…"

He opened the bunk and found his girl laid out on the floor. She had a new black eye and busted nose, and was unconscious for the second time in a day. "Zen!" Hurried hands scooped her up and wiped the blood off her face. "Hey, you okay?"

"f*ck your flying…" she groaned as she woke up. "Pretty sure I hit my face on everything in that room."

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. Ne ceta." He hugged her close.

"It's fr-freezing…" she shivered. "What happened?"

"We crashed. I haven't gotten to look at the damage yet."

"f*ck. Alright, I'm getting up. " she wobbled to her feet, clearly dazed. He helped out to the hold and sat her down with the baby and a blanket as the frog lady came down to sit with her eggs and worry over them.

While Din checked the damage, he heard Zena go to the fresher and puke. She was hurt worse than he'd realized, and the landing made it worse. She probably had a concussion, possibly even a bleed. He didn't have any bacta shots on hand and spray only helped with open wounds. She needed medical attention…

She wobbled out with a blanket around her shoulders. "How bad…?"

"Go sit down, you're hurt. The hulls lost its integrity, and dark is coming fast." He sighed, looking at her bruised and swollen face guiltily. "I can try to pressurize the co*ckpit, but it might have to wait till morning."

"Passengers eggs… won't make it that long in the cold." She mumbled.

"I'm more worried about you."

"I'll be okay…"

"Zena, you're not okay. Take the kid and passenger and go lay down in the co*ckpit. That way you won't have to move when I get this done. You hit your head enough to black out twice. You're hurt." His voice was pleading even through the vocoder, and he squeezed her hands gently. "I'll take care of this. Just… I need you to be okay. And you're not right now."

She smiled weakly. “Oh noooow it’s an issue when I’m in trouble, but when you get swallowed by a krayt dragon I’m supposed to be just fine with it.” her voice was starting to slur a little. “Hypocrite…”

“Zenaria Typhe-Kenobi, if you don’t go lay down I will tie you up.” he sighed.

“I might like it.” She grinned dopily.
“Zen, I swear to the Maker…”

“Fine.. lemme get the bab-” She turned around. “-by… Grogu?” There was no sign of her little wrinkly tot, or the passenger and her egg bag. “Din…”

“What?” he poked his head back into the hull and frowned. “Where are they?”

“Not a clue…”

He groaned, activating his tracking filter in the helmet. “I’ll go find them. Park your ass in that co*ckpit or I swear I sleep in the cargo hold by myself for the next week once you're better. You’ve got a head injury and I don’t know how bad it is, you pushing yourself is the worst thing you can do right now. I know you’re tough, but now isn’t the time to prove it.”

“Fine… bring him back safe.” she murmured, the fight draining from her stiff shoulders. He was right, she was no help to him right now. He needed to find the kid and get them all out of here before they froze to death, and she was being more trouble than she was worth now.

He made sure she got up the ladder, safe if ungracefully, and went after the wayward members of their miserable little crew.

The baby wasn’t far, toddling after the footsteps in the snow towards an ice tunnel. “You can’t run off like that, kid. You need to be back and warm with Zena.” he carried the fussy tot after their passenger.

There was steam everywhere when he found her, in a hot spring with her eggs. “Hey, come on. It’s not safe out here, and I can’t protect you this far from the ship. I know it’s warm, but we gotta go back.” He set Grogu down to start gathering her eggs for her. When a little green hand reached out, he snatched his head to the side and fixed him with a hard look the kid should have been able to feel if not see. “No.”

Grogu’s ears drooped and he toddled off to the side while Din tried to get all the eggs in the backpack and pointedly ignore how much naked frog he just saw.

This was not what he’d signed up for when he’d agreed to this.

Just as he was getting the egg backpack on his shoulder, Grogu came tumbling down the snowdrifts whimpering. “What’s the matter, k-” he started, leaning forward to catch the kid as he ran into his arms. Then he heard it.

The crackly-staticky sound of arachnid legs moving. Lots of them. His helmet jerked up to see a literal horde of frost spiders in sizes ranging from half Grogu’s body to twice his own size were coming for them and hissing. He spotted sucker-like mouths and sharp teeth. “f*ck…” Then the ice around them trembled when a spider the size of the ship squeezed through a gap in the ice to charge them. “Run!”

They took off through the labyrinth of ice they’d come, Din shooting over his shoulder at spiders. Big Mama spider was furious and roared, and Din hadn’t known a spider could do that but he very f*cking much was not a fan. Frog Lady ended up hiking up her skirts and leaping on all fours to stay ahead of the impending swarm, and Din had to melt half the ice around them with his flamethrower to give him and Grogu time to get to the ship.
In the co*ckpit, a drowsing Zena was woken to the sound of blaster fire down below. f*ck… they were in trouble. She grabbed a blaster from under her seat and opened the doors just to have Din shove Grogu into her arms. Frog Lady was whimpering and dropped to her butt on the floor behind Zena’s legs.

Zena stuck Grogu on the floor and started shooting, next to Din, trying to clear the doors enough to close. “What the f*ck is happening?”

“I think the kid pissed them off.” He roasted spiders in the door frame with his flamethrower again, getting it clear enough to close.
Grogu whined behind them and both of them spun around to see a spider on his head, his little arms too short to swipe it off. Before the dazed jedi or horrified Mandalorian could move, Mama Froggy took a shot with a blaster neither one of them had known she had and shot it right off his little noggin.

Zena dropped to her knees and scooped him into her arms, hugging him tightly. “Y-you okay, bub?”

He wailed into her chest. Din slid into the pilot’s seat. “Hang on. Visibility’s bad, it’s gonna get bumpy.” Zena and the Frog woman clung to each other and the eggs and baby as the ship started lifting off. Any progress off the ground was immediately lost when that same huge mama spider jumped onto the ship and suction-cupped it’s terrifying mouth to the windshield. Din swore and Zena’s head cracked into the wall again. She saw stars and bile pushed up into her throat.

We’re gonna die. Oh Maker, we’re gonna die on a frozen rock because of spiders, and if I ever see his face it’ll be as he’s dying…

Before she could react to the terror and pain ripping its way through her shaking body, something shot the spider right off the ship. Din grabbed his blaster, planning to go out there and surrender to the New Republic X-wings if it meant they’d get Zena medical attention. Instead, she pushed Grogu into their passenger’s arms and got up on shaking knees. “I-I got an id-dea…” She mumbled, tucking her blanket over the kid. “Stay r-right here for M-mama…”

“Zen!” Din tried to grab her arm as she yanked the doors open and went half-falling down the ladder.

“Shaddup… I got it…” she wobbled to the hole in the side of the ship and, holding onto it for balance, dragged herself out. The biting cold cleared her fuzzy head for a second, before Din followed her out and put an arm around her.

“What the fu-” he started to hiss, but she shook her head and looked at the X-wings.

One pilot, his shiny white helmet and orange jumpsuit bright enough to hurt her aching eyes, spoke first. “We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest. You have an arrest warrant for the capture of a prisoner from the New Republic Correctional Transport Bothan 5.”

“Am I under arrest?” Din held Zena a little tighter. He would figure out what this meant for him later. She needed a f*cking bacta shot and they had to have a medpack on one of their ships. He’d gamble his freedom for her life…

“You should be-” the pilot started.

Zena elbowed Din lightly in the ribs, between the plates of his armor. “Are you quite done?” She grumbled. “In accordance with New Republic military protocol, I have authority to declare the Mandalorian in my custody. So that’s not happening, gentlemen.”

“And who are you?” The pilot grumbled, head turning to her.

“Alliance Major Zenaria Typhe.” She held her head up, even though the glare off the snow and bright lights of the X wings made her want to hurl and scream. “So unless either one of you is Commander or above, I outrank you.”

“Major Typhe?! Major Typhe was a redhead, and declared missing in action years ago.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead. And hair dye exists, ya jerk. You wanna run my chain code? Go ahead, but I’m getting impatient and it’s f*cking cold out here, soldier.” She crossed her arms grumpily.

The two pilots looked at each other. “Th-that won’t be necessary, ma’am. We will have to report your survival to the command…”

“Go ahead. Tell Leia I said hi.” She grumbled, starting to crumble from the strain of pretending her brain wasn’t trying to escape her skull. “Now can… can some-someone…” She tried to take a step and her knees buckled, sending her sprawling into the snow face first. Her body gave up her fight for consciousness and she blacked out.

Din knelt and scooped her up, checking her airway. “Zen? Zen?!”

“Major?!” One pilot started getting out of his X-wing.

“She needs medical attention, she’s got a head injury!” Din yelled at him. “Bring a medpack.”

The orangie nodded and scrabbled for an e-bacta shot from his, darting over and skidding next to the twitching Zena. “She’s still trying to make herself wake up.” he muttered, rolling up her sleeve to jam the needle in her arm. “Sounds like her.”

“You know her?” Din frowned.

“Not personally… she’s really well known in the New Republic. Some of the legends are true, like that she flew in Yavin 4, and Endor, and took out AT-AT’s by herself on Hoth with a broken arm. Some are speculation, like she used to babysit Commander Skywalker…” he shrugged as Zena finally went limp. “She went missing right after Endor, when it was confirmed that Darth Vader was dead. No one knew what happened, but we thought she might have been killed in the fighting…. She’s sticking her neck out for you if she’s calling attention to herself. If anyone in the New Republic decides to haul her in for desertion or call her back to service, she’d have no choice.”

Din gritted his teeth, watching her bruised face starting to return to its normal color. “Tell... tell whoever you need to report to that she’s trying to help a kid. A jedi kid.”

The pilot nodded. “Get that transponder fixed, man. Next time they might shoot you out of the sky.”

Din nodded, gathering his girl up in his arms and carrying her back into the ship as the X-wings left. He made a pad of blankets for her to lay on and wrapped her up with what they had left, then draped one around the confused and frightened Frog lady. Grogu climbed up into Zena’s arms and sniffled, snuggling against her.

Once they were on course again, Din sighed. “Wake me up if any alarms go off, or if that door gets sucked off it’s rails….” Frog lady squawked and he chuckled. “Just kidding. If that happens, we’d all be dead. Sweet dreams.”

“W-we gotta work on your delivery…” Zena muttered, half coming awake on the floor.

“We’ll workshop it… Major.”

“Don’t start.” She groaned. “I still got a headache.”

“You weren’t gonna mention you were a Major?”

“I’ve been a lot of sh*t…”

“Zena. This seems like a big deal.”

“I didn’t want to go back. The monster was dead, there’s no point in continuing to try to slay its corpse.”

“The Empire didn’t end after Endor.”

“The Emperor and Darth Vader were my monsters. And they were dead.” She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling.. “I told you. I’m a coward… I wasn’t even the one that killed him. But I stuck around to see the funeral pyre before I left. Anything after that… my fight was over. I didn’t care about the Empire, or the Republic, or whatever sh*tty government says it’s in charge and ignores the chaos in planets too far away to affect the richest people’s lives. I cared about my little section of the galaxy, and I made sure the people who wrecked it were dead before going back to being nobody. It was the Old Republic’s failings that created the Empire, and the New Republic will make mistakes that lead to the next problem. I don’t wanna be in it.”

“Is that what you really think?”

She sighed. “I… I don’t know. I’ve only ever cared about a handful of people, and now most of them are dead. I’m not meant to play a big role in things. I don’t make good choices, and I don’t want to be responsible for the next massacre because I let someone down the way the Old Republic made Vader.”

He looked over to make sure their passenger was asleep before easing down onto the floor next to her. It was a tight fit,but he was able to pull her against his chest and hug her tightly. “You really think you’ll create something like that? Someone as good as you are?”

“I’ll make something worse, Din.” she whispered. “Someone as good as Obi-wan Kenobi raised a monster like Darth Vader. And I’m nowhere near as good as he was.”

“Zena… look at the kid.” he murmured. Her eyes locked into the little green creature cuddled up to her chest, snoring squeakily. “You’re not making a monster. You’re building a family. We could-”
“You want me to train him.” she closed her eyes. “I can’t, Din. He’s the same species as Grandmaster Yoda, he has the potential to match him in strength. I won’t create a Sith that can’t be stopped. He deserves a Master who can show him the light. I’m… I’ve always been trapped in the middle of my father’s other two padawans. The one who fell into darkness, and the one who brought back the light. I can’t be what he deserves… he needs a Master who isn't all broken up inside..”

He sighed, putting his head on her shoulder. “Broken things can be fixed. Broken armor can be reforged.” His chest ached. She didn’t want to raise the child with him. She didn’t want to settle on solid ground, to raise their little family and maybe more together. The dream he’d had seemed like it was slipping away with the inevitability of sending Grogu away. “Broken doesn’t mean ruined.” The last bit was a plea, though for what he didn’t know.

She snuggled into his chest, like she felt his crumbling heart under the cuirass and needed to soften her touch. “If it makes any difference at all, I want to be enough. For you, for him… I love you both.”

“Ni kar'tayl su.” he breathed, the subtle rasp of the modulator somehow soothing to them both. “Don’t… don’t run on me, cyar’ika.”
“I’ll only run if it’s to you.” she smiled weakly, looking up at the layar beskar keeping part of him still secret from her. She still didn’t know him, but she loved him more and more every minute of every day.

One day, she’d know enough to tell him that in his own language.

Chapter 14: Chapter Thirteen: How Can This Love Be a Good Thing

Chapter Text

When Din said they’d have to limp it to Trask, he meant it. The Razor Crest was in sh*t shape, and having the rails of the co*ckpit ripped sucked into open space wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. So when alarms started going off and woke up all four cramped occupants, it was an immediate concern.

Din had stayed on the floor with Zena, holding her to his chest, and had to carefully and quickly extricate himself to start piloting. “Get secure. The landing apparatus isn’t responding, it’s gonna be a manual reentry.” He muttered. “There should be enough fuel to stop us, if we don’t burn to a crisp.”

“Your landing strategy is to fall?” Zena hissed.

“Basically.”

“You’re so f*cking lucky you’re cute.” She growled, securing Grogu in his little booster seat and making sure the Frog Lady had her hands on her egg pack. “Hold on ma’am.”

“You have no idea what I look like.”

“Not the point.” she grumbled as he started moving into the atmosphere, the ship quickly engulfed in flames. She couldn’t imagine the condition of the cargo hold and their bunk, but she was glad she didn't have much personal stuff that couldn’t be easily replaced.

They hurtled towards the port, and she was pretty sure this was going to be another crash landing. At this speed they wouldn’t survive…

“Tower to Razor Crest, please reduce your speed to port protocol. Do you copy?” Came a chirpy voice from the comm.

“Working on it.” Din growled. “Zen, I need your hands. Come here, pull this throttle all the way back.”

She grabbed on with both hands and the Force, yanking with all her might. At least she could feel like she tried to prevent their deaths. “f*ck. f*ck this. f*ck all this.” She snarled, arms trembling.

“Razor Crest, you must reduce speed. Do you copy? Reduce speed. You mu-” Din slapped the comm off.

“Hold on. Almost there.” he said it soothingly, like he did when Grogu was fussy, and Zena smiled faintly. Maker, he was…

The rear thrusters engaged at the last possible second to save them from making a crater in the port, and they almost landed correctly. Almost being the operative word. Instead, they listed, tipped over the side of the landing pad, and went into the water.

“f*cking great…” Zena grumbled over the passengers distressed grunts. “You know what, next time I’m flying. You’re gonna kill me.”

Din sighed. “Shut up.”

“You owe me.”

“I’m gonna gag you.”

“Promise?” she smirked when he looked over, even through the visor she could read that incredulous body language.

“You’re a menace.”

“You like it.”

“I’ll like it better when it’s not crowded in here.” He sighed, and she went back to Grogu, unstrapping him and nuzzling his cheeks.

“Hey sweet thing. How you doing?” she cooed affectionately. He made an unhappy noise she knew immediately. “Hungry? We’ll get you something to eat once we get out of the ship. They gotta haul us out because your Dad can’t hit the broad side of a bantha.”

Din groaned and put his head on the control panel. It was gonna be a long wait to get out of here.

Frog Lady was chipper as they made their way through the port. Din had paid the dock hand a thousand credits to get the ship functional again, although Zena didn’t have high hopes. Mon Calamari were better known to decorate with fishing nets everywhere than actually fix sh*t. And bill you for the “renovations”.

When their intrepid passenger took off with a happy croak, Zena couldn’t help but smile. A blue-green frog man was waiting for her with open arms, and they both knelt over the egg bag and touched each other's cheeks tenderly. It was… sweet. It must have been nice to be married, to know where you stood in someone's life, in a quantifiable way that couldn’t be easily taken away. Even if they died and left you, you were their widow… it felt more real than being the last girlfriend before they took a dirt nap. What the f*ck am I thinking? The only person I’d marry doesn’t seem like the marrying type. And even if he was, can you have a functional marriage and never see their face?

Din took charge, walking over. “I was told you can lead me to others of my kind.” He said gently. The Frog man pointed over to an inn with a croaky smile, then shook Din’s hand and put an arm around his now perfectly happy wife. “Thank you.” Din murmured, and put his own arm around Zena. She chuckled, settling Grogu on her hip, and inclined her head towards the wife.

“Thanks for putting up with us, ma’am.”

The frog lady patted Zenas arm, then they parted ways to go to the inn. They settled at a table and Grogu whined when he was set in a seat, still starving. “I know, sweet thing. Shh, we’ll get you some food.” Zena patted his head gently.

A waiter came over. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing for me.” Din murmured levelly. “Two bowls of chowder for my friends.”

“These seats are scarce, everyone needs to eat.”

“I can buy something else.” Din dropped some calamari flan on the table. “Information. Have you seen any other people that look like me?”

The waiter leaned in. “Others with beskar have come through here. I know someone who can take you to them.” He poured two bowls of a thick chowder from an overhead spigot. Grogu leaned over his bowl curious, squeaking as a still living spider squid climbed out and suction-cupped to his face.

Din sighed, poking it with his vibroblade. “Don’t play with your food.”

Grogu peeped, looking at him incredulously.
Zena chuckled. “Go ahead and eat, baby. We’ll be here a minute.” The tot demandingly pushed his spoon into her hand and opened his mouth, wanting her to feed him. If his little pearly whites weren’t so cute, she’d have made him feed himself, but she was still feeling soft from watching the frog couple and chuckled. “Spoiled rotten, aren’t you?” She snuck a bite for herself, then spooned one into his mouth.

A squid-headed Quarren came and sat across from Din. “You seek other Mandalorians?” He said in a heavy, low voice. He looked and sounded like every dock hand she’d ever met, but something felt funny about him. Calculating, inside the Force. Even Grogu gave him a look between bites of chowder. Zena looked at Din, but he seemed willing to trust so she went with it. Maybe she was just paranoid, or her senses were off from the stack of trauma and head injuries the last couple days had held. And if something went wrong, they had Din.

“You can take me to them?” Din murmured.

“It’ll cost you.” The quarren chuckled.

