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Chapter Text

  Echo hadn't heard her real name in years- in fact, it had been so long since she had heard the foreign words, she wondered if she even remembered them at all. In the outer-rim worlds, there was no need for a name; a name meant nothing. You were just a nameless face, either dead or alive... so nicknames became the new identification. But Echo remembered- it was hard not to. She had heard it so many times from passing bounty hunters who tried so desperately to put a face to the runaway girl, the girl with a price of a million credits looming above her head like a bad omen. It was- 

  "Two Breaths of Heaven, darlin'," A plump little man said, interrupting her train of thought, lowering the canteen she had been drying in an idle state. "Oh- and I suppose I'll order a drink too"

  The man cackled at his own joke and threw his head over to a tall and lanky man beside him, who Echo assumed was his companion. The two men were almost identical- spare their rather different body proportions- with greasy hair slicked back against their scalp, reddened and sun-scarred cheeks, and they both carried a putrid smell of sweat that made Echo scrunch up her nose at the awful scent. The fat little toad of a man had a pudgy nose that twitched as he stared at Echo, and his friend was silent, watching her every move as she plucked two glasses off the shelf below her. 

  "Funny" Echo remarked in a short tone. The tall man clicked his tongue, finally, in a disapproving sort of way. 

  "Hard days work and all a fella wants is a drink, no need to be so rude- sweet thing" 

  Sweet thing. The name made her skin crawl with a nasty sensation like the very word was curdling the warm blood in her veins until it was fizzing with disgust. Any other remark she wouldn't have minded- living in a hive of criminals, she was used to bad-mouthing... but sweet thing? Echo wanted nothing more than to launch herself across the small countertop that separated her from the two men and throttle him. Instead, she plastered a tight smile across her face. 

  "Of course, you both must have had a terrible time out in the moisture farms" 

  Echo grasped a bubbling bottle of orange liquid off the shelf behind her, catching her reflection momentarily in the dusted glass as she uncorked it and poured out two healthy-sized shots. She pushed them toward the gonks, watching as they both necked the hot liquid without a thought- like it was second nature, and the alcoholic beverage was nothing but water. All of the men in Mos Eisley were the same; they hadn't touched a drop of real water in aeons, and instead supplemented it with a drink that clung to their breath and reddened their noses. The small man let out a large belch as he slammed the glass back onto the bartop, the other continued to stare at Echo, pin-sized eyes raking over every inch of her clothed body. 

  Deep breath, Echo, she told herself- though her fists balled under the countertop until her knuckles bled white. "That'll be twenty credits"

  The fat one slid the credits across the bar, depositing them into Echo's outstretched palm. He winked, his tongue poking between his lips and wetting the chapped skin- his friend was still silent. 

  "This is thirty credits," Echo said, flicking him back the ten-credit-piece. "I don't take over-payments"

  "It's just a little something extra, sweetheart, me and my friend are staying in town a few nights and- well- the company would be nice"

  Oh. Oh. 

  Echo knew she shouldn't be surprised; actually, she knew that it was probably what they had wanted from the moment they walked into the dingy little cantina. You're too pretty a girl for a place like this, her landlord would tell her often- only she didn't seem to agree with her. She hated the word pretty, it sounded...weak- like something you would call a pet or a small child. And  Echo was no small child. The only way she had survived for so long in such a deprived place as Mos Eisley was from her wits and instincts, and the added benefit of a sharp right hook when needed. Many of the local patrons knew not to overstay their welcome in the cantina, knew that one wrong word and she would have something to say about it- but these men weren't locals; they didn't know the unspoken rules of respect that Echo upheld. They had to learn. 

  "I'm awfully sorry," Echo said. "But I think you've gotten the wrong impression about what kinda girl I am" 

  "C'mon... perky thing like you don't get by just working in a cantina- you must have a side job, eh?" The skinny one drawled, reaching across and flicking the locks of her hair away from her chest. Echo's throat tightened and she reached out, softly grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from her body. He stared at her, intrigued. "Whaddya say? Thirty minutes back in our lodging?" 

  "I am not a prostitute" in a fast reaction, Echo's grip on his wrist tightened, bending the limb back. He let out a grunt, falling forward, his chest smacking into the bar. "I suggest you take the rest of your credits and go float yourself" 

  "Hey- you let go of him, missy!" The other man hollered, looking around the cantina in search of aid. However, the few people inside avoided his searching eyes, sinking further back into their seats or turning their heads to their friends. 

  "I'll let him go when you both promise to leave"  Her grip on him tightened, squeezing the frail bone tightly, as hard she could as the man shook in her grasp; he began to nod frantically, pleading for his release. In a spark of confidence, she thrust him further forward, his eyes level with her torso as he chanced to pull his face upward to stare at her, petrified. "Do you understand?"

  He was still nodding frantically and his friend had seized the back of his shirt, tugging limply, an attempt to free his companion. As though she was emptying the trash compactor after a busy night she released him carelessly, watching in amusement as he seized his buddy and hauled both of them out of the cantina in a mad rush. Echo smiled after them, her arms folded and eyebrows rose as she laughed to herself. 

  Perhaps she shouldn't have been so harsh, she could've been kind- consoling even, like the other women they had probably come across in their travels. But Echo knew you didn't survive in the outer-rim through tenderheartedness and being sweet, a fact she had learnt the hard way as an adolescent. How many years had it been now? Echo had almost lost count. She had only been little more than fifteen when she first arrived on Tatooine, but that seemed a lifetime ago... most likely because it was. Since then the Empire had fallen, and Echo had grown into a woman; an actual woman. It was a milestone she thought she would never achieve, half-expecting to never make it past her teens...but she was here, in the present, and that was all that mattered- her only driving force to keep pushing, to keep living and surviving... that was the dream, she supposed. Someday, in the future- in the far future... maybe she would be free. 

  Echo sighed and plucked the two empty glasses from in front of her, bending down to replace them on the lowest, darkest shelf- where she might clean them later, but would most probably forget. As her joints cracked and she settled her knees onto the sandstone floor, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in an old, rusted, pan settled far back. She looked worn and tired, dark eyes glaring back at her- almost indistinguishable from the shadows of the shelf. Her hair was falling around her face in dry, frizzy, curls, the single braid nestled deep within curling with sweat. Her brow was heavyset, her nose pinched and strong, and she looked old- not like an old woman, but like a woman who had seen things, done things, experienced things no person should in millennia. 

  Stars, she was tired. 

  SLAM.

  Her head smacked into the underside of the countertop, sending a horrid pain coursing through her skull and reverberating down into the nape of her neck as Echo tumbled back and fell on her ass, quite literally seeing stars blotting the corners of her vision. She groaned lowly, rubbing the spot she had hit with her hand, and looking up with squinted eyes to see a shadowy figure looming above her. A booming voiced echoed in the cantina. "You should watch yourself!" 

  Echo grumbled, not quite sure what she was saying herself, a jumble of curses and scolds melting together as she pulled herself to her feet with the help of a nearby mop bucket. Leaning against the bar she stared at the man across from her, who was staring back with a look of bemusement on his wide face. 

  "Go float yourself, Shabba, I was cleaning"

  Shabba was a giant of a man, almost twice as tall as Echo and so broad that he partially blocked the sunlight filtering in through slats in a nearby window. His skin was tanned and scarred from years of gruelling work, his head as bald as it was shining with sweat, and his arms and legs were the size of tree trunks- perfect to throw out the drunks before closing time. However, despite all of this, he was smiling, constantly; even when Echo wished he wasn't, he would always have a grin or a smirk playing on his lips beneath his bushy black moustache. 

  "Cleaning? Or staring at your reflection? I didn't realise you'd started to care about your appearance- ah!" 

  Echo smacked him around the shoulder with a rag, rolling her eyes as she dropped it to the surface she leant on and moved it lazily around. She didn't look at herself that often- vanity was something she had been taught to reject as a young girl. But she couldn't help the odd glance, the odd stare; a lot could change about a person in such a short amount of time, it would be stupid to deprive her of the privilege of at least knowing the map of her own face... even if it was covered in dirt and grime most of the time. 

  "Where have you been?" She asked, quickly steering the conversation. "You told me you'd be here first thing!" 

  "Ah, well- see... I... uh-"

  "You were hungover from last night?" Echo smirked, a single eyebrow quirked upward as she remembered the vivid picture of Shabba stumbling out of the cantina just before dawn. "I told you not to drink so much"

  "Actually... I was with Misty" Shabba admitted shyly, his hands ringing together. Echo shook her head and sighed. Misty was Shabba's on-again-off-again girlfriend, a tall woman with vibrant red hair that matched her painted, puckered lips. Echo had only been blessed with Misty's presence on a few, isolated, occasions, and from what she knew she was a sour, mean-faced, bitch- at least that was the nice way to put it. Of course, Echo would never admit this to Shabba. 

  "That's worse" 

  "You'd do well to get yourself, somebody, too, Ec- I'm sure there's plenty of moisture farmers looking for a young wife" Shabba flashed a smile- a dark, suspicious smile, on that Echo knew too well. 

  "I would rather sleep with the Womp Rats than get married off to a moisture farmer- could you imagine? Me?" She pulled a face of disgust, hands planted firmly on her hips. "They all still think the Empire are out to get them"

  "The Empires gone, Echo, I don't see why you're still hanging around- there are no more stormtroopers to stop you leaving," Shabba said. "You should go, catch the next transport to the core and go"

  Echo should have known this was coming. Shabba had been like a father to her, a mentor that took her under his wing when she first arrived on the sand-filled planet. He had taught her how to read, write- skills she had long forgotten- and most of all, how to handle herself. He had fed her, given her water and a bed to sleep in; Echo just couldn't understand why he wanted to get rid of her so badly, what was the point in leaving when her whole life, the one person she considered family, was here? She could have ended up anywhere, hurtling through the wide expanse of the Galaxy on any rock in any solar system, but she ended up on Shabba's- and for that, she was eternally grateful. Without Shabba, Echo knew she would be dead in a paupers grave. 

  "I can't, I have plans" Echo replied curtly. "Plans I really can't cancel" 

  "Oh yeah? What're those?" He asked, dimples shining through his cheeks.

  "I... have to go to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters"

  Shabba groaned. Echo pursed her lips. 

  "Echo you're smart!" The large man exclaimed. "You're the only person I know who can hack into the New Republic tech, it is freaky sometimes... that's gotta count for something, right?" 

  "Shabba, the only place that'll get me in the core worlds is a New Republic cell" Echo pointed out. "I'm happy here"

  Lie. It was a blatant lie- how could anybody be happy here? But Tattooine was safe, far out of the grasp of the New Republic and what was left of the Empire; warlords and mercenaries on a power trip from the collapse. It was hard enough evading the Bounty on her head, changing her chain code- her entire appearance... it was exhausting. Tatooine was the only place she had ever felt safe since she was a child, and stars did she need safe.  Shabba looked at her pointedly, scrutinising every feature of her face, seeking out something that might befall her lie. When he found nothing, though, he exhaled gruffly and tapped his hand on the bar. Echo poured him a drink and passed it over. 

   "One of these days I'll get you to leave" He hummed, taking a large swig and swallowing. Echo watched. "One of these days..." 

  "Then you'll have to force me to run away with a man- which will never happen"

  The door to the cantina slid open. Shabba and Echo turned. 

  Usually, new patrons weren't that big of a deal- they were normally farmers or traders, looking for a stop on their long journey through the dunes and ridges. On the odd occasion it was mercenaries, on the rare occasion it was criminals; but as Echo stared at the door to the cantina, she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at- criminal or mercenary. The man, or at least she assumed it was a man from his wide shoulders, was dressed entirely in reflective steel she knew instantly to be Beskar. His whole body was covered in the metal, even his head, which was encased in a chrome helmet with only a slit of black visor for visibility. Echo stared in wonder, only realising with each passing second that this person wasn't a mercenary or a criminal, it was-

  "A Mandalorian" Shabba breathed beside Echo, stealing the thought from her lips as she turned back to face him. Much like Echo, he was staring in amazement. "Dank Farrik..." 

  Echo couldn't help but let out a small laugh- Shabba must be imagining things. The Mandalorians died out shortly after the beginning of the Empire, torn apart by the war-the planet of Mandalore itself was now nothing but a fragile, unstable ball of rock hurtling through the Galaxy. So there was no way, no way in the name of the Maker himself, that one just strolled into their little cantina... surely. 

  "Shut up" Echo snapped, clipping Shabba by the ear. He flinched and looked at her. "He probably traded it with the Jawas" 

  "That's pure beskar, Echo- I don't think the Jawas would hand that over willingly" Shabba hissed. 

  Slap. Slap. Slap. 

  Their attention snapped upward to see the 'Mandalorian' strolling toward the bar, a sense of pride and casual demeanour in every step. Echo shot Shabba a look of warning, one telling him to shut his mouth, before turning back just in time to greet the bucket head as he drew to a stop. 

  "I'm looking for information"

  His voice was raspy, quiet, warped by the modulator built into the tin-can mask. It was deep and made Echo's chest thump with a heavy heart as she stared at him with a fixating look- a challenging look... and he stared right back, matching its intensity. 

  "Information about what?" She asked. "There isn't much to hand out these days" 

  "The Guild- the Bounty Guild" he elaborated, as though that much wasn't obvious. 

  "Haven't operated out of here since the Fall of the Empire, we got more womp rats than mercs nowadays" Shabba interjected with a shrug of his shoulders.  The Mando inclined his head towards the man. "You won't find anything here, friend" 

  "I'm not looking for other mercs, friend" The man fired back. "I need a job, and I was told I could find one here"

  "We don't get none, buddy, and I won't tell you again. You can thank Echo here, she's the reason why" Shabba smirked. "Scrambling any tracking fobs in the solar system, quite the business she has"

  Echo's heart stopped, sinking through her chest and into the pit of her stomach which turned icy cold as the Mandalorian glowered at her. Her throat was dry and hoarse, her cheeks reddening as she fought the urge to run- run somewhere far away from where he would never be able to find her. Her gaze slowly turned to Shabba, the reason her elicit business was now the knowledge of a mercenary... a bounty hunter. Nobody moved, not even the Mandalorian, until finally-

  "You can scramble a tracking fob?" He asked, curiosity lacing every syllable as it tumbled out of his mouth. "And it's a business?"

  "I don't do it often" Echo replied quickly. "Only for the young ones, the ones who are only wanted for theft- the ones who need it..." a brief pause again. "The good ones"

  "If they have a bounty, they're not good," he said. "You're naive to think so" 

  "You'd be surprised" Echo's hand absently strayed to her belt. "Look, I haven't had any in almost a year, so I don't know what you want us to do- your best bet is asking Calican" 

  Echo pointed over Shabba's shoulder at the young man lounging in the furthest booth, his eyes straying over the small huddle assembled around the bar. He was a handsome boy, younger than Echo but not by much, with a head of thick hair that was too shiny, to luscious, to originate from years on Tatooine. He was from the mid-rim, it was clear in the way he lounged with his feet on the table before him, his arms outstretched and cradling his head. More often than not, the few women in the bar stared at him, drooling from the corners of his mouth, but Echo knew he had been staring at her for the past few days; ever since he had mysteriously popped up not long ago. Even now he kept catching Echo's eyes, smirking to himself, before looking away and back to the blaster dangling loosely from his hand.  The Mando turned his head, giving the young person a quick once over, before looking back at Echo. She wished he would just leave, go over to Calican and leave... it was nerve-wracking, having a hunter so close. They always made her skin crawl, and she supposed that's why she did it... screwed with their fobs. Anybody who hunted down other people like they were animals deserved to be screwed with. 

  "Is he from the Guild?" The Mando asked again. Echo rolled her eyes. 

  "Beats me, I want nothing to do with your kind," She said coldly. 

  "Thank you" The Mandalorian murmured in that same deep, raspy, voice that made her body quake, dumping a dozen credits on the bar- no doubt for the 'information' she provided. She watched, intrigued, as he whipped his the cloak that dangled from his pauldrons and set off at a firm pace towards Calican, leaving her to stare after him in the absence of Shabba, who had seemingly scampered off to the vacc during the heated conversation. 

  "You're welcome" Echo gritted out through a clenched jaw, her fingers tightening around the bar. A grim smile overcame her face, knowing that she had lied to a bounty hunter- let alone a Mandalorian. There weren't any bounties on Tattooine, except one... and she had been standing right in front of him. 

Chapter Text

  It had been days since the Mandalorian bucket-head had waltzed into the cantina. It had been days since Echo had left her hut- well, it was less of a hut, more of a dome settled into the rocky plains just outside of Mos Eisley. Surrounded on three sides by the towering mountains and cliffs of the region, it was basked mostly in darkness, spare the one window that allowed simmering light to flow in during the morning hours. There were no people around for miles, and it was at least a twenty-minute journey by speeder bike, however, it was the only place that Echo could find peace amongst the battling winds that whipped sand across her face.

It was early morning when she awoke, hair matted to her head and the bedsheets of her small cot tangled around her legs from where they had thrashed wildly during her sleep. Echo propped herself up on her elbow and dragged an absent hand down her face, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and inhaling deeply; bad dreams weren't that uncommon, but that nights had been specifically bad. She had been rolling down a dune, pursued by a hundred beskar-clad bounty hunters, running for her life- her heart was still beating wildly now, even though she was awake.  "Dank Farrik" she murmured, swinging her legs over the side of the cot and standing on shaky feet. Echo had to feel her way across the room, leaning against the table for support, as she ripped open the door to the fresher and stumbled inside.

Echo turned it on and gasped, welcoming the water as it splashed over her face and cascaded down her body, seemingly washing away the worries and fear that gripped at every tight nerve. Why had that nightmare been so... chilling? It was nothing more than a fiction of her imagination, a child-like quality she just couldn't seem to shake; it wasn't the scariest experience she had been through in her slumber, but it had still shaken her to the core. Perhaps it was the sudden presence of the Mandalorian, how he had appeared out of nowhere and stared right through her soul- like he knew who she was, what she was, and he could see her entire life just by staring into her eyes. Echo placed a hand over her chest and closed her eyes, trying so desperately to steady her breath, feeling her heart thumping against her chest. She was here, she was alive and that was all that mattered. 

 Her hand reached out and pulled the lever to the water flow back, halting its brash assault on her skin as she stepped out and snatched up a ragged towel from the hook beside the door. It did not take long to dry her body down, the hot heat of the desert plain helping, as she patted at the thick dreads of her hair and swept them over her shoulder, allowing the water droplets to race down the bare skin of her back. She pulled a shirt over her head and a pair of barely held together pants over her still damp legs, and Echo made for the door and opened it a fraction, letting the glaring light from the two suns settled on the horizon to spill into her home. Though she hated the planet, it was hard to deny the fact that the view was beautiful, and that from her home she could see the two gas-giants slowly creeping their way up over the distant silhouettes of the mountain range. For miles, there was nothing, only herself, her thoughts, and the absent wind. It basked her body in a warmth that was not harsh nor cold, but comforting; a warmth that penetrated her, surrounded her, and somehow... fulfilled her. This is what she was supposed to be-, not a barmaid on a backwater planet, not a tech whizz jamming tracking fobs for criminals. Since she had been a child, Echo had been destined to be something more, at least, that is what the man who took her from her family had told her. So how did she end up here? After years of fighting, pushing, hoping for something more, that hope was beginning to slip between her hands like grains of sand in the wind. 

  "Hope" the word slipped from her lips as she reached for her belt, unlatching the handle that hung there idly and raising it to her eyes. It was pure metal, nothing as flashy as Mandalorian beskar, but something that closely resembled tough steel, decorated with darkened lines that swirled to mimic the vines that they were so carefully inspired by. The deep-set lines ran all the way up to the hilt, only stopping for a large, rectangular sliding button that was worn in the centre from years of pushing. Echo's thumb found it and she slid it up slowly. 

  A deep humming met her ears as a brilliant yellow light glowed across her face, making the shadows beneath her cheekbones seem deeper, the heaviness of her brow more thickened. It flickered and danced in the morning light, begging to be swung, electrified from the opportunity to spurt to life as she brought it to her eyes, allowing that sense of power from her childhood to wash over her in ocean-like waves as she swung it once, the yellow blade cracking as it whirred past her ear. This weapon, this blade made of pure energy, was the weapon of her people, just like beskar was the signet of the Mandalore. It spoke to her in a way that no living thing could, encompassing her to reach out and touch it- not the blade, but the thing that brought it to be. The little crystal nestled deep within the handle was a reminder to who she was, and who she would always be; no matter how many bounty hunters chased her, no matter how many times her dignity, her religion, was stripped from her identity. 

  The Force would always be with Echo, and she with it. 

*

BANG.BANG.BANG.

  Echo jumped up at the noise, smacking her head on the shelf above her small workspace, dropping the little motherboard she had been poking and prodding with a pair of tiny tweezers. She narrowed her eyes at the door, trying to crane her head to look around through the porthole window beside it, when the banging came again, making the wooden floorboards of the hut tremble. 

  BANG.BANG.BANG.

  Echo dropped the parts she was holding into a small draw, sliding it shut and standing as she dusted her hands off on her pants. She shot a look to the holo-clock hung above her bed, seeing that it was almost dusk and wondering how long she had been slaving over her small gadgets and gizmos. Almost six hours, and she had hardly eaten or drank since she had started. She kicked a stray box out of her way as she padded to the door and pulled off her work gloves, turning the jangling keys in the lock and opening it a crack. Nothing. She opened the door more, still nothing.

  She pushed the door open wide, letting the gentle evening wind smack against her face as she stepped into the doorframe and looked around. That's when she saw him, leaning against the side of her hut, his arms folded and helmet inclined toward her- the Mandalorian, bathing in the evening light from the two suns setting in the distance. Echo's eyes widened as she made to close the door. 

  "Hey," he said in a raspy voice, sounding like he hadn't drunk water in aeons. He slipped his foot between the door and the wall, blocking her from closing it, and wrapped one gloved hand around the doorframe. "Can we talk?"

  "How did you find out where I lived?" Echo demanded, staring at the Mandalorian with petrified eyes. This was it, she thought to herself, he knows and now he's come to collect the quarry. Her hand instinctively reached for her weapon.

  "Your friend talks a lot, he didn't need much convincing" he replied shortly. Of course, Shabba- Echo pledged to give him an ear-whacking when she saw him next, still trying to force the door shut. "I said- can we talk?"

  "I don't talk to bounty hunters" Echo snapped in reply, the vivid image of her dream beginning to creep back into her mind. "Especially not when they show up at my house like some kind of stalker-" 

  Echo pushed her entire weight against the door, hearing the man on the other side grunt under the pressure on his foot. For a moment it eased, just enough for her to force it shut just a crack until the Mandalorian slammed his shoulder into the piece of wood and sent it flying open- throwing Echo to the floor in the process. For the second time in the space of a few days, she fell flat on her ass, grumbling and groaning to herself pitifully as the Mandalorian stood above her in all his glory, his hand hovering suspiciously close to the blaster holstered to his hip. He did not say anything for a while, just watched Echo who was sprawled out on the floor, until he knelt before her and extended a hand. She eyed it, untrusting the lack of human skin- for all she knew, he could be an assassin droid, though his physique said otherwise. 

  "What do you want?" Echo sighed, narrowing her eyes at the Mandalorian's blank, metal, expression. He did not move. "If you're here to-"

  "I wanted to talk to you- about what your friend said back in the cantina," he said. Echo tilted her head, confused. "About the tracking fobs"

  "You here to turn me into the Guild?" Echo asked as she grabbed a nearby chair and pulled herself to her feet, wiping the dust from her backside and watching as the man before her rose also. She didn't notice it before, but he towered above her- much like a sentry statute, overlooking all but not uttering a word. The Mando let out a short noise. 

  "Why would I turn you into the Guild?" he began to look around the small hut, his eyes snagging on Echo's workbench, then flitting to the small cot she called a bed. Great, she thought, why not just judge my home while you're at it. 

  "Because I've been scrambling tracking fobs? Messing with your business? I'm not too sure how the Guild works, but it sounds like a death sentence regardless" 

  Echo moved toward her workbench, turning her back on the man and beginning to tidy up what she hadn't before. Her fingers worked on their own accord, sifting through piles of metal and tools, organising each into its designated space. The Mandalorian took a step toward her, one she felt through the floor, and Echo cast a look over her shoulder as if to say well? He looked to the floor, avoiding her eyes. 

  "Normally... that would be the case" a brief pause, and Echo's brow drew together, wondering why the pause was taking so long. He chose his next words carefully. "But I'm not exactly on best terms with the Guild as of right now" 

  Echo's face was one that mirrored the utmost interest, curiosity as to how a Mandalorian could be on the bad side of the Bounty Guild- and why he had been looking for work if the Guild was the one actively seeking him out. Echo leant against the bench, her arms folded, as she surveyed the way his shoulders drew back tightly and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn't nervous nor scared to be here, nor was he standing in the way that told her he would attack her at any moment, no... he was uncomfortable, uncomfortable to be in such a homely place. She let out a  laugh. 

  "What do you want from me then? You want me to scramble the tracking fobs on you?" 

  Again, another antagonising pause. It was then that Echo realised he wasn't used to speaking- it wasn't much to go off, but the way he inhaled deeply before each sentence, the way he took so much time to think over every word he would utter... was this common for a Mandalorian? Or was years of solidarity to blame for him being starved of communication. 

  "Not for me... for somebody- something- else" 

  Echo pushed off the work station and walked toward him slowly, craning her head to look up into that blank and lifeless expression. Somebody or something? Her skin prickled with interest. "Let's see it, then," She said. 

  "I have questions first" The Mandalorian grabbed Echo's elbow, stopping her from pushing past him. She jerked away at his touch. "How long does the scrambling work for?"

  "Not long..." Echo shrugged. "A few hours at most, enough to get out the system and into another" 

  "Dank Farrik..." The Mando muttered, his arm falling to his side while the other hand rose to rub where the bridge of his nose would be. Echo watched each one of his movements. "There's no way to extend it?"

  Echo rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Think of it as an EMP- one big bang scrambles the fobs- by the time the owners realise, it won't give you much time till they correct the issue," She told him, watching as he began to pace the small house in frustration. Each movement, each twist and turn of his hips, made the Beskar glint with the reflection of something- whether that be the sunlight shining in, the rising moon, or the single light hanging precariously from the sloped ceiling. The Mandalorian was frustrated, Echo could see that much easily,  but at the same time he was scared, she realised now. 

  "Look, the only way it could be expanded- and this is hypothetical- is a continuous EMP that was sent out every other day. Like... like a catapult, in a sense" The Mandalorian's head snapped up. "But it's hypothetical, it would require continuous coding- coding that isn't easy to pick up" 

  "But you could do it?" He took two steps forward, leaning against the dinner table. "You know the coding? You have the equipment?"

  His tone was insistent now, almost ecstatic with excitement at the relief of not being chased down by blood-thirst bounty hunters. Echo knew the feeling- hell, she even sympathised for him- but her hands were tied. There was nothing she could do for the guy, and she wasn't about to hand over all her knowledge, the only thing making her valuable, just to give him an easier life. "I'm not teaching you, you'd never get the grasps- stars, it took me years"

  He inclined his head, the only form of an expression that he seemed to be able to portray, turning his head briefly to look behind him and out of the door. His visor turned back to her and he extended a hand, showing her the small bag of credits: "I'll pay you"

  Echo took the bag from him, emptying the contents into her hand and sifting through them. A thousand credits. She snorted and shoved them back to him. "I get three times this from my customers" 

  "That isn't to teach me," he said shortly. "I'm paying you to come with me" 

  Echo looked at him, her face now the blank one. Her mind replayed the words he had just said, trying to figure out if they had been imagined or if he had actually said them. Come with me- go with him? Go where? Surely the tech couldn't be that important to him, and if it was he could just threaten her to show him, surely? Wasn't that the way of the Mandalore, weren't weapons part of their religion? An empty, airy, sort of laugh tumbled from her chapped lips as her eyes flickered over every inch of his armour- over the beskar pauldrons, to the thigh braces, to the solid shield hiding his chest, torso and abdomen. Then-

  "Are you fucking serious?"

  The Mandalorian seemed taken aback. "It's a reasonable solution" 

  "It's an insane proposition- you can't just waltz into my house and ask me to go... go gallivanting the Galaxy with a Buckethead!" Echo exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exasperation as the Mandalorian watched her.

  "It's a helmet, not a bucket... I need you to scramble the fobs, and from the sounds of it you're the only person who knows how to do that" he widened his stance, folding his arms across his wide chest and staring down at her. "I can pay you handsomely for your talents" 

  "You just gave me a third of my normal rate, I fail to see how that is handsome" Echo said coldly, turning her back on him and focusing her eyes on a spot on the far wall, just above her bed. She could hear the Mando behind her, inhaling and exhaling, thinking. "I'm not that easy to win over" 

  "Why are you eager to stay here, of all places?" he asked, veering the conversation. Echo threw her head to look over her shoulder at him. "You don't have family here, do you?" 

  "What do you care? It's none of your business, Buckethead" 

  The Mandalorian seized Echo's elbow and spun her around to face him, so close now that she could hear his breathing beneath the mechanical modulator if she strained her ears hard enough. She could feel the rigidness in the way he held his body as she gazed up at him, lips pursed and eyes set in a glower. "Everybody on Tattooine is running from something, judging by your reaction to seeing me... you're no different"

  Oh, how she wanted to punch him in his stupid bucket-shaped-face. Her fists clenched at her side, her jaw set firmly as she withheld the urge, knowing that the blaster clipped to his side would blast a hole the size of her head through her before she had the chance to even touch her knuckles to his beskar surface. Echo let out a low, shaky, breath and waited for him to continue. 

  "If you come with me, you can get away from whatever that is- I can give you free passage across the Galaxy, I think that's a hard deal to come by" 

  Echo pressed her lips into a thin line, an expression she did often when she was thinking deeply and did not jerk away from his touch this time, even though the grip around her elbow was tightening with each passing second. In honesty, she welcomed it in a sort of way- it was one of the first pieces of contact she had had in days, though she would not openly admit it to the man stood before her, who was as scary as a Krayt Dragon with an empty stomach. Echo swallowed the air milling in her mouth, wetting her throat with her own saliva so that her voice was no longer dry when she replied. She knew, deep down, that the Mandalorian was right. Whether it be a matter of days, weeks, or even years, somebody would eventually discover her secret and she would be forced to either take a stand and fight or run like she had been doing her entire life. But she was too old for running now, sick of being forced to leave when she had formed so many connections- even if Shabba was her only family, it would still break her to leave him after all this time... but leaving on her own accord? It would hurt a little less, and she knew the pain would leave eventually, just as everything did; everything faded with time, even that deep connection you only found with certain people. 

  "Anywhere in the Galaxy?" Echo murmured, refusing to meet the mercenary's eyes. 

  "Anywhere your heart desires, within reason"

  Every fibre of Echo's being was screaming do it, her head telling her to throw herself off the deep end and do something so rebellious she felt almost like a teenager again. But her heart? It wanted to stay, to stay with Shabba, in her home, in her little cocoon of safety- but the stars wouldn't change, the suns would still rise and fall int he same pattern they always did, and her everyday routine would fall into the pattern it always did. She so desperately wanted change. 

  "When do we leave?"

Chapter Text

  “You’re leaving?”

  The two suns of Tatooine had long since set, the crescent moon now looming in the sky and casting a ghost white glow over the sandstone huts dotted in rows along the streets of Mos Eisley. It was almost midnight, and the cantina was as empty as usual; except the large man stood before her, wearing an expression of disbelief. Echo adjusted the bag hanging from her shoulder and stared up at her old friend. 

  “You’re really leaving?” Shabba asked. Echo nodded. “How? Why?”

  “I...I  got a job- from that Mandalorian” She replied, her grip tightening. “Scramblin’ fobs”

  Shabba did not reply, his dark-eyed gaze flicking over Echo- like he was trying to drink her in for the last time. Perhaps it had been the sudden appearance of her decision, or perhaps that she hadn't bothered to consult him, but Shabba looked hurt; as if his whole life had been stripped away in a single landslide. Echo looked to him with pleading eyes, hoping for anything more than the lecture she feared was working its way through his mind. Finally, when he concluded his thoughts, Shabba rubbed the scruff on his chin and took a seat on the closest barstool. Echo sat down across from him.

  "Are you alright?" Echo's voice came out small and child-like as she reached for her mentor's large hand. His skin was warm and rough and reminded her of nights beside make-shift fires, Shabba teaching her how to read transcripts and laughing when she botched the Huttese language, her foreign tongue struggling to curl around the ancient dialect. Memories of target-practice, Shabba's hands wrapped around her own and telling her to just breathe, lest she blew a hole into the neighbour's window. "Shabba?"

  "I s'pose I keep forgetting that you're all grown up now," Shanna said, his eyes shifting to meet hers, and she could see the tears twinkling in them. "You're not little anymore, eh?" 

  "You're the one who wanted me to leave the other day" Echo chuckled, her hand sliding from his to rest on her knee. Shabba nodded in agreement. 

  "I didn't expect you to listen" He let out a low laugh and tilted his head back to look at the dirty, water-stained, ceiling, "Stars, you're not a kid anymore"

  "Was I ever a kid, Shabba? I'm pretty sure I was always the one looking after you"  Shabba did not reply and Echo knew she was right, in a sweet sort of way. How many times had she bailed him out? Peeled his heavy ass off the floor of the cantina and dragged him home at dawn, only to have him throw up all over her; sweet, disgusting, memories. But they were memories she would cherish forever, memories that resembled the only form of carefree childhood she had ever had... Echo would never forget that feeling of warmth, in fact, it seemed impossible that she could forget. 

  "I don't have to go... I can stay" Echo murmured, a horrible pain pulling at her heart. Shabba shook his head vigorously. 

  "No- you're going, there's no taking it back now" he stood abruptly, seizing her shoulders and tugging her to her feet. He steadied her carefully, patting the bag she carried and cupping her face, bending down to stare at her in the eyes. "Don't you ever think about turning back" 

  "But I'm going to miss you Shabba you... you took me in when nobody wanted me" Echo said sadly. 

  "Well, it was hard not to, I got sick of your scruffy, skinny, ass sat moping around the scrap yard" 

  Before Echo realised what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around Shabba. He joined in her half-hearted laughter and staggered backwards, and he wrapped her arms around her small waist. Echo pressed her cheek into his chest, breathing in that smell of metal and musty deodorant he used, savouring it for aeons to come. She knew she would see Shabba again- she had to... and if she didn't? She would never forgive herself. 

  "I'll miss you Shabba" Echo whispered into his hard chest, a single tear leaking from her eye. Shabba's large hand came to rest on the crown of her head, brushing the wild strings of hair in a comforting way, trying to put on his best facade of strength. However, she could see beneath the cracks, feeling his chest rumble with silent sobs as he quietly wiped away the tears brimming his long lashes. 

  "You'll come back, you always do" 

  Shabba pulled away and stared at her, making sure his face remembered each of her individual features, as he sucked in a shallow breath and nodded. He clapped a hand onto her shoulder roughly, his own way of telling her to scram, and released her. 

  "May we meet again, Shabs"

  "We will" 

  Echo turned and walked slowly, achingly, toward the door to the cantina; she took her time absorbing it all, taking one last look around at the bar she had devoted most of her adult life to. She didn't know when she would return next, but whether it was months, years, or decades... she never wanted to forget this picture. As much as Echo didn't want to admit it, she loved the stinking cantina- sleazebags and all. She cast a  look over her shoulder at Shabba, who was hunched over the bar with his head in the hands. Even from this distance, she could see the way his shoulders tightened, his torso shook. It broke her heart, but she turned back and pushed forward, her slow walk turning into a jog as she passed through the door and into the brisk night air. A sigh came from beside the door.

  "Are you done?" The Mandalorian asked, pushing off from where he stood and walking toward her. "You said you would be brief"

  "I'm done now" Echo rolled her eyes, adjusting her hold on her duffel. "So, are we going?" 

  The Mandalorian jerked his head and signalled for her to follow as they set off along the deserted streets of Mos Eisley. Their footsteps were the only sound besides the chirping of circadias and the flapping of cloth overhangs in the night wind, echoing down empty side streets and alleyways as they twisted and turned, Echo not quite sure where he was leading her. The Mando had not given her long to pack up her few belongings before begrudgingly allowing her to pay Shabba one last goodbye, but had not alluded as to how exactly they would be leaving Tatooine- or who's tracking fob she would be screwing over. But Echo didn't dare ask, much preferring to let her curiosity dwindle out till she found her answer- and with her weapon swinging from her belt, she knew she would be relatively safe.

  As they wandered the twisting streets of Tatooine, Echo noticed the Mandalorian’s glances toward her. She could see him in the corner of her eye, turning his attention toward her every few moments, the slope of his helm catching the moonlight and reflecting it toward her. As they turned onto the Main Street that sliced through Mos Eisley like a dividing river he finally spoke, his voice a whisper so as to not disturb the sand underfoot.

  “What’s your name?” 

  “What?” Echo asked dubiously, halting and staring at him with a furrowed brow. 

  “Your name, what is it?” He repeated with a sigh. Echo slowly began to walk again, her wrist twisting around the strap of her bag. It was strange to believe, but in the commotion of packing her bags and the all-but-silent journey from her home to Mos Eisley, they had not exchanged more than a few simple words. Even now, in the silence of the night, their conversation was informative rather than leisurely; something told Echo he was a man of little words, and favoured silence over the informality of small talk.

  “Echo” she replied. He looked as if to say ‘is that it?’. “Just Echo” 

  “Haven’t heard that one before” he mumbled, tilting his head back to catch the stars glinting off his visor. 
  
  “Well, what’s yours, tin-can? I can refer to you as an etiquette droid if you like” Echo retorted with a quick tongue. 

   “Mando. That’s what everybody else calls me”  

  “How imaginative,” she mused. He did not reply, and they continued their walk submerged in eery silence.

  They turned a corner and came to the line of Hangars that circled the outskirts of Mos Eisley, many of which had laid abandoned since the fall of the Empire- with no stormtrooper transports or bounty hunters frequenting the atmosphere, many of the mechanics had migrated to other planets, more specifically the Mid-Rim. Wherever there was work was where there were people, and there was little-to-no work on Tatooine.

  "Here," he grunted, punching the key-pad to Hangar 3-5 as the door slid open and he slipped inside. Echo followed, descending the cool sandstone staircase into the circular bay, emerging into hoops of glowing yellow light. 

  The air was stolen out of her lungs as she stared up at the ship- his ship, a gleaming model that was almost as reflective as the armour he adorned. It was a Razor Crest, a pre-Empire vessel that she had seen patrolling the outer-systems as a young girl. It had been years since she had seen one in person, though, let alone one in good condition, and Echo ogled it as the Mandalorian stomped over to the extended ramp, craning his head around, looking for something.

  A woman emerged from the control room.

  "Its about time!" She hollered, striding over with purpose in her angry steps. She was short and stout, wild hair stuck up in all directions and a pair of welding goggles clinging to her oil-slick skin. Echo had seen her lingering around the hangars on occasion but did not know the woman by name. However, she seemed to know Echo, as her attention turned to the younger woman and her eyes narrowed. "Whatchu doin' here, ain't you meant to be scrubbing glasses in the cantina?"

  "She's doing a job for me" Mando grumbled, shooting Echo a glance. "It's none of your concern"

  "Like hell it ain't! You can't just leave your ship here, unattended, and go prancing around the planet without at least letting me know, Mando" the woman said cockily.  "I bet this poor girl don’t know what trouble you’re gonna get her into!”

  Echo looked between the woman and Mando, taking a feverish step back, trying to put as much distance between herself and their standoff in case blasters were drawn. However, the Mandalorian remained unnervingly calm and tilted his head- the only form of expression he seemed to be able to show.

  “You’ve caused enough trouble as it is, sir! I don’t wanna be dragging any more dead bodies outta here!” The woman continued. Echo felt her insides twist.

  Dead body? Who... oh. Echo realised with a painful blow to her chest that she had not seen, or heard of, Toro Calican since he had first met Mando. Of course, she didn’t like him that much, but the absence and mention of a dead body made her veins turn to ice as she stared at Mando. He did not notice her fearful eyes as he took a step towards his acquaintance. 

  “I’ll let him kill you next time, then” he replied cooly.

  “You killed Calican?” Echo asked emptily, snatching Mando’s attention as he turned. “Did you kill him?” 

  “Yes. He tried to kill me” 

  Echo bowed her head, knowing that it was an acceptable answer. In the Outer-Rim systems, civility was not a common trait among crime-infested towns. The motto was to kill or be killed. Still, her heart ached for the boy now dead in an unmarked grave- he was young, just as young as Echo, and had come to a horrid end. She didn’t know whether to be frightened of the Mandalorian or in awe, not many people would admit to outright murdering somebody.  Echo found a sadistic part of herself envying his honesty. 

  “Consider me saving your life payment for the Hangar,” The Mandalorian said gruffly to the woman before setting off for his ship, his heavy footfall ricocheting in the Hangar. The woman looked at Echo. 

  “Good luck with that one” she smirked, one hand propped on her hip. “You seem like the kinda gal to put him in line” 

  “I... I don’t think I’ll be getting that close” Echo replied, her cheeks red. Despite their confrontation, the woman seemed to be joking around now, waggling her singed eyebrows. 

  “Good luck- hey! When you gonna get outta my hangar, Mando?! I got work to do!” 

  The Mandalorian paused at the front of the ramp that had been extended down from the side hatch. “I will be running pre-flight checks before our departure”

  “Pre-flight checks?!” The woman exclaimed, as though it had been a terrible insult. “You questioning my trade?!” 

  He continued up the ramp, silently, with Echo sheepishly trailing behind. Though he did not speak, she couldn’t help but press her lips together in mild amusement to see his shoulders shaking with laughter. Clearly, he wasn’t as emotionless as he made himself out to be. 