Quarren ships were funny. Zena had never been on an actual ship on water, only space, so she stood at the railing with Grogu and pointed out seabirds and ships coming in and out of port. The whole crew seemed to be brothers, or they at least called each other brother. “I wonder what having siblings is like.” she mused to Din as he stood beside her. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” he said quietly, arms crossed over his chest. She could only imagine he was watching his scanners, determining their disadvantages and any openings. He didn’t like being outnumbered, she knew. Especially after Bothan 5. Not that she blamed him, that had been a clusterf*ck… of course their whole lives together had been kind of a clusterf*ck. She was starting to just accept the chaos as the price to be in love with the man in metal.

“Ever seen a mamacore eat?” One of the crew murmured. “We usually feed her in the morning but we’re running late. The child might take an interest.”

Zena smiled at Grogu. “Wanna go see them feed the big fishy?”

Din sighed, following her over. “Don’t get so close.” He muttered as she turned the baby to face outward and the quarrens opened the grate to toss in fish.

“I’m being careful.” she chuckled, looking over her shoulder as one of the crew walked up. Then suddenly strong hands were shoving into her back and she was tumbling into the cold water. She curled around the baby, trying to get him up to air, when a huge maw opened and engulfed them both.

“NO!” The last thing she heard before the water silenced the world was Din’s voice, screaming and terrified.

Then he was fighting for all three of their lives, as he was shoved into the water and the grate sealed. His armor weighed him down, and he was clinging to the underside of the closed grate to gasp at air. The quarren were stabbing at him to try to drown him, but his thoughts couldn’t grasp onto self preservation.

Zena and Grogu were in the belly of the mamacore, and he had no idea how long they could hold their breath or if it would chew them up, or how strong it’s stomach acid was. How long could they last?!

His family was gone.

Panic was flooding his brain when he spotted familiar armor, three other Mandalorians on deck fighting. The grate was opening. “Take my hand!”

He grabbed a Mandalorian woman’s hand and she pulled him up, setting him down. Her helmet was blue and white, with patterns on the brow. “The woman and child…” he gasped. “Still down there. Help them…”
“On it.” Another Mandolorian woman in solid blue dove into the water gracefully. Din struggled to his feet, desperate to see if they were okay, when lights and blaster fire lit up under the water and the blue warrior came hurtling to the surface. She and Zena in her arms, the jedi still clinging to a terrified little green boy.
The woman sat them down in front of Din and he collapsed to his knees, pulling Zena close. “Are you two okay?” he murmured.

She coughed, turning her head to retch water from her lungs. “Y-yeah…” She’d managed to get a Force Sheild up around them enough to trap some air and protect them from the crushing teeth of the mamacore. She’d still breathed in some water, but she was sure she’d be okay. “Are you…? You’re wet, did they throw you in too?” Her free hand pressed to his chest, eyes wide.

Grogu let out a wail and Din put a hand on his head. “Shh. It’s alright, kid.” He looked up to the three warriors, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”

The lead woman reached up and pulled her helmet off, revealing short red hair and a somewhat haughty face. “Of course, brother.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat. Not again. Not like Tattooine. He was running out of options, this could not keep happening. “Where did you get that armor?!”

Zena winced. The woman chuckled as the man beside her sighed. “He’s one of them.”

“This armor has been in my family for three generations.” The redhead sighed. “I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze.”

Suddenly it wasn’t Din who was angry, it was Zena. “You!” her voice was an almost feral hiss. Din didn’t expect the venom, or the baby shoved in his arms before Zena was three steps ahead of him and her fist made contact with Bo-Katans jaw. The other two leveled their blasters on her as Bo-Katan took a step back, rocked slightly. Then she chuckled, wiping a bloody lip and waving them to lower their weapons.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Obi-wan’s daughter, you beskar-plated bitch!” Din grabbed the back of her belt to stop her from tackling the other woman, who was still chuckling.

“Didn’t know he had a daughter. You have my condolences, Miss Kenobi. But I’m not the one travelling with a Child of the Watch.”

Zena froze. “He’s not-” she stammered, eyes suddenly widening as she looked back at Din. No. He can’t be…

“The what?” Din pulled Zena back even with him, not failing to notice her sudden reluctance and recoil.

“The Watch was a group of religious zealots who broke away from Mandalorian culture. Their goal was to reinstate the old ways.” Bo-Katan was still smirking faintly.

“There’s only one Way. The Way of the Mandalore.” Din growled. “You do not cover your faces. You are not Mandalorian.” He scooped a stiff limbed Zena up in one arm and the kicking toddler in the other, and took off from the deck.

When he touched down back on shore, Zena shoved herself away from him. The look of outright panic in her eyes cut him to the core. “Zen…”

“The Watch?” She whispered. “As in Death Watch…?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zena.” his voice stayed soft, like she was a spooked massiff just as likely to run as to bite.

She ran her hands through her wet hair desperately, frantic energy in her limbs all of a sudden. “This cannot be happening. First that bitch and now this?!”

“Zena, talk to me.” he murmured. “What is going on?”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry… I need a minute. Come find me later… I just need a minute.” she muttered walking down the pier. Away from him. She said she wouldn't run…

It was nearly sunset when he decided it was time to find her. It wasn’t hard, she hadn’t hidden or gone far, sitting on the edge of the pier with one leg drawn up to her chest, staring out at the light dancing over the water. Din walked over and slowly sat beside her, Grogu in his satchel again and dozing off. “You wanna talk now?” he murmured softly.

“Bo-Katan was responsible for my Dad’s death… it’s a roundabout story, but it’s all connected. Her, Death Watch, and what happened…” her voice was raspy, she’d been crying. All he wanted to do was pull her close and tell her it was going to be alright. But he didn’t think she wanted him to touch her yet.

“I’m listening.” he shifted so he was looking at her. She looked so pretty when she was sad, even though he preferred her smile. She lay her head on her knee and looked at him, eyes red rimmed.

“Death Watch was a terrorist organization that came to be on Mandalore’s moon, Concordia.” she murmured. “All the warriors who refused to give up their weapons when duch*ess Satine Kryze moved to create a pacifist government… Satine was Bo-Katan’s sister.” she murmured faintly. “She was… strong. An idealist, willing to play the political game to protect her people… she led the Federation of Neutral Systems during the Clone Wars… and Dad was in love with her. They’d known each other since they were teenagers, when he was just a padawan and spend a year on Mandalore… They stayed in comm contact, even though he was supposed to not have attachments as a Jedi. He used to tell me if she’d said the word he’d have left the Order just for her, and being a Jedi meant everything to him. That’s how much he loved her.” she sniffled and scrubbed at her arms with the back of her hand. “He used to talk to her at night, when he thought I was asleep, like she was there. He called me “our daughter” when he did… told me once if she’d lived, he’d have taken me to Mandalore to be with her instead of staying with Luke on Tattooine.”

“That’s a lot of love… to survive through death like that.” he murmured.

Zena nodded. “He… remembered her name, like you said… But Bo-Katan is why she died. She joined this Death Watch group because she didn’t believe Mandalore should be peaceful. She wanted to bring back the warrior Mandalorian image… and the Death Watch allied with Darth Maul.”

“Darth…?”

“A sith. The same sith that murdered Dad’s master when he was a padawan. The same sith that tried to kill me and Luke when we were kids, by coming to Tattooine…”

“What’s a sith?”

“Like… an evil Jedi? They use the Force too, but the Dark side. And Bo-Katan essentially put one on the throne of her planet just to spite her older sister. And Maul knew dad loved Satine, and murdered her in front of him. She died in his arms…” She looked away. “It’s selfish, I never knew her… but I always think of her as my mother… the closest thing I might have ever had. And if Dad hadn’t been on Tattooine, he wouldn’t have gone with Luke. He wouldn’t have faced Vader alone. He might still be alive…” he could hear her starting to tear up again. “Or maybe I wouldn’t have run away if I’d had a mom to tell me Dad wasn’t trying to abandon me. I could have been there.”

“Everything comes back to your dad, huh?” He sighed.

“He was all I had, Din. He meant everything to me… until I met you. How do I sort this mess out in my head? If you were raised by those people… what do I even begin to feel about that?”

Din sighed again. “I don’t know anything about the Death Watch as you explained it. But… let me tell you where I came from. I need you to understand… to know.”

She nodded, shifting a little to look more directly at him. “I’m listening.” she mirrored him.

“I told you I was born on Aq Ventina… I was ten, during the Clone Wars, when it happened. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember how old I am now. Before you ask.”

She smiled a little, nodding. “Okay.”

“Super battle droids attacked our town. I remember explosions, and cannon fire. My parents picked me up and ran… we were all wearing red, I know that. I can’t remember their faces anymore, but I remember their voices. They said they loved me and hid me in a shelter, and closed the doors. There was a boom… it rattled the doors. I was so small… and scared. Then a droid opened the doors, and I closed my eyes and tried to get ready to die. Then there was blaster fire pinging off it’s armor, and it fell. A Mandalorian reached down and offered me their hand. I took it without hesitation, and they carried me out. From then on, they raised me as one of their own. When I was seventeen… they asked me if I wanted to take the Creed. It wasn’t forced on me. I always had a choice, but I don’t remember it ever being a question in me. I knew I wanted to make them proud, prove they made the right choice saving my life.” He looked back at her.

“So that’s why you don’t like droids…” She lifted her head and regarded him for a long time.

“Yeah.” he shrugged.

“I don’t understand how the people who plotted a hostile takeover of a planet can be the same people who raised you. You’re so good, Din. You’re made of beskar and honor, and all I’ve ever known of the Watch is death and betrayal… If they ever made anything good, it’s you.” she breathed.

He held an arm open. “Come here.” Zena slotted herself under his arm and closed her eyes.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to make a scene.” She murmured. “I had to… make myself not run away. It’s all I ever f*cking do and I wanna be different for you…”

“Why’d you start running, Zen? I know it’s more than you’re saying… if you made Major, you weren’t scared to fight.”

“Dad said I was ready.” she snuggled a little closer. “He said if the temple was still around I’d take my Trials. I was ready to be a Jedi. I knew Dad would start sending me on missions alone, and I just knew I’d f*ck it up. I’d face Vader and I’d die and he’d be disappointed in me… that was worse than the idea of dying. Worse than facing Vader…” She shivered. “I just wanted to ...stop existing. Be a faceless nobody rather than make a mistake.”

“The same reason you won’t train Grogu.” He rested his head on top of hers.

“The same reason I do everything, Din. I ran away from home, and jumped from assignment to assignment in the Alliance, and ran away from that so I wouldn’t have to be in government, and became a herbalist instead of a real doctor on Nevarro… I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to hurt anyone because I’m incompetent. The only thing I’ve ever been willing to stick my neck out for is…” she trailed off.

“Me and the kid.”

“Yeah… I never wanted to matter to anyone before. I dunno what you did to me.” she chuckled weakly. “And I’m scared to make a mistake, still. But it’s like I know you’ll forgive it if I do… Because you know I didn’t mean to. You know me.”

He smiled under the helmet and squeezed her to him.

“Ni kar'tayl su.” he murmured, looking down in time to see the sweetest smile for a second before she snuggled back into the metal on his chest. Her hand slipped between the plates on his ribs, pressing closer to his body warmth.

“I know you.” she murmured back.

“Come on, let’s go find somewhere to sleep for the night.” he murmured after a while of holding her tightly. They helped each other up, arms still looped loosely around the other.

Zena stayed close to Din as they walked down the dock, heading back to the inn to try to get some lodging. She hoped it wasn’t too late, if the rooms were all full it would be a long night on the docks sleeping in shifts to watch over the baby. And she really was hoping to curl up next to Din and let the filth of the day escape her lungs. Her outburst of anger at Bo-Katan left her feeling deflated and unclean. It wasn’t the way she’d been raised to hold onto grudges like this, but the redheaded woman’s stupid face and careless smirk galled her.

I could have had a mother

Dad could still be alive.

I could have been brave.

She was lost in the thoughts when they stopped short, Din putting an arm out in front of her to stop her from walking forward. She hadn’t noticed the quarren circling them, armed with dock hooks and harpoons. “You killed my brother.” One snarled darkly.

Din’s voice was steady, reassuring when she wanted to panic and flail. “Let us pass.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. You killed my brother. Now I’m gonna kill your pet.” A hook pointed threateningly at Grogu in Din’s arms, the baby letting out a little squall of fright. Zena forced her arms to relax, hand going to her belt.

If they wanted a fight, they were leaving with less tentacles than they’d come with. Nobody messed with her Mandalorian or her baby, and it was starting to get old how many people were trying.

The sound of thrusters behind her had her head turning, and she found the three Mandalorians from earlier landing. Bo-Katan already had a blaster out. “He didn’t kill your brother. I did.” All four Mandalorians opened fire like they’d practiced it, and Zena drew her saber and ducked in between shots.

Din couldn’t help but watch her movements, starting to catch on to the pattern she fought in. It involved a lot of arm removing before she turned her blade to take off the enemy head. She looked good, even arching to avoid being shot when one of the Mandalore-born warriors got a little trigger happy.

“Friendly fire, Kryze!” she hissed, decapitating a quarren and letting the sounds of the fight echo into the dark dock when it ended.

Din looked at her, and the scattered bodies she was pointedly looking at him to avoid letting her eyes drift to. “Arm thing again?”

“I’m a Kenobi. It’s what we do.”
Bo-Katan looked at Din. “Can we at least buy you a drink?”

“It’s a black-market port.” Bo-Katan had bought Zena a drink, since Din would have nothing, and they all sat at a table in the inn talking. “Weapons are sold all over, and beskar goes for a lot of money. Hence why the ferrymen tried to drown you guys.”

Din nodded, still clearly uncomfortable with seeing Mandalorian faces. Under the table, Zena patted his thigh awkwardly, trying to help the best way she knew how. “I’ve been tasked with returning this child to the Jedi.” he finally said, trying really hard not to sound as unhappy about it as he was. The vocoder covered most of it. “I was hoping you’d help me by Creed.”

The other woman, Koska Reeves, slurped a tentacle from her chowder and looked up. “You’re travelling with a Jedi. We all saw the lightsaber.”

Zena shook her head. “I can’t train the child. We need a Master.”

“I don’t know that I can give you that. But I know the location of one other Jedi.” Bo-Katan said mildly. “But in exchange, I need your help with a mission.”

“Mission?” Din’s helmet jerked back slightly, watching her face. “We have the foundling, we can’t-”

The man, Axe Woves, shrugged. “Leave it with the reluctant Jedi, we just need you.”

Bo-Katan hit him with her cup upside the head. “No. Her abilities could be the key to success.” She hissed, then looked at the unimpressed look on Zena’s face. “I know you don’t like me, but we need your help. There’s a Gozanti-class cruiser in the port, being loaded with plundered weapons from Mandalore. We need to take them back, to use in the fight for our planet.”

Zena couldn’t help the hard edge in her voice, even when she didn’t want it. “I’ll do it for your sister, and what she meant to my father. Not for you.”

“That’s good enough.” Bo-Katan smiled, and the faint wince when her busted lip pulled painfully was pleasing to Zena. Even if she was a little disgusted with her own anger. “Meet us here at dawn. They scan for life forms before getting off the dock, since we’ve been hitting them so hard lately… we can’t stow away. The port authority requires them to maintain trawling speed until they’ve left port airspace. We jet up, take the weapons, and go.”

“I have neither a jetpack or a helmet that will let me breathe at that altitude.” Zena crossed her arms and leaned back. Din was a little impressed at the shrewd way she played off any attempt at manipulation from the redhead, and he could tell Bo-Katan was trying. Jedi combat abilities must be more valuable than he realized. He’d only ever seen Zena’s and he was pretty sure she was holding back a lot of the time.

“I can handle that. Just show up.” Bo-Katan nodded.

“Do not put me in a Mando helmet.” Zena said firmly. “Face shield is fine, but I won’t wear the helmet.”

“Why the hell not?” Koska raised an eyebrow.

Zena nodded to Din. “It’s sacred to him. I’m not committing sacrilege in his eyes. Especially not for you guys.”

Din startled, head jerking towards her.

Bo-Katan sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll find you something else.” She nodded towards the innkeeper. “I paid for you guys a room.”

“Thanks.” Din murmured, a little overwhelmed with all he’d been processing today.

Zena looked at him. “I’ll ask the Frogs if they mind watching him while we’re gone.” she scooped up Grogu and took the tot out to the room the Frogs were spending the night in before heading back to wherever Mr. Frog had set up a homestead for them. She really hoped she didn’t interrupt any “fertilizing” of those eggs.

Once she was out of earshot, Bo-Katan looked back at Din. “What do you know about the Jedi?”

“Only what she’s told me.” He shrugged.

She nodded. “She’s younger, she might not remember much. I wouldn’t take her as the prime example. Her father, on the other hand… he was the epitome of what made a Jedi. If she was trained by him, I have no questions about her ability. Only the state of her head. You sure she can handle this?”

“She can. I trust her.” it was a heavy statement coming from the man who didn’t show his face, and Bo-Katan relented and accepted it as that.

“Room 204. Get some sleep.” She led her crew out after paying their tab.

Din waited until Zena came back, their wayward toddler securely visiting with his new friend the frog spawn and having been given a lecture to blister his big ears about being on his best behavior. She smiled weakly at him. “It’s been… a f*cking day.”

“Yeah. Come on, let’s go to bed.” he took her by the wrist and led her up to the room.

She flopped down on the bed face first. “I hate this whole thing.”

“I know.” he carefully took his armor off, laying each piece down slowly on the chair beside the bed. He knew he should probably just sleep in it, especially since they’d been attacked on the dock, but all he wanted to do was press her skin against his in this real and soft bed that was the rarest luxury for them in the last months. He’d been rattled today, and so had she. The curtains were too thin to really make it dark, and he could have fashioned a blindfold… but he didn’t want to. “Can I trust you?”

“You know you can.” she smiled weakly, still face down in the mattress and voice muffled. “The question is if you do.”

“I do. Keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

She heard the helmet come off and twitched. “Din, it’s not that dark in h-”

“I know. Keep your eyes closed, I trust you.” He stood her up, shucking out of her clothes with the ease of a Mon Calamari fisherman peeling shrimp. Then he pulled her into the bed, pressing her to his chest tightly. “I just… I want to hold you. As a man, not a Mandalorian. We both had a bad day.”

She slid her arms around his neck and tucked herself into the curve of his shoulder. “It was pretty bad. I punched a lady I’ve never met in the face, over a mom I never met either. How petty.”

“I’d have shot her, in your position.”

“Don’t justify that display of temper. I was behaving badly… and it felt really f*cking good.”

He chuckled. “She got to me too. With the… taking off the helmet. I thought no true Mandalorian would ever. And she’s supposed to be the ruler of the planet that I thought was uninhabitable, which is also apparently wrong.” his shoulders tensed under her palms. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to believe, Zen.”

“Well… what does leaving the helmet on mean in the way you were raised?” She kissed his neck gently, sending tremors scuttling down his spine.

“I-it’s a… honor code. If you follow the Creed, and leave your helmet on so that none see your face, you stop being an individual. You become Mandalorian, and let the single you slip away to become the collective… and if you keep the Creed, one day you reach a special afterlife just for faithful warriors. It’s supposed to be the greatest honor, to be in the presence of all the others who followed the Way of the Mandalore before you, united forever in your Creed. You become a part of The Way...” his hands tightened on her back when a thought crushed the air from his lungs. If I get there, she won’t… she won't be there.

She nodded, listening thoughtfully. “That’s a lot to imagine giving up, just because a stranger tells you the ways have changed.” Her tone was diplomatic, considering. So damn careful with him suddenly, like he could splinter in her arms without the armor to hold him together. “Especially someone like her.”

“What would you do?” he shifted and hooked his chin over her shoulder, looking down the expanse of her spine in the moonlight. Old scars shimmered like stardust on her skin, new ones purple in the blue undertone like nebulas. The vast expanse of the galaxy imprinted itself on her, and it still wasn’t big enough to contain all the ways she got to him.

She chuckled faintly. “I think I’d.. have to think. For a long time. If this life held something I wanted more, I’d take the helmet off. But if I wanted that afterlife more, then I’d be very content her obnoxious ass wasn’t going to be there.”

He snorted. “That’s your advice?” his head turned to consider her profile, eyes still pressed tightly closed and her nose crinkled with a smile.

“I can’t tell you how to live your life or afterlife, Din. I can only tell you what I’d consider. My views on the afterlife are a little different.”

“What do you think happens after we die?” he settled back against her, tracing nonsense patterns on her back.

Her voice softened. “Dad used to tell me when we die, we rejoin the Force. It’s like… a giant symphony and every soul that ever was or ever will be is a single note. When we live, we’re conscious of our own existence, but when we die we can experience the whole song…. And one day, we’ll all be together again in the Force. Every living thing, from plants and animals to every sentient being that’s ever been or will be. I always thought it sounded nice, to find our way back to everyone we’ve ever loved and who loved us…”

“It does.” He admitted.

She pressed a kiss against his shoulder quietly. “Din… if that’s really what happens and there’s any part of me that remembers who I am now… I’d find you. Even if I spent an eternity looking, I’d find you.”

His arms closed tight around her waist at her admission. He didn’t have the words to explain the way his heart lurched in his chest at that. “Zena…” He finally breathed. “I can’t promise that you’ll ever get to see me under this helmet. But… if I ever did take it off for any reason, I’d want you to be the one there.”

She smiled against his skin, letting him shift them around until she was lying on her back with him over her. “I’ll bet you’re beautiful.” she said softly, curling her fingers lightly into the hair at the base of his neck. “No matter what you look like, you’re beautiful because it’s you.”

He kissed her lips, softly as he knew how before sliding up and crouching at the foot of the bed, looking at her stretched out in the dim light with her eyes closed and hands pressed over her stomach where they’d fallen from his hair. “When they pulled you out of the water…” he murmured, lifting her ankle to press his lips against the soft skin there. “I fell to my knees, so grateful you were alive. No one brings a Mandalorian to their knees like that. But you do.” She shivered when his lips moved up her leg, switching back and forth from the left ankle to the right calf, up to the right knee and then the inside of the left thigh, up and up to the right hip. Careful, light, worshipful with every light touch as he followed his mouth with his hands to smooth her skin and test it’s softness. “I know why you can’t, but I think about it all the time. Having you as mine forever. Raising the kid, raising others. Our children.” his lips pressed against her lower stomach, where it would swell if this dream ever came true. “Calling you my riduur, my wife.” His mouth turned hungrier but still reverent, following the center of her stomach and over her scar, then between the valley of her breasts. “I can imagine it perfectly, what you’d look like. In my arms, ten or twenty or fifty years from now. You’d still be so beautiful…”

Zena felt tears welling up in her eyes and she pressed the back of her hands against them to stop the flow, trying to focus on his mouth moving in slow presses across her collarbone and up her throat. “I-I’d make a mess of it…” she whispered. “B-be an awful mother…”

“You’re already a good buir. The kid adores you as much as I do.” he murmured behind her ear, gently nudging her legs apart with his own and settling between them. His length rested against her inner thighs, reminding her how perfect he always felt inside her and how complete she was when he touched her. “You said I should t-take time to think. About the helmet.” he reminded her, her stomach jumping under his abs at the press of his weight. “Just… promise me you’ll think about it? It’s your choice. Whatever you choose.”

She nodded, blindly fumbling up to bring his mouth to hers securely when he finally moved to fill her. Her legs curled up and locked around his waist, his arms bracketed on either side of her head as he held himself up and rocked into her sweeter than he’d ever been.
He said he wants to marry me.

Zena held onto the man above her to keep herself from bursting apart at the seams, veins alive with heat and devotion and every desperate feeling she’d thought might be just in stories of epic love. But those big emotions condensed themselves enough to fit in the room with them, into the space under her ribs whenever Din Djarin told her he wanted her as his wife.

Yes, there was a runner in her that wanted to flee into the night so she could spare him the pain of however she managed to be inadequate for him. But there was also a bright spark of hope, an emergency flare burning bright in her heart that told him it’d hurt more to have her run than any way she’d fail. That if she failed, Din would pick her up and tell her she was more than her failures.

He said he wants to marry me.

She wasn’t sure when the burning coil in her belly reached the crescendo, just that she was clinging to the words he’d whispered about a dream of calling her his bride when she was flooding with her org*sm and his mouth was on hers again. She clung tighter, fingertips digging onto his shoulders, wordlessly begging him not to let her go. To mean what he said. To love her forever like he’d promised.

To remember her name.

Din’s head dropped onto her shoulder, still pressing warm and spent kisses against the corner of her mouth and watching her with out of focus eyes that were too close to see properly. Her eyes were still closed, her breath coming in faint gasps with every twitch of his release inside her. “Will you think about it?” he murmured.”

“Y-yes... “ She fumbled for his hand and held it, pulling it between them and over her pounding heart.

Morning came over the harbor, and Din and Zena arrived on time to meet with the other three. Bo-Katan handed Zena a clear transparisteel face shield with a small filter attached to it, to let her breathe in the air. “You gotta carry her.” Axe said with a faint smile of amusem*nt.

Din just nodded. “Not a problem. Ready?” He slipped an arm around Zena’s waist and pulled her flush to his chest, hooking a dart line around her waist and his.

Bo-Katan nodded, settling her helmet on her head. “Come on. They’re already trawling, we need to hurry.”

The four Mandalorians and the Jedi belt accessory took off into the skies, heading for the hatch on the back of the ship. They were pretty quickly spotted by white-armored troopers, and Zena tried not to wince. Not a youngling anymore… I can do this. They breached the cargo hold and Din cut her loose to start wreaking havoc on anything that moved.

“Jedi, cover us.” Bo-Katan waved them down the hall to where the cargo control bay was. Zena nodded, drawing her saber to start deflecting as the group advanced.

Din held up a thermal detonator and tossed it down the hall, blowing a squad of stormtroopers to kingdom come.

A door shut in their faces as some of the troopers got behind him. They could hear one reporting to the bridge. “We have them contained in the cargo control bay!”

Din looked at Bo-Katan. “Those boxes were secure, right?”

“Yeah…”

He looked at Zena. She was standing by a button, grinning. “Good.”

She smacked the button a little harder than necessary, and the cargo bay opened, sucking the Imps out into the sky. She shut the door again, and they walked out to examine their haul without having to deal with the dead.

“Not bad.” Axe chuckled. “I’m starting to like you, Jedi.”

“Zena.” She nodded. “Zena Kenobi.”

“Bo-Katan was right. You jedi are badass when you need to be.” Koska grinned right back.

As if she knew she’d been given bonus points, Bo-Katan chose that moment to ruin it. She had an Imp comm, listening to the bridge calling futilely if their men copied.

“We copy.” She smirked. “We’re not jettisoning any cargo, we’re taking this whole ship. Put some tea on, we’ll be up in a bit.”

Din stiffened. “That was not part of the deal.”

“You want my information, you’ll help me take this ship.” she said darkly. “This is the Way.”

Din growled, looking at Zena. She sighed, straightening her spine. “f*ck it. If we’re in, let’s not half ass it. Let’s steal this damn ship.”

They took off down the hall, slanting into the wall when the cruiser went into a nosedive. “f*cking imps are trying to take the ship down.” Koska hissed. “We’re losing altitude. Fifteen thousand meters.”

“Let’s go.” Bo-Katan snarled, breaking into a sprint. They turned a corner only to get sprayed with blaster fire, dinging off the beskar covering the front runners.

Axe scanned the troopers. “Ten hostiles. Two with heavy repeating blasters.”

“Twelve thousand meters.” Koska yelped.
Din gritted his teeth. “Cover me.”

Zena nodded, throwing her hands up. “Go!”

Din took off down the hall, expecting to take fire. Instead it hit a kind of barrier a few inches in front of him and fizzled. Bo-Katan whirled around to look at Zena, who was staring straight ahead with her jaw set, sweat running down her temple as she struggled to keep the barrier up and moving in front of him. It was a clear and obvious strain to hold, her arms shaking and eye twitching. Din slid to his knees and hurled two thermal detonators, then went down and covered the back of his neck when they blew and spewed flame everywhere.

Zena dropped to one knee. “Go take the bridge, I’m right behind you.” She panted. The Mandos nodded and rushed, Din getting up to wrench the doors open and drag the head Imp out of the pilot's seat. He shoved the guy back into Bo-Katan’s grasp while he and Koska laid on the throttle to stop the ship from hurtling to the water below and killing them all. They made it by scant meters.

Zena wobbled into the bridge just in time to see the Imperial clench something between his teeth and electrocute himself, slumping dead to the floor.

Koska sighed. “They’ve already sent a distress beacon. We need to go.”

“Engage main thrusters and prepare to jump.” Bo-Katan looked at Din and Zena, regarding them for a minute. “You fought bravely. This will not be forgotten.” she murmured. “You should come with us.”

“Got a kid to take care of.” Zena smiled faintly. “Sorry.”

“If you ever reconsider, the offer stands.” She nodded her head. “Thank you.”

“Where’s that Jedi?” Din put an arm around Zena, clipping her belt back to his.

Bo-Katan sighed. “Go to the city of Calodan, on the planet Corvus. There you will find Ahsoka Tano. Tell her I sent you… and who you are, Miss Kenobi. She’ll help you.”

Zena blinked, eyes widening. Ahsoka Tano… “She’s… I thought she was killed in Order 66… Ahsoka Tano is still alive…?”

“Yes.” Bo-Katan nodded.

“Thank you.” Din inclined his head quietly.

Bo-Katan smiled once more, this time seeming genuine. “This is the Way.”

Din scooped Zena up and walked to the hatch,making sure her respirator was secure before stepping out and diving off the moving ship. The Rising Phoenix kicked in a few hundred meters into freefall, and he couldn’t help but smile when he realized she’d stopped herself from screaming into his ear by pressing her shielded face against the beskar of his helmet.

They had to go pick up their kid, and go see an old friend.

Chapter 15: Chapter Fourteen: Not Knowing What I’m Going Through

Chapter Text

“Okay, now pull the red wire.” Din was crouched in front of an access hatch, trying to sort out the disaster that was the Razor Crest’s wiring that the Mon Calamari had not fixed. “Good, now plug it where the blue one was. Pull the blue… no, don’t put the blue one back into… hold them apart, they’re oppositely charge- no, don’t let them touch!”

A loud popping noise and smoke escaped the access panel and he looked in, and a bug eyed little Grogu holding wires in his little hands. “You okay?”

The baby giggled, and Zena walked over with her hands on her hips. “Din, are you trying to explain electrical engineering to an infant?”

“... technically…” He murmured. “It sounds a lot dumber when you say it like that.”

She crouched next to him and shook her head, looking at Grogu. “We’re not gonna make it to Corvus with the ship in this shape.”

“Nope.” Din sighed. “We need to go to Nevarro for repairs, they'll fix it right. And I think they might be willing to cut us a discount… I’m running low on credits.”

She chuckled. “You’re wearing a suit worth thousands upon thousands of credits.” Her lips pressed a quick one against the hollow cheek of his helmet. “But it’s okay. I have an emergency stash just for us.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Shut your mouth and go set the navi-computer for Nevarro. We’re a team, right? My credits are your credits. Keep arguing and I’ll buy you presents.” He shook his head as she reached into the access hatch and waved for Grogu to come waddling to her so she could pull him loose, cooing at him affectionately. “Did you zap your little hands? Aww, are they okay? Yes, they’re very cute, no you may not poke your little grubby fingers into my cornea. Let’s go wash your hands.” she chuckled.

Din went and warmed up some food for them, sitting on a cargo box with his cup of caf. When Zena brought Grogu back, she was delighted he was sitting with them to eat, even if he sat to the side so she couldn’t properly see anything when he half lifted the helmet to take a swallow. “You remembered I don’t like caf.” She chuckled.

“Yeah. I hope this is a kind of tea you like.” He said quietly.

“I like most teas.” She chuckled. “Except some Corellian stuff Dad got from the bazaar when I was fourteen. It tasted like absolute swamp water.”

Din chuckled, watching her feed herself with one hand and Grogu with the other. “At least on Nevarro, there’s no shortage of people who want to hold him so you can have a break.”

She nodded, leaning against him slightly. Maybe if they could have a few days of peace, she could hold him for a while instead of the baby. He needed to just… rest. She’d happily slap a blindfold on and let him take a nap with his head on her chest for as long as he needed to feel better. He was so condensed with stress lately he was going to compact into beskar himself.

They finished their little meal and she watched him go back up the ladder to set their course. Grogu cooed, touching her knee. “Yeah, bub… I got it bad.” She chuckled, putting a hand on his head. He giggled, tugging her arm down so he could hold her fingers. Her heart ached a little when he looked up, all sweet pink cheeks and green skin and big eyes. “I got it bad for you too, don’t I?”

Grogu crawled into her lap and she snuggled him, sadness flooding her veins coldly. She’d have to give him up one day. Send him back to the other Jedi, the better Jedi. The ones who could train her sweet boy when she couldn’t… “I’m gonna miss you.” She whispered. “So much…”

His next little coo was sad, like he knew what she was thinking.

Newly minted Marshal Cara Dune and Magistrate Greef Karga were waiting for the Crest when it landed. The back hatch didn’t even open up all the way, the landing gear was unevenly extended, and the hull was held together with the thinnest durasteel plating Cara had ever seen. But she was happy to see Zena and Din walking out and clambering down with a happy little green baby.

“Good to see you, Mando. Typhe.” Cara chuckled. “The Crest looks like sh*t.”

“I need some repairs. How’s my credit around here?” Din shook both their hands.

Cara nodded. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Karga chuckled and waved a pit crew over, telling them to get the ship good as new before turning back Din and Zena. “Come on, I want to show you what we’ve been up to.”

They were led through a much more bustling town than Zena remembered, with shops and the delicious smell of frying food from street stalls. Her mouth watered hungrily. “You’ve done a lot to clean this place up.” Din commented dryly, tossing a few credits to a shop owner and handing Zena a stick of fried ash rabbit. Her eyes brightened with delight.

“Mostly Marshal Dune over here.” Karga laughed as Zena happily munched, sharing a few bits with Grogu out of pity for those big eyes. “It’s a respectable sector again.”

“Except for the cantina.” Din mused as they approached. “I’m surprised this place is still standing.”

“Wait til you see what we did with it.” Cara grinned. Din ushered his little party in and almost laughed at the twin looks of stuffed-cheek amazement on Zena and Grogu’s faces.

Zena swallowed rapidly, eyes bright. “It’s a school!” She grinned. Kids were in desks watching a droid as it went over trade routes, raising their hands to ask questions and most looking pretty genuinely engaged.

Karga nodded, scooping Grogu from her arms. “We need to talk to you two. Leave him here.”

Din stiffened. “Where we go, he goes.”

“Trust me, he’ll be perfectly safe.” Karga plunked the baby into an empty desk and he looked around with confusion as the Marshal and Magistrate took his guardians off to a back office.

A fledgling mythrol was sitting at the accounting desk when they walked in, and evacuated his musk glands when he saw Din.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” The Mandalorian murmured. Zena tried not to laugh, since the chubby blue fellow seemed genuinely terrified.

Karga scowled. “He’s been working for me since he was a pollywog… then ran off after some creative accounting.”

The mythrol looked nervously up. “Magistrate Karga is letting me work off my debt.” He said quietly.

“Three hundred and fifty years.” Snorted Karga.

Zena chuckled, hands on her hips. “So what’s the deal, Marshal?” She looked at Cara thoughtfully.

“We’ve cleaned up most of the sector, but we’ve got a big issue. There’s an Imperial base, where all the Imps came from when we defeated Moff Gideon.”

Zena leaned over the map thoughtfully. “Active?”

“Must be, otherwise they wouldn’t have coolant and the whole thing would fall into the lava.” Mused Cara.

She nodded. “So you want it gone?”

“It would make the whole planet safe. We could be a trade route for the whole sector.” Karga pointed out.”

Din looked at Zena. She nodded, crossing her arms. “It would keep Nevarro safe in case we have to come back here, and reduce Imperial holdouts in the Outer Rim…” Her foot tapped, her mind racing. “Could put us personally in better graces with the New Republic, too.”

“Still worried about that?” Din reached over, running the thumb of his glove over her cheek. “You think they’ll call you up?”

“I’m not meant for it anymore.” She sighed. “But I’m down to remove an Imp base, so they can’t get close to the baby.”

He nodded, head turning back to Karga. “When do we leave?”

“First light. You guys can crash at one of my rentals down town, it’s fully furnished.” Karga chuckled. “The little one can come back to the school tomorrow too, while we’re out.”

“What happened to my apartment?” She suddenly paled. “Oh no, I had so many plants… did they all die?”

“I had a Felucian appraiser come out and the plants were sold. I saved the money for you.” Karga held his hands up. “The apartment is still just like you left it.”

Din looked at her. “Do you want to stay at your place tonight?”

She nodded sheepishly. “Y-yeah… We can get the crib for the baby, off the Crest.”

Din chuckled. “I’ll get it and meet you there.”

“This is smaller than I realized.” Din mused, looking around the apartment. “I think our cargo hold is bigger.”

“It was just me, I didn’t need a lot of space.” She shrugged. “Watch the couch, there’s a loose spring that’ll getcha.”

Din set the baby down and looked around. It was just one room, with a little kitchenette and fresher. And a nice balcony with a sturdy looking guard rail, though the flowers in the window boxes hooked on top of it had died. . Her bed, just a mattress on the floor, was in the corner, with a battered bedside table next to it. She had a bookshelf, covered with scuffed and well-loved texts that he remembered seeing some of the same copies of back on Tattooine in her childhood home. The blanket on the bed was sun-bleached and heavily patched, but washed smooth and soft. She plopped down in the middle of it and chuckled, letting Grogu toddle over and crawl up with her. “Whatcha think of Mama’s house? Not much, huh?”