  *

  Echo supposed the Razor Crest was all right- at least, by the standards, she had flown by before it wasn’t the best. Though the outside appeared relatively new, with only some carbon scoring on the top, the inside was disjointed; crates and boxes were stacked against the curved walls of the hold, pieces of black linen were strewn about the floor, and empty canteens and cans of food had been left in piles that tottered precariously. Echo had to take a deep breath as she entered, a musty and strong smell assaulting her nose as she stepped into the darkness. Only a thin strip of light illuminated the bay, and Echo had to squint to make out the dark shapes. 

 “This is my ship,” The Mandalorian said as if that much wasn’t obvious. “Don’t... touch anything” 

  “I wasn’t planning on it” Echo mumbled solemnly as she looked around, dumping her duffel beside the hatch as it rose and closed with a mechanical hiss. “So... are you gonna tell me what the job is?” 

  “The job?” The Mandalorian asked, his back turned to her as he rifled through a cabinet inside the hull. Echo tried to peer around him, to catch a glimpse of what was inside, but his shoulders were too broad and solid to see around. He slammed the cabinet doors shut and faced her, folding his arms. 

 “Yeah, the job you made me pack up my life for” Echo replied. “You told me you wanted to scramble some fobs- and that it wasn’t for yourself. So who?” 

  There was a sudden, sharp, tug on her pant leg- like the type of tugging when you snagged your leg on a nail or caught your sleeve in a door handle. But it was much gentler, shaking, as Echo’s face slowly turned to look down. She half expected to see a Womp Rat that had followed them inside, or her leg twisted inside the handle of her duffel... but instead, it was something much, much different. Large, black, eyes peered up at her, blinking as big, floppy ears flicked and a pudgy green face stared back at her. 

  “That’s the-“

  Echo shrieked, propelling herself forward and wrapping her arms and legs around the ladder leading up to the cockpit. She lifted her feet off the floor, high out of the little monsters grasp, and stared in perplexed fear as it cooed and tilted its egg-shaped head. It extended a three-fingered hand toward Echo as the Mandalorian swooped forward and scooped it into his arms, cradling the small thing like it was his own kid. Echo was only a little bit scared of... things. Bugs and creatures and monsters in the night; they all terrified her. The thing the Mandalorian held looked like everything from her nightmares except... cuter, more innocent-looking. But the way it looked at her still creeped her out, made her skin crawl, as she pointed a shaky finger at it.

  “What is that?” She asked, a tremble in her voice as the thing giggled at her discomfort and the Mandalorian bounced it in his arms. Then, a sudden realisation came over her. “No way-“

  “This is who’s tracking fobs I need you to scramble- and it’s not a thing or a that... it’s a kid” 

  Echo slowly unravelled herself from the ladder, touching one cautious foot to the ground. When she was sure the little monster wouldn’t launch itself at her, she planted both feet firmly on the ground- but still made sure to grip the rungs, in case she needed a fast getaway. 

  “If it’s not a thing... then what in the name of Dank Farrik is it?”

  “I...” he paused, nodding his head to the child in his arms. “It is my ward. I have taken it under my care, and I am to protect it”

  Echo watched the strange picture with interest, noticing how the Child stared at Mando with a look of adoration, and how the Mandalorian held the Child carefully yet firmly, paternal fatherhood radiating from his stance. As Echo stared he reached into his pocket and took out a little metal ball, giving it to the child, who squealed in delight. 

  “Let me get this straight” Echo began, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You want me to scramble the tracking fobs set onto him- he has a Bounty?” 

  “Yes. A very high priced one” 

  Cautiously, Echo approached the child, who was rolling the ball along the Mandalorian’s forearm and into the bundle of clothes in his little lap. She hooked a finger around its brown robes and pulled them down, looking at his squishy, toad-like, face as it turned and looked up at her. The child made a sort of ‘yip’ sound airily. Her finger grazed its cheek and it smiled. How could anybody ever want to hunt down such a sweet thing? Now that the surprise and shock had settled, Echo really did find the little kid cute. It’s species looked oddly familiar, though she couldn’t quite place from where, and it made her smile slightly. Perhaps they wanted to eat it- or keep it as a pet? But it would be rather a strange pet, she thought, watching it chew its small thumb. 

  “He’s cute” Echo mused, her eyebrows raised as she stared at the beskar helmet. “You two are quite the pair” 

  “I didn’t hire you for bland comments” he snapped, jerking the child away (who cooed sadly) and placing him down in the small bunk settled into the hull that she had not noticed before. He punched a button in the panel beside it and it slid shut, sealing the Child away from their conversation, and leaving Echo alone with the Mandalorian. 

  “Alright, buzzkill” Echo muttered. “Look, like I said back at my place- if you had actually been listening- the EMP only really works every few days... and it has to be rewritten, sent from a different source so that the smarter Bounty Hunters can’t pinpoint where it was sent from- that make sense?”  He looked at her blankly, crossing the room and seizing her duffel from the floor. He grunted in a raspy tone, one that came from the pit of his throat, and hauled it over to a workbench beside the cabinet he had been shuffling through earlier. He dropped it down with a clang that resonated through the holding bay. 

  "Work," he said simply, his leather-gloved hand coming to rest over the holster of his firearm. "Do what you need to do, and then we leave. By the time the smarter ones realise, we will be long gone" 

  "Here? You sure there's no other bounty hunters nearby?" Echo asked as she perched herself on the edge of the chair. It creaked under her weight from years of not being used. 

  "I don't care if they are, you said only the smart ones- so work" 

  With a roll of her eyes Echo unzipped her bag, digging around the clothes and gizmos inside to seize something lying at the very bottom. With a hefty tug she pulled it out, settling the portable computer on the workbench and running her hand over the mismatch of tape and messy soldering that held it together- it was a pitiful sight, really, but new computers cost a dime in the New Republic, and Echo wasn't exactly the richest girl in the Galaxy. She cracked it open, jamming her finger into the power button and watching it buzz to life. As it did this she seized a wire dangling from the back of the computer and rammed it into a nearby port, turning to face the Mandalorian as the screen flickered to life and cast a green glow over her pale face. She waited.

  "What?" he asked finally after a few moments of silence. "What is it?"

  "The source code... I need it to scramble the fobs locked onto your little... friend" 

  "I-I don't have it" he grumbled in shy embarrassment, moving his weight between his two heavy boots. Beneath the modulator, it came out as a low, grating, baritone- pure, sheer, embarrassment. 

  "You don't have it?" Echo repeated, in the same tone she would use when talking to a child. "So, you want me to scramble the tracking fobs for a child- but you don't have the chain code?" She said in twisted delight, exhaling heavily as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. At first, Echo had thought the Mandalorian had been smart, or at least logical enough to know what he was doing; suddenly, though, she had retracted the perception almost immediately. He folded his arms.

  "Can you not just do it without it? Scramble all of the fobs?" 

  "Sure I can- if you wanna piss off ninety-nine percent of Bounty Hunters in the parsec" Echo replied as she leant back in her seat. For a few seconds, he said nothing, looking at his feet, and Echo could see the cogs turning slowly in the metal encasing of his stupid helmet. He cast a feverish glance back to the small bunk where he had locked the Child.

  "Do it" he mumbled, then, more clearly. "Do it" 

  "Alright..." Echo said as she turned back to her screen, letting her eyes run over the scrawling text. She didn't exactly mind doing it- in the end, it was his death wish, and if she could help it she was staying as far from his troubles as humanely possible.

  As Echo got to work her fingers flew across the keys of the computer, which were messily painted in the huttese alphabet, performing their own sort of dance as blocky words and letters and numbers appeared before her. She paid no attention to what she was typing, her eyes glued intently to the image before her, as it blinked. The Mandalorian lingered behind her, watching in a state of confusion, but Echo knew exactly what she was doing. To her, this was second nature, just like killing was to him- a language that only she knew. The thought gave her a sense of entitlement, but reminded her of how different she was from the man stood stoically behind her. He was physical, preferring to use fists over brains, and Echo was... well, she was something else, that was for sure. Perhaps smart was the word. 

  Images flashed across the screen, planetary outlines flashing and rotating- a map of the entire Galaxy, zoning in on the little parsec they found themselves parked in.  She saw numerous chain codes flash their way across her line of sight, realising that any of these could be the Child locked away safely- but which one? There was no way of telling. Echo knew that the Mandalorian probably knew himself what it was, hell it was obvious in the way he held himself that he knew, but was reluctant to give up the smidgen of information. Her fingers stilled slightly, curling into fists and flexing, as she wondered-no, realised- that he only knew it partially... that must be the reason, right?

  "Are you done?" He asked abruptly from behind her, causing Echo to flinch without meaning to. His shoulders sagged as he leant closer, so close that she could again hear his slow breathing beneath the warped filter of his masked facade. She swallowed, wetting the dryness of her throat, and nodding.

  "Just need verbal confirmation, you know- legal reasons" 

  He sniffed in amusement, letting out a breath, as he looked at her screen. His hands were on the back of the seat, tilting it back every slightly so that the nape of her neck rested against the cool surface of his beskar chest plate. It made her skin tingle, setting it on fire in a peculiar way she had not felt before, as though she was touching pure, freezing, ice. When he had finished his inspection of her work he released the chair and let it thrust forward, Echo having to brace herself on the edge of the desk so that she did not headbutt the screen of her computer.

  "Go for it," he said. She stabbed the enter button without so much as a guilty thought. 

  Everything from the screen disappeared, leaving nothing but a blank canvas with a single bar. Loading... it was loading- stars, she was about to anger every single Bounty Hunter this side of the Corellian Run; however, despite the impending fear in her stomach, she felt excited. Echo watched as the far began to fill... 10%...29%...48%...63%...86%...97%...100%. The words glowed as the word success flashed before her eyes. Beside her, the Mandalorian smacked the cabinet in what could only be described as... happiness? Echo looked back to him to see he was holding the Child again. 

  "We should probably go- I don't really fancy being tracked down by another Bounty Hunter," Echo said with a small smile. He nodded, placing the Child down on the keyboard of her laptop. It giggled and reached out a little, three-fingered hand, grasping the braid buried deep in her hair and tugging with as much force as his little body could muster. His big ears flapped. "I will set a course"

  "For where?" Echo called as he stomped off to the ladder, ascending with so much speed that he had disappeared in a whip of the cowl dangling from his pauldrons. Echo heard the thumping of his footsteps above, the only reply she knew she would get, as she turned to look back at his kid who was ogling her curiously. "What're you looking at?"

  The Child whined in reply, blinking with large eyes as she seized him under the armpits and placed him in the confines of her lap. She stared down at him, wondering where she had seen such a thing as before, the vague image of something swirling in the recesses of her mind. In a cartoon? No... on a billboard on Coruscant? Perhaps. Echo poked his squidgy, wrinkled, forehead. "You're like a little green gremlin, huh? Wonder why Mando keeps you around"

  The Child replied with something, but Echo could not understand it. Instead, she closed her eyes, focusing on the hum and rumble of the engines underfoot as they powered up, and the groaning of the hull as the Razor Crest eased itself from Hangar 3-5 and turned south, lurching forward with a large boost of speed. Outside, Echo could sense it- the wind rushing past as the ground grew smaller and smaller, leaving behind her home, Shabba, and the greasy woman with a cocky mouth. Echo did not know when she would return.

Chapter Text

  Echo had forgotten how silent Hyperspace travel was. She hadn't used the intergalactic form of travel since she had been a young girl, travelling from her home planet to the bustling Core planet of Coruscant. Even then she had not paid much attention to the way the stars surrounding the ship seemed to press in on her, suffocating to the point where she could not tear her eyes away from the way they streaked past the windows. However, compared to her last deep-space voyage, this ship was much, much smaller to the refugee transport she had embarked upon, and her company was silent- a vast difference from the loud chatter she had once been accustomed to. 

  They hadn't been travelling for more than few days, occasionally dropping out of Hyperspace into a distant and foreign system, hanging around in the outer atmosphere of a nearby planet, before jumping again to another unknown destination. Echo wasn't too sure what The Mandalorian was looking for, considering that he hadn't bothered to voice his mind to her since they had left Tatooine, and Echo only saw him at mealtimes when he would bring her tins of dry-packed food that tasted as though it had been basking in a cupboard since before the start of the Empire. Those few days Echo had kept to herself, occupying her time by repairing her portable computer, trying to find some way to stop it from falling apart, and soldering the motherboard into the mainframe for what must have been the hundredth time. Her only company was the presence of the little green monster, who busied himself by trying to snatch away Echo's soldering iron, or just mindlessly watching the sparks that flew when she accidentally touched it to the wiring. 

  "You know, you could make yourself useful" Echo mumbled when she accidentally caught her finger, holding the single-digit up to the light and squinting at the red burn. "Use your little, weird, hands"

  The Child giggled and shuffled forward on his butt, picking up the discarded tool and waving it around as though it was his very own weapon. Echo suppressed a laugh and snatched it back, watching the kid make his best impression of a scowl. He pushed himself to his feet and padded forward with the sound of a small pitter-patter, standing before Echo in all his glory. It took her whole being to resist the urge to push him over back onto his backside,  instead, she tucked the tool she was holding into a drawer and folded her arms. They stared at each other for a few moments, an intense standoff, communicating only between the glints in the eyes of either one. Then, the kid fell forward into her lap and settled himself there. 

  Echo sighed and pushed her computer back out of the way, standing up and settling the little... thing... on her hip like one would with a human child. In the darkness of Hyperspace, every little noise felt amplified, her footsteps ricocheting off the tight confinements of the holding bay as she felt her way to the bunk settled into the wall of the hull. In their short time spent together, Echo had discovered the masked man preferred total darkness over the bright light strips that illuminated the hold of the Razor Crest. So, as a result, he rarely turned them on- spare the single lamp that hung above Echo's workspace. More often than not she had tripped over a crate or a discarded weapon on the floor on her way to the vacc, or walked into a wall and sent a horrible jolt of pain through her nose. Echo couldn't understand how he could function with such blind vulnerability, or if his weird bucket-shaped helmet had some sort of night-vision setting. Either way, she knew she would have to bring up the topic of turning the lights on sooner or later. When she reached the hole in the wall she smashed her fist into the keypad beside the retracting door, setting the kid down on the bed and staring at him in the shadows of blinking red and green lights. 

  "Sleep," Echo said, then, more softly. "Go to sleep" 

  The child cooed and clambered to his feet, holding out his hands and making grabbing motions toward her. Echo let out a low, long, breath and planted her hands on her hips. She wasn't too sure when she had also agreed to the job of baby-sitting, alongside everything else that seemed to encompass her board on the Razor Crest. At least, she hadn't verbally stated she would. Echo didn't know whether she should complain, though, as she stared at the little creature who stared at her with wide, innocent, eyes that looked straight through her and into the softest crevices of her heart. She sighed and picked him back up.

  "Fine" she grumbled, beginning to ascend the ladder to the cockpit. "Next time, I won't give in so easily" 

  The Child made a mischievous sort of giggle as she clambered clumsily into the small gangway outside of the cockpit, elbowing the button beside the door as it slid open, revealing the bright stars that flashed by the curved window, solar systems unfurling behind them as she entered quietly. The Mandalorian was sat rigidly in the pilot's seat, as he had been for the past several days, and if it wasn't for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders Echo would have presumed him dead. As the door eased shut with a click and she took her seat- kid perched on his favourite place in her lap- he cast a look over his shoulder at Echo.

  "What're you doing?" he asked in the same dull tone he always used. He focused his gaze back on the space before him, hands firmly gripping the wheel of his ship before she had a chance to reply. Echo leant and placed the Child in his crib. "I thought you were fixing stuff"

  "I've been doing that for the past three days" Echo interjected, staring at the back of his helmet. She could see the Galaxy sliding past in its reflection, casting a dark glow over the small compartment as she brushed locks of hair out of her eyes and tucked them behind her ear. However, her braid remained untouched, and she saw the Child reaching for it in the peripheral of her vision. The Mandalorian said nothing to her remark but gripped the controls tighter. "Where are we going, exactly?"

  "Does it matter?" 

  Echo sighed- she should have seen that response coming. Another thing Mando favoured, besides darkness and total silence, was the anonymity of his actions. It was this that infuriated Echo the most, the curling curiosity in her body not able to cope with the lack of information. She thrived on knowledge, loved to absorb every detail until it felt as though her head might explode, and being deprived of it made her agitated- annoying to the people around her. And in this case, The Mandalorian was her only verbal acquaintance for aeons. 

  "Maybe if you told me where we were going" Echo began, resting her elbows on her knees. "I would shut up and go back down to my workbench"

  The Mandalorian considered this offer for a few moments, tilting his head this way and that, a silent battle with his inner thoughts. He turned in his chair so that he faced her now, arms folded, as he reached forward and sealed the Child in his crib. There was a metallic bang as the monster smacked his fist against the crib, but it did not budge. Eventually, he fell silent inside, and Echo knew he had finally fallen asleep. Mando turned his black-slit of a visor to stare her down, willing her to back down and retreat without an answer, but she refused to submit. Finally, he retreated and rested his hands on the braces that shielded his muscular thighs. 

  "Praadost II," he said simply, without a hint of dramatic flair. Echo arched a single brow.

  "Praadost- what? Where in the Galaxy is that?" she asked in confusion, completely stumped to the location of their alleged destination. She had never heard of any planet by the name of Praadost- not that she was the most knowledgable of people concerning the geography of their Galaxy. Echo had never attended a schoolhouse. "Why are we going there- and don't you say does it matter!"

  The Mandalorian stared at her, unblinking. "It is in the Nembus sector, Praadost system if you can believe it" he replied smugly. Oh how much she wanted to smack the hidden smirk from his face. 

  "Why are we going there?" 

  "Work. I need credits for fuel- and to pay you" his helmet tilted as he looked her up and down- at the scruffy tendrils of her hair that she had not washed since she left Tatooine, the torn clothes and pants that didn't even cover her calves, and the tatty boots with too many holes for her liking. On Tatooine, these clothes had been suitable- but stood beside the Mandalorian Echo felt a mere speck of dust compared to his gleaming armour. "You could do with some new clothes too" 

  "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Echo scowled at him, her brow drawn together tightly. "They're perfectly fine."

  "You look like a piece of meat from Tatooine- where we're going, and not just Praadost, you're gonna want to cover up," he said smoothly, as though insulting her was part of his daily job, and she would just take it idly. Instead, Echo's eyes widened, and she stood abruptly to tower over him. 

  "I am from Tatooine, and I can handle myself." Echo said, the hand hidden from him sliding to feel the metal curl of the weapon that dangled from the utility belt that sagged around her slim hips. He shook his head, hiding sarcastic laughter. "What? You think just because I'm a girl I can't-I can't punch somebody?" 

  "I don't doubt it" he replied without missing a beat. "But I'd rather not have you punch somebody and have us chased from the system" 

  Echo froze slightly, her fists clenched at her side as she stared at him. So he wasn't that much of an ass, but a slight ass for thinking she was stupid enough to start a street fight for punching somebody in the jaw. Sure, the temptation was enticing, but she could handle her emotions- at least, she could to some degree. Echo let out a sigh and settled herself back into her seat, folding her legs beneath herself.

  "Fine" she grumbled, focusing her gaze on her lap. "I'll get new clothes, but they won't be anything fancy" 

  "They don't need to be, but I suggest putting on a jacket. We'll be dropping out of Hyperspace soon" 

  With a hint of finality in the low baritone of his voice, he turned his chair back to the controls sprawling across the dashboard of the Razor Crest, beginning to push and flick a series of levers and little switches that Echo had no idea what they were for. She stood on solid legs and left the cockpit, a burning hole still in her heart from his blatant insult, but a sort of... relief milling their too, relief that he cared enough to stop her from being catcalled, and relief that he didn't want her to die- that was a good thing, right? 

*

  Echo realised as soon as they landed on Praadost-whatever-it-was-called that the Mandalorian had not spoken lightly when he had recommended she sport a jacket; however, years on Tatooine had rendered her clothing selection to a measly few tops and pants, and a coat was almost unknown on the dry, desert, planet. Despite all this though, Mando still gazed upon her with a mixture of disappointment and amusement as she shivered dramatically in the chill of the strong wind. Praadost II was not necessarily a cold planet- in fact, Echo presumed it might be warm and humid during the summer season, but at that moment in time, torrential rain hammered the pavement as they walked, the wind whipping at her hair so that she had to hold it firmly to her chest. Beside her, the Mandalorian walked without a single fault- as stoic and purposefully as he had when he first strolled into the cantina on Tatooine. Echo trailed behind him pitifully, tripping up in puddles and coughing as her face met the cold elements of what could only be the Praadost winter. Much to her dismay, the Child was tucked safely into his crib and wrapped in a thick shawl, watching Echo's flailing display with laughter and giggles. Besides the rain and the wind and cold chill, Praadost was- undeniably- a beautiful planet. Covered in jungles with towering trees and thick, luscious, canopies of leaves, it was almost impossible to spot the darting sunlight as it shone in slats between the branches. The city they had landed in, name unknown, was settled in the shade of a gigantic mother tree- that being the only way to describe it. The mother tree was three times the size of the tallest skyscrapers, the city sat in its looming shadow, and lights blinking the radius of the thick trunk as speeders and cars sliced through the cold air. Fat droplets of rain splashed onto the sidewalk as they marched through the market district of the city, having left the Razor Crest in a nearby Hangar, and the Mandalorian stopped occasionally to allow Echo to catch up. 

  When they had been walking for what felt like millennia, though it had only been twenty minutes or so, The Mandalorian tapped the crook of her elbow and forced Echo to look up at him from where she had been shielding her eyes from the rain. They had stopped under a wet canopy, which spared her the feeling of becoming more sodden, and he nodded his head to a nearby shop that looked almost as derelict and run-down as the market surrounding it. Echo's eyes followed his line of sight as she stared it over, feeling the weight of a small pouch being pushed into her hand. She looked down at it and weighed it slightly, feeling the credits clink around inside.

  "Credits for new clothes, consider it payment for the job on Tatooine," he said as she shoved the pouch roughly into her pocket without a thought. "You can take the kid with you"

  "Why? Where are you going?" Echo asked with mild curiosity. The Mandalorian looked left, then right, then back at her. Echo tilted her head.

  "I need to look for a job, it shouldn't take too long. Just look after the kid, and I'll meet you back at the Razor Crest before dusk" 

  The Mandalorian turned and began to walk away from the safety of the canopy but Echo jerked forward, seizing his arm and halting him. Her fingers latched to his bicep, squeezing slightly, feeling the thick cords of muscle that lied beneath the cold beskar steel that coated it like a sheet of thick ice. He returned with a slight tug, Echo's grasp still firm, as he stared at her, waiting. Echo pursed her lips, not too sure if she should continue, but did anyway:

  "What if you don't come back?"

  He did not reply- he did not move, nor speak, and Echo was almost certain that he wasn't breathing either. Obviously, she didn't care about him that much, feelings and attachment to strangers was futile, but she was more worried about getting stranded on an alien planet with no idea how to fly the ship he had left in his will- double that with a troublesome kid, and it was enough to make her insides coil tightly. But as he stared at Echo fixedly she couldn't help but shrink back, releasing her hold on him, and retreating into the shadows of the doorway of the shop. The Child looked between its two carers, also silent, as if he too could sense the boiling fury of his father. 

  "Remember to buy yourself a coat with that money" His voice came out calm and smooth, not a grumble unlike what Echo was now accustomed to. With a dramatic whip of his cloak he trudged off up the marketplace, sliding between civilians, and within a matter of seconds, he had disappeared into the throng. Echo blinked, not quite sure how he had been so terrifyingly calm, and looked to the Child. The credits in her pocket weighed heavy. 

  "Wanna do some shopping, kid?" she asked. The Child squealed in delight and propelled its spherical crib forward, sliding through the threshold of the shop, and Echo followed closely behind.

  Though the outside of the shop appeared derelict and abandoned, the inside was a stark contrast that she had not noticed upon gazing in. The outside was dull and crumbling, stone walls scarred with deep lines and stains from a mysterious substance, stinking vaguely of spiced rum and the faeces of an undetermined species. However, inside was plush and glowing, the walls covered in draping silk and tapestries, and the smell of fresh mint hung pungently in the air. Racks of clothing and jewelled artefacts decorated the interior, not posh enough for an Inner-Rim boutique, but enough to make any girl over the age of twelve feel elegant and poised. Echo had never been one for elegance though- practicality was preferred, as taught by her Masters, and she favoured the comfy confines of slacks to the tight constraints of a nice dress. Despite all this, though, she could not help but gaze in awe at the few selections of dresses that adorned the faceless mannequins, all glittering and simmer under dim lighting. 

  From the recesses of the shop called a warm and shaky voice, the vague sound of heels clip-clopping on the tile floor as a small woman emerged. She looked frail and withered, like a strong gust of wind might snap her as easily as it would a branch, and thick locks of white hair fell in effortless curls down her curved back. Her face was wrinkled and a pair of sparkling emerald eyes complimented the old woman's hair. She wore a dress like that of the ones on display, and numerous bangles jangled on her wrists as she hobbled toward Echo, drinking in the scruffy girl's appearance. 

  The woman came to a stop. "Can I help you, dear? Are you collecting for the orphanage?" she asked in that same, warm, voice. The woman smelt of a strong perfume. 

  "Orphanage? Uh- no. I was looking for some clothes- and a coat! I also need a coat" 

  The woman reached reverently into a deep pocket and withdrew a pair of spectacles, placing them on the tip of her hooked nose and now staring up at Echo for, what she realised as, the first time. The woman's eyebrows knitted together as she surveyed the tangles of  Echo's wet hair and her red cheeks, the patchwork cloth of her top and the ripped seams of her pants. The woman let out a small noise of dissatisfaction and curled a finger toward Echo in a come here motion. Echo approached carefully, staring down at the elderly woman's short stature. 

  "A new coat, hm? And clothes? A girl of your physique should wear fine dresses and skirts, not..." the woman gestured at her outfit choice. "Whatever this is" 

  "Work clothes" 

  "Work clothes" the woman repeated slowly. "No, no- it will not do. I will pick you out the finest drapes I can! Enough to make the Old Republic tremble-"

  "Can I just have some new pants... and perhaps some shirts?" Echo asked shyly, interrupting the woman's excited babble. The woman's eyes suddenly narrowed, all warmth disappearing. 

  "Pants and shirts?" She snapped in confusion. Echo nodded. 

  There were a few moments where the woman only glared at her, and Echo thought that she might make a perfect companion for the Mandalorian. After all, they both held the same silent death-stare toward Echo. Beside her, the child cooed. Ever so slowly she raised a nimble arm and pointed into the far corner of her shop. 

  "T-Thank you" Echo blurted and shuffled away, seizing the edge of the Child's crib and pulling him with her. Even if she didn't like the little monster, she wouldn't dream of subjecting him to the old woman's cruel and judgemental gaze. 

  Looking over her shoulder to make sure the woman had retreated into the depths of her shop Echo began to sift through piles of clothes, picking up shirts that she realised to be men's and holding them to her chest. They were all much too big, looking to slide off her narrow shoulders and drop to her mid-thigh. The pants weren't much better, too big to settle on her hips, and the belts were too long with not as many buckle holes as she would've liked. Echo even picked up a pair of high-laced boots and stared at them- they, like the rest of the small selection, were two sizes too big. Echo let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through the dregs of her hair, looking at the Child who had taken a fascination with a twinkling watch in a nearby display cabinet. 

  "Hey- kid, you think this would suit me?" she asked him, holding up a thick sweater to her chest. "I could make a dress outta it" 

  The Child cooed and cawed, reaching out for the soft fabric as Echo handed it to him. He brought it close to his cheek and smushed the chubby skin against it, gurgling at the feeling, before shoving his face into it. Echo snatched the sweater back and draped it over her arm- she had to at least buy something to present to Mando when he returned, and her fashion guru had chosen the item of clothing wisely. Along with the sweater, Echo showed the Child a few loose shirts and a pair of pants that looked small enough to fit, taking his babble as confirmation that she would look spectacular in her outfit. Finally, she picked out a thick coat from the more feminine side of the store- much to the shopkeeper's liking- and lugged a pair of heavy work boots over to the counter. She dropped them with a heavy thud and stared at the elderly woman- who clicked her tongue and stared at the Child behind her, tucked safely away in his crib.

  "Peculiar little thing, isn't he?" the woman mused as she took a handful of credits from Echo, depositing them into her till. "Is he a pet?"

  "If anything I'm his pet" Echo muttered, casting a glance at the little monster who was staring intensely into a cabinet of necklaces. Echo could see why they had caught his attention; all bedazzled and gleaming, they sat glimmering in the dim lighting of the shop. Some of the necklaces were diamond-encrusted, others embellished with emeralds and sapphires mined from the caves of a distant planet, and one even seemed to dangle with pointed animal teeth. The woman nodded to the cabinet. 

  "My finest necklaces, not too expensive- they would look pretty on a young girl like you," The woman said. 

  There it was again- the word pretty. It made her limbs stiffen as she rigidly walked toward the cabinet, opening the glass front and letting her fingertips skim across the gold and silver clasps. Why was it always pretty? Why not beautiful, it sounded much more mature... Echo wanted to be mature; she was mature. But people often assumed she was much younger than she actually was- even despite all the trauma, the terror she had seen stricken across peoples faces, it had not touched her face at all. Echo looked just as youthful as she had in her early adulthood. For a fleeting moment, she was sure even she had forgotten her true age. 

  "I don't really like jewellery" Echo murmured as the woman emerged from her counter, joining Echo's side, and reaching forward to pick up a particularly beautiful item. It was simple yet extravagant, a pure gold choker with links that looked like little metal leaves. They reminded Echo of the leaves of her home planet that would sprinkle the floor during the colder months, leaves she would crash through with hysteric laughter. The thought brought a smile to her face. "Here"

  The woman delicately placed the choker into Echo's fingertips and she felt a mad rush- a suffocating rush. Like every memory that this necklace had born witness too suddenly rushed into Echo's mind and she could see every thought, hear every word, feel every emotion of the owner before herself. Echo's eyes fluttered shut as a wave of dizziness washed over her, sending her eyes rolling into the back of her head. It was... painful. She felt sad, worn-out like her heart might splinter into a million molecules at a single touch. The Child's crib bumped into her leg, bringing Echo down from her high, and grounding her back into the dusty little shop that she currently stood in. 

  "Where did you get this?" Echo mouthed the words, but they didn't seem to slip off her tongue until she had repeated them twice. The woman gave a small shrug.

  "I have had that piece since before the start of the Empire, the woman who sold it to me claimed it was the heirloom of a Naboo Queen- are you alright, dear?" The shopkeeper asked.

  "My Aunt was Naboo" 

*

  The Mandalorian did not return until late in the evening when the sun had long set and the moon shone brightly through the canopy of leaves overhead. The rain was still battering the floor of the jungle, and the little clearing they had landed in was almost flooded by the time he trudged up the ramp and through the hatch of the ship, his Beskar gleaming with water and his cape hanging heavily from his neck. Echo had been sat at her workbench since she had returned from the Market, turning the small choker she had seen over in her hands repeatedly- as though it may reveal the secrets she yearned for. It hadn't been a choice when Echo had purchased it, along with her clothes, and the woman was happy to hand over an heirloom that had been sat on the shelf collecting dust for years.  As the hatch closed behind the Mandalorian Echo flinched slightly, causing the little bundle in her lap to jerk awake and gaggle at the sudden surprise. Echo hadn't even noticed that the Child had fallen asleep in her lap, and she didn't exactly mind, as the necklace created a quiet distraction other than tinkering with her equipment or babysitting the little horror.

  "Have fun?" Echo asked emptily, her eyes still trained on the way the gold reflecting the thin strips of circadian lights off its surface. The Mandalorian stopped beside his armoury, shedding the blaster slung across his back and sheathing it away.

  "Did you?" At this Echo looked up, staring at her own warped face in the chrome of his helm. She gave a limp and empty shrug. Mando tilted his head. "You look like you've seen a ghost" 

  Echo said nothing as she buried the necklace into the deep pit of her pocket, picking up the Child and carrying him as she stood up straight. The Child reached for its father and Echo willingly handed him over, folding her arms protectively over her chest as soon as he had left her grasp. The Mandalorian surveyed her tight shoulders and the way she curled in on herself, looking to his Child as though he may explain further. His gaze turned to look down at her attire.

  "Nice clothes," he said with a snicker. Echo rolled her eyes.

  She knew that he would comment on her outfit- mostly for the fact that her bottom half looked like a balloon, and the sweater she sported was far too big, the sleeves sliding over her knuckles so that she had to push them up every few minutes. The cargo pants that fell slack around her thighs were billowy and made out of some sort of canvas material, only clinging to her waist from the grasp of her utility belt, and the boots she had bought clunked as she moved. In all, she looked terrible; not the worst she had ever looked, but bad. 

  "Shut up" she threatened, feeling her muscles loosen slightly. "At least I don't walk around looking like an etiquette droid" 

  "You've called me an etiquette droid twice, you need to work on your insults" Mando continued to laugh quietly, the volume only lilting slightly when Echo placed her hands on her hips in a fit. "You could try Astromech droid next-" 

  "Stop laughing at me!" Resisting the urge to stomp her foot, she let out a breath in a huff and turned away- pausing only briefly to hike the wide-hipped pants further up over her stomach. Mando's laughter increased a decibel, the low sound reverberating down her spine. 

  "I'm not- I'm not laughing" he chuckled slowly between breaths, wiping his visor as though to discard the tears in his hidden eyes beneath. "I'm not!"

  "Well quit whatever it is that you're doing!" 

  As Mando's laughter subsided, only replaced by the Child's own hysterics, Echo couldn't help but allow a small smirk creep onto her face. She had never heard Mando laugh- nor had they ever had a conversation that lasted longer than a few ticks. But this? It filled her body with fulfilment, reminding her that she was not alone on this journey and that he was actually a man beneath all of the heavy Beskar that he carried on his shoulders. Deep down though there was something else, hiding deep in her heart, and she wasn't sure what it was... a feeling of opia that wouldn't seem to go away. And even as Echo turned to grin at him it stayed, growing only more prominent, until it was devouring her chest and spreading fire up her throat. Echo relished in the feeling. 

Chapter Text

“This is impossible!”

Sunlight streamed in through wide, open, windows, allowing for the dipping sun to glow radiantly in the late evening light. The room was large with tall ceilings carved of ornate marble and quartz that reflected the golden sun of the busy planet, draped with banners of deep orange, decorated with the most intricate of the patterns that also decorated the smooth tile underfoot. The room was almost quiet- almost, except for the slapping of feet against the floor as a young girl darted to the side and narrowly avoided a green streak of light that her partner wielded. A warm chill hung in the air, and the distant sound of roaring speeders overhead hummed in the wide room as her body canted toward him. Her master chuckled and lowered his weapon for a moment.

“Nothing is impossible, my very young apprentice,” said Master Quinlan Vos. He was a rather tall man, much taller than the young girl who stood before him, with dreads of black hair and tanned skin that gleamed in the setting sun. He had peculiar tattoos that the youngling had always liked- yellow and stark against the pigmentation of his crooked nose. She stared at him with a furrowed brow as he flashed a grin.

“Master Windu said I’m not an apprentice yet, Master. You’re not allowed to call me one”

She leapt forward, bringing her saber down in a yellow crescendo over her head. It met the sizzling blade of her opponent's, casting sparks around the pair in a halo as Master Vos pushed his weight into his stance and threw her backwards. She landed with a grunt on her tailbone, the weapon flying from her hand, and grumbled as long locks of hair hung before her eyes. The Jedi Master sheathed his weapon and approached her with a swagger in his step.

"You would do well to pay no attention to Master Windu- after all, he is rather boring”

He helped the little girl to her feet with a large hand, settling her to see she only barely reached his belly button. However, for a youngling so small, she was as fast and agile as the older Padawans- someday, she would make an excellent fighter. Vos knelt before his companion and smiled gently.

“You don’t get into trouble for ignoring him, though” she pouted. “It’s not fair, I just want to be a Padawan already! The temples boring, there’s nothing to do!”

Master Vos chuckled, casting a look at the cascading stone steps of the temple that were visible just beyond the high windows. “You have a long way to go yet, and you still have much to learn”

“But I’m ready, master! I’m the best in my class, even Master Tiin thinks so-“ she cut herself short, a red hue creeping onto her pale cheeks. “I-I mean-“

“Have you been eavesdropping again?” The older man asked with a hint of vague amusement in his voice. The young girl looked at her boots and knocked them together. “You will do well on stealth missions- but not until you are much older” 

The girl sighed and bent to retrieve her lightsaber, turning it over in her hands carefully. Master Vos did not take liberty in rejecting her hopes- it was true that she was a skilled fighter, and had excelled many of her peers... she wasn’t special, but she was smart. Smarter than any other little girl of eight that he had ever met. It was evident even in the way she spoke; so eloquent and compassionate, each word laced with sincerity that he often found himself wondering where she had learnt such traits.

“Can I not just come with you, Master? You’re training me already! All I need is permission from the Council!” She began to reason as her Master watched her. “Please-“

“I do not train, I mentor. You have a gift not many Jedi are blessed with- you know that. My role is to help you control it, to use it for good, and to teach you not to abuse the power that comes with it” he paused. “And avoid causing yourself harm”

"I know how to do it!" the child whined, folding her arms in stubbornness. Master Vos laughed. "Look, I can show you!" 

"Very well, my young companion" 

Master Vos gestured to one of the soldiers stationed by the door, who stood stoic and as still as a statue of the Zeffo. The clone approached with an equal stride and handed his blaster to the Jedi Master, who -in turn- passed it to his tutee. She took it with confidence and her tiny digits wrapped around the cold metal of the barrel, the other tightly gripping the handle, as she sucked in a deep breath that made her chest inflate. The youngling screwed her dark eyes shut, her face contorting in an odd expression of concentration, a deep hum escaping her throat. Master Vos watched with a raised brow. 

After minutes of silence, filled only by the girl's grunts and huffs of effort, she let out a loud gasp and her eyes sprang open- they were distant, wider and darker than they usually were. Vos touched the blaster in her hold tenderly. "What did you see, my young child?"

"Pain. Death- courage and bravery. I saw battle" she uttered quietly. Her eyes glimmered with vacant tears as she turned to the clone trooper still lingering nearby. 

"A bad echo cannot exceed the good ones we hold dear to our hearts, youngling. Heartache is something you will experience- always" her master told her. "You would do well to ask your clone troopers of their experiences in battle to prepare yourself for a time when you are of independence." 

"Of course, Master" the little girl bowed her head and smiled at the clone trooper as he hiked back to his post beside the door. At that moment it slid open, and in walked a Commander, his white armour streaked with yellow and his shoulders pulled back square. Master Vos stood and looked toward him.

"Commander Cody," said Master Vos as he approached the clone, a big grin on his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Is Master Kenobi boring you with all of his rules?"

"General Vos" replied the soldier as he lifted the heavy mask from his head and balanced it on his hip. Just like the other soldiers milling around Coruscant, as well as the rest of the Galaxy, he had the same square jaw and tan skin- if it had not been for the distinctive markings of his armour, it would be almost impossible to tell him apart from the other legions. "Your battalions are ready to depart"

The youngling approached her Master on tiny legs, touching the belt of his robe slightly. Master Vos turned and looked down to her, inclining his head. She wore a sad expression- like that of a normal child, a child not blessed with a gift from the Maker himself. 

"Are you leaving?" she asked quietly. 

"Much to my disappointment the Council requires me to station my troops in Boz Pity" he sighed, placing his hand on the crown of her head. "Unfortunately, you are not yet old enough to join me- but do not worry. Someday you will be"

"But we haven’t finished our training- what will I do while you're gone?!”

Master Vos knelt and took her small hands in his, staring at her intently. She had a look of fire in her eyes- not darkness, but passion. Passion to fight, passion to learn; it was something he had only seen in few. Passion was forbidden amongst the Jedi, but Vos believed that it was this passion that had lead to the greatest Jedi there ever were... and someday, he hoped, the girl stood before him would join their ranks in legend. His little Echo.

“While I am away you will train, focus your mind and meditate- regularly,” he said. “Upon my return... we will present you to the council- by that time, I believe you will be ready to take the trials”

She almost jumped ten feet into the air, grinning and laughing as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She reminded him so much of his first Padawan, Aayla.

“But you must behave, do not step out of line or I will have to force you to wait longer, my little Echo”

The girl scowled and the hint of a smile curled at her lips. “Stop calling me that- I don’t like it!”

"Hm... Commander Cody?” Master Vos asked the stationary stormtrooper. “What do you think? Do you think we shall call her Echo from now on?”

“It is a fitting name, General-“ Commander Cody paused at the young girl's frown and smiled at her. “We had a brave soldier amongst our ranks of the same name, it would be an honour to serve with such an alias”

Echo did not speak for a while, her lips screwed up as she thought intently. “Fine,” she said finally.

“Very well”

Master Vos stood and gestured to the clone Commander who strolled out of the open door, casting one last look at the girl stood in the centre of the room. She looked so small, so innocent- so ready. He nodded at her.

"May the Force be with you, Master!” She called.

“And with you, Echo”  

*

Echo's eyes sprang open as she leapt up with a jolt, her body covered in sweat and her hair clinging to her back. Outside of the ship rain pounded the metal hull, trickling into deep puddles and off the sloping leaves, and she groaned as her head smacked into the underside of the workbench that she had been curled up under. A horrible feeling shook the back of her skull as she rubbed the sore spot, laying back down on a single elbow, one knee propped up at her foot resting against a nearby crate. For the past few weeks, Echo had been careful to not hit her head when she woke up, but apparently, her dream had startled all sense and logic from her body. She shivered.