He cooed, pointing at a footlocker in the corner and looking back at her excitedly. She sighed. “You’re always so good at making me look at old stuff, huh?” She flexed a finger and the locker slid over to them. “Wanna look at some old crap, Din?”

The Mandalorian crouched down beside them. “What kind of crap?”

Zena popped it open. “Hmm… Here’s my dress uniform.” She withdrew a gray uniform, smoothing the material against her knees. “I think I wore it three times, honestly. “I wasn’t… I didn’t go to a lot of functions with the other officers.” she dug around, eyes bright. “Some old holos… Dad took them.” She passed the little box to Din and he turned it on.

A younger Zena smiled back, hair long and pulled back into a high ponytail with the sides braided. She was dressed simply, in a creme colored dress with a brown overcoat, arm linked into the same ginger haired man he’d seen as a ghost. They were both smiling, cheeks darkened from the sun. He flipped through the holos, seeing a slideshow of her teenage years. Her with a lightsaber, him looking distressed trying to help an eopie give birth, her doing handstands on a large rock with an even bigger one balanced on her foot…

Zena sighed. “I wish you could have really met him. He was wonderful…” She breathed, digging back in the box. Her eyes brightened and she pulled out a braided twist of blonde hair strung with beads. “Maker… I forgot I still had these.”

“Beads?”

“My padawan braid. Dad still kept that tradition alive… when you became a padawan you had to have a real dumb looking haircut with a little braid on the side with beads on it… and when you were old enough you cut the braid away and became a Jedi knight… Dad didn’t make me have the bad haircut, but he did insist on the braid…” She bit her lip. “I remember when he said I was ready, and it was time to cut it. I actually cried, I was so scared… but he thought I was ready. It feels weird now to say, because even now I don’t feel… Jedi enough. But he believed in me, and that’s… It means a lot.” She laid the braid on her leg and let Grogu touch it. “Do you remember these?” She murmured. “From the temple?”

He looked up at her and reached for her hair, holding on tight and babbling while his eyes started getting squinty. She chuckled, knowing that face. “Getting sleepy?”

He turned around to cuddle in her lap and she packed everything back up in the trunk. “Could we take this?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. We’ll pack it up once the repairs are done.” Din promised her, latching the footlocker for her and it back where it was. She smiled and put their sleepy little charge in his floating crib so he could rest, closing it up. Din toed off his boots and all his armor except his helmet, leaning up against the wall at the head of her bed. “C’mere.”

She slid into his arms, back against his chest, and let him hold her. She smiled, closing her eyes. “Din?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean what you said? About… about wanting to raise kids with me… as your wife…?”

“I did.” his arms tightened around her waist.

“Is this because of the foundling thing…?” She mused, putting her hands over his. “Like… because there aren’t a lot of Mandalorians left, especially from the sect you grew up in… is that why you want kids?”

He paused, hooking his chin over her shoulder. “I… don’t know.” he finally admitted. “Maybe the way I was raised has something to do with it. And being a foundling myself.” his warm hug didn’t loosen. “But… I’ve never wanted kids with anyone else. When I look at you, I think about all the ways I want to tie us together. A home, kids, marriage… things I didn’t think I’d want. But I see you with him… you look so happy when he cuddles up to you, and he’s happy too. I think, if I trusted anyone in the galaxy to raise a baby, it’d be you.” His helmet turned a little bit, looking at her profile. “Do you not want…?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. I’ve never… thought about kids before.” She admitted. “I didn’t think I’d let anyone this close. Now I’m thinking about it. Where would we live?”

“Where do you want to live? We could upgrade the Crest. Or stay on Nevarro, and I could build us a house. You stay here with kids while I hunt.” She wrinkled her nose and he chuckled. “Or we could find a covert and go there. You’d make lots of friends and have help when I was gone.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this.”
“Yeah. About a million times.” he admitted quietly.

“Would you always be a bounty hunter?” She rubbed the pads of her fingers against the worn leather of his gloves, quietly pondering over this theoretical life.

“It’s what I’m good at. I’d make enough credits.”

“But you’d be in constant danger.” She pointed out.

“That’s my whole life.”

“What if it could be different?” She looked up, eyes quiet. “I don’t… like the idea of you going away all the time and it always being a question of if this is the last time I ever see you…”

He hugged her a little tighter. “How would it be different?”

“I don’t know yet…” She sighed. “I just… don’t want to lose you too, you know…? Dad was the only good thing I had for a long, long time… and then he was gone, and I was alone… Now I have you, and Grogu… I don’t want to give that up. I don’t know if I can take it…”

Din put his hand gently over her eyes and she heard the helmet come off, his lips pressing against her mouth when he turned her head to grant him access. “We’ll figure it out, then.” He murmured between soft kisses, letting her turn around in his arms to press up against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Her arms slid around his neck as he kissed her, running through his hair in a display of devotion. “Let me…” She whispered softly. “I won’t look. I just wanna...give you what you give me.”

He hesitated a moment before slowly letting his hand fall from her eyes. They stayed close, her lashes on her cheeks, and she looked so perfect right in his arms that he almost forgot everything except how badly he wanted to hold her there for the rest of his life.
Her hands moved down his chest like she was reading braille, undoing zips and buttons until his chest was bare and she’d found his belt, easing it open and following her hands with her mouth over his co*ck. She heard his faint groan and the fists bunching in the blanket under them when she bobbed her head and swallowed around him. She knew his tells, and pulled herself off him before he could come down her throat. “Zen…” he panted desperately.

“Hold on.” She whispered. “Just… hold on a minute.” She fumbled her shirt off and kicked out of her pants as gracefully as she could, unable to see the smile on his face when she blindly overbalanced and fell on her back on the mattress. She was so cute, hair fanning over her face and skin flushed because she knew he was watching. When she was finally stripped bare, she crawled over to him and put her hands on his knees for a moment, kneeling between them. “Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. Not like this.” She whispered. “Attachments are what created Vader… but how can this be a bad thing?”

“It’s not.” he said immediately, stomach twisting into a knot at the idea that the two of them could be anything but good. “You’re not going to end up like that. I won’t let it happen.”

She nodded, sliding herself up to straddle his waist and leaned forward, searching for his lips. He let her take the lead, following her cues when she moved to ease her way down his length. She held still, curled up against him and focusing on his breathing and heat against her skin, before finally rocking her hips into him slowly. The low, long moan in her ear was immediately gratifying. She leaned forward, pressing Din’s head into the crook of her neck, and held him to her. He wasn’t used to being the one being treated so softly and it choked him up a little. She kept rolling her pelvis slowly, kissing his hair and murmuring softly and sweetly to him. “I love you. I love you so much, Din…”

The lips against her collarbone matched her sweetness and he nuzzled into her. “Ner kart’a… ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

Instead of the usual racing burn of their rough union, tonight was slow and building. In what had been her home, a monument to how alone she’d been for years, she found peace in the arms of a man she’d never looked in the eyes of. “D-din?” She whispered, pressing her forehead against his temple, focusing on the words she needed to get out before the building pleasure swamped her and stole the moment away.

“Y-yeah?”

She loved his voice, without the vocoder. His skin, without the layers. His love, without the barriers of history and superstition. “I want it too… I wanna m-marry you…”

The world inverted for Din as he realized what she’d said, furious heat and desire rushing through his skin and taking over. He turned her mouth to his and kissed her, arms tightening around her hips. She squeezed tight around him, chest warm and bright as a summer day on Naboo, smiling into his kiss as he shook in her arms and jerked up into her, hitting somewhere inside her that made her see stars with her eyes closed. “Y-yeah?” He breathed against her lips between burning kisses. “You mean it?”

She nodded, helplessly holding on for dear life. “Y-yes!”

He strategically placed a few more bucking thrusts into her, bringing her over the edge with him and squishing his head against her sternum to listen to her heartbeat. She hugged her arms tightly around his neck. “You sure?” he murmured softly. “Once it’s done… Mandalorians believe we become one when we marry… it’s not something that can be undone.”

“I’m sure…” She breathed, resting her head on top of his. “I think it’s the only thing I’m sure of…”

He smiled against her skin. “I know… Coruscant makes a big deal out of weddings… We don’t, but if you can wait just a little longer, we can make it special.”

Zena gave a satisfied smile and let Din pick her up from his lap and cuddle her into the worn mattress, snuggling into his arms and nodding as her head found it’s favorite spot under his chin. “If that’s what you want…”

“Sweet girl, I just want you.”

“You got me… forever.”

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. I will know you for eternity.” he murmured, lulling her off to sleep with quiet repetition of the language off his lips.

Eternity...

“There’s the base.” The mythrol was driving them out on a speeder, Cara in the front and Zena squished in the middle between Karga and Din. Her shoulder was wedged painfully into his pauldron, leaning into him to avoid being similarly squished into Karga. He put a hand on her back to hold her to him, casually refusing to watch her snuggle into another man. “How close do you want me to drop you off?”

“The front door?” Karga grumbled.

“That’s a little close for a civilian.”

“How’s a hundred years off your debt sound?”

The mythrol nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.” He pulled them up to the door, looking nervous.

Zena went over to the control panel. “It’s melted.” She murmured. “We can’t get in this way.”

Din looked up. “Be right back.” He shot into the air.

Zena chuckled. “Mythrol, please bring that flash cutter and let’s work on this while he’s busy.”

“It’s rated for plumbing. I don’t know how well this is even gonna work.” He mumbled, but followed her. He was almost crushed by a falling stormtrooper from up above. Karga and Cara jumped. Zena eyed the dead guy, made herself look even though her stomach wanted to crawl its way out of her body, then stepped back as the door opened up.

“Nevermind.” She smiled cheerfully, let’s go.”

“I can wait for you guys… comm when you want me to pick you up.” The mythrol murmured.

“Have fun when the lava tide rolls in.” Smirked Cara. “Come on, coward.”

He had no choice but to shuffle in.

They took the elevator straight up to a hangar bay Din was casually standing around in, surrounded by dead troopers. Zena chuckled. “Have fun?”

“So much for an empty base.” He said quietly.

Cara reached back to stop the mythrol from wandering. “No touching.”

“But that’s a Trexler Marauder! Do you know how much money we can get for that on the black market?” He pointed at an armored vehicle in the corner, half covered in tarp.
“It’ll be ash, along with the rest of this place.” The Marshal hissed.

“Let’s make it quick.” Din said quickly, pulling his blaster out. Zena pushed ahead, with him and Cara flanking her and Karga and the mythrol pulling up the rear with blasters out.

They marched through the base, trying to avoid the white armored troopers. A couple times they were nearly busted, but managed to duck back around corners to avoid detection. Once they got to the coolant tanks, Karga nodded to the mythrol. “Drain the lines and we can get out of here.”

The blue guy squirmed, looking at the open air control area. It was a long drop, straight down into lava… “There’s no guard rails…”
“Just move!”

Zena rolled her eyes. “I got it.” Before Din could stop her she’d jumped over, balancing precariously and tapping around on the control panel. “Huh, they’ve upgraded their tech in the last few years…” she mused. Down below, the coolant started draining into the surrounding area, making the lava bubble and growl. “Let’s go. This place will blow in about ten minutes.”

With a fire now lit under their asses, the little group went hauling ass down the hall. Unfortunately, with the alarms going off from all the lava moving to destroy the base without coolant in the lines, it was a lot harder to avoid stormtroopers. They turned into a little laboratory area and ended up in a shootout with multiple troopers, while two higher ranking uniformed officers started trying to shoot a terminal.

When the smoke cleared Zena froze, staring at huge tanks surrounding them. There were beings, dead and horribly mutated with their corpses suspended in preservative for further study, all around them. “Maker…”

Cara frowned. “This isn’t a base. It’s a lab… we’ve got to find out what they’re doing here.”

Din stiffened. “This has got to be what they wanted the kid for.” He looked at Zena, who nodded.

The mythrol waddled over to the console and started trying to pull data, frowning deeply. “It’s all time logs and failure dates… here.” He turned on a holo-recording.

Din recognized the little rat faced scientist he’d seen when he went back to the Client to get Grogu back the first time. “Every experiment has been a failure, with the host inevitably rejecting the blood. Some have shown more promise than others, and I believe we can eventually isolate a stable host population… however, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The child was very small and I was only able to harvest a small amount without killing him, and I’m doubtful if we will find another with a higher M-count.. If experimentation is to continue, we must regain access to the donor. I will not fail you, Moff Gideon.”

“Moff Gideon’s dead… it must be an old transmission.” Zena whispered hopefully.

“It was sent three days ago.” The mythrol shook his head.

Zena looked at Din. “Go, you’re faster with the jetpack. Make sure he’s safe, we’ll catch up.”

Din nodded, taking off as fast as he could for the hangar bay he’d come in. If Moff Gideon was alive, the kid was in more danger than he’d realized.

Behind him, the other four tried to fight their way down towards the speeder when they realized the troopers were coming from below. “Looks like we’re going up.” Cara hissed.
“We gotta get down!” The mythrol yelped.
Zena dragged him behind her to the hangar and pushed him behind a couple crates. “I’m working on it.” She muttered savagely. How the f*ck were they gonna…

The Marauder.

“Dune!” She yelled. “I’ll cover you!”

Cara nodded, running out as the Jedi started deflecting blaster shots, and hopping into the vehicle. Once she got it going, she grinned. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get in!”

Karga covered the mythrol and Zena walked in backwards and slammed the side hatch. “They’re closing the blast doors, we’re not gonna make it back into the building.” Karga hissed.
Cara put it in reverse and turned around. “I got an idea.”

“I don’t li-” Zena’s dry comment was swallowed by a shriek as Cara sent them hurtling over the hangar edge. They landed hard, nearly going end over end. “... I hate you so much.” She whispered.

The mythrol blinked. “Did we land on my speeder…?”
“Drive!” Karga yelled, watching troopers on speeder bikes coming down the mountainside and TIE fighters launching.
“Get in the back and shoot!” Zena pushed Karga towards the back gun and started opening the hatch. “Do not shoot me!”
“What the hell are you doing, girl?” Karga paled.

“Getting rid of the TIE fighters!” She stepped out onto the roof, using the Force to anchor herself. She held her arms out towards the screaming ships, eyes narrowing.

Below her, Karga yelled as one of the fighters lurched like it had been struck, hurtling into another one and sending them both exploding. Another one was coming up, targeting them. “Karga, focus on the last TIEs. I’ve got the speeders.” She yelled back, drawing her saber.

While Kargo shot every which way, she crouched low. The speeders had separated and were trying to box them in, shooting at her as she braced herself. One she took out with a deflected shot, but the other jumped from his speeder to the Marauder right behind her, and grabbed her from behind. There was a thermal detonator in his hand, beeping right in front of her face.
She hurled him with all her strength and sent him flying into the last speeder, the detonator going off and killing them.
A final trio of TIE fighters were getting in position to try firing on the little group when a sleek silver ship shot by, blasting one out of the sky. “Sorry I’m late.” Din said in Zena’s comm, and she grinned as the ship went straight up and dropped back, getting the pursuing TIEs in front of the ship guns and taking them out while spinning.

“You got the baby?” She chuckled. “He’s gonna get sick with all that spinning.”

“He’ll be fi-... dank farrik.”
Cara and Karga were screaming and cheering. “Can I buy you a drink, Mando?” The magistrate laughed as the Crest levelled out and circled back towards the town.

There was a long pause. “No. I’ve got some… onboard maintenance to do. And I need to get my co-pilot. If Gideon’s alive, we can’t stay.”

Zena chuckled. “I’ll meet you at the ship.”

“See you there.”

Zena climbed back into the Marauder and chuckled. “That man knows how to fly.” She murmured.

“Yeah. If he was a gal, I’d ask you to share.” Cara laughed.
“That one is all mine, Dune.” Zena sat back, laughing.

“I told you he’d get sick.” Zena laughed, wiping the blue cookie residue from Grogu’s face. “Who did you steal these cookies from, anyway? I did not pack this for you when I sent you to school this morning.”

The baby giggled, letting her clean him up and only getting slightly fussy when she took the package of sweets from him. She gave him a piece of meat, reasoning out loud that it was better for him than sugar.

Din turned around in the co*ckpits seat to watch her fuss and fawn over the tot, smiling under the helm. “You have no idea how cute you are babying him.”

She turned red. He managed to get to her, even though they’d literally fallen asleep with her naked and on top of him last night. “Flatterer.”

“What? Once we get married and someone’s not shooting at us for five minutes, I’ll give you more than flattery. And maybe another one to baby.”

She looked at Grogu, a sad little smile on her face. She wanted to ask him if he wanted a brother or sister, to see his smile… but they were sending him away. To Ahsoka Tano, to train…
They might never see him again.

She kissed his little forehead. “Come on, let’s get your clothes washed. How’s that sound?” she murmured finally..

As she headed down the ladder, Din felt the same aching despair she was. Grogu really had become their son… Even though it would be better for him and give him the best chance in life, it still hurt them both to know he’d have to go.

“So. The lab.” Din murmured, lying next to Zena in the bunk, cloaked in darkness. “Did you understand anything about what was happening? I didn’t…”

She sighed, burrowing her face into his shoulder. “I think I did. I don’t like what it implies.”

“What does it imply?” He ran a hand through her hair.

“I think the thing they called an M-count is referring to Midichlorians… it’s basically a biometric measure of Force sensitivity. The higher the count, the greater potential for Force use.” She explained. “It’s not a be-all-end-all measurement, my dad didn’t have a super high count but was extremely in tune with the Force by dedication alone. It’s like… potential for natural talent. You can make up for it with hard work.”

“So the kids got a high one.” Din mused.

Zena nodded. “Not surprising, he’s the same species as the old grandmaster. Before… before Anakin, I think he had the highest recorded count.”

“What was so special about Anakin, then?” Din saying the dreaded name was oddly soothing. He didn’t know the man, couldn’t be swayed or hurt by whatever she said the way her father had. Obi-wan’s eyes had always filled with pain when he’d come up. It shattered Zena’s concentration and made her forget where she was going with her words.

“He didn’t have a father. Dad’s master thought he might have been conceived by midichlorians… born of the Force.” She explained. “That’s why they thought he was the Chosen One....” she bit her lip. “Dad always thought that assumption was the beginning of his fall. The chosen one without any choice of his own, pushed into situations by the council and the war… no one asked him what he really wanted, and he just… buckled.” She shrugged. “It’s weird to feel sorry for him, after what he did. But Dad did.”

“You said they were friends. Of course he did.” Din kissed her forehead. “But why are they after the kid's blood, then?”

Zena bit her lip again. “I… Dad told me during the war there were babies kidnapped by a bounty hunter called Cad Bane. He was working for a sith, the Emperor they found out later. But he was trying to do something to them… turn them into force-sensitive soldiers. They rescued the little ones, but… maybe it’s something like that. They were injecting donor blood… Grogu’s blood, into volunteers to try to make them force sensitive. I think they’re trying the same thing, to make soldiers with the powers of a Jedi but loyal to the Empire. They’d rip the New Republic apart if they managed it, there’s too few trained in the Force to resist them.”

Din nodded, hugging her close. “That’s horrifying.”