Normally, her dreams turned into nightmares; shapes and blurs of colour with no real meaning, fragmented images swirling in the frontal lobe of her mind- just like the one she had had the morning the Mandalorian sought her out in her Tatooine home. However, it had been many years since she had dreamt of an ancient memory, one that she would have otherwise forgotten, and the picture was still so clear in her mind that she found herself running over the events as she rolled out from beneath her secluded cubby and onto the cold metal of the ship's floor. Master Vos... a name she had not heard since she had been a young girl. And the temple? Stars, how her heart ached for its comfort and security. It had been her home throughout her early childhood, and she still felt a sentimental attachment to it, even if it had burned and crumbled before her very eyes. Echo could still feel the pain of that night. 

Clumsily, Echo pulled herself to her feet, her body still drugged with deep sleep as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and stumbled forward. She placed a hand against the hull and ducked her head to look outside. The back ramp was extended to the ground, which was wet and damp, the short blades of grass glimmering with beading droplets. Though it was not raining as heavily now, puddles still dotted the new clearing they had taken refuge, and the remnants of last night's campfire sizzled as the logs fizzed and burned. From what Echo could remember, they were now to the South of the planet, outside of a small town called, Scarb'or. Echo walked forward and descended the ramp until she stood on the edge of the dripping rain that slid off the back of the ship, squinting to search for any sign of the Mandalorian or the Child. 

"Must've gone into town"

She muttered to herself as she retreated into the dry depths of the ship, closing her computer. The night before she had sent out another EMP- which would, hopefully, confuse any Bounty Hunter's on the planet into thinking they had already left. It had been Echo's plan, and the Mandalorian had thankfully seen the logic behind it- a triumph that made her chest swell when she thought about it. However, after sending out the pulse, her computer had... well, to put it simply, it had died. Completely. Internally imploded on itself and black-screened. Echo very much doubted she would be able to find a new one in the backwater planet of Praadost, and because she didn't know when they would be leaving or there next destination, she had to think deeply about how to break the news to her silent friend. He would not be happy. 

Echo felt her way to the fresher, which was a tiny compartment slotted in next to the vacc. It was only big enough for Echo to squeeze her small frame inside with enough room to press either elbow against the cold metal walls, and the water fell in a harsh stream from a faucet in the ceiling. There were no soap bars in here or creams to wash her hair, but the water provided enough of a scrub to ring out the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past few days. She tapped the pad in the wall lightly and allowed the water to spill down and disappear through the drain in the wall, stripping off her clothes and hoping that some unfortunate soul would catch a glimpse through the open door to the Razor Crest. When she was sure she was safe- and no thieves would come snooping around- she slid herself in the shute and wedged the door shut behind her, encasing her in a darkness lit only by a single, yellow, lamp. 

After-dream showers were Echo's only form of relief- feeling the water rush over her body, warming her to the bone, and the way it alieved all of the stress and sweat by washing it away into underfoot pipes. Unlike her shower on Tatooine, though, the shower on the Razor Crest was powerful, the water tasting different on her lips than that of the recycled liquid on the sand planet. This water was not from moisture farms and stolen from the humidity in the air; no, this water was filtered by powerful dams and stored in large containers, enough water to drown Echo three times over in a sort of comforting way. Echo wrapped her hands in her hair and squeezed tightly, knotting it more than she should, dragging her nails over her scalp and down to her neck, leaving a streak of red marks. Her eyes fluttered shut as the water trickled over her eyelids and clung to her lashes, trying to remember more details of her dream- no, her memory. Quinlan Vos. Commander Cody. An unnamed soldier. They were names she had not heard in many years, ones she thought had faded from her mind completely.

If she closed her eyes hard enough, squeezed up each muscle in her face, she could still feel Master Vos' touch; so gentle and comforting, a vast difference to the harsh and abrupt movements of the other Masters in the Jedi Temple. Vos had been different- he had been like Echo. A rulebreaker. A mischief-maker. Perhaps that was why she felt a pang in her heart at his loss, wondering where he was now. She had not seen him since she had been an adolescent, a teenage girl stuck in the middle of fear and anger. Echo was surprised she had not turned to the dark desires in her heart that creeped out in the night, curling around every limb until they were trembling and she no longer had control. The darkness was always there, but she had learnt to control it now. And she would never call upon it. 

Before Echo could turn off the shower there was a rapping on the door to the fresher, causing her to flinch and elbow the wall and grunt in a thrumming sort of annoyance. Heavy breathing outside signalled Mando's return and she cracked open the door just enough to see the slope of his helmet, keeping her dignity and the very-naked body concealed behind the blanket of steam that rolled out of the small compartment. He stuck his head around the corner but his visor maintain contact with her eyes- she hoped that he would not look down and squint through the fog. 

"C-Can I help you?" Echo asked timidly, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the water and embarrassment. He inclined his head.

"You left the ramp down," he said in the same monotone voice he used when he was mildly agitated. It was a trope of his she had come to learn in their very limited time together. "Somebody could have come aboard" 

"But... they didn't- do you mind looking away while I get dressed? I get that we're like... acquaintances or something but that doesn't mean I wanna parade my junk off to you" 

Mando stared at Echo for a few moments before reluctantly turning, striding toward the armoury and began to sort through it. Echo let out a sigh of relief and reached around on the floor to find her shirt, pulling it over her head despite her body still being damp and hoping that it did not cling to her chest too much. As she wiggled into her pants and gathered the wet tassels of her hair on her shoulder she spotted the kid, perched on her workbench, ragging back and forth on the already broken computer screen. She slid her feet into her socks.

"You need to be more careful of leaving the door to the ship open," Mando said when she was decent, turning again and folding his arms across his broad chest. "A thief could have taken something"

"Seriously?" Echo seized the scruff of the kid's rags and pulled him off the computer, placing him into the safe confines of his crib amid his protests and flailing little stumps that were his arms. "You left me asleep with it open- I could have died"

Mando said nothing but rubbed two leather digits over the Child's wrinkled forehead, earning a coo from him in affection. The Child looked at him with such... compassion. Even if the heavily armoured man did not acknowledge it, it was easy to see; the kid loved him like Mando was his own father. 

"You looked peaceful" Mando shrugged. "You're fine, aren't you?"

"Sure" Echo placed a hand on her hip and rose a single brow. "Look, my computer- it's bust. Dead"

"Dead? What do you mean dead? Fix it" 

Echo pursed her lips, knowing that Mando would not take something as simple as dead for an answer. He was the sort of person to be so inexplicitly oblivious that he thought she could just magically fix everything- whether that be her computer, one of the biometrics in the cockpit, or even the broken thermostat that had apparently not been attended to since before they had met each other. His ship was a wreck and Echo was no mechanic. 

"Trust me, I've tried- but it's done for. I'm not gonna be able to do my work until it's replaced or I build a new one... and that's expensive" she let out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding. "I can try and find a cheap one on the market places but I can't guarantee it'll work as well as-"

"I'll find you one," Mando said firmly, letting out a low growl that seemed to reverberate through his lungs. Echo looked at him dubiously. "What do you need?"

"I-I... what? You'll find one? Here?" 

Echo let out a short laugh. Praadost II wasn't as culturally adapt as an Inter-Rim planet was, and though it still maintained the technology need to keep the society functioning economically, it lacked the modernist touch that a planet such as Coruscant or Corellia may have had. The most technologically updated thing Echo had seen during their stay on Praadost had been a last-generation Astromech droid from the era of the Clone Wars, and even that had been battered and rusted, rolling around on uneven legs. If anything, Echo would have to piece together her own contraption, a feat she had only attempted once before- and that had resulted in a small explosion and the collapse of the ceiling in her first home. But she was older now, surely she could complete something as simple as putting together a multifunctional computer to screw over the Galaxy's deadliest people, right?

"What do you need?" Mando repeated, already taking out his blaster from where he had stored it away only minutes earlier. 

"Alright... okay- okay" Echo huffed. "You're gonna want to make a list" 

*

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. A truly awful, shitty, Dank Farrik bad idea. 

Echo recoiled and bit her lip, curling in on herself as she squatted in the middle of the hull. Her hand tingled with soldering burns and her fingers ached. She was sweaty and tired and frustrated. Resisting the urge to throw her soldering iron down the length of the holding bay she inhaled, willing herself to calm down, as she seated herself back on the floor and pulled the components of her soon-to-be computer terminal toward her. She had been working for hours and the sun had long since set, the rain finally halting its assault outside and now allowing for a warm breeze to brush over the back of her neck as it washed through the open hatch of the ship. She welcomed it, though it did nothing for her frustration, as the Child waddled up behind her and began to clamber into her lap. 

"C'mon kid" Echo sighed, rubbed her eyes with her non-injured hand. "I'm tryna work" 

The Child cooed in replied and wiggled around, settling himself in the crook of her crisscrossed knees. When he had found his place he leant over and nestled his head against her thigh, closing his large eyes and falling asleep. The kid seemed to have a sixth sense for when Echo was frustrated and had decided that, in order to help her, he would make himself as inconveniently placed as possible. It was adorably annoying, especially when the task at hand was proving much harder than it had been in her youth.

The floor shook as the Mandalorian descended from the upper level of the ship, closing in on her in two long strides until he was looming behind her hunched figure. He leant down and picked up the motherboard, looking at the choppy work that closely resembled a patchwork blanket. He made a small sound beneath the modulator.

"You're making good progress" 

"Shut up" Echo grumbled and snatched it back, jamming the sheet of metal into the small metal box and shoving it under the workbench. Done... sort of. She wasn't one-hundred-percent sure whether it would work, or whether it would blow up. Again. But Echo decided not to worry as she pulled herself to her feet, minding the Child who she shifted in the bend of her elbow, and approaching the large screen that Mando had somehow pulled out of a junk pile. It was cracked in some places and the holo was jittery, but all-in-all it was a good find.

"I thought you were meant to be a tech expert" Mando pointed out blatantly as he followed her, enjoying his position lingering by her shoulder. Echo wondered why he always stood so close- it was too close, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from the unconcealed parts of his body. The feeling made her fingers tremble as she booted up the computer, leaning over her workbench in a bid to escape his looming presence.

"I never called myself a tech expert, I just know my way around things," Echo said over her shoulder as she waited. The computer began to whir, the fans spinning, and it began to make a small hum. Echo grimaced. "It was you who came up with that name"

Mando leant on the workbench beside her, his cold pauldron bumping her shoulder. "It's better than Echo" 

Echo turned her head with wide eyes, her lips parted slightly. Did he just... did he just insult her? Blatantly? He had done it before, but never about her name. It made her grin wickedly.

"You're funny, I think you should rethink your career choice and get yourself hired in a cantina" she mused as the screen began to glow. She leant further forward, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the tabletop. "Come on" she urged quietly. 

"I've considered it" he murmured as Echo reached out and tentatively touched the screen. It moved fluidly as her fingertips interacted with the confusing dialect. It was not the language she was used to, but it would do.

"Wow, joking around? Did you hit your head while you were out?" Echo asked in amusement as she began to upload her previous programmes from her broken computer to the new terminal she had constructed. She typed at the small keypad, it being the only sound besides their breathing and conversation. Mando sighed at Echo's comment and reached out, touching the screen and watching as it actually worked. She found herself straightening up with pride, settling her hands on her hips triumphantly and positively beaming at her achievement. Maybe she was a tech expert. Echo looked at Mando with a beaming face.

"See? You hired the right girl"

"Debatable" he replied grumpily. Oh. He really was being a sarcastic Womp Rat today. Well, Echo thought, two can play at that game.

"At least I don't walk around with a bucket on my head" Echo fired back, wiggling her head slightly like a woman who had had one too many shots of Spotchka. Mando tilted his head back slightly as though he was rolling his eyes. "What? You don't like being called a Buckethead, Buckethead?" 

"It's a helm, a sign of the Mandalore" Mando whined in frustration. His hand rested on the empty holster of his blaster. 

"Bucket" Echo repeated with a challenging expression.

"Helmet"

"Bucket"

"Helmet"

"Bucket-"

"It-" Mando gripped her jaw. Not roughly but tenderly, the leather material comforting in a weird sort of way. She found the touch comforting in a weird sort of way. The whole situation was weird, and Echo found herself turning the colour of an exotic flower as her stomach churned. "Is a helmet"

Echo didn't know what to say. Her whole body was trembling with a strange and alarming sensation, each breath she drew shaky and uneven. He released her after a few short moments as his hand fell to his side, yet the feeling in her chest did not disappear. Echo could still feel the ghost of his touch as he took a step back, putting distance between himself and Echo, before she could muster up the words to say anything to him. Finally, when her tongue no longer felt heavy and her throat had stopped constricting violently, she cleared her voice and spoke:

"F-Fine" Echo stammered. "Its a helmet" 

"You can close your mouth now" Echo did, in fact, close her mouth. She coughed awkwardly and found herself folding her arms over her chest and swaying on the spot, something she did when she was unsure of what to say. But Mando filled in the silence and nodded his head to the new piece of technology now running as smoothly as possible. "You should get your stuff together, we'll be leaving soon"

"Where are we going?" Echo asked, glad at the sharp change in conversation. Her heart had stopped hammering in her chest now and she wasn't shaking as much, though she still clung to the hem of her shirt to calm her limbs.

"To see an old friend, he has a job for me- for... for us, if you'll help. It shouldn't take too long" Mando said, shrugging off the use of us as if it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing. An outside job with Mando? It spiked Echo's curiosity. 

"Me? You want me to help?"

"I'm gonna need comms that actually work and are reliable... in case anything goes wrong" Mando began to busy himself by fiddling with the gauntlet around his left wrist. "Should it go wrong, that is?"

Echo stared at Mando. He needed her help in case something went wrong. He needed her help in case something went wrong... he trusted her. The words took a moment to sick in but Echo found herself smiling internally at the thought. He trusted her enough to keep track of a commlink- he trusted her.

"O-Okay. Yeah. Okay," she agreed, nodding. "Let's do it"

"Yeah?" He asked, confirming her assurances. Echo nodded.

"Yeah" she breathed.

"Okay. I'll plan a course- you... you might want to collect herself" Mando sniffed through his helmet before turning and marching off up the holding bay, disappearing into the cockpit in a whip of his cloak, and leaving Echo to stare at the place he had been stood. She shivered in his absence and turned, only realising now that her lips were dry and her fingers had been trembling so furiously that she had knocked her water canteen off the workbench she had been clutching so tightly. The Child cooed from his crib, making Echo jump in surprise. She had completely forgotten he had been sat there, watching the entire scene unfold. Great, she thought, just great. 

Chapter Text

Echo was nervous- no, that was an understatement. She was always nervous. From the moment she awoke in the morning to the second her eyes drifted shut curled up in her designated sleeping bag, every nerve alive and aware of each noise that ricocheted off the four walls of the Razor Crest. Hyperspace travel had made her worse, much more afraid that at any moment interstellar particles would rip the ship apart- or that they would collide with a supernova or a star- or that when they dropped out of lightspeed travel they would be hailed by an army of Bounty Hunters. It was driving her insane.

They had left Praadost II shortly after their conversation about Mando’s- and now Echo’s- new ‘job’. She was still unsure as to what it was but had been smart enough to not turn down the opportunity to make some more credits; however, she had had time to think since then, and after four days travelling amidst the stars, Echo was starting to rethink her agreement. She had even gone as far as to break down the little words and information he had provided her with, scrutinising each detail until her head was pounding and she began to see stars. Sleep was not something she had gotten much of during this time. 

On the fourth day though, only hours after waking up, Echo finally heard the long-awaited siren that was a warning of the deceleration of the ship as it began its preparation to drop out of Hyperspace.
Echo was sat at her workbench when it rang through the hull, fiddling with some wires that had come loose, and almost jumped ten feet into the air as she stood abruptly. The Child was still snoozing soundly for what should be his mid-afternoon nap, and all was silent spare the rattling of the walls and the occasional thump of the Mandalorian moving around in the cockpit. Curious, Echo pulled herself up the ladder into the cockpit and slid inside, looking around to see the streaks of stars slowly beginning to turn into individual specks, the glow not so harsh here and comforting darkness. Mando was sat in the pilot’s seat, as he always was, and said nothing as Echo took the chair behind him without a word. 

It was hard to deny the tension in the room. They hadn’t spoken since he had abruptly cut off her banter about his Buckethead, and the silence had fizzled into a sort of frustration in the air. It irked Echo- wiggled itself under her skin, made her heart pump burning liquid through her veins until she wanted to either yell out or scream. It was... it was irritating. Not so much that she wanted to talk to him, but that he had touched her so carefully; as if she was a piece of delicate porcelain that may shatter under his grasp. It was all she could think about when she lay in bed, unable to sleep, and the only thing she saw when she closed her eyes was the blank coldness of his visor. 

“We’ll be dropping out soon, where’s the kid?” Mando asked after minutes of prolonged silence, his head lifting slightly to glance at her reflection in the glass window before him.

”Asleep” She uttered in a tone barely above a whisper. “He’s in the bunk” 

Nothing. Just... silence. Echo watched as his grip around the controls flexed, the tendons in his hands visible beneath the thick leather. She found herself wondering what his skin looked like underneath- was it pale like hers? Or was it tan and rugged? Darkened like that of a great oak tree, weathered with age but so... nice.

Echo knew enough about Mandalorian culture to know that their secrecy played a large role in their beliefs, however, she was sure that in her youth she had heard that this tradition had been abandoned long ago. After all, Duchess Satine Kryze had been a pacifist, had she not? So why was it that this Mandalorian held weapons as dear to his heart as he did the Child, that he had no other name besides the one of his people? She was probably wrong, but it still made her ponder the thought over in her head. Should she ask? No. He would most likely skin her if she did. But she was fine with not knowing who he was, whether he was human or Gungan because he didn’t know who Echo was- and he never could. 

As Echo thought over these frustrating lines of enquiry the stars striking her vision suddenly disappeared as a force thrust her forward and she braced herself against the back of Mando’s seat. When it had subsided and the Razor Crest only shook slightly with the turbulence she looked up, her eyes widening at the empty expanse stretching out around her. Normally, systems in the Galaxy were filled with planets or moons, asteroid belts or suns sitting idly- not really pulling in anything with their gravitational pull. The Universe was large, no, huge, and Echo knew that. But to see so much... nothing? It made her stand up in her seat and crane her head around to make sure she hadn’t missed any rocky atmospheres.

However, the only thing for what looked like light years was a satellite station. It hung, suspended by the void, like a dangling light with blinking windows and a large bay that was visible even from the distance that they were from it. Multiple antennas and satellite dishes protruded from the flattened top, and a large counterweight hung precariously from the bottom so that it would not tip over and break the little centre of gravity they had created. It was the only source of light in the system, the main hangar clearly illuminated by blue fluorescent lights that Mando used as a guide.

“What is this place?” Echo asked as a crackly voice came through the comm. He flicked a few switches, pulled back a lever, and guided the ship to its designated spot.

“Roost Satellite Station” he replied as they passed through the shield of the hangar, the one thing that kept in the oxygen so that everybody on board would not suffocate to death. “An old home of mine”

“Home? What is this, Bounty Hunter central?” She joked, hoping that he would deny her comment with a wave of his hand. He did not.

Oh. Oh. Her stomach twisted as she shakily sat back down in her seat, fingertips curling into the baggy fabric of her pants. They had shrunk with time now and clung more firmly to her frame, but they were still saggy enough to catch on nails when she passed. They also proved a useful distraction for times such as this when the impending panic in her heart roared louder than the blood rushing past her ears and to her brain. He had brought her to Bounty Hunter central. Bounty-Hunter-Central. Echo knew even before the ship landed that she was doomed.

Hydraulics hissed as the landing gears shifted into place, the Razor Crest clunking as it touched to the floor of the Hangar. As the feet sagged under the weight of the ship Echo let out a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding, standing all too quickly and almost knocking into Mando as he rose from his seat. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but Echo ripped away and started toward the door. She needed air. 

“Hey,” Mando said, slinking his arm around her torso to stop her taking another step. Echo froze, her body turning to stone as her heart thundered. His fingers splayed out across her torso, so long and thick that they tickled the waist opposite to where his wrist wrested against her side. It was a soft touch- not strong enough to be threatening, but with enough pressure to stop her in her tracks. Echo found herself taking a step back until her back was flush with the cold beskar plate covering his chest, and she could feel each deep breath as it shuddered through his lungs. “A few things before you go out there”

”What?” Echo snapped in a harsh tone, each word laced with frustration, before growing softer. “There are rules?”

”Just watch your mouth, and don’t touch anything,” he told her with a tone of authority- he always assumed she was going to poke and prod everything. “These aren’t good people” 

“I gathered as much” Echo murmured, turning her neck to gaze out of the curve of the Crest's cockpit window. Below, in the Hangar outside, people were milling about- most likely criminals and mercenaries alike, weaving through the stacks of scrap metal and ship parts that were stacked precariously against one another. Each person her eyes darted to had a blaster- whether it be small or large- and they hugged it so close to them that it looked like an extension of their skin. Echo had thought that Mando would be most comfortable here, among his own kind, but he looked as tense and rigid as he had been on Praadost II. Surely, if he had willingly come to this port of illicit activity, he felt safe? Or was he taking a chance, just like the chance he took in welcoming her aboard his ship as Crew? It was a mystery she knew she would never be able to unravel.

“I’m being serious. They won’t take lightly to your snarky comments, so stay quiet, and let me do the talking” 

He waited for a few ticks for her reply, which was a stiff nod before his hand fell away and left the burning imprint of where it had been. Her shirt clung to her stomach in the space that he had occupied and Echo found herself taking an instinctive step away once free. She slipped through the door and down into the ship's luggage bay before he had even a chance to say anything more- but that's what he had wanted her to do, right? To stay quiet. Echo could be quiet. 

As Mando slid down the ladder and into the ship's hull Echo checked on the Child, making sure that he was still sleeping soundly as she pulled the ragged blanket he called bed up over his little chin and tucking it behind his head. He looked peaceful, large ears drooping and his face a clean slate of light green and baby-hair wrinkles, his little nostrils and inflating with his rapid breathing. Mando began to rummage behind her in the armoury as Echo closed the door to the bunk, her eyes wandering to the large collection he had somehow accumulated. She had never seen the full extent of his weapon's cache- only catching glimpses here and there- but from where she stood she could peer around his shoulder and directly into the metre-and-a-half wide metal cabinet that took up most of the space in the hull. It was a rack of sorts, holding all sorts of weapons of all sizes, some made of dull silver, some painted a matte black with faded barrels; one even had a cavern of gold embedded into the handle, twinkling in the dim lights. Against the side leant Mando's signature rifle, the box below it empty of any cartridges, as he reached over and picked up the smallest blaster in his collection, one that was the size of Echo's hand. He slid it into his holster and rounded to the hatch behind him. Echo joined him.

He slammed his palm into the glowing button beside the ramp, both of them watching as the hydraulics hissed and exhumed a puff of gas as the slab of metal descended to the floor of Roost Station's hangar with a heavy clunk. Mando trudged down it, his footsteps ricocheting in the bustle of the large space, allowing Echo to follow some feet behind him and get her first look at the wide expanse of the work floor. It was much bigger than it had looked inside the Razor Crest, sloping beams arching up to meet at the point of the ceiling and strips of circadian lights flickering blue and white to illuminate the reflections of the tiled floor. As Echo followed Mando she kept her eyes glued to the floor, only just able to make out her appearance in the reflective surface. 

She looked healthier, somehow. It amazed her to see, but it was evident with how much plumper her cheekbones looked; full and glowing a radiant red. Her hair was thrown back carelessly from her face, though baby hairs fell and stuck flat to her forehead, and even her shoulders looked somehow broader. Compared to how she had looked on Tatooine, it was a vast difference- for the first time in her life, Echo looked older. Less like the young girl who roamed the desert streets and more like the woman she was destined to be. Even as she passed the front of the ship her eyes flitted to her figure- how much rounder she looked, no longer skin and bones. She stopped herself short, though,  focusing her attention forwards and to the man who she trailed closely behind. 

"Mando!" A voice hollered from behind a large generator, and both Mando and Echo stopped and turned to see a portly man emerge. He had a round face and wind-beaten cheeks, a wild tangle of grey and matted hair falling around his weathered face which sported bushes of a large beard. His black, beetle-like, eyes peered out from beneath the heaviness of his brow as he broke into a beam. He paid no notice to Echo, who hung by Mando like an annoying fly he could not swat away, and extended an arm toward the beskar-clad warrior. "Is that you under that bucket?"

"Ran" Mando greeted roughly, clapping his hand into the stranger's grasp with a firm shake. 

"Didn't really know if I'd ever see you in these parts again- good to see you..." Ran trailed off, his eyes darting to Echo's, who shrank under his gaze and suddenly found interest in a turbine some way down the Hangar. "And who might this pretty little thing be?" 

"Crew" Mando replied with a careless tone, as though he couldn't be bothered carrying on the line of conversation but was attempting to for leisure. He didn't look at her. "Helping out on the Crest" 

"Well I'm sure she cost a pretty dime, I'd be happy to take her off your hands if she's too much- must be worth it if she's good enough for a Mandalorian" Echo's stomach twisted as she looked to Mando, willing herself to calm so that she would not lash out- she had promised to stay quiet, so she would. But Mando didn't- he just stood, silent, letting the awkward exchange drag out until it festered among the small group. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ran slinked an arm over Mando's shoulders and began to guide him further into the depths of the hangar. 

"You know, to be honest, I was a little surprised when you reached out to me. You know... 'cause I-I hear things. Like maybe things between you and the Guild aren't working out" 

"I'll be fine" The Mandalorian replied with his same tone of finality. Ran clicked his tongue, his arm falling to his side, gesturing out in a friendly manner. 

"Mhmm... well, okay. You know the policy, no questions-" he told him. "And you, you're welcome back here anytime- your cute little friend too" 

Ran lead them through the maze of the work floor of the satellite station, a mess of ship parts and scrap metal waiting to either be soldered or melted down into molecules of liquid formula. It was much, much, larger than she had anticipated- the path they carved through the towers of metal lit by blinking red lights that lined the dented and scratched floor. Though the hangar was bustling, the depths of it was as quiet as a desolate forest, and it wasn't until Echo found herself on a suspended catwalk was it that she noted the sea of stars visible through the forcefield array keeping the oxygen in the space station. It was... liberating, in a sense. The supernovas seemed to stretch out for an eternity, enveloping the space station in its endless ocean, and it was strange to look out on such a picturesque scene with no obstructions in the way. Here, in the void, there were no planets or asteroid belts blocking the view, no cruisers gliding peacefully by. It was... dead- like the whole Galaxy had given up this small pocket of space just for Echo to gaze upon. She found herself encaptured by the twinkling supernovas as she leant against the barrier of the catwalk, close enough to listen to Mando and Ran's conversation, but not close enough to be involved. 

"What's the job?" Mando asked as they lumbered to a stop, ignoring Echo and her awe, looking at one another. Ran inclined his head.

"Yeah... One of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So I'm putting together a crew to spring him. It's a five-person job, and I got four"

Echo felt her joints tighten- she had almost forgotten that the whole reason they were here in the first place was for work, not leisure or idle conversation. But as she replayed the conversation in her head she suddenly realised what Ran had said. She didn't know Mando that well, and suddenly he wanted her to help him- and some other strangers- to spring a random guy from the prison of an egocentric Warlord or Mercenary? Mando had to be crazy. But then a thought swirled in the front of her mind; this might seem absurd to Echo, but to Mando, this was just another day's work. And what a headache it was going to be.

"All I need is a ride, and you brought it" Ran continued, gesturing to the Razor Crest, which was just visible over the sea of scrap. Mando snapped his head to his companion.

"The ship wasn't part of the deal" 

"Well, the Crest is the only reason you got back in here"

Mando straightened up from where he had been lounging against the catwalk's barrier, towering over Ran as his shoulders pulled back and his biceps flexed beneath the armour. It was a stance Echo had seen once before- when she had called him a Buckethead. He growled lowly under his breath, loud enough to be heard.

"What's the look? Is that gratitude?" Ran began to laugh, walking back toward Echo. "Mhmm... I think it is"

Ran walked with an uneven step, his footsteps clanging on the metal walkway until he came to a stop before Echo. She moved to step out of his way, to allow him to pass, but instead, he clapped a hand down on her waist and felt the rigidness of her body as her jointed coiled up. Mando lingered some metres away, watching, as Ran gave her a once-over. It was a dirty, perverted, look- one that belonged to the men who graced the cantinas of Mos Eisley on the prowl. Ran would fit right in, Echo knew it, glowering at him as she bit down into her bottom lip until she felt the skin begin to tear between her teeth.

"You know, you never told me your name, sweetheart" Ran drawled in a softer tone. Echo said nothing, refusing to comply- or, at least, she did until his fingers squeezed threateningly around the skin of her side until she found her lips parting with surprised. 

"Echo" she spat in a single breath. Ran chuckled to himself.

"Echo? Echo..." he spoke out loud, testing the name on the curl of his tongue. He brought his face closer, so close that she could smell the alcohol tainting his breath, so putrid and strong that her nose scrunched up. "C'mon, what's your real name? Perky thing, like you, you look like an Alderaan refugee- bet you got a real pretty name-" 

"I want to meet the crew" 

Mando's words sliced through Ran's, causing the plump man to flinch and cast an angry look over his shoulder. Ran huffed in exasperation, rolling his eyes as his touch on Echo disappeared. He winked at her, saying. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll have plenty of time to get familiar when your friend don't come back from his job" before trudging off down the catwalk, his footsteps ricocheting in the small space of their little bubble. Mando shoved past her, saying nothing- no consolation for his friend's behaviour, He left Echo, walking until he became nothing more than a speck of Beskar, but still she stayed put, as though her feet were glued to the metal beneath her.

Normally, she didn't care for the perverted comments of men with nothing better to do. She had been hassled and harassed more times than she cared to count for, touched inappropriately or looked at so crudely it made her blood boil. But Echo had always fought back- whether that had been physically or verbally, she had always stood up for herself when nobody else had. However, this time she hadn't, and she felt weak. She felt like a young girl on Tatooine, trapped by the hopelessness of its inhabitants, refusing to wake up in the morning in hopes that she would simply disappear. Without her will to fight back, Echo felt like nothing- she was nothing. How could she ever be who she claimed to be if she stood by and just let the bad people in the  Galaxy hurt her, touch her in ways that made her want to scream? Tears prickled her eyes as she rushed to catch up to Mando. 

Turns out, he had been waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, leant against the railing and looking up as she descended quickly- almost falling down in the process. He studied her face closely as her feet met the cold tile of the hangar floor, inclining his head she looked around for his companion, who was nowhere to be found. 

"You okay?" Mando uttered as he joined her side in walking in search of Ran. 

"I'm fine" Echo shrugged it off, not wanting to bother him with her quarries. "Your friend should keep his hands to himself" 

Mando gave a small noise- something close to a laugh- as they turned around a pile of water pumps to see Ran leant against the wall, his arms folded. He nodded his head to a man crouched over a sabacc table, skinny and lean, with a bald head gleaming with sweat and two guns holstered to either side of his hips. He wasn't paying much attention, seemingly bickering with a red-faced Mon Calamari over a pile of credits, until Ran cleared his throat and he looked up.

"Hey, Mayfeld," Ran said as he pushed off the wall, approaching the so-called Mayfeld who met him halfway in a clasp of arms. Mayfeld walked with a swagger in his step, his eyebrows quirking upward at each of Ran's concealed words, as Mando folded his arms. "This is Mando, the guy I was telling you about? Used to do jobs way back when" 

Mayfeld looked over Ran's shoulder at Mando, who tilted his helm in a nod. Mayfeld returned the action. "This the guy?"

"Yeah" Ran sighed, closing his eyes as though he was reminiscing on older times- better times. "We were all young, tryna make a name for ourselves. But running with a Mandalorian? That was... well, it brought us some reputation"

Mayfeld was nodding along, hanging off Ran's every word, his bottomless eyes raking over Mando's gleaming armour. "Yeah? What did he get outta it?"

"I-I asked him that one time! You remember what you said, Mando? Target Practice" Ran roared with laughter. "Target practice. Man, we did some crazy stuff, didn't we?"

Echo looked at Mando with curiosity. By the way Ran was rambling on, she would not have been surprised if the Mandalorian was as old as Ran was, and it made her wonder how he seemed to stay in such shape for a man so old. Had he really had that much fun? From her first impressions, Mando had seemed like a stick in the mud; not one for fun, his only purpose being his drive to work. However, as she watched Ran's eyes crease in the corners, she found herself dreaming of a much-younger Mandalorian, laughing and talking happily away with his crew and friends. What had happened?

"That was a long time ago," Mando said gruffly, his arms moving to rest his hands on his hips.

"Well... Well, I don't go out anymore. You understand? So uh... Mayfeld, he's gonna run point on this job? If he says it, it's like it's coming from me. You good with that?" Ran asked, though his tone implied there wasn't much room for argument.

"You tell me" Mando replied in a short tone. 

Ran laughed. "You haven't changed one bit" 

Perhaps he had always been boring, then, Echo thought. 

"Well," Mayfeld interrupted. "Things have changed around here" 

With a grunt Mayfeld turned and began to walk back to his Sabacc table, hollering over at the Mon Calamari who was attempting to make a cheat move. Echo watched him sit back down, thinking he wasn't as much of an ass as Ran, but still a dick. 

"Mayfeld, he's one of the best trigger men I've ever seen. Former Imperial sharpshooter"

A snort wiggled itself up Echo's throat, turning into a cough as Ran looked at her with confusion and Mando shot her a sideways glance. Ex-Imperial sharpshooter, really? She had seen the aim that stormtroopers had, and knew that a youngling's aim with a blaster would most likely be better.

"That's not saying much" Mando pointed out, as though he knew what Echo was thinking.

"I wasn't a stormtrooper, wiseass!" 

"Doesn't take long, does it?" Ran smirked.

*

By the time they returned to the Razor Crest, Echo was sure she had seen every corner of Roost Station's hangar. She had seen the smelters that they used for burning down scrap metal until they were liquid molecules and the numerous crates of ale they kept in the dark corners. It was a large place, packed with beings of every species, and Echo found herself slightly envious of its diversity- despite the looming fact that they were all mercenaries and bounty hunters of some description. As they drew closer to the ship, Echo spotted a small haggle of people assembled around the ramp, and she slowed her footfall slightly as they drew closer. Mayfeld had joined them not long after finishing his game of Sabacc and had hung towards the rear of the group with Echo, staring at her occasionally whenever they turned a corner.

As they came to a halt at the front of the ship Echo saw that the small group gathered consisted only of two people- a rather large, muscly looking, Devaronian with red skin that looked like leather and two black horns protruding from his forehead. He was carrying a large crate down the ramp of the ship, throwing it around like it weighed nothing, and barking at his counterpart- a black, Q9-0 droid, who was babbling away intellectually. Echo didn't really care for droids; they were talkative and irritating, always butting in whenever it was least needed. She could vaguely remember her Aunt having an astromech droid in her youth, blue and white with a quick tongue, but she couldn't remember his name. 

"Alright" Mayfeld began, clapping his hands together as he swerved around Echo. "Good looking fella there with the horns? That's Burg. This may surprise you, but he's our muscle"

Burg dropped the large crate he had been carrying and marched up to Mando, his heavy feet pounding the floor as his face stopped inches from the Mandalorian's visor. Mando stood, unfazed, and tilted his head up to gaze into Burg's black eyes. Echo had seen only a collection of Devaronian's before, but she knew enough to know that they were short-tempered brutes. Not somebody she wanted to get on the wrong side of. 

"So this is a Mandalorian" Burg grunted, pulling back slightly and pulling his nose up. "I thought they'd be bigger"

Still, Mando remained silent, his head turning to see Mayfeld gesture to the droid. "Droid's name is Zero" 

The droid Zero approached, moving robotically- which was ironic- and with a certain jitter as his head turned this way and that. His look fixated on Echo, who forced a smile onto her face. 

"Unregistered personnel, there is only meant to be five crew members," the droid said, walking ever closer until he was only a foot away from Echo. 

"She's with me- speaking of, you said you had four, Ran?"

"He does" a feminine voice drawled from behind the group, causing all heads to turn. Echo stood, stunned.

She hadn't expected to see a Twi'lek aboard a hangar such as this- especially one playing with a delicate knife, twirling it as though it was nothing more than a screwdriver or a child's pencil. She wore a sadistic smile as she pranced over, her free hand twirling the end of her lekku around a long finger. She had a curious purple pigment to her skin and, in another life, she might have been beautiful- if not for the murderous look in her eyes as they darted between Mando and Echo. 

"Hello Mando" She greeted in a sickeningly sweet voice. Mando let out a gruff noise. 

"Xi'an" he replied in a clipped voice. 

"Tell me..." she sighed, suddenly pouncing forward and turning the knife so that the hilt pressed into her palm. She drove it up, up into the dip of his throat, the blade tickling the fabric of his cloak as she giggled. Mando did not flinch, still, and Echo wondered how hard he trained to remain so stoically still. "Why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?" 

"Nice to see you too" He mumbled, looking down at her. 

Xi'an sighed and laughed, sending a chill up Echo's spine. "I missed you" she clinked the knife against his beskar armour, making a small ding. "This is shiny, you wear it well" 

"Do we need to leave the room or something?" Mayfeld interrupted, his arms crossed and his legs stood at ease. He wore an expression of boredom. 

"Well, Xi'an's been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group" Ran told Mayfeld, as well as Echo, wearing a small grin. 

Echo looked between Mando and Xi'an. Had he... no. It was impossible. He surely couldn't have- could he? Mando didn't seem one for relationships, and considering the Twi'lek had just threatened to slit his throat, only spelt disaster. Echo chewed the inside of her cheek as Xi'an twirled on her foot, batting her long lashes, and she felt a pit bubble in her stomach. 

"Awww, you gonna be okay, sweetheart? You know, after Mando replaced you, and all?" 

Xi'an spun on her foot to look at Mayfeld, who only pointed at Echo accusingly. Echo watched as Xi'an approached slowly, her beady eyes raking over the other girl's body, picking apart each of Echo's features, still holding that knife tightly. Echo sucked in a deep breath and pushed out her chest, her best attempt to stand her ground, as Xi'an giggled and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please? This?" She trailed the knife down the braids of Echo's hair. "This is just a girl"

Echo spoke before she had thought through her words, her voice shaky yet determined. "Don't touch me" 

Xi'an's face split into a grin as her eyes widened, the tip of the blade resting just over Echo's heart. "She talks?" 

"Leave her alone, Xi'an, she ain't nothing more than slave Mando bought" Ran said, an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two women, but neither one moved. They glared at each other, an explicit fight for dominance, one that Echo would not submit to without a fight.

"A slave cannot replace me- look at her, doesn't even have a weapon." Xi'an taunted. "What is she gonna do, bite me?" 

"Keep talking and I guess we'll find out" Echo gritted out through a clenched jaw. 

"Alright, ladies, that's enough" Mayfeld commanded, reaching for Xi'an’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off, pushing the tip of her knife further into Echo's skin. She felt the prick pang through her nerves, a bead of blood sliding down her chest and disappearing beneath her shirt. Xi'an had cut her. 

"You gonna cry, slave? You can't even put up a fight-" 

Xi'an let out a puff of air as Echo wrapped her hand around the Twi'lek's wrist, pushing it back roughly toward her. The hilt of her blade smacked into Xi'an's forehead, knocking her off balance, and Echo snapped the knife out of her clutch and pointed it toward the purple-skinned woman who stared at Echo in annoyance. She spat at her, straightening, as Mando set his hand on Echo's elbow and guided it down- he had not intervened before, so why now? He had let Xi'an cut her, so what did he care? Anger surged through her chest as she tossed the knife to Xi'an, who caught it, but did not advance anymore. 

"Are you two done?" Ran barked, snapping out of his daze, and flailing his arms. "Go on, you need to get off- we don't have much time" 

Xi'an let out a breath through her nose and pushed past Echo, who was only now aware of the stinging of the small cut in her chest. She smudged her finger along with the drip of blood and wiped it away with the collar of her shirt, looking at Mando who said nothing but stared at her. What did he expect? Did he expect her to let Xi'an keep cutting her until she hit something- or did he expect her to fight back? It was hard to tell what he was thinking, so instead of arguing, or talking, or just continuing to stare, Echo pulled herself from his hold and disappeared inside the Razor Crest. At least her computer wasn't a condescending ass. 

*

“The hell is wrong with you?”

They hadn't been in Hyperspace for longer than thirty minutes, and even in that short amount of time, nobody had uttered a word. Not that they needed to- the moment they lifted off, Echo had made herself scarce, loitering in the small gangway outside of the cockpit, making the excuse of trying to fix her dead laptop. It was propped on her knee, the back panel cracked open, and she was halfway through ripping out the inner processor when Mando had clambered up the ladder. He seized her arm and pulled her to her feet roughly, the laptop falling with a bang as he brought his face down to her. He was breathing heavily- angrily- and she struggled in his hold.

"Get off me" Echo hissed, quiet so that the crew below or the droid in the cockpit would not hear the commotion. 

It had been a surprise when Mando had announced that Zero would be piloting the ship- however when he went on to explain the ludicrous plan, Echo had wanted to smack him- or punch him- or both. As it turned out, they weren't just breaking into a private prison owned by a syndicate, no, they were breaking into a New Republic prison. It was insane, but what could Echo do? Protest? She knew that the people in the ship's holding bay would happily toss her into the expanse of space if she so much as raised her voice again; a mistake she had made with Xi'an.

The Twi'lek had been glaring at Echo ever since their standoff, hissing at her whenever she walked past and aiming to trip her up. It was evident that she hadn't appreciated Echo fighting back, but she had had enough. She had gone her whole life letting people like Xi'an pick on her, hunt her down, and in that moment she had snapped, even if she would come to regret it much later. 