“Yeah. I doubt I have a high enough count to be on the radar, but Grogu… he’s powerful. Tiny as he is… Force healing is so rare and he’s so little to be able to do it… I’ve trained for years and I barely keep up with a literal baby.” She chuckled weakly. “It’s humbling.”

He snuggled her back down when she tried to lift her head. “Shh. We’re not gonna let those bastards touch him.”

Zena smiled. “You’re such a good dad, you know that? How’d I get so lucky?”

“I think I might be the lucky one. You did tell me you wanted to marry me… I think it’s worth the Imperial bullsh*t to have you this close.”

Her lips pressed into his chest lightly. “So do I add another last name? Zenaria Typhe-Kenobi-Djarin? That’s a mouthful, sounds like Naboo royalty.”

Din chuckled. “It’s up to you, cyar’ika. All I want to do is call you mine.”

“I am yours. For an eternity, like you said.”

Chapter 16: Chapter Fifteen: No Matter How Hard I Try

Chapter Text

Corvus didn’t look good, even from orbit. The forest planet was stripped bare, what trees remained clinging to life in dusty and barren soil. Din set them down outside of the city of Calodan, like Bo-Katan had said. They walked out onto the ramp and looked around. “Creepy.” Zena sighed.
He looked at her, musing at how they must look. She was still in her long dress and apron, looking for all the world like hired domestic help next to his steel and weaponry. She had the child in a sling on her back, her own saber hidden away. She’d remembered her foot locker, which she told him had her “proper” Jedi clothing her father had made her, but she hadn’t worn it. “Thought you wanted to look like a real Jedi.”

“I’d rather scope out the city first. The Empire hunts Jedi as much as they hunt younglings.” She said mildly. “Plus… I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen a Jedi from the old Temple since I was a child, other than my father… It’s a little intimidating. She’s a real Jedi. I’m… not quite.”

“You’re real enough for me. Come on.” he led her along towards the walled city. He was focused on the city ahead, while her eyes wandered across the landscape. There were marks and places trees were cut haphazardly, burned out.

Lightsaber battles have happened out here. More than one, some marks are starting to wear down. She bit her lip. What kind of mess would they find in this city? More importantly, where was Ahsoka Tano?

When they arrived, the door was bolted and there were armed guards up on the parapet. “State your business.” The lead one, in red under his armor and without a helmet, called down to them. He read ex-military to Din, and gave Zena a very uncomfortable feeling. His eyes were dead, unreadable and expressionless. Like looking into a sarlacc pit.

“Been tracking for a couple days. Looking for a layover.” Din said mildly.

“You a hunter?” The guard called back.

“Last I checked.”

“Guild?”

“Yes.”

“And her?” His eyes moved to Zena, who tried to look as innocent as possible.

“Hired help.” he finally said simply. The man could assume she was a cook, babysitter for the kid, or a prostitute. Either way, it would keep him from bothering her too much.

“Open the gate.” He finally said, and Din and Zena were permitted in.

It was a dismal place, and the depression in the air hit Zena like a Death Star attack to the gut. The citizens looked skinny and curled inward, sucked dry of any joy or light. They huddled down alleyways as she and Din passed, trying to avoid any eye contact. Din walked over to a vendor to ask about the Jedi, but the man abandoned his stall and darted back into a tiny house.

Zena stepped to the side of the road, where a man was carefully slipping food to two small children. “Excuse me.” She whispered. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Please, don’t speak to them or any of us.” The man whispered, eyes down. “The magistrate will be angry.”

Zena blinked. Magistrate… She walked back over to Din. “Something’s very wrong here.” She breathed, so only he could hear as a guard approached her from behind.

“The magistrate wants to see you.” He said in a nasally voice, pointing at Din. “The woman may come as well.”

Zena bowed her head and let herself be led off as if she was a nervous employee, eyes scanning under hooded lids for further details. There were citizens caged outside the inner walls, occasionally groaning from electric shocks and sobbing for freedom and aid. Horror curdled in her stomach.
The inner gate opened and they stepped into another planet. Here there was calm water on either side of a central walking path, and carefully curated trees and flowers in a garden all around them. Standing with an entourage of two assassin droids, a woman dressed in crisp layers and a coat with gold decorations at the throat stood patiently waiting. “You are a Mandalorian? And a guild hunter?”

“Yes.” Din nodded.

“I have a commission for you.” She said calmly.

“My price is high.” Din was playing her, Zena noted. Getting information, convincing her he was in agreement with her while never giving his word to anything. It was reassuring to know he wouldn’t even lie to scum.

He’d always be honest with her.

“This target is priceless. A Jedi plagues me, I want you to kill her.”

“That’s no easy feat. My price is high.” he repeated.

The woman waved one of her droids over and it handed her a slim, pretty spear of shining metal. “What do you make of this?” She held it out, and Din waved for Zena to stay put while he took it from her hands. He examined it slowly, tapping it against his vambrace and listening to the resulting ring.

“Beskar.” he murmured finally.

“Pure beskar.” The woman said the words like they dripped with honey. “Like your armor. Kill the Jedi, and it’s yours.”

“Where can I find this Jedi?” He murmured.

The woman smiled darkly. “Outside the city. She plans to attack here tonight.”

Din nodded, handing her back the spear and waving for Zena to follow him back out.

The young woman glanced back at the magistrate for a moment. There was a lot of anger radiating from her, and a loss that could only be described as festering.

Like Vader.

Grogu cooed in on Zena’s hip, reaching little arms up to signal he wanted out of the bag. They’d been walking for hours, his poor little body cramped up inside the canvas. “Alright, sweet thing. But don’t wander far.” She murmured, setting the tot down. He immediately clambered up onto a rock and sat down, stretching his legs cheerfully. Zena leaned over to tickle his little three-toed feet while Din looked through his binocs back towards the city. “Think we can eat any of these big animals?” he mused.

Zena turned to smile at him, mouth opening with retort when she spotted movement. And two bright white lights. “Look out!”
Din spun around, barely managing to get his flamethrower up and using it to put distance between himself and the togruta that was leaping from the trees with two white sabers out. He shot a dart at her, pinning her hands to her sides. She narrowed her eyes and leapt, pulling the line over a tree branch and snatching Din off his feet. He cut the line and dropped, trying to get his blaster out before he could be cut in half.

The white sabers came down on a blue one, Zena having dove to cover the Mandalorian. “Master Tano!” She yelped, eyes wide. The two Jedi locked eyes, Zena’s voice ragged and pleading. “We need your help.”

Din’s shiny helmet nodded behind the woman’s shoulder. “We just want to talk.”

Ahsoka peeked past them, at Grogu, then back at Zena’s saber. “I hope it’s about them.”

Ahsoka sat next to Zena as the younger woman explained, with her hands in her lap, who she was and how she’d come to be with the Mandalorian and child. Din paced outside the circle of firelight, unable to hear the low voices and quiet looks shared between the three force sensitives. Zena tried to look brave, but she felt Ahsoka’s eyes burn right into her.

“I sense much fear in both of you.” She murmured to Zena. “And a strong attachment, both to each other and the Mandalorian.”

Zena nodded quietly, not trusting herself to speak. She was overwhelmed meeting another Jedi, one who knew more than her, one she could learn something from…

Ahsoka stood up, looking at Zena. Din turned, just in time to finally hear something of the conversation. “Can the child still use the force?”

She nodded. “Yes… he can heal, and move objects.” She murmured.

“Then I will test him. And you.” Her smile softened a little. “Let’s see how well Master Kenobi trained his daughter.”

Zena got up and picked Grogu up, following the togruta. Din trailed behind until they reached a circle of rocks. “Set him here.” Ahsoka murmured, picking up a stone.

While Din watched, she turned her hand and let the stone float, weightless and smooth, from her orange fingertips to little Grogu’s claws. “Very good. Now, send it back.” Ahsoka smiled. The baby frowned, throwing the rock on the ground.

“He doesn’t understand.” Din sighed.

“Yes he does.” Ahsoka smiled bluntly. “He’s been trained by many masters over the years. He was hidden during the massacre of the temple, and has been hiding his abilities to survive since the war… His memories during this time are dark… Alone. He has a strong attachment to you, and Zenaria, which comforts him.” She waved at Din. “Come here. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

“That would be a first.” Din huffed a little, reaching into his pocket to pull out the beloved silver ball the kid had stolen off the Crest. “Alright kid. Let’s try this.” He held it out. “You want it, you can have it.”

Grogu cooed, holding his hands out eagerly. Din withheld the ball, letting it sit in the middle of his palm, until it suddenly whisked away and right into the six green fingers. “Great! Good job, kid.” He walked over and crouched down beside the boy, petting his ear. “Very good. I’m proud of you.”

Ahsoka watched as Zena smiled and looked at her. “See? He’s very powerful for one so small.” The human began, but Ahsoka turned away.

“I cannot train him.”

Zena jumped. “What? Why?!” She ran after Ahsoka while Din dealt with the baby. “You see what he can do? He needs to be trained!”

“His attachments make him vulnerable to his fears. I know what that can do to even a fully trained knight! The best of us!” She snapped, spinning around to face Zena. “Better to let his abilities fade. As Obi-wan should have let yours.”

Zena looked like she’d been slapped. “M-master Tano…”

“You should not have been trained.” Ahsoka repeated. “You were attached to Obi-wan, more than a training bond, the minute he let you call him your father. And now the Mandalorian, and Grogu… and you contemplate having your own children? You are a walking disaster, one loss from becoming a Sith in your grief.”

Zena felt her heart, which she’d been trying for so long to put back together, blast into pieces. A mistake. Ahsoka Tano, one of the last of the Old Temple, was telling her that she was a mistake. Her training, her entire life, her relationship with her father…

A mistake. An error in Obi-wan’s usually steller judgement.

She was a time bomb for the Dark Side.

Din slipped between her and Ahsoka, shaking his head. “That’s enough. Look, the magistrate sent me to kill you. I didn’t agree to anything.” he clarified when she reached for her sabers. “I’ll help you take down the magistrate if you see that the child gets trained.”

Ahsoka regarded him quietly. “Alright.”

Din pressed Grogu into Zena’s hands gently. “Wait for me at the ship.” he said quietly.

Her stomach lurched. He wanted her to wait at the ship again. Like in the beginning. She nodded numbly, not even able to put forth an argument that she could help. She could only carry the squirming greenling back in the direction of the Crest, staring sightlessly ahead. It was well and truly dark when she and the babe arrived, and she climbed the ramp and closed it behind her.

He’d fallen asleep, so she lay him in his crib and sat on the floor beside the floating egg, silent tears streaming down her salt-stung face.

“You should not have been trained…”

Zena lay on the floor as the hours passed, unable to sleep. She could hear Grogu’s squeaky snoring. “I’m being stupid…” she muttered to herself, trying to break the oppressive silence. She was, she knew it. All this agonizing doubt was smothering and useless, and it all circled back around to the man she respected most in her life. She could just reach out through the force… call her dad’s spirit, ask him directly…

But she was afraid. Afraid Ahsoka was right, that she was a lapse in judgement Obi-wan had deliberately overlooked out of pity. Or love, either one didn’t change the fact that if he admitted he had no business training her and her damaged self she would be destroyed. Hearing it from a stranger put her on her knees.

And Din. She didn’t know what to do about him. He’d sent her back to the ship, alone with the baby, and she wanted to scream. She wanted to run back to the city with her saber out and shred the magistrate’s guards to prove to Ahsoka she had all the same rights to her place as a Jedi as the togruta did, and prove to Din she was strong enough to be his wife… but she knew a display of temper like that would only prove her right. That she was one step away from becoming her own monster.

He wanted to marry me… Did he change his mind? Did he hear Master Tano and decide I’m not… She couldn’t even finish the thought, the idea of him pulling away screaming it’s way through her and bringing on a second bout of tears to her burning eyes.

Pathetic. Pathetic. She was pathetic.

She finally forced herself to get up and took Grogu out of his crib, holding him close. “You’re gonna have an amazing life…” she whispered. “You’ll be trained by the same lineage I was… it’s that great…?” she murmured, trying not to cry as she looked at his little sleeping face. Memories of old times, snippets of her life with Obi-wan, crowded her brain.

“You’ve been crying.” Obi-wan murmured, running his fingers through the messy blonde curls around the child’s face. She was just starting to recover, stretching every morning to prevent the scar tissue in her chest from stiffening and constricting her breathing. This morning he’d come into her room to find her sniffling at the foot of her bed.

“S-sorry Master…” She whispered.

“Now now, none of that.” he sat down beside her and opened his arms so she could climb into his lap and snuggle to his chest. “What’s troubling you, Zenaria?”

“Had another nightmare…” She murmured.

“About the temple?” He rubbed her back gently as she slowly stopped sniffling.

“Y-yeah…” She whispered. “‘Bout Nera… and the others.”

“Don’t cry, darling. Didn’t I promise to teach you how to protect yourself, once you were strong enough?” Obi-wan pressed gentle lips to her hair. “You’ll see a lightsaber is nothing to fear in the right hands. It’s an elegant weapon for a more civilized time.”

Zena nodded, cuddling closer. “You’re so weird, master…” She murmured.

He chuckled. “Perhaps. But strange times make strange people.”

The girl nodded. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“I think the best people are.”

“Feel the Force move through you, Zenaria.” Obi-wan scolded lightly. The girl was eight, really too young to be working with a live saber, but she was trying so hard to conquer her fear of his so they could build hers with the kyber crystal she’d had around her neck when she’d been cut down in the temple years ago.

She had a helmet on, blinding her, as a little training droid shot small electric charges at her. Most of the time she stood there, getting zapped and whimpering but afraid to so much as turn the saber on. “Come on, darling. I know you can do this.” Obi-wan cajoled.

“What if I can’t!?” She whimpered, trembling.

“You can, Zenaria. You are my daughter, you can do anything you make up your mind to do.” He said softly, and the encouragement had a visible effect on her. Her shoulders relaxed, her knees stopped shaking so hard. “Now ignite the saber and feel the Force. Defend yourself from the training droid.”

“I-I’ll try…” She whispered. Obi-wan unleashed the droid again, and the low hum of the saber activating filled his heart with pride.

“That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

This time when the droid shot, she moved with it. Sometimes she missed and got zapped, but for the most part, she was able to sense where the droid was shooting and deflect the shots. “I did it, Dad! I did it!” She grinned, pushing the helmet up to reveal her bright eyes and flushed cheeks.
“You did.” he laughed, opening his arms. She extinguished the saber and went running into them, laughing wildly.

“I did it! I’m gonna be a real Jedi!”

“You’re ready, you know.” His hair had whitened, but his smile was still kind and his eyes the same bright blue. “To remove your braid. You’d be taking your trials if we were in the temple.”

The teenager standing beside him was willowy and her hair pulled back, arms folded inside her oversized robe. “I don’t know, Dad… are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t risk your safety if I thought it was too soon.” He murmured. “But you’re ready to be a knight, my padawan… more than my padawan. My daughter.”

Her eyes settled over the purpling horizon thoughtfully, knowing the faint bump in the distance was the Lars moisture farm. Where Luke was. Was she really ready, or was he just hurrying to train Luke Skywalker? “Where does our path lead from here, then?”

“Eventually… to Vader. You, me, and Luke.” He murmured, watching her eyes. “He must be stopped.”

Her body instantly tensed. “Dad…”

“Your hands will build a better world, my darling. Yours and Lukes.” He smiled. “I’m so proud of you now… and I’ll only be more so. I know it.”

She turned her face away so he couldn’t see the abject panic written on it in the dying light of Tattooine’s two suns. She had to get off this planet… before he sent her to Vader and she died as a failure.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep in the bunk, holding Grogu to her chest, but she woke up to Din’s soft voice. The Mandalorian was gently touching the toddlers ears. “Hey… hey buddy. It’s time to wake up.” He sounded so sad, even through his vocoder. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

Zena sat up slowly, holding her boy a little tighter to her chest and looking at him. He smiled, reaching for her face and Din’s. They both leaned in, wordlessly agreeing to put on a show of strength for him. “I’m gonna miss you, sweet boy.” she whispered. “You’re gonna be a great Jedi…”

Din nodded, petting his ears quietly. “It’s the right thing to do…” he murmured, though he didn’t sound totally convinced. They sat there for a long while, the boy between them holding their thumbs and babbling while the two adults tried their best not to crack up. Zena was close to tears and had been for a long time, and Din was glad the helmet hid his red rimmed eyes when they heard a voice outside the open ramp.

“You’re like parents to him.” Ahsoka was standing at the foot of the ramp, looking bemused and mild again. Din took the baby and walked down, Ahsoka reaching out to hold the little green hand with a softer looking smile. “I cannot train him, Mandalorian.”

“We had a deal, and I held up my end of it.” he murmured. Zena walked to the top of the ramp to listen, making little effort to hide her own salt-slicked cheeks.

“There is one possibility.” Ahsoka glanced up at her, then back at Grogu. “Go to the planet Tython. You will find the ruins of a temple with strong connections to the Force… Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain there. If he reaches out through the Force, a Jedi may sense him and come looking. Then again… there are few Jedi left.” She looked at the chubby cheeked little green child. “He may choose his path this way.”

Din sighed, nodding and looking back at the kid. “Alright. What’s one more trip?” he turned back around, resting the boy on his shoulder and walking up the ramp to Zena. Ahsoka looked at Grogu, then to the young woman. Zena’s blue eyes fell to the floor and she turned around, unable to face the disappointed gaze she was sure was waiting in the togruta’s eyes.

If she’d looked back, she would have seen a softer smile and a slight bow instead, before Ahsoka Tano walked back to the city of Calodan.

The ship had been quiet for hours. Zena had sat in the floor outside the bunk, unmoving, since they took off. Din was worried. He’d expected some kind of excited babble, or questions about the mission in the city, or even her nervousness about having met the Jedi. The silence grated on him in a way that he’d never expected… he used to like silence. Instead of peace, now it felt like a loaded blaster hanging over his head.

He set the navicomputer and walked over to the woman, crouching in front of her. “Zen… you okay?” He murmured. She just shook her head, curling her knees into her chest and looking up. He hated watching her pull away from him, so he eased his bulk down next to her and slowly took off his gloves. “Cyar’ika… is it the kid?” he murmured. “Hey… we don’t have to do this. We can find a way to k-”

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t train him, and the only way he’s gonna have a good life is if someone does.” Her voice was so ragged and broken. “I’m sorry… I want to keep him so much, but I…” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Zena, this is killing you. Talk to me.” He cupped her cheeks and was startled when she pulled back away, eyes wide. “Zen…”

“Did you hear what Master Tano said?” She looked up, and her eyes were shining with tears in the dim light of the hold.

“Only a bit. I could tell it was getting heated, so I cut in, but I didn’t listen in to the conversation. I thought you’d want a little bit of time with another Jedi…”

She huffed, shaking her head. “She told me my father shouldn’t have trained me. That Dad made a mistake… that I’m one bad thing from turning into a monster. Like Vader.”

“That’s banthash*t and you know it.” he said abruptly. “How the kriff would she know anyway?”

“She was his padawan, Din. Anakin’s, before he was Vader. He raised her, she watched him fall.” she sighed. “She knew him better than anyone, except maybe my Dad. She knew him before he was Vader.”

“She doesn't know you.” He curled his fingers under her jaw again, turning her back to him. “She’s wrong about you, you’re not like him. You’re like your dad.”

“My dad was dead before we met.” She whispered. “You didn’t know-”

“I know what you told me about him.” He murmured, making her keep facing him. “That he lost his master, and his student, and the woman he loved… and then all his friends in your order. He had you, and then you left… and he didn’t go evil or something. You’re not a mistake.”

She sniffled, trying to get control of herself and not cry like a child into that shining chestplate. “Then why’d you leave me on the ship again?”

He froze, hand still under her jaw. “I’m sorry.” he murmured. “I… I didn’t know she’d said that to you. You were so nervous about being Jedi enough, and she rejected you…” He slid his hands down her shoulders, giving her space to pull away if she wanted or collapse into his chest. “Come here. Please. I wasn’t trying to reject you… I thought you were still nervous about meeting her, and it might put you in danger… ne ceta, cyar’ika.”

She hiccupped, coming unglued again and sobbing into the beskar in front of her. “I thought you heard her and…”

“You think I give a sh*t if you’re ‘proper’ Jedi or the herbalist from Nevarro or the Alliance Major, or anything else you’ve ever been, Zen?” he sighed, curling around her. “I didn’t leave you here because I didn’t want you with me. I just wanted you and the baby safe.” He murmured.

Her body went boneless in his arms and she let him pull her sideways in his lap, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry… I doubted you.” she muttered.

“You had a lot going on. I should have paid more attention to what she was saying to you.” he murmured.

She closed her eyes and cuddled up a little more, leaning into his arms. “Still wanna marry a wet dishrag like me…?”

“More than anything.” he murmured. “Dry your eyes.” He gently wiped her face with his cloak. “I swear, you leak like a busted engine.”

She laughed faintly. “I swear I used to be tough.”

“You’re still tough. You’ve just been tough a long time…” he leaned his head against her, hoping she knew she could fall apart with him and he’d spend the rest of his life if that was what it took to put her back together.

She took another slow breath and turned her head to kiss his palm. “Thank you.”

“Do me a favor.” He smiled a little under the beskar. “I’m going to get your footlocker. I want you to put on your Jedi stuff. The stuff your dad made you.”

Her cheeks burned red. “I don-”

“Please.” He took her hands. “You’re a Jedi, no matter what she said. Your dad thought so, right? So… put it on. Let me see you as you really are.”

She smiled weakly. “You’re wonderful, you know?”

“When you’re around.” he helped her to her feet and sent her to get her stuff from the metal case in the corner, waiting when she carried the wad of gray fabric to the fresher. He waited outside, leaning against the hull until she finally came back out.

The dress was mid shin length but slit up to her thighs, in a soft cream color. Her breeches underneath were black, tucked into polished black boots. Her leather belt sat over a section of decorated cloth around her middle, also black but embroidered with silvery constellations he recognized as a starmap. She wore an oversized, dark gray robe with a large hood and big sleeves that hid her hands. Her saber was clipped to her belt, and the collar of the dress was a crisp and neat mandarin.

She straightened her spine slowly and walked out of the fresher, steps careful and measured. “How does it look?” she looked nervously at him. “I didn’t look in the mirror..”

“You look like a Jedi.” He reached for her, taking her by the hand and turning her around almost like a dance so he could see her from all sides.

‘You’ve never seen a Jedi before. Except Master Tano.” She murmured.

“That doesn’t matter. You look good. You look… strong. Brave.” He pulled her close. “Beautiful.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Flatterer.”

“Woman, I would marry you right here on this ship right now.” He chuckled.
“Are you allowed to do that?” She looked up.

“Our ceremonies aren't.. Particularly ceremonious. There’s some vows, and then we just… look.” He explained.

“Look?” her eyes widened. “You mean I can see you after we get married?”

“Did you actually agree to marry me thinking you’d never get to see my face ever?” He asked, incredulous. “The face you might see reflected in your future children?”

“I didn't want to assume…” She said sheepishly.
He smiled. “I can show my face to only my clan.” he explained. “A riduur, and our children. Technically the kid could see my face and it wouldn’t be a violation… the armorer declared him a part of my clan.” he reached into his pocket and. “By the way… may I see your saber for a minute?”

She nodded, taking it off her hip. She could hear Obi-wan lecturing that her saber was her life. How fitting for her to place it in his hands.
He walked over to the worktable and lay it down, taking a soldering iron out and examining the hilt and crossguard thoughtfully before quickly attaching something onto the round shape at the pommel. Once he was done, he handed it back. “Here. “

She took it back and examined the pommel curiously. A insignia like the one on his right pauldron was pressed into the metal, smooth and secure when she ran her fingers over the still warm metal. “A crest?”

“My signet… and the one for my clan.” He explained. “It’s a mudhorn… the kid saved me from one before you joined us. The armorer declared us a clan of two, me and him, when we went back to Nevarro. But she handed me that signet… She saw you wearing my pendant, and I guess she knew… one day I’d want you to be my clan too.”

Zena’s eyes softened and she put the saber right back on her hip. A Jedi, wearing a Mandalorian’s signet. A sign of her clan, her family… something she wasn’t supposed to have and yet it meant everything…

“I love you.” She smiled quietly, looking up at him. She still felt the weight of Ahsoka’s words and her own fear… but though they dragged her under and threatened to drown her, his love felt like a breath of air.

“Ni kar'tayl su, ner cyar’ika.” He murmured, like a promise.

Chapter 17: Chapter Sixteen: I Can’t Escape These Things Inside

Chapter Text

“Here it is, Tython.” Din murmured, looking out the window at the landscape below. Zena sat next to him with the baby in her lap, holding him up so he could see the craggy outcropping and dark prairie grasses below.

“Look, Grogu. There’s the temple.” She pointed at the ruins, as Ahsoka had promised.

“It’s too small to land right there.” Din sighed. “We’ll have to ride the rest of the way with the windows down when I park it at the foot of the mountain.

“You mean the jetpack?” Zena huffed.

“You’ll still look pretty with your hair windswept.” Din teased a little, looking at Grogu. The baby cooed at him and reached for his silver ball on the control stick. “Not this time, buddy.” Din sighed. “We have to go find you a Jedi. And then you have to agree to go with them if they come to teach you. Okay?”

Grogu looked up, eyes soft and innocent like he didn’t understand when they knew he did. Zena leaned over and kissed his little head. “It’ll be alright, my sweet thing.” she promised.

He babbled at them as Din landed the Crest, and Zena held him close as Din picked them both up and took them via jetpack up to the temple. Grogu even threw out a couple happy whoops as the wind ruffled his big ears.

They landed on the top of the mountain and Zena looked around, letting herself take a slow breath and experience the power in the Force here. Ahsoka had been right about one thing, it was strongly connected here. She could feel the life force thrumming through her veins, filling her with peace at the very atomic level.

“Does this look Jedi to you?” Din murmured.

“It feels like it.” She took the baby and walked over to the seeing stone, setting him on top of it.

“So that’s the seeing stone? Is he… seeing anything?” Din sounded so out of his element. Zena chuckled as Grogu started to play with a butterfly.

“Give him a minute.”

“Tano said if we got him here he’d do the rest.” He sighed.

“Let me see if he needs help.” Zena chuckled, climbing up onto the stone and sitting on her knees in front of the toddler. “Grogu?”

Din watched her take his little hands, coaching him through the beginning of a mediation, when he spotted a ship coming into orbit. It headed straight for them and circled, like it was sizing them up. “We’re out of time, Zen. We’ve gotta get out of here.” When he turned, however, he wasn’t facing his lover scooping up the boy, or even a startled pair of concerned stares.

She was still on her knees next to Grogu, holding his hands. Both had their eyes closed, and a sort of rushing wind and light was swirling around them but making no sound. Zena’s hair was blown almost straight up, and Grogu’s little ears rippled with the force surrounding them… which might actually be the Force.

But Din didn’t have time to find out. They were in danger, they had to get out of here. He ran forward. “We don’t have time for this, guys. We’ve got to g-” Before he could put hands on either of them, he was blasted back ass over teakettle with a groan. sh*t…

“I-I’ll try to buy you some time.” he muttered, getting up with a faint wince. “But try to hurry up.”

He darted down the side of the mountain, searching for the ship and its occupants. He had his blaster out, creeping along behind rock cover when he heard a gravelly, accented voice behind him. “I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

He spun around, finding a man in a dark cloak, with scars scattered across his face. He had a rifle and a curved looking melee weapon Din wasn’t sure what to call. “What do you want?” Din demanded.

“I’m here for the armor.”

‘You want my armor, you’ll have to peel it off my corpse.”

“Not your armor. Mine. You picked it up from Cobb Vanth on Tattooine.”

“Are you Mandalorian?”

“I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the galaxy, like my father before me.” The man pulled down his hood, revealing a bald and also scarred head.

“It goes against my Creed. Why would I give you the armor?” Din demanded.

“Because I have a sharpshooter up on the ridge.”

A female voice up behind him had Din spinning around. “And you know I never miss.”

“Fennec?!”

The woman chuckled. “You’ve got good ears. I’ve got your pretty little lady and the child in my scope, I can hit both with one shot at this angle. Or you can listen to Boba Fett.”

The man, Boba Fett, nodded slowly. “The armor was my father, Jango Fett’s . By rights it is mine. He fought in the Mandalorian Civil wars. Let’s all put our weapons down, and have a chat.”

Din grumbled, but Fennec moved her scope up and away from Zena and Grogu. “Fine.”

She was in the Force, she knew she was. Deep in a mediation she couldn’t break if she wanted too, Zena held tight to her boy’s hand. They were almost floating through a complex web of connections, twisting into one another and back again, like a tapestry of colored threads.

“Zena?” Whispered a voice behind her and the woman turned, facing a tiny toddler of a pink twi’lek, staring up at her. There was a thread between them, connected at their chests, of a warm pink light.

“Nera…?” Zena whispered, kneeling in front of her oldest and most mourned friend. “Oh Nera…”

Nera smiled, a little sad but kind. “Don’t be sad, Zena. It’s not lonely here.” her form transformed into a little pink bubble and shot off with what could only be described as joy.

“Zenaria! A long time have I wondered when join us you would.” chuckled a raspy voice. She twisted again, grinning.

“Master Yoda!” She looked at Grogu. “Look, sweetie. It’s the Grandmaster!”

The old green creature chuckled, patting the young ones head and looking up at Zena. “Grown you have. Much have you learned.”

Zena looked sheepishly at him, and the other figures starting to surround her. Some she recognized, others she could only know from holos her father had kept. “Master Windu… Master Koon. Master Fisto… and you must be Master Jinn.” she smiled at her fathers master, with his stubbled jaw and long hair. “But… where’s Dad…”

“Hello there.” Said a chuckle and she spun around, delighted to see Obi-wan. With him was a pretty blonde woman with an ornate headpiece. Zena’s eyes brightened when she realized who this must be.

“Satine Kryze.” the woman bowed her head. “Obi has told me so much about you, darling.”

Grogu cooed in her arms, so she pulled him up to introduce him to everyone, grinning brightly as she stood in the center of all the people who’d ever loved her or would have if they’d known to.

“May I cut in?” Asked a very quiet voice, and she turned around one more time to face a figure in black leather. His head was bowed, tousled curls at the forefront, but she spotted a scar over one eye. “There’s something I must say to the young ones…”

Zena took a step back, moving Grogu away defensively. “Anakin…
He looked up, shame printed on every inch of his face. “I can’t ask you to forgive me.” he started quietly. “But… I’m so sorry. To both of you, I’m so sorry.”

Zena looked at Grogu, who was clinging to her and looking at Anakin with wide eyed terror. The other Jedi watched, Nera’s little pink light hovering near Yoda curiously. Other younglings she’d known flickered into existence around her, crowding the space but never filling it’s infinite area. “Your padawan said I should have never been trained.” Zena whispered. “And that Grogu’s abilities should be allowed to fade away.”

Anakin grimaced. “Oh Snips…”

Zena looked back at Obi-wan, a tremble in her jaw. “But I was taught… we were peacemakers.” her father nodded, moving a little closer to Satine and smiling. Zena faced Anakin again. “The first step to peace is forgiveness.” She held her hand out. “I want to be a Jedi… so I forgive you, Anakin Skywalker.”

He took a few steps towards her, taking her hand. His smile was nice, his eyes were blue. “Thank you, little one.”

Zena smiled quietly. “I need to find a teacher for my little one here.” She murmured. “Can you help me?”

“There’s one I know.” Anakin nodded. “Reach up.” Above them, a bright light shone like the sun from beneath water. Zena and Grogu lifted their hands, lifting off the ground. Below them, the dead murmured their goodbyes.

“Proud of you, we are.”

“One of us…

“You are my daughter…”

“Thank you…”

Zena and Grogu’s fingers brushed the surface of the barrier between them and the light, and she felt a familiar energy.

“You!”

She was slumping to the side before she realized it, an equally exhausted infant in the crook of her arm as Zena and Grogu came to. “Y-you okay…?” she mumbled, half awake.

He cooed, closing his big eyes, and she couldn’t help but agree with his simple baby logic. Nap time. Everything in her felt weighed down with a million pounds of duracrete, like the pillars holding up the weight of Coruscant’s city. “Q-quick nap… we gotta get back t-to your… to… D-din…” She was asleep before her head hit the rock, clutching her little ward tight. Just a quick nap… right?

It seemed like no time at all when a hot wind sent sweat and dusty air across her face. She opened her eyes, wincing, to find herself staring at dark colored droids with faces like Darth Vader’s helmet. Imperial Dark Troopers.

She grabbed Grogu up tightly to her chest, trying to get to her saber with the other hand. She was too tired to try to wield the Force against them, she knew that much just from the quivering in her arms. “Get away!” She snarled, with all the ferocity she could muster.

One of the Dark Troopers grabbed her by the hair, the other trying to wrench Grogu from her hands. “Let him go!” She shrieked. “Get off him!”

A mechanical voice through a comm sent her blood running cold. “Bring the woman.” She knew that voice. Moff Gideon, and he sounded amused. “We’ll see if she’s a suitable donor too.”

Zena struggled, her wrists clamped together in durasteel fingers while another metal arm wound around her waist and snatched her from the ground. Grogu let out a distressed screech, little hands reaching towards her. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, Mama’s not gonna leave you.” She whispered, trying to comfort him as they were rocketed into the sky. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
The looming Imperial light cruiser they were being taken to was very, very much not okay. She craned her neck at the ground below, just in time to see the Razor Crest shot to pieces. “DIN!” she screeched, kicking her feet in a sudden blind desperation. Another ship, a funny shaped one she didn’t recognize, was following in a loose pursuit, and hung back as they were taken into the Imperial cruiser.

She had to pray Din was on that ship. She had to pray he was anywhere but inside the Crest when it blew. And she had to keep her head and wits about her to guarantee that Grogu survived.

Din walked the wreckage of the Razor Crest quietly, stomach wrapped in knots. It was gone… they were gone. He had no way off this rock to try to save them, and nothing to his name but…

He spotted the glint of Grogu’s favorite ball and pocketed it slowly, thinking of the happy giggles every time he pulled it from Din’s hand with the force and clutched it close. How sweet the little guy was, sitting in Zena’s lap and making her feed him by hand when he was perfectly capable of using a spoon himself.

In the ash he spotted the corner of Zena’s foot locker and pulled it up, surprised to find it mostly in one piece. He’d expected it to be scrap, honestly… it still looked like a box. The Alliance had done a better job of construction than he’d realized. He knelt, flipping it open.

The same holo projector he’d already been allowed to look through was okay, but her old uniform had been damaged when the side of the locker was rent open. He dug around, fingers finally brushing her beads, and pulled them out and tucked them and the holoprojector into his pocket. He’d find her, somehow, and take these back to her.

Boba Fett and Fennec Shand looked somewhat sympathetically as he picked up the beskar spear he’d gotten from Corvus and brushed it off. “This is all that survived.” Din murmured.

Boba nodded. “Beskar. It’s strong.” He murmured, patting his chest plate. He thought himself fortunate he’d gotten to his armor before the Crest had been turned into scrap. “Here. Fennec found this at the stones.” He had Zena’s lightsaber in his hand. “This doesn’t belong with Imperials.”

Din nodded, taking a deep breath, looking at the other man’s armor. “Our deal is complete, then…”

“Not quite.” Boba jerked his chin up. “I agreed the child and woman would be safe.”

“They’re gone.” Din said, a little more bitterly than he wanted to. “Taken… my foundling and my … ner kart’a.”

Boba clapped him on the shoulder. “Until they are returned to you safely, we are in your debt. The Empire will never know what’s coming.”

A little spark of hope bloomed in Din’s chest. “Then I need to get help… we can't hope to get them back alone.”

Boba and Fennec nodded. “Where first?” The sniper smiled a little.

“Nevarro. I’ve got a friend in the marshal and magistrate there, for starters.”

“Let’s get going then.” Boba smirked.

Zena had Grogu wrapped around her ankle, both of them slinging white armored stormtroopers across the room like they were made of nothing but smoke. “I’ve warned you.” She hissed “Stay away from him.”

Either they were deaf or stupid, but they kept coming. Even when she held a hand up and choked one, bringing him off the ground as he made pitiful noises and kicked. Grogu had the other one, and they slammed them together like they’d practiced the maneuver. Zena was breathing heavily, Grogu trying not to fall off from clinging to her boot, when Moff Gideon walked in.

He smirked darkly. “You’re getting good at that.” He looked at the baby. “But it makes you oh so sleepy.” He purred the last. Zena slid her leg back to get him away from the man.

“Leave him alone, you coward.” She hissed.

He eyed her up and down, a bemused smile on his lips. “I’ve always thought about what I’d do if I met a Jedi.” he murmured. “I always assumed I’d kill you, but you’ve become of interest to me. The child’s blood is valuable, and you… ” he smiled. “Well, if you don’t have a high enough count for experimentation, you’d make a good tool to keep the child in line. Or target practice, if you become troublesome.

“Do you keep layering threats because you know you’re a cheap imitation of something really frightening? I’ve met Vader, you’re nothing.” Her eyes were cold as Hoth and hard as beskar.

“Is that so?” He drew a hilt from his belt and ignited a lightsaber, the blade oddly shaped and a strange black light. Her eyes widened with faint confusion and horror. “And you’re unarmed, Miss Kenobi. Where’s your saber? Isn’t a saber a Jedi’s life?”

She hissed, pushing Grogu further back away from him. “You don’t deserve to wield one. That’s an honorable weapon in your filthy hands.”