"What the hell was that back there?" Mando grunted as Echo placed a palm against his chest in an effort to push him away. He snatched her other wrist and brought both arms down around her sides, pinning her there, unable to move. "I told you to stay quiet"

"She cut me if you hadn't noticed" Echo snapped. "What, you wanted me to let her keep doing it until she was carving out my heart?"

Mando's hold slackened slightly at her words, enough to allow Echo to wriggle them free and slam them into his chest plate. He took a step back at the force, his head tilting. Echo bent and began to gather up the splintered remains of her computer, piecing them together in her arms, her back turned and unaware of Mando's clenched fists.

"I-I had it handled," he said. 

"Really?" Echo drawled, grunting in frustration when a smattering of screws fell onto the floor. "You really had it handled? I didn't realise that my job also included A- being felt up by a gonk, B- being threatened with a knife, and C- having to let them do it” Echo's voice lilted as she spun around, her hands on her hips. 

"I am sorry about Ran" he forced out, though Echo knew he really wasn't. She tutted.

"Look, I get it- you're a Mandalorian, your silence is your survival- no, your secrecy is your survival, that's it" Echo corrected herself, remembering the collection of lessons at the Jedi Temple in her youth. It had been customary to learn of other cultures in order to progress in her training, so, as a result, she had learnt some about ancient Mandalorian culture.

"How did you-"

"What do you want?" Echo sighed in exasperation. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He took a step closer, close enough so that he had her pressed into a corner, his helmet moving to settle into the crook of her neck. Echo's cheeks reddened, quite unsure as to what he was doing. "W-What are you- get off-"

"Shut up" he snapped quietly. "And listen to me- I don't care whether you trust me or not, but right now I need to be able to trust you, okay?" Echo stared at the details of his pauldron, her eyes staring at the way it had been melded- the thick seam where metal met metal, rising up and forming a ridge along the curve of the armour plate. "Okay?"

"Fine" she spat out in reply. He let out a breath, one that- oh, stars- one that she felt slide beneath his helmet and spread along her shoulder. It was warm and made her fingers curl into the hem of her shirt as she closed her eyes, hoping that nobody would suddenly appear from the ladder. 

"The droid is going to be monitoring comms, but I need you to set up a private channel as soon as we're gone, okay? One that only I can access"

Echo pulled back and looked up at Mando, who stared back down, one arm bracing himself against the wall above her head. A private commlink? Why would he need one- what was he expecting? Did he not trust the crew?

"Why-"

"Just do it" he sighed. "Please" 

The word sent a cold sensation dancing up her skin, riddling it with goose pimples and causing the little hairs on her arms to stand on end. His voice was pleading, almost, begging for something he thought she would not permit him. He wanted to trust her- no, he needed to trust her; whether it was for his sake or the Child's, Echo did not know. But the lift in his voice as he breathed in deeply, inhaling the stuffiness of their little corner of the ship, made her eyes close slightly in concentration. There were four criminals on the Razor Crest, and not to mention a Twi'lek he had known longer than her- much, much longer by the sounds of it- but he needed to trust her. Echo's eyes opened and she lifted her head, setting her jaw straight, and gazing back at him with as much intensity as the day they had met. 

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it" 

Mando inclined his head, as though he was surprised she would actually agree. Then again, he wasn't giving her much choice, was he? "Thank you"

Echo let out a small noise, like that of a laugh, realising he had never sounded so sincere in his thanks before. They had always been gruff, a shrug of his shoulder to accompany it, but this time it was pure and real and true. It made Echo that much braver to do what was asked of her. She could do this- and even if she couldn't, she had to. 

"We should uh... go- go down, right?" Echo said after a few seconds of staring at one another, hotness creeping up the side of her neck and spreading across her cheeks. He nodded stiffly, reverting back to his cold statue-like personality within an instant. He turned and bent, throwing himself down the ladder and into the holding bay, and Echo followed. She landed softly at the bottom and looked up- just in time to see a whip of red as the door to the armoury closed with a bang. A sudden silence fell over the small group.

Earlier, they had been talking- or at least bickering. It had been loud and rowdy, but now it was as though a blanket had been thrown over them and forced them into a submissive quiet. However, Echo soon realised the source of the silence, as she turned to see Mando and Burg having a standoff- glaring at one another with radiating anger. Burg was much taller than Mando, and almost twice as wide, but the way Mando stood- shoulders pulled back, stance wide and foreboding, he looked almost as big as the wrinkled Devaronian. Echo clung to the ladder rungs in case she needed to hurl herself out of the way. 

"Hey-hey-hey, okay- okay!" Mayfeld said loudly, stepping forward, his hands outstretched and his palms hovering dangerously close to either man's chest. "I get it, I'm a little particular about my personal space too... so let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore" 

"Mando" Echo spoke up warningly. He jerked his head toward her. 

"Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian" grunted Blurg, stepping down and rolling his little eyes. Mayfeld gave a half-hearted twitch of his shoulders.

"Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the Galaxy- so they say" he replied.

Blurg began to laugh deeply, manically, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Then why are they all dead?"

The bay of the Razor Crest erupted into laughter, joining in Burg's clearly hilarious joke; but Echo remained quiet, as did Mando. Her heart ached for him... after all, she knew the feeling. Mando did not move, nor speak, nor breathe. He just stood still, his fists balled at his sides, and Echo clung tighter to the ladder.

"Well, you flew with him, Xi'an" Mayfeld stated. "Is he as good as they say?"

The Twi'lek bit her tongue between her teeth, the corners of her lips pulling into a wide smirk. "Ask him about the job on Alzoc III" 

"I did what I had to do," said the Mandalorian in an undertone. 

"Oh" Xi'an purred. "But you liked it. See, I know who you really are"

There was a horrible note to Xi'an's voice like she was burrowing into Mando's heart and ripping it apart bit by bit, pulling apart each individual string until it was nothing but a bundle of cotton on the floor of the ship. She was teasing him, playing with him, like he was food and she was hungry; Xi'an was hungry for fire, and Mando was the gasoline that would fuel it. 

Mayfeld stepped forward, cocking his head to the side, and eyeing Mando's helm. "He never takes off the helmet?"

Xi'an giggled and shook her head, using the lowest tone she could conjure and speaking in a mock impression: "This is the way" 

"Hmm... I wonder what you look like under there- maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face?"

Mayfeld made an awful cackle, joined once more by his cronies, and Echo let out a breath of annoyance. Mayfeld arched a brow at her. 

"What's wrong, princess? You getting jealous?" he teased. 

"Your impression of a Gungan is worse than a child's" Echo fired back. Mayfeld grinned. 

"You ever seen his face, Xi'an?"

"A lady... never tells" Xi'an batted her lashes, poking the prick of the knife Echo had threatened her with earlier into the pad of her thumb. She twirled it in her fingers daintily. 

"Aww, come on, Mando- we all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up- come on. Let's all see your eyes" There was a flicker of a nod towards Burg, who began to advance on Mando, his large hands outstretched and making grabbing motions. 

"I'll do-"

Mando leaned sideways just as Burg's fingers curled around the rim of his helmet, snatching his hand and twisting it- hard. The Devaronian let out a howl of discomfort, struggling in Mando's grip, as he twisted the large tree-trunk like limb behind his back and throwing his foot into Burg's back. Burg stumbled forward, his arms flailing to brace himself, and there was an audible beep as one of the large palms slammed into the release button for the bunk. It took Echo a moment to remember what was in there- after Roost station, her confrontation with Xi'an, and her and Mando's hushed conversation, Echo had barely had time to think of the small green Child sat snugly in the little compartment. However as the door slid back, revealing the little creature, Echo's eyes instinctively went wide and she made to close it again; however, she was too slow. Mayfeld pushed Echo out of the way and her shoulder bumped into the wall. 

She watched in horror as Mayfeld beamed, his teeth twinkling in the darkness. "Whoa! What is that? You get lonely up here, buddy? Wait a minute..." he began to point between Mando and Xi'an. "Did you two make that? What is it? Like... a pet or something?"

"Yeah" Mando gritted out with a guttural sound. "Something like that" 

"Didn't take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft" Xi'an rolled her eyes and stood. 

"Me? I was never really into pets. Yeah... didn't have the temperament. Patience, you know? I mean, I tried, but... never worked out. What I'm thinking... maybe..." Mayfeld leant forward and seized the Child, lifting him and bouncing him around. The Child cooed, unaware of the imminent danger of these criminals, and placed a three-fingered-hand against the man's chest. Echo took an instinctive step forward, adamant that if she had to, she would knock Mayfeld down where he stood. "I'll try again with this little fell- huh?"

Mayfeld made to drop the Child, his hold loosening before tightening again in a bluff. Mando evidently flinched, as did Echo, who reached an arm out- ready- but Xi'an and Mayfeld simply laughed in response. What the hell was wrong with these people? 

Suddenly, the Crest began to rumble, trembling and shaking with turbulence as the entire bay swayed. Echo crashed into a wall with a loud groan, falling back and into Mando- who's arms wrapped around her waist and held her steady while he braced himself against the wall. There had been no announcement, no warning, but guessing by the sudden shift in the creaking of the steel hull they were no longer transversing the highways of Hyperspace. They had arrived.

The ship levelled for a few moments, allowing for everybody to regain their balance, and Echo twisted in Mando's arms to look up at him. She smiled in thanks- but then the ship began to shake... no, it began to spin. The holding bay was flipped upside down and she smacked into the floor- which was now the ceiling- as there was a cry as the Child was thrown from Mayfeld's arms. As they spun and twirled, Mando made a dive for the kid, seizing him and pulling him to his chest slightly as Echo's fingers curled into the mesh hanging from the walls. The room continued to spin for minutes before finally, and hopefully for the last time, flattening out as there was an audible hiss as the coupling of the  Razor Crest docked with the prisoner transport floating through space. Echo's head pounded with blood as a nauseous feeling rose in her throat, and she had to lean against the wall for a few moments to regain her bearings. Apparently, it had affected the rest of the crew in the same way, as they stumbled around clumsily- Xi'an even going as far as to fall on her face, which brought a triumphant smirk to Echo's face that she quickly masked. 

Mando quickly placed the Child back into his safe compartment and slammed the door shut before Mayfeld could make another grab for him. 

"That useless droid didn't even use a proper countdown" Xi'an sneered, flicking one of her lekku over her shoulder and bearing the points of her teeth. Burg began to toss crates around, clearing the path to the hatch.

"Zee- you sure they can't see us?" Mayfeld asked, pressing two fingers to the small device lodged in his ear. Echo didn't know what the droid was saying, but she assumed it was good- or as good as it got. "Alright, we got a job to do, Mando. You're up" 

Mando raised the gauntlet on his wrist- the one with all the flashy buttons that Echo always eyed. She had never seen him use it before, and it was just as flashy as the rest of his Beskar armour, decorated with buttons and even a tiny datapad etched into the design. His gloved fingers poked and prodded a few buttons and the hatch clicked- it had worked, and the hatch sprang open. 

There was an awkward silence as the small crew, and Echo looked at Mayfeld expectantly. He rolled his eyes. "It's me?"

"Always you" snorted Burg. 

Mayfeld waved his arm and trudged forward, leaning over the small passage down into the ship below, and placing his hands either side. He let out an audible sigh before launching himself through it, disappearing into the darkness. Xi'an positioned herself next. 

"Don't worry, girlie" she sneered. "When I get back, we can have a rematch"

And Xi'an disappeared, dropping into the hole, and leaving only Burg and Mando. Burg threw a glance to Mando, his eyes squinted before he lowered himself down. Then only Mando was left, and he stared at Echo with a silence that held so many words. He nodded his head to where the Child was, hidden safely, and Echo nodded in understanding.

"I got it" 

Mando let out a breath and lingered slightly before lowering himself down into the hatch and letting go. Echo heard the thump, the footsteps disappearing, and closed her eyes. Please, in the name of the Maker, let him come back- for her sake, and the Child's. 

Chapter Text

The hours dragged by- well, not the hours. It had been almost thirty minutes since Mando had disappeared through the docking hatch of the Razor Crest, and she had done nothing but stare at the blank patch of the wall above her work station. An eerie silence filled the ship, disturbed only but the muffled droning of Zero the droid in the cockpit, and she played idly with the golden choker that had once been stuffed in the pocket of her pants. The kid was asleep, the radar was quiet, and there was nothing to do. Nothing.

Echo let out a sigh and placed the dainty necklace on the tabletop in front of her, reaching around and unhooking the weapon hilt clipped to her utility belt. She couldn't remember the last time she had held it- her last day on Tatooine, maybe? It felt like an absence not holding it, a clear divide from who she was and who she was pretending to be. But now, in the desolate isolation of the holding bay, she could finally be alone. Her thumb brushed across the engraved titanium surface, the indented hold from years of wear evident in the way she gripped it in front of her face. She turned the hilt away from her and studied the crossguard, the carbon scoring that stained the highest component, and smiled at years of fond memories during her apprenticeship under Master Vos. Echo... missed it- missed swinging it, twirling it, feeling the energy pulse beneath her fingertips. It was not a weapon, it was an extension of the force; one that only she could wield. The pad of her thumb moved down and brushed over the switch, the prominent piece of metal, resisting the urge to push it up and watch the laser ignite before her very eyes. Echo could remember vividly her trip to Ilum with the other younglings- her Kyber crystal had been deeply burrowed inside of an icicle, and she had to smash it repeatedly until it was revealed. Echo could still feel the ache from when she was a little girl, but the great sense of triumph beat all else. A Jedi was not meant to relish in victory, but it was hard not to.

Suddenly, a red blip appeared on her radar. Tiny, barely visible, but it was there- and it was blinking rapidly, harmonised with a beeping sound that rang through the hollow walls of the Crest. Echo sat up abruptly and slammed her lightsaber onto the workbench, her eyes wide and frantic, searching for the source on her green display. Her gaze ravaged across the parsec surrounding the prisoner transport, as far to the closest planet, in search of the New Republic Cruiser of secondary transport that had just popped into her radius. But it was empty, void of anything... the source was coming from within the ship they were currently attached to. 

Echo brought her wrist to her mouth, whispering into the small communicator that she had fixed for herself: "Mando"

There was no reply, only a buzzing static as her brow drew together and she stood up. She crept toward the open hatch and peered down, seeing the reflective floor of the corridor almost ten feet below. It was too far to jump, and she would probably twist her ankle if she tried, so instead, she sank to her knees and leant her head over the small hole. She looked side to side, up and down, seeing nothing but an endless labyrinth of sprawling corridors that stretched out for aeons. A few moments passed and she hissed into the commlink again. "Mando- what's happening?" 

There was still no answer- no grunt or raspy mumble of reply that she was so accustomed to. It made Echo's heart clench with an uncomfortable tightness as she pulled herself back up and sat in the seat of her workspace. She tapped the holo screen once, then twice, watching as the image enlarged to show a clearer picture of her surroundings. It showed the length of the prison transport in a glowing green and the little outline of the Razor Crest highlighted in the same colour; however, where the bridge would normally be located, was a pulsing red dot growing more rapid by the moment. It closely resembled a tracking fob in the way it flashed red, and Echo found herself reaching for the commlink again... except this time, her tone of voice was desperate.

"Mando, answer me- or I swear to the Maker I will come down there and haul your ass back here myself-"

"No" 

Echo blinked, not too sure why she was so surprised. She hadn't expected him to answer so curtly, nor had she expected him to sound so angry. He sounded exhausted and out of breath as if he had just run the length of the cruiser. She smacked her palm against her knee in relief and closed her eyes, willing her heart to cease its hammering against her chest. 

"Son of a Mudscuffer- where were you? What's happening- there's a tracking beacon pinging from the bridge" Echo demanded in a single breath. There was a beat before he said anything.

"I- We got screwed over" There was an audible clang from the sound of Mando slamming his fist into something. "There was somebody on the bridge- a kid, supervising. Xi'an, she.... she killed him, set off the beacon and locked me in a cell before making off with the asset" 

Echo tapped a few keys on her pad and watched as Mando's bio tracker location popped up onto her screen. She was unsure where the rest of the crew was, but by the looks of it, Mando was in the southmost area of the ship. It would take her too long to hack into the cruiser's mainframe, at least without a direct link to the system, and by that time they would already be incinerated meat from the quickly approaching New Republic squadron that was no doubt en route. Echo bit her lip and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Can you get out?" Echo asked after a pause. There was a grunt, and she watched as Mando's bio tracker began to move quickly, answering her question before he even had a chance to reply. "I'll take that as a yes" 

"You need to lock the hatch- do it now. If the rest of the crew get inside the ship they won't think twice about either killing you or leaving you behind too" Mando said, gasping as Echo watched his small red blip move down the length of the ship. He looked to be going in the direction of the bridge and not toward the Crest, twisting and turning down corridors, pausing momentarily. "Echo!"

"What about you? The droid- it'll realise and then tell them-"

"Do it- now" he commanded in a tone of finality. "Can you shut down their comms? Disable the ship's systems to activate the security doors?" 

Echo hurled herself out of her seat and pulled the hatch over the small hole in the floor, trying to silence her straining in fear of the droid in the cockpit hearing her. It closed with a soft hiss before she returned to her position, slamming her fingers into the keys of her display furiously, as though it may make it work faster. Mando was in the control room. 

"I can try, but without a direct link into the system, it could take a while- by that time the squad zoning in on your location will already have arrived. I'm good, but..." she trailed off. "Just try and get back to the ship. Please" 

"What if I plug my commlink into the central computer?" Mando asked, and Echo could hear the vibrant beeping behind the crackling of his voice. The connection was getting weaker the further he got from her. Echo shrugged- she had never tapped into a New Republic system before- how much different could it be? Echo had nothing to lose... except maybe her life and the Child's. 

"I can do it" 

Echo watched as a small box appeared in the corner of her screen, a small loading bar filling up until it flashed and- her heart ignited as a smile broke onto her face, a wide one despite the current situation. She pressed it and watched as screens upon screens of controls appeared in her vision, a wide expanse of directions ready to be commanded at her fingertips. She moved to the defensive section of the ship and saw a scroll of text with one simple aim- to jam all communications.

"I'm in," Echo said. "But I'll have to jam all the comms- we'll lose our link" 

Mando did not say anything for a beat, the silence filled only by his ragged breathing. She heard him slam his palm into something- most likely the control board- and let out a small noise of frustration. "Dank Farrik... okay- engage the emergency protocol systems and then initiate system override... and jam it" 

"Are you sure?" Echo asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her stomach twisted as she thought of no communication with Mando- not knowing what was happening, or knowing if he was dead or alive. Would the rest of the crew really kill her? Or would they take her back to Roost Station and submit her to the torturous advances of Ran? Both outcomes sounded horrific, but she stood no chance of fighting without the use of her lightsaber... and if she lost and revealed her identity? She would be doomed either way. 

"You can look after yourself" Mando replied without any note of anxiousness. "If I'm not there in ten minutes go. Take the kid and go, I'll find another way off the ship" 

Echo didn't want to go, but she knew she had to. If they had any way of ditching the crew, it would be to execute the unspoken plan they had concocted. Unsure of what Mando was up to Echo let out a sigh and did as she had been told, her finger hovering over the enter key. 

"See you on the other side, Buckethead" 

The comm-link went dead, fizzing and jittering unit Echo had to cut it off to silence its complaints. She looked over her shoulder to make sure the hatch was still securely shut, then back over toward the ladder of the cockpit- no, no, no. She stood abruptly and rushed to the open door to the bunk, leaning inside and craning her head around, searching desperately to see if the Child had hidden himself in any of the deep crevices. But his large eyes were nowhere to be found and she slammed her foot into the wall of the hull, causing it to shudder.

"Dank Farrik" Echo cursed, whipping around and beginning to pace the length of the ship. "Where are you?"

She crawled around on her hands and knees, staring between metal cabinets and the space between the fresher and the vacc tube. She pulled herself along on her stomach, reaching out and feeling around in the darkest corners of the hull. She even climbed on top of a crate and peered into the small space behind Mando's armoury, but the kid was nowhere to be seen. Surely he couldn't have gotten down into the ship below- it was impossible She would have heard him moving around. 

There was a small noise behind her and Echo turned to quickly, swaying on her feet as her head spun, only to stare at the Child as it swung from the ladder leading up to the cockpit. She lurched forward and snatched him by the scruff of his robes, much to his dismay, as he wriggled in her arms and made small noises that sounded like a baby Bantha. 

"Don't you run off from me, you little Womp Rat" Echo whispered, stuffing him back into his small compartment and glaring down at him. The Child cooed and let out a disgustingly cute burp. "Seriously, I don't get paid to play hide and seek" 

Echo shook her head and made her way back to her workbench, leaning over the holo screen and watching Mando's bio tracker blink. He had moved quickly and was currently rushing down a corridor toward an intersection- one that had been cut off by security doors, ones that would usually stop the inhabitants of said ship from being sucked into the vacuum of space. He stopped and Echo pursed her lips, wondering what he was doing-

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Her head twisted to look at the droid who had just dropped down from the cockpit, rifle clutched in one arm, the other metal fist balled as he approached the Child. Echo stood straight again and placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, laser brain, what're you doing?"