“Didn’t a lightsaber kill the younglings in your precious Temple?” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re not afraid of them…”

She didn’t flinch when he leaned in, the saber perilously close to her face. Instead, she smiled faintly. “My father protected me from Vader. Now I’ll protect my son from you.” She murmured, pushing a hand out and sending him flying into the wall. “The Mandalorian will come for us, Moff. I can’t wait to see what he does to you when he catches you. You’ll wish I had my lightsaber.”
“Stun them.” Gideon hissed. Zena tried to step back again, but a blue pulse hit them both squarely, sending both her and Grogu to the floor. The child clung to her leg, her head having struck the floor and a trickle of blood running from her eyebrow. “Shackle them, and put them on opposite sides of the room.” He righted himself aggressively, storming out. The Jedi had always been the enemy of the Empire… so seeing them suffer was going to be a delight.

Chapter 18: Chapter Seventeen: I Know, I Know

Chapter Text

Migs Mayfeld stared blankly at the shiny visor in front of him, standing next to a New Republic marshal with her hands on her hips. “Mando… hi.”

Din stared at the prisoner from the Kothan Chop fields, very different from the haughty sniper he’d once met. “Mayfeld.”

“Did you come all the way out here to kill me?”

“I need your help.” Din was standing on the ramp of the Slave 1, arms quietly crossed. He was trying not to crumple. Mayfeld couldn’t see his face, feeling the brunt of what he thought was a cold stare from the Mandalorian. It made him uneasy, aching to not be on the receiving end of the warriors' anger again. But under the helmet, Din Djarin was the furthest thing in the galaxy from hardened and composed at the moment.

“The Empire has his kid, and his girl.” Cara said mildly, trying not to look like she was worried sick over Zena too.

“You need my help… to get back the little green guy and the crazy chick who put a gun to my head?”

Cara looked at Din. “She put a gun to his head?”

“He tried to take off my helmet.”

Cara grinned. “That’s almost romantic.”

Din didn’t say anything, wrestling with the admission.

Zena and Grogu were gone.

He knew his eyes were red-rimmed, he could feel the salt stinging them from where they’d welled up against his will and left streaks of wet against his cheeks. His cowl caught the evidence before anyone could see, and years of practice had made him good at sitting still and keeping his breathing steady even when he wanted to sob.

But more than his sorrow and fear for what was happening to his little clan, Din was angry. His blood had boiled the moment Boba Fett gave him the least little hope to knock the despair out of his head. He’d sat in the hold in the Slave One with his beskar spear, hands shaking as he took his gloves off and ran his fingers over the hilt of Zena’s lightsaber. Not with fear, but a fury hot enough to burn every planet between Nevarro and the Inner Rim to ash and scatter them into a new nebula of hopeless gray.

They'd taken his clan. His son and the woman he would marry. Aliit ori’shya tal’din.

He was going to rip that Imp bastard Moff Gideon apart with his bare hands.

“Come on, cyar’ika. Try.” He sat cross legged on the floor of the hold with Zena, watching her. “I want to teach you.” It’d been a month since the cantina, and the open affection between them was still mind-blowing to Din. That this pretty woman had really chosen to love him, to know him, to stay with him despite the constant danger they were in.

Her nose wrinkled, that endearing little face she made when she was reluctant. “I’ll pronounce everything wrong and your ancestors will cry, Din.”

“You’re riding with a Mandalorian. You have to know some of this.” he chuckled. “Come on. Repeat after me. Aliit ori’shya tal’din.”

“Ahleet oreeshyah t-tal…”

“Tal’din.”

“Taldeen.”

Din laughed. “Not bad for a first time.”

“What did I just say?” She huffed. “Don’t laugh at me, I speak six languages!”

“You said ‘family is more than blood.’” He chuckled.

Her eyes softened, looking at him with a softness that made his chest seize up under his beskar. “I like that…”

“I thought you would.”

She giggled softly, crawling over the floor to kiss his helmet affectionately. “I love you, you know that?”

“You keep telling me.” but his arms twisted around to pull her into his lap, just so he could hold her. For the first time, he truly wished he could rip his helmet off to bury his face in the back of her neck in a casual moment. He couldn’t imagine living without the Creed as his guidance, but the idea of being unfettered from her… the idea of kissing her whenever he wanted and being able to see her face in the seconds before his lips crashed down on hers… There was too much between them, all the time, and he wanted her as close as he could have her.

Zena’s left eye was blacked, shackled to a wall as she looked at her terrified boy across the room. Grogu’s inky eyes were full of panicked tears and he was so tiny and cuffed and helpless looking… “Hey, we’re going to be okay.” She murmured. “You trust me, right?”

He sniffled, ears drooping. The storm troopers had been back, and she was predominately helpless. She could hold them off with the force for a bit, but eventually the exhaustion wore her down and then they crowded around to beat her while telling Grogu every time he misbehaved, they’d hurt her.

“Grogu, sweetheart.” She murmured, voice soft. “Look at me.”

He sniffled a little more but did look. She could feel the crescendo of guilt and fear threatening to sweep him away. Her sweet innocent boy, so sure this was his fault… He got that from his mama, didn’t he?

“This is not your fault, baby.” She murmured. “They chose to do bad things, and they tell you it’s your fault so you’ll be scared. They want you to be scared so you’ll do what they tell you, because they know how strong you really are.” Her smile stayed bright. “You’re a Mandalorian and a Jedi’s son. You understand? Remember what your dad said? Aliit ori’shya tal’din.”

Through the Force she felt the punchy pounding of the toddlers heart starting to slow down as he listened to her voice. She knew he was scared, he had to be, but he understood her.

“Your dad’s going to come get us. We just have to stay safe until then, and I promise I’m gonna do it. We gotta get back to him, right?”

Grogu cooed out an emphatic little squeak, enough to let her know he was paying attention. So she kept talking, keeping him distracted from the fear. She knew logically she should try to rest before the white-armored grunts came back to make her life a living hell, but Grogu fed on the energy all around and was wide awake. She couldn’t leave him to be afraid and alone. “When he comes to get us, we’ll start looking for a new ship. Somewhere with a real bedroom for you, how’s that sound? I’ll make you a mobile like the ones they had in the creche, do you remember them? The stars and comets that chased each other and glowed in the dark? And some storybooks, like the ones my dad used to read to me. I had some in my old apartment, I’ll find them again so I can read to you…” She smiled quietly as a little glimmer of his adorable teeth appeared in a smile. “And your dad can teach us more Mando’a, how’s that sound? Until he comes to get you, we’ll have a good time. And… When he does, we’ll find a way to stay in contact. Can you do that for me, darling?”

Obi-wan’s hand was warm in hers as he helped her off the speeder. “Where are we going, Dad?” She murmured.
“I want to show you something. It’s not… pleasant, but It’s something you need to see.” He said gently. She was only twelve, it killed him to take her to this broken place.

Zena looked up at him, eyes trusting, and squeezed his hand. “This is a lesson, isn’t it?”

“Yes… for both of us.” He led her down the sand dunes, to a place where broken tent pegs stuck out from being half-buried by sandstorms and the years. “Do you feel it?”

She frowned, reaching out nervously. She felt fear and death, many lives had ended in this spot and left a mark in the force here that the sands couldn’t cover. She knelt, placing her hands on the gritty, shifting ground.

Anger, hot as the suns and stronger than the sandstorms, swamped her. It was stomach-turning and aggressive, dragging her down into the moment. The smell of blood, the screams of Tuskans running fruitlessly as they were cut down by a humming lightsaber, women and children not even spared. Zena felt tears in her eyes, though she knew they were wasted water on Tattooine, and tried to rise past the rage.

But the longer she sat with fury, the more it crumbled and opened. Slowly, it revealed itself by another name. This was grief. This was a torturous pain, the kind for which there was no escape.
She opened her eyes slowly and looked at Obi-wan, who was watching her worriedly. “It was his mother…” She whispered. “They killed his mother.”

Obi-wan nodded. “I’m sorry you had to feel that… but I need you to understand. If you cannot forgive him, at least pity him.” He knelt beside her, wiping a curl from her face gently. In her eyes, he saw another padawan he’d loved and lost. That he’d failed… but he wouldn’t fail his daughter the same way.

She hugged him tightly around the waist, burying her face in his chest. “I-I think I can.... If… If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Obi-wan hugged her back just as tightly. “I need you to see, darling, what pain can do to you if you allow it… it’s alright to hurt and grieve. But if you let yourself think that others deserve to suffer because you have suffered, you are lost. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad…” She nodded into his chest.

“What are Jedi?” he smiled softy.
“Peacemakers…”

“And the first step to peace is forgiveness. Once you forgive, you can face the things that hurt you without fear, and your anger cannot take you from the darkness. Can you do that for me, darling?”

Morak. Din tried to tell himself he could handle whatever he needed to do to get his clan back. Sitting in an Imperial rhydonium transport, dressed in stolen Imp armor, next to Mayfeld… that hadn’t crossed his mind as a possibility.

It felt disgusting to wear the helmet of the Empire, to share a face with the army responsible for the Purge and the fractures in his peoples’ very culture… The Empire didn’t view wearing the same helmet as a mark of brotherhood, but he did. Zena once told him he was made of beskar and honor, with wonder in her eyes, and he’d never felt less like that assessment.

The Empire glassed Mandalore.

The Empire hunted Jedi.

The Emperor orchestrated the Clone Wars, which killed my parents.

The fist of the Empire, Darth Vader, killed Zena’s father.

He wanted to rip his skin off to get away from the idea that right now he looked like them.

He told himself it was for Grogu and Zena. That was the only acceptable reason to wear these bastards’ faces and colors. He’d be reunited with his family soon, let the child’s giggles and Zena’s soft touch soothe him while he held them both close. He felt like a nerve scraped raw and blistering, picked apart and never healing.

They’d successfully faked being a part of the mining operation, arriving as Imperial heroes with the only transport to survive the day after a siege of pirates and thermal detonators. Din had moved on instinct alone, trying to stay alive and look convincing, and now he was in a facility trying not to look like he was squirming with discomfort. And Mayfeld would not stop talking about how they were the same. It was sickening and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling there was some truth in the former snipers words. Everyone has lines they don’t cross until things get desperate. If you can get through the day and still sleep at night you’re doing better than most.

Mayfeld nudged him slightly. “Terminal’s in the mess.” he whispered.

That was right. They were here to use an imperial terminal to get the location Moff Gideon was, and where he would take Zena and Grogu. They were almost home free, he could get this sh*t off him…

Mayfeld stopped short, putting an arm out to stop him. “sh*t.” he hissed. “I can’t go in there.”

Din almost snarled. “What? Why?”

He pointed at a thin faced, older man in the corner. “That’s Valin Hess. He’s my former commanding officer, if he recognizes me I’m screwed.”

“I don’t know how to work the damn terminal.” Din hissed.

“It’s easy. But it requires a facial scan.” Mayfeld squirmed, looking at him nervously. He didn’t want to f*ck this up, he did kind of feel for the guy losing his kid and lady… who the hell knew what Moff Gideon would do to them?

“If we don’t do this, I’ll never see them again, Mayfeld.”

“I’ll watch your back, Mando, but you gotta go or we have to abort.”

Din took a deep breath, the inside of his brain a plasterboard of curses in Basic and Mando’a that would make a Hutt blush. “f*cking fine. Give me the data stick.”

He steadied himself and stepped slowly into the mess hall, heading for the terminal. Maybe he wouldn’t need the facial scan… it could be older, or broken…

No such luck was with him today, as he tried twice to scan the helmet. Once more and it would set off an alert… He’d lose the chance, lose his cover.

Lose the chance to see them again.

He dragged the Imp helmet off his face, staring in startled confusion at his own reflection in the terminal screen. He was standing in plain view of all these troopers. Of Mayfeld. Of Valin Hess… they could all see his face.

He was dar’manda, no longer Mandalorian. One who’d lost his very soul. One who’d broken the Creed… This was the worst thing that could have happened to him, he’d spent his entire life being told a moment like this was the end of everything that made him who he was. He’d just thrown his chance at the afterlife of The Way away…

“What would you do?” His own voice, without the modulator, his chin over her shoulder, the galaxy imprinted across her back in a room too bright for him to be bare here. His trust in her keeping her eyes closed as she snuggled into him.

“I think I’d.. have to think. For a long time. If this life held something I wanted more, I’d take the helmet off. But if I wanted that afterlife more…”

Din narrowed on the memory instead of the dishonor of the broken Creed. No. He wanted them more. More than anything. If it meant being only a man instead of a Mandalorian, he’d learn a new Way to live by, if it meant they were safe. They were his Way.

He quickly swiped through the information on the terminal, trying to hurry. He heard Hess behind him, calling out for him to stop. The commander was suspicious of him, of his awkward movements around the mess hall and the way he’d tried to scan the damn helmet.

Before he could get away, Hess had reached him and was asking him for a TK number. Din blinked, keeping his face impassive as he tried to figure out how many digits they were supposed to have so he could make something up.

“Sorry sir, he’s hard of hearing since his ship lost pressure. You’ll have to speak up with him..” Mayfeld was suddenly standing beside him, covering for him casually with a fake number and supplying his own as well. Hess chuckled, immediately soothed, as Mayfeld referenced operations Din didn’t know sh*t about and called him Browneyes like they’d been friends for years.

Mayfeld had missed his calling in Coruscanti theatre.

Against both their will but with too much to lose to refuse, Hess led them back to his table and poured them a drink, chatting darkly. Din listened, eyes on the table, practically radiating shame but trying not to look like it.

Dar’manda was bad enough, but… it was supposed to be Zena. She should have seen him first. He’d told her he wanted it to be her if he ever took it off, back on Trask. If it was her, maybe this wouldn’t feel so f*cking filthy. He could hold her sweet little face between his hands and watch her reaction to his face, and hope she liked what she saw.

He snapped back to attention when he heard Mayfeld’s voice sharpening a little. Hess was discussing something called Operation Cinder, and judging by the conversation it had been a very bloody campaign. And Hess was laughing about it, both about the dead civilians and his own Imperial soldiers. Careless, cruel, sickening…

And then he was none of those things, because Mayfeld shot him with extreme prejudice.

Din started at him a second.

“We all gotta sleep at night.” he handed Din the helmet. “You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” Mayfeld shrugged, before the two of them were taking on the whole damn base.

She’d felt Alderaan when it happened. The ripple, as millions of souls cried out in terror and then faded instantly into the Force, had left her shaky and sweating in her tiny cardboard box of an apartment on Corellia. She’d nearly run over a floormate in her rush to get to the shared fresher down the hall to throw up. It had been awful, and haunted her dreams.

But it was nothing compared to this.

Zena was on stage, wearing sinfully high heels and almost nothing else, watching her credit chit ding as skeevy dockhands tried to outbid each other on who would get a private table dance. She ran her fingers through her dyed blue hair, down to her ass and longer than the tiny shorts she was wearing. She was laughing, giving the men a fantasy that they were willing to pay credits for.

And then it struck. The Force itself hit her like a charging mudhorn, sending her from the top of the bar to the slightly sticky floor behind it, gasping for air. It ripped the air from her lungs, crushed her heart like hands had reached into her ribcage.

“D-dad…” she gasped, watching like she was underwater as a hand reached up towards the blacklight ceiling. Her hand.. Was that her hand? Her nail polish glowed in the dark, bright and tacky, desperate to hold onto something. People were leaning over her, asking if she was alright. The bouncer was checking to see if her drink was spiked, and she lay there on the floor in almost no clothes and a screaming hole in her very being.

He couldn’t be dead.

The bartender picked her up, but she couldn’t see his face. Her eyes were blurry with tears and she couldn’t breathe, she stumbled out the back where the dancers got dressed and shoved a door open, crashing into garbage cans to hold herself up as the silent, drowning bubble burst. She could hear screaming, it was her own screaming, her throat raw. She tasted blood. Her knees were skinned bloody when she dropped to the rough duracrete back alley ground and just let it go, screaming inconsolably.

She’d been running from Obi-wan Kenobi for years, and in a split second she was desperate to be running back to him. And there was nowhere in the galaxy she could go to get to him.

Her Dad was dead. And his return to the force pulled the light out of the stars, leaving her alone in the darkness.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, please don’t leave me… Please, I’ll come back home…” She sobbed when her screaming broke. She didn’t care that the other dancers were watching her break down next to a trash can in an alleyway. She didn’t care that the Empire would hunt her down when she turned and snatched her hand to the side, yanking the open back door of the bar closed with the Force and hearing the surprised squeals of other strippers and staff.

Anger burned in the place her heart had been when she got to her feet, wobbling on her platform heels. She had to get to the apartment… get her clothes and saber… and find the Rebellion.

Darth Vader was alive, and Obi-wan Kenobi was dead. The balance in the Force required her to rectify this mistake.

“Hey Typhe, you wanna play cards with us?” She wasn’t even sure she knew the name of this recruit grinning at her and waving the pack. Everyone looked the same on Hoth, with their white clothes and chattering teeth. “I heard you were from Tattooine, you any good at Sabacc?”

“I don’t really like card games.” She said quietly, eyes on her helmet as she cleaned it. She kept her hands busy, moving to exercise the desire to wrap them around the throat of everyone who talked to her and scream at them that the galaxy was destroyed now, and that there was no point in planning to rebuild. Just kill Vader and find somewhere to die, because the last thing in the galaxy she’d had to love was dead.

But that would be very unbecoming, considering she’d just made Major.

She nodded, turning away. “It’s fine. Have fun. I’m going to go double check my tauntaun.” She got up, mess hall noise fading behind her. Instead of heading where she said she’d be, she headed for the officers barracks and hoped no one would be standing around wanting to talk.

No such luck was ever in her favor, as she spotted the sunshiney face of Luke Skywalker. “Major!” he grinned. “Just the lady I was looking for.”

“Commander.” She said quietly. She’d been avoiding him around the base since he’d arrived, hoping if she could keep her face far enough away from him he wouldn’t recognize her. “How can I help you, sir?”

He smiled, warm as a spring day on Naboo. “Don’t act like you don’t know me, Zenaria. It’s me, Luke.”

f*ck. She pushed a fake smile, hollow eyes ruining the facade. “I know your name, sir. I-”

Luke put a hand on her shoulder. “I was with him. Your dad.” he said quietly. “When it happened. Can we talk…?”

Zena squeezed her eyes shut, resolve crumbling. He could have said anything else and she’d have kept pretending. But this… “He was brave, wasn’t he?” She whispered.”

“The bravest man I’ve ever met, Zenaria. Come sit with me, let’s talk.”

She let him lead her to his bunk, and she sat beside him on the bed. “I’m sorry, Luke. I… never meant to be awful to you.” she whispered. “It just… hurt.” She looked up. “How did my father die?”

He could imagine his own face not long ago, asking her father the same question.

“Vader.” he murmured quietly. “He struck him down… to give me a chance to escape. It… there was no blood or body. He just vanished…”

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I have to destroy Vader.” She whispered. “I’m sorry Luke, but.. I hate him. I hate him so much…” She crumbled, sobbing into her hands and doubling over. “I should have been there! I could have done something!” Her fingers twined into her hair, yanking.