The droid said nothing but stood in front of the Child, reaching one hand to grip the barrel of his blaster, raising it slowly and bringing the iron sights to aim down. Echo stepped forward instinctively and placed her hand on Zero's shoulder-

THWACK.

A burning sensation spread up her jaw as she flew backwards, slamming into the metal floor of the Crest with an audible bang that ricocheted in the dingy darkness as Echo blinked the stars from her eyes. Her vision was spinning as she planted her palms firmly against the floor, moving to push herself up as she let out a groan. The droid's footsteps rang in her ears as it advanced, driving its pointed cybernetic foot into her diaphragm and sending her sprawling back as she rolled further down the hull. Echo gasped for breath, the wind having been drawn from her lungs and spat out into the frigid air that surrounded her. Her entire body ached from the blow of two swift impacts, a pain like no other, and she could feel the pulsing bruise begin to swell along her jaw- pulpous and vibrant with colour. 

"I will not allow you to jeopardise the mission" Zero said in a monotone voice as he descended upon her, straddling her waist as she splayed on her back. His cold fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. "I will not allow you to jeopardise the mission"

"Get...off...me" Echo choked out, her throat dry and constricted as one hand sought to push back against Zero's triangular face.

His mainframe creaked as she writhed beneath him, the blood rushing to her brain to keep her alive. She bashed her fists against his chest piece, feeling the skin of her knuckles split and pierce at the hard surface. Echo gasped and begged for air, tears spilling from the corners of her creased eyes as her free arm reached out and frantically searched for something- a blunt object, a piece of metal that she could throw into the side of the droid's head. Her fingers grappled onto something beneath the bench that lined the wall to her right, something small and sharp. It felt smooth and perfect under her touch as she pulled it closer with her fingertips. When she finally could she wrapped her fingers around the handle and brought her arm up quickly, driving the blade of the small knife into the space between Zero's neck and his fake shoulder.

It wasn't enough to damage the droid but it was enough for him to let go of her neck. Echo sucked in a deep and rattling breath, watching the blotted colours of the world around her blur back into focus. Zero's wires fizzed from where she had driven the knife into him and she yanked it out forcefully, staring at the glint of the blade and realising for a moment that it was Xi'an's, similar to the one she had threatened Echo with. But she had no time to dwell on the thought as Zero seized Echo's wrist and pushed the knife down toward her, the blade terrifyingly close to the smooth skin of her neck. Her arms trembled as she tried to push against him- and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though she had succeeded.

The blade veered away from her neck and toward her shoulder, and Echo let out a loud cry as the sharpened curve sliced into the skin of her collarbone. Warm liquid spilt from the deep cut and slid down her chest, staining the pale colour of her shirt as she bared her teeth. The tears now falling rapidly from her eyes and down her cheeks were angry and frustrated, mixed with a terror that she would die- but she couldn't use the Force. Her fist balled as she willed it to come to her aid, begged it to save her life... but it didn't want to. Please, Echo chanted in her head as she stared at Zero's lifeless eyes, please help me. But the truth was her connection was broken, severed from years of dismissal. She had done her best to stamp down the urges as a young girl when she first arrived on the unforgiving planes of Tatooine, refusing to meditate and feel its presence. The Force was her lifeline, and without it, she was nothing without the Force.

"Please" Echo gasped as Zero pushed the dagger back toward the cavern of her neck. "Please" 

A release- it was only there for a slip second, an icy adrenaline-like sensation spreading through her heart, igniting every single nerve in her body as she forced Zero back with a strength that did not belong to her human body. Zero was sent flailing back, stumbling on his feet, and she had a firm hold on the dagger as she pushed forward onto her knees, standing as she turned it over in her grasp. Her hair fell in clumps around her face, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the dull throb of her new cut and the bruise blossoming along her jaw subsiding as she advanced on the ruthless droid. She would kill it- not for herself, but the Child. The Force had helped her to fight back, if only for a second, and she thanked it dearly.

A primal yell tore itself from her throat as she darted forward and aimed to drive it into his chest. Zero snatched her wrist, again, and sidestepped, allowing for her to pass him and wedge the tip of the knife into the wall beside the ladder to the cockpit. But Echo would not give up. She twisted her body and slammed her elbow into the droid's face, hearing the thwack as it bounced off the wall behind it, loosening his hold on her as she turned against and brought her knee up into its stomach. The droid wasn't human and could not feel pain- but that did not mean it would not react in the same way. His body canted backward as Echo resumed her position again. She brought the knife up to guard her face, her arm jutted out to the side and one hand extended, palm facing outward, to hold him back.

Hurry up, Mando, Echo found herself pleading as Zero steadied himself against the wall and reached out. 

"I can do this all day, cyborg-brain" Echo coughed out as Zero careened forward with a clenched fist. 

Echo made to dodge it but his other mechanical arm snapped out and snatched a fistful of her hair, wrapping it around his fingers and yanking her forward, dragging her along the length of the hull. Her hold on Xi'an's dagger slipped and it clattered to the floor as the droid flipped their positions, pushing her up and into the wall beside where the Child was safely tucked away. Zero pulled his arm back and- 

SMACK.

It collided with Echo's face with a crack and she felt the hot metallic sting of blood as it spurted from her nose, dribbling down her face and over her mouth. She could taste the iron on her lips as it punched again, and again, and again. Echo's eyes rolled back with each painful hit, her head slamming into the wall behind her, groaning pitifully as her vision began to tint with darkness. Her front teeth ached and she coughed out sparks of her own blood- this was it. In a moment he would deliver a final blow and she would die. How... unhonourable, dying to a droid with no will left to fight. Echo was meant to be a Jedi and yet here she was, letting a piece of machinery beat the life out of her limp body that it was supporting. What would Master Vos think? The last of her kind and she couldn't even kill a robot. 

"That-" another punch "All you got?"  

Zero wound his arm back for one final punch, his cyborg head twitching sideways as it surveyed her bloodied face. It's shoulder jerked and Echo closed her eyes, preparing herself for the final blow that would either splinter her face into pieces or knock her into the abyss of unconsciousness. The fist began to sore towards her, and then- 

A piercing sound ricocheted through the holding bay and suddenly all of the pressure, including Zero's hold on her upper body, evaporated with a snap. Echo's mouth fell open with an oh as she slid down against the wall into a heap onto the floor, her head tilting forward as her chin came to rest against the bloody mess of her chest. Was she dead? Is this what it felt like- a deep ache resonating from somewhere in her body, encasing every joint until she was sure that she would never move again? No. She was sure that one could not feel in death, could not feel the shaking of footsteps as they stamped toward her, the soft touch of leather on her arms as a hand grasped her jaw and tilted it upward. 

It felt nice, letting somebody else move her body for her, though it felt selfish almost. Her whole life Echo had looked after herself, provided for herself, survived by herself. As a child, as a young girl, and even now as a woman. She had done everything, even if sometimes she had wanted to scream out her cries into the wide desert. She had never taken a moment to just... exist- but was this existing? Bloody and beaten, on the verge of unconsciousness, cracking a grin with bloodied teeth as she tried to force her eyes open. The circadian lights of the hull blinded her and she squinted, just able to make out the glint of Beskar in the pale light. He was here... alive.

"Hey, Buckethead" Echo choked out, coughing and spluttering, hacking at the strange feeling of thick liquid trickling down her throat. "You... You took your time" 

"Shut up" he grunted, the other large palm coming to cradle her neck to keep it propped upright. Her head thumped angrily at the sensation as it lolled forward, her chin resting against her chest in exhaustion. All she wanted was rest- to curl up, right there on the floor of the hull, and succumb herself to an endless sleep that she hoped would take away all of the indescribable pain coursing through her veins. But Mando seemed to have other plans, his hand on her jaw sliding down to firmly grip her waist. 

"Can I... can I close my eyes... just for a little bit?" Echo asked quietly, her voice grating against the rough texture of her vocal cords. 

"If you do that you might not wake up" he murmured, gripping ahold of her firmly, squeezing her waist in a way that made butterflies surge through Echo's stomach and cause it to do flips. He pulled her towards him and pressed his pauldron against her sternum, bending with a large grunt and pulling her up-up and over his shoulder, draping her there like a deadweight sack. He lumbered over towards the bunk where the Child had been, pulling out the metal cot on its tracks until it was extended out into the hull, placing her down with a gentleness she did not know he was capable of. 

"Sounds-" she grunted when her spine caved in at an awkward lump on the cot. "Good to me" 

"Shut up" he repeated. She loved how he was a man of such few words. "Just... don't blackout on me" 

"Mmm," Echo hummed, rolling her head to the side, her hair falling over and clinging to the sticky substance covering her face. "Just a little"

"Echo" he ordered, and her eyes fluttered open from where they had drifted shut instinctively. She stared up at her own warped reflection, grimacing at the state of her face- she was more bruised than she thought, a purple welt swelling on the curve of her forehead, and the blotch along her jaw spread up to her cheekbone. Her lip was busted and stained with scarlet red, and a mixture of oil and blood was painted across the bottom portion of her face, dribbling off her chin and sliding down her neck. She scrunched up her face, glaring at her own reflection, wondering if the hazy display of his visor exaggerated the extent of her injuries. Surely she couldn't look that bad, but the silence that Mando held confirmed her worst fears; Echo's face looked like a beaten piece of meat. "Don't fall asleep"

She smiled through aching teeth. "Say it again" she whispered, her brain poisoned by delirium. He remained quiet. "Say my name"

"Echo" 

She smiled again- but this time sickly. Echo- how silly the name sounded now when she was on the verge of unconsciousness. A single syllable, a dead tone word, something used to describe the transfer of sound throughout an open space. Why did she use it? Because of Master Vos, it was the only connection she had left to what had been the only childhood she had known. But why had she felt the need to use it up until her adulthood- why not use her real name? Even Echo herself did not know the answer. But for some reason, the deep lull of the words coming from Mando's mouth made her skin tingle with electricity as he gazed down at her laid on the cot. 

Her eyelids began to slip shut, darkness dotting the corners of her vision and turning it into an opaque blur. A heaviness weighed on her body that she could not shake, unconsciousness swirling around each limb and pulling her downwards towards the ship's centre of gravity. The space stretching out around the Razor Crest suddenly seemed that much closer, so close that she could reach out and touch the stars, and then there nothing except the lingering words of her name and Mando's light touch. 

*

When Echo opened her eyes again, the hull was quiet- too quiet. There was no shuffling of heavy boots, nor was there the hum and vibrations of the ship's engines as they hurtled through the wide expanse of space. Her body no longer ached and her face felt surprisingly numb despite her squabble with the droid, and as she pulled herself to sit on the metal cot she was laid upon there was no pain from her lower torso. Curious, she pulled up her shirt over her bellybutton and saw... nothing. Her stomach was clear and void of any splotches bruises, her skin warm to the touch as she poked it, absent of any aches or pains. It was... unnerving, to say the least. She swung her legs over the side of the cot and stood on firm feet. Red and green blinking lights lit up the walls, indicating the functioning of the multiple mechanisms within the hull, the navcomp's generators whirring somewhere behind her head.

When she had fallen into unconsciousness, the hull had been in a state of disarray, but now it was clean and tidy. The crates that normally haphazardly scattered the floor had been stacked against one wall, and the discarded clothes and supplies were nowhere to be seen. Zero's dead body was also stowed away out of sight, and even the floor smelt strongly of cleaning solution- reminding her of the time when she had accidentally doused herself in it back on Tatooine, a mixture of pungent alcohol and citrus. Somebody had gone out of their way to clean up all of the blood and mess, whether it was for her benefit or not, and Echo slowly began to walk down the length towards the single light spilling out from the small fresher. 

Her whole body felt unharmed, her legs bouncing lightly as she moved. Her muscles felt more fluid as they moved, her head as clear as a sunny day- even her eyesight seemed more clearer, no longer distorted by the desert sand of Tatooine. She felt fine- and that was the worst part. Echo cautiously walked to the door of the fresher and pushed it open, shuffling inside and flicking on the porthole light suspended in the ceiling. She met her eyes in the small mirror on the opposite wall, a look of confusion stricken across her perfect features- her unbruised, unbloodied, unbroken features. She looked just as she had before Zero had pummelled her to a pulp, all slim features and a strong nose. Her hair though was wet, damp and curling at the tips, plastered flat to her forehead as she moved it back- it had not been wet before. The shirt she wore was not her own, either, the sleeves too long and the torso too baggy as it hung limply off her narrow shoulders. It was thick and warm, much different to her own thing tank tops, and rubbed against her dampened skin softly. It smelt strongly of fresh cotton and smoke. 

Echo lifted her chin to see the red and purple marks that wrapped their way around her throat like a unique necklace, the imprints of fingers stamped against her skin. She grazed the marking with the pad of her thumb, wincing when it tingled. Some things could not be erased from her skin- this was no normal wound, it was a marking of near death. She could still feel Zero's fingers squeezing, the way her head had rolled back, the out of body experience it had granted her... and the power that surged up in her body in defiance. The Force had come back to her at that moment, it had helped her to fight and to live- to allow her to use it in the way she had as a child. Why? Had it felt pity, had it felt sympathy for it's dying branch?

Echo held out her palm towards a small soap bar perched on the shelf above the washbasin, screwing up her face in concentration. She could do it, she could lift it- she would lift it. Echo just had to... feel. So she felt; she felt the way the ship was held together, every slab of metal pulled towards one another and held by the soldering of the seams. The life inside the ship filled it with buzzing energy, one that bounced off the linoleum ground and ricocheted back towards her. The soap bar was just another thing inside the ship, something that she could theoretically reach out and touch without physically extended her hand out. Her fingers began to tremble until- 

"Hey" a deep voice sounded from behind her and Echo's eyes snapped open just as the soap bar flew into her hand. Her fingers closed around it and she spun to look at Mando, soap bar clutched in one hand as she smiled at him wearily. He inclined his head toward her. 

"Hi" Echo breathed as she turned, leaning back against the small sink. Mando lingered just outside the door, hand on one side of the frame and the Child cradled in his other arm. "I-uh-I... hey"

"You okay?" He asked, taking a step forward. "You were out for a while"

"H-How long?" Echo muttered, her face reddening as she moved the soap bar behind her back and dropped it in the sink. Somehow, he had not seen... miraculously. 

Mando gave one look down to the Child, who was wriggling in his hold and making grabbing hand motions towards Echo. His big, round, eyes blinked at her expectantly, completely fascinated, as though she was the most interesting thing in the entire Galaxy. Mando poked his squidgy cheek. "A day or so... you missed the fireworks"

Echo rested her head against the wall of the fresher, trying to quell the embarrassment evident on her rosy cheeks, only now remembering the fact that she was wet and had been washed. He had washed her- it was the only explanation. Against her will, she formed the words before she had thought them through properly-

"Did you... uh..." Echo looked down at the shirt she was wearing. Mando followed her gaze and suddenly he was gripping the Child tighter. 

"Yes," he responded simply. Echo began to chew the inside of her cheek. "You were- you were all... messy... and I couldn't see where to put the bacta so I- so I-" Mando was stumbling over his works, barely able to string one sentence together as he shifted his weight between his feet. The Child turned to look at him, a look of sort of amusement upon his pudgy little face. 

"Thank...you..." She muttered, looking down at her bare feet. They patted against the metal floor. "You didn't-"

"No, I didn't look-"

"But you washed my hair?"

"It got in the way-"

"And bacta-"

"I had some left over-"

Echo looked up and found him only feet away, gazing down at her with his head tilted. She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face- they really were a pair... but a pair of what? Echo had never bothered to consider the conundrum before. Were they friends? Acquaintances? Companions? It was an unspoken conversation. But the reality was that Echo knew nothing about Mando, and he knew nothing about her. So would they ever, really, be friends? Considering the fact he had washed her in the shower- most likely seeing her naked as a result- wasn't a situation where two people could walk out as just strangers. A Mandalorian and a Jedi, two different beliefs coexisting together... an unusual combination. 

"Thanks, Mando" She smiled despite the burning pit in her stomach. He nodded, though his visor was not trained on her- it was trained on her chest. Echo laughed awkwardly. 

"I should- uh... I should-" Mando cleared his throat and suddenly thrust the Child out for Echo to take. She took ahold of the little being and pulled him to her chest, trying not to squish his big ears as her brow pulled upward. Suddenly, Echo found Mando's uncomfortable posture hilarious- it was so different to his usual demeanour, and if it had not been for the events of the previous day, she would have erupted into childish laughter. However, Mando had saved her life, so she spared him the further embarrassment by simply brushing her finger over the Child's hairy head. "You did well... against the droid"

She had almost forgotten the reason for her beaten state. The corners of her lips turned down. "Yeah, if good means getting beaten up then sure" 

"It was programmed that way" Mando defended his words, folding his arms across his broad Beskar chest. "What could you have done?"

"Fought better" She mumbled, looking down at the kid. She should've fought better, she knew that. She shouldn't have needed to beg the Force for help, it just showed how pathetically weak she was without it. Echo wasn't physically strong, she knew that, but she should have at least gotten in a few good punches before allowing herself to succumb to defeat. "I don't... I'm not good at punching and stuff" 

"Punching and stuff" Mando repeated, a lilt appearing in his deep, baritone, voice. "You had no problem threatening Xi'an"

Echo scoffed. "Threatening her. Do you think I could ever actually beat her? I almost got myself- I almost died to a droid, and you think I could beat Xi'an?"

Echo froze, remembering Mando's words echoing in her head- you can look after yourself. How very wrong he had been. Echo had always thought she was strong, at least she was with a lightsaber, but when it came down to beating others with her fists? She was hopeless. 

"I think you could with practice" Mando shrugged. "You just have to learn to not give up"

"I didn't give up" Echo snapped, her cheeks reddening further with anger. Giving up was not the way of the Jedi... or, at least it hadn't been before the Purge. "What happened to Xi'an anyways?"

This time it was Mando who scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. "They'll be in the warm hands of the New Republic by now. As for Roost Station? I helped clean up that cesspit" 

Echo stared at him in confusion. "What do you-"

"I dropped off the asset along with the distress beacon that pinged off your systems to Roost Station and... well, you get the picture," he said as though it was the simplest thing in the Galaxy. 

Oh. Oh. He blew it up. How very casual for a Mandalorian, and for some reason, part of Echo wasn't surprised at all. If it meant one less man like Ran in the Universe, she would let him do it a million times over again. But it left a question hanging in the small space between them both, one that would soon crop up, and one that would determine their next move.

"So, where to next?" 

Chapter Text

"You know, you're not so bad kid."

The hull was a mess- again- of crates and tools, the contents of Echo's toolbox thrown across the floor around her in an arced halo. The four confined walls of her flying home were burning hot, so hot in fact that she had discarded her jacket and boots into a dark corner somewhere, and the only light shining was the one from the fresher. It spilt over her lower torso as she reached up and into the wires of the ship's thermoregulator, fishing around for the small thing she was looking for. Perched on a nearby box sat the kid, batting his big eyes at her, and tilting his head as he played with the small metal ball in his lap. He cooed in reply as she hissed at the feeling of electricity burning her fingertips, pulling her red hand back and cradling it in her lap.

If truth be told, she had no idea why she was fixing the rust bucket that was Mando's ship, but she could not deal with the burning heat any longer. Not long after they had set course for their new destination, a small little planet called Yavin-4 in the outer reaches of the Galaxy, the ship's thermoregulator had all but spontaneously combusted. It was a small little piece of a much larger network, a piece of equipment that decided whether to pump hot air into the cockpit and hull or whether to blast out a cold breeze when it was too hot. However, when it had blown up in Echo's face, it had decided to stay permanently stuck on heating mode. She wouldn't have minded if they what been trapped on a cold planet such as Hoth, but they were currently hurtling through Hyperspace, and the lane they travelled along was not as cold as the empty void beyond it would be. So, red in the face and sweating like a Bantha in the Tatooine sun, Echo had decided to fix it... or at least attempt to. 

She had no idea how Mando was putting up with the heat and was amazed to see that he was still strutting about the ship in each piece of Beskar armour, not a pauldron or thigh brace out of place. On the few occasions she had spoken to him, though, he had been hot-tempered and short- an obvious side effect of the excruciating heat- and Echo knew that there was not enough space in the small area of the Razor Crest if their short conversations erupted into a powerful argument. So, Echo had kept to herself for the past several days, amusing herself by playing with the kid and busying herself with the work she had been hired to do; but there was only so many chores, and she was running out of excuses to not sit beside Mando in the cockpit. 

"What do you think, baby?" Echo asked as she pulled herself to sit up, wiping beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "You think we're friends?"

The kid looked up and gargled. He had been the only source of normal conversation she had had for the past few days, and it wasn't the most interesting thing in the Galaxy, but she replied for his own amusement. After all, the kid was 50 years old, so Echo assumed he could understand Galactic Basic. 

"I think we're friends, you and me" she smiled, lowering herself back into the small space beneath the thermoregulators under panel. It was located just beneath the bunk and was a small machine whirring and hot to the touch. Echo wiggled her fingers in a pair of thick, leather, work gloves and picked up a screwdriver. "I mean