Luke’s heart broke a little. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry… come here. Don’t cry, Zenaria…” his arms pulled her tight. “Don’t say you hate him… hate is what made him like that. That’s what your dad said…”

She looked up at him, wiping her cheeks weakly. “You’re getting wise…”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, your dad did help.”

She nodded. “Jedi are wise.”

“You knew?”

Zena smiled weakly and opened the pouch on her hip, showing him her lightsaber. “It’s hard not to, when he was my master too.”

Endor might have been a pretty, fun planet if it didn’t have a damn Imperial nightmare so damn close. Zena landed her X-wing, looking around nervously. “Luke?!”

There a faint sound behind her. “Zenaria?”

She took off after the voice, stomach lurching. She’d felt it, the Dark side swelling with strength and horror before it went suddenly flat. Luke couldn’t have been corrupted…

She found him cutting wood with his saber, a huddled figure in black beside him. She pulled up sharp, eyes wide. Vader.

Everything in her screamed to run like she was a terrified youngling again. “Luke, get ba-”

“He’s dead, Zenaria. My father is dead.” He said quietly. “But before he died, I met him. Anakin, not Vader.”

She closed her eyes. “So you finally know the truth…”

“You knew he was my father.” He wasn’t asking.

Zena nodded. “I was there the day you were born. You and your sister.”

He stared at her. “Does everyone know more about me than me?”

She sighed and drew her saber. “You’re building a funeral pyre, right? Let… let me help you.”

They cut wood and stacked it quietly before laying Vaders body out. Zena watched the pyre go up, staring at her monster. Her nightmare. Her father’s best friend… and his murderer.

“I’m sorry.” Luke murmured. “My father took yours away from you.”

“We are not our fathers. You have nothing to apologize for.” Zena whispered. “My father was a better man than I will ever be. And you are a better one than your father was…”

Luke reached for her hand. “Come with me, Zenaria. We can rebuild the temple, we can bring the Jedi back better than they were. The galaxy needs them.”

“I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t… I can’t do that. I need to go… What I was hoping for, you’’ve accomplished.” she murmured, taking a step back. Then another, until she was full out running to her X-wing with Luke’s voice calling out behind her.

“Zenaria! Wait!”

Grogu made a pitiful sound of distress as stormtroopers dragged Zena off the wall she’d been shackled to. She struggled against them, expecting more violence, but instead they just seemed insistent that she kneel.

Moff Gideon’s irritatingly smug face walked in the room. “Miss Kenobi.” he chuckled quietly. “Or do you prefer Typhe? Does it only matter when you know what you’re running from?”

She steeled herself and rolled her eyes. “I’m done running, Gideon. You think you scare me, but you don’t.”

He chuckled. “That’s why I’m going to let you leave. No strings attached, you just walk out to the life pods, and make your way back to your bounty hunter. You should be thrilled.

She stared at him. “I’m not leaving without my son.” she said coldly.

“The asset isn’t your son.” he chuckled. “I mean, look. He’s green. You’re human. So just get up and walk out of here, and live your happily ever after with the Mandalorian.”

Zena looked over at Grogu, whose little ears were drooping and chin trembling. She saw was Gideon was doing, separating them and letting the child believe he’d been abandoned. He was trying to break the boy's spirit… “You make me sick.” She turned back to the Imp with a faint smile. “You’ll have to kill me before I leave him with you. That is my son.”

He seized her by the hair and dragged her half to her feet, troopers cuffing her again. “Killing you can be arranged, Jedi.”

He dragged her to the bridge, ready to make an example of her and seething with rage. Behind her, Grogu was loudly screaming until the door closed.
Before Gideon could do anything more than throw Zena to her knees, a communications officer walked in. “Sir, you’ll want to see this.”

Her eyes brightened when she heard a low and familiar voice through a modulator. A familiar helmet of shining beskar appeared as well, looking murderous.

“Moff Gideon. You have something I want. You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, they will be back with me. They mean more to me than you will ever know.”

Gideon stared at the comm unit, then looked at the Jedi smirking around her bruised and busted lip. “I told you he would come, Imperial.” She purred. “Aliit ori’shya tal’din.”

Chapter 19: Chapter Eighteen: But All The Pieces Fall Apart

Chapter Text

Ducking into a dark little tavern with Boba Fett, Din scanned for a familiar shock of red hair. He needed Bo-Katan’s help if he was getting his family back, as much as he knew it would probably piss Zena off.

Koska was with her, and turned around. “Come to join us?” She chuckled, eying him before looking at Boba.

“I need your help.” Din said flatly. There was no getting around it.

“Not every Mandalorian is a bounty hunter.” Bo-Katan looked up, eyebrow co*cked. Now he definitely understood why Zena had punched her when she first saw it, it was infuriating. “Some of us serve a higher purpose.”

“They have Zena and the kid.”

The other eyebrow raised on the woman’s face. “They?”

“Moff Gideon.”

Bo-Katan’s expression faltered. “You’ll never find them.” She turned to sit back down, and for a moment she looked actually sorrowful. “I’m sorry.”

“I have his coordinates. He has a light cruiser, it could be useful in your campaign to retake Mandalore.” Din pressed. If he knew anything about the redhead, it was that she’d do anything if she thought it would get her that throne. He had to use that to his advantage.

Boba’s helmet twisted around. “Mandalore? The Empire blasted the planet to glass.”

Koska and Bo-Katan both stiffened. “You are not Mandalorian.” The redhead snarled. “You don’t deserve to wear that armor.”

“This armor was my fathers.”

“You mean your donor?” SHe smirked. “You’re a clone. I’ve heard your voice thousands of times.”

“Mine might be the last one you ever hear, princess.”

Din wanted to scream when Koska threw a punch and it turned into a bar room brawl. They didn’t have time for this sh*t! He sidestepped while she and Boba slung each other around, quite impressively. Even Bo-Katan blinked a moment at how well Boba held his own before looking up at Din. His fists were clenched and he looked about ready to just shoot them all and try this his damn self…

Maybe she should intervene.

“That’s enough from both of you!” She grabbed Koska by the jetpack and hauled them apart. “If we’d shown half that spine to the Empire we never would have lost our planet!”

Boba shrugged, unfazed by the fight. Koska looked somewhat chastened.

“We’ll help you.” Bo-Katan looked at Din. “And we’ll take the cruiser. But Moff Gideon is mine, he has something that once belonged to me and I intend to get it back. With the Darksaber back in my possession, Mandalore will be within reach.”

Din nodded. “Take whatever you want. I just want the kid and the Jedi.”

The entry plan had not been without a hitch. They’d faked being an imperial cruiser in distress, with Boba in pursuit, and nearly killed themselves landing in a launch tube that actively had TIE fighters coming out of it. But Din’s newly minted gang of terrifying women marched out and cleared the hangar. Din followed, heading for the cargo bay. The droid Dark Troopers were in cold storage there, he had to lock them in before they wiped the floor with his little rescue team.

He technically made it before one got out, but the metal bastard wrenched open blast doors and came after him. His blasters glanced off the droid's armor uselessly and it seized him and slammed him into the wall. Din’s head was already ringing when the metal fist slammed into the front of his helmet, slamming him into the wall and leaving a dent as the durasteel gave to the beskar. Eventually his visor would give out and his head would be crushed…

He was too close to die now.

He managed to get an arm up and hit the droid with his flamethrower, which only succeeded in making the damn thing look more terrifying while it’s internal components sizzled and lit up.

The droid threw him across the floor with a clatter and he lost his blaster in the slide. He shot off his last round of Whistling Birds, damaging the droid a little but not enough. In desperation his fingers wrapped around the beskar spear and pulled it up.

“It’s beautiful, you know.” Din was sitting on the floor of the hold looking at the spear when Zena walked in from putting the baby down for a nap, hands clasped behind her back. They’d be on Tython soon, he hadn’t gotten a lot of time to examine the beautiful weapon he’d gotten from Elsbeth. She knelt beside him, smiling. “I think it suits you.”

“You think so?” he chuckled.

“Sleek, strong, elegant.” She smiled. “Oh, and very shiny. Yeah, it suits you.”

“You’re going to be the snarkiest wife in the galaxy, aren’t you?”

“Would you want me any other way?” She ducked under the lifted spear and leaned back against his chest, putting her hands on the spear between his larger ones and holding it out in front of them. “You know, beskar is one of the few things that can resist a lightsaber.” She murmured, running her fingers over it’s smooth surface. “Kinda poetic. The symbols of your people and mine have done battle before and couldn’t destroy each other.”

Din slid his arms in a little more, so his hands were next to hers and he could feel the warmth of her skin through his gloves. “Imagine what they can do when they work together.”

Bolstered by the memory and idea she was so close, Din hauled off with the spear and started working as hard as he could to disable it. The other ones still in the storage room were punching at the doors with all their might, and if they broke out the whole mission was doomed.
Din finally got the spear into the blasted thing’s neck and broke out the components, turning it into scrap. Then he managed to hit the airlock and jettison the rest of the Dark Trooper platoon into space.

Everything hurt and he groaned faintly as he got himself back in motion. Get Zena, get Grogu, get the hell out of here. He headed for the next locked room and waited for the door to slide open.

No!

Zena was huddled over Grogu, holding him tight. Both their hands were cuffed, and even from across the room Din could see the bruises all over the blonde woman. Her head was bowed, forehead resting against Grogu’s little green one, whispering something to him. The child looked up and cooed, prompting the woman’s blue eyes to lift and met Din’s visor.

She would have smiled, if not for Moff Gideon standing over her and the boy, holding his saber over their head. “Drop the blaster.” The Imperial said quietly. “Slowly.”

“I’m just here for them.” Din raised his hands non threateningly. “Let them go.”

“They’re fine where they are. Blaster, down.”

Din set the blaster on the floor, and when Gideon demanded it he kicked it over to him. Zena watched, expression stricken and stressed. Grogu clutched her thumb, blinking nervously up at her.

“I know you are travelling with Bo-Katan. Just assume I know everything.” Gideon said coldly. “But now those murderous savages have killed everyone on the bridge and when they discovered I’m not there they’ve begun to panic. You see, she wants this.” He brandished the saber, eyes bright. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? The Darksaber… whoever wields it has the right to claim the throne of Mandalore. Without it, she’s just a pretender.”

“Keep it.” Din shrugged. “I want the woman and the kid.”

“I’ve already gotten what I wanted from them. Their blood, that’s all I wanted was to study their blood. They are uniquely gifted in a way that might at last bring order back to the galaxy. It’s a pity Miss Kenobi doesn’t seem to recognize what she could do for the Empire. Take them.”

Zena squeezed Grogu a little tighter, eyes sharpening to look up at him as Gideon turned off the Darksaber. He was… letting them go?

No, his eyes were too hungry. She looked at Din, then down at her hands and they twitched, like she was signing to Tuskans. He walked across the floor slowly.

T-

She couldn’t tell if his eyes were on her hands or her face, but she couldn’t risk tipping Gideon off.

R-

Grogu whined softly as Din got close, turning his head to look at Gideon. The Imperial was backing up, away from them. It was a graceless retreat. “You take them and we go our separate ways. Nothing else.” he said firmly. Din looked back at Zena.

A-

“Yes.” he knelt to take Grogu from her hands.

P-

“DIN!” Zena yelped as the darksaber hummed to life and came swinging down towards the Mandalorian’s back. But he’d seen her hands, and had the beskar spear out before Gideon could reach him. The blade dinged off the beskar, and Din kicked Gideon in the stomach and sent him flying out of the room.

Zena was panicking in every way as he took after the Imp, scooping Grogu to her chest and half crawling around the corner to watch while shielding the baby to her chest. The Darksaber cut deep rents into the durasteel wall as Din parried with the spear, his beskar catching the blade when the Moff got bold. She could see the spear turning red hot when they locked together. Gideon wasn’t Force Sensitive, couldn’t feel the kyber crystal, but he wasn’t a bad duelist.

Din glanced up, seeing those blue eyes of hers peeking around and terrified. He hauled off with everything in him and twisted the spear, knocking the Darksaber from Moff Gideon’s hands and sending him on the ground, spear tip at his throat.
“You’re letting me live.” The Imperial sounded surprised.

“I have to set a good example for my kid.” Din huffed. Zena wobbled over and Din rid her of her cuffs, putting them on Gideon. While he was securing them, she held Grogu in one arm and crouched, picking up the Darksaber from the floor.

“Zen?” He murmured as she stood up again, magnetizing Gideon to the wall. “You okay?” He finally got a proper look at her abused face, and he wanted to strangle the unarmed man behind him. The bruises and blood were bad enough, but the tears… his sweet, gentle Zena had cried… “I can still kill him, Zen.”
She blinked, then chuckled weakly and took three wobbly steps, colliding into his chest. Grogu cooed worriedly. “I knew you’d find us.” Zena breathed. “Told you, didn’t I bub? Just had to hold it together until your Dad got here.”

Din pressed her into his chest, helmet on top of hers. “Come on, let’s get to the bridge. It’s almost over, cyar’ika. Can you walk on your own?”

She nodded. “Y-yeah…” When he pulled away, he pressed the hilt of her lightsaber into her free hand. “You dropped this.”

She smiled a little. A Mandalorian handing a dropped lightsaber back to a Kenobi… she’d heard this story before. She offered him the Darksaber. “You should carry this one then. I’m out of hands.”

He nodded, grabbing Gideon roughly and pressing the activator on the Darksaber. “If you so much as twitch wrong I’ll give my son a lesson on decapitation. Understand?”
Moff Gideon had no choice but to be hauled to the bridge, with an angry Mandalorian holding his cuffs and a smug Jedi cradling a baby walking on the other side of the beskar body.

Zena regarded him with a sideways glance. “I told you you’d wish I’d had my lightsaber.” She finally murmured. “But he looks good holding one. Don’t you think?”

Bo-Katan was stiff-limbed on the bridge, searching every security feed for Moff Gideon when the blast doors opened behind her. Koska, Fennec, and Cara all pointed guns at the open door until they spotted Din behind the captured Imp, and Zena right behind. Din shoved Gideon to Cara, and she all but gave a feral purr.

“You captured him alive. The New Republic just paid double.” She grinned

“What the hell is this?!” Bo-Katan’s voice was reedy, threatening to splinter.

Zena’s head whipped around to look up at her. “Some welcoming committee.” She muttered as Din sat her down in an officer’s chair and smoothed her hair back from her face.

“What’s the problem, Bo-Katan?” Din looked up. “You said he was yours. I brought him to you.”

Moff Gideon started laughing. “Oh, it’s not me she wanted. It’s that.” He nodded towards the Darksaber. “Which is now yours.”

Din held it out to the redhead. “No. It’s hers.”

Bo-Katan wouldn’t look at it, eyes narrowed on the floor.

“She can’t take it, unless she defeats you in combat.” Gideon was gleeful, sitting on the floor and watching the madness. “You could probably kill him, he is pretty tired right now. Or just shoot the Jedi, he’ll get sloppy and make a mistake.”

Bo-Katan turned around as Din growled. “Take it, Bo-Katan. I yield.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Unless she wins it, she’s just a pretender on the throne. It’s not the sword, it’s the story.” Gideon smirked.

Zena turned her chair casually and planted her boot as hard as she could in his face, bloodying his nose. “Do shut up, won’t you?”

“Nice one, Typhe.” Cara grinned.

Zena turned her chair the rest of the way around and looked at Bo-Katan thoughtfully, then at Din. If the sword was the legitimacy of a claim to the throne… then that made Din Manda’lor… Holy crap. A faint smile curled her lips. Dad would have taken me to Mandalore to rule it with Satine… I might still get to.

Grogu climbed into her lap and frowned as an alarm went off. “What’s that?” Koska hissed.

Fennec looked at a screen. “We’re being boarded.”

“How many life forms?” Bo-Katan reached for her helmet, glad to have something to shoot to take her fury out on

“None. It’s the Dark Troopers.”

Everyone swore. “Seal the blast doors.” Cara growled, posting up with her gun up and lining up with the other three rescue party women.

Zena tucked Grogu on the floor carefully and pulled out her saber, planting her feet and getting into the time honored pose with her two fingers stretched out.

Gideon wiped blood from his nose casually. “You had a hard enough time with one. I can’t wait to see how you’ll do with a whole platoon… you’ll fight valiantly but we all know there will be no one in the room left alive but me and the child.

“I’m beginning to think you might be the only body I won’t mind seeing on the floor.” Zena hissed, everyone stiffening as the thud of Dark Trooper boots came down the call. Then the heavy booming thud of metal fists hit the blast doors in creepy, rhythmic succession.

Grogu whimpered behind Zena a split second before Moff Gideon was on his feet with a blaster he’d somehow managed to find and conceal with his cloak, taking aim at Bo-Katan. Her armor absorbed the fire but she swore and jerked back. Din went after Gideon, just in time for the Imp to turn his blaster towards Grogu.

Zena’s instincts went haywire and she was dropping back and low, throwing herself in front of the frightened child. There was no thought, only the screaming parental urge to keep her baby safe.

Halfway across the room, Din’s world narrowed to the barrel of the Imps blaster and his Jedi’s unarmored body on the receiving end of a bolt of red plasma. He jumped, sliding, feeling the shots strike hard along his beskar. One barely missed his neck, and he heard a yelp behind him. Koska and Cara pinned Gideon between their weapons, and before they could fire he was pointing the muzzle of the gun up under his chin.

Cara punched his lights out and dropped him to the floor. “Should have done that earlier.”

Din took a breath, the steady roar of adrenaline still building with every slam of Dark Trooper fists on the door. “You okay?” he murmured, rolling on his side to look up at Zena.

She had her arms tight around Grogu, turned half to the side. Blood ran steadily from a wound in her upper left arm, but she didn’t seem to notice it yet. “Y-yeah… we’re okay. Right, bub?”
Grogu cooed and pointed at the screen behind him, both the child and woman’s expressions relaxing suddenly.

“What is it?” Din murmured, getting up onto his knees to put his arms around them.

Grogu pointed at the launch tube camera as an X-Wing boarded.

Cara huffed. “One X-Wing. We’re saved.” her sarcasm bubbled bitterly in the Force, but it didn’t distract Zena or Grogu.

“He’s here.” Zena whispered to the baby in her arms. “It’s time.”

“Who’s here?” Din frowned. “Zen?”

“Watch.” She whispered, riveted to the screen. A figure in a black cloak got out of the X-Wing and started moving like a wraith through the ship. When they encountered the first of the Dark Troopers, they drew a light saber and fluidly cut them down.

“A Jedi?” Din whispered, sudden understanding weighing heavy on him. The Seeing Stone on Tython… a Jedi had sensed Grogu and come for him.

They had to let their boy go.

Zena looked at him, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his. “It’s time.” She repeated, a sorrowful look in her eyes, and his stomach lurched again. Was… she going to leave too?

They stood as the Jedi on the screen cut the Dark Troopers to ribbons almost effortlessly. “Open the doors.” Zena murmured.

“Are you insane?” Fennec stared at her. Din leaned over, hand still on the small of her back and Grogu in her arms, and opened them himself.

His saber is green now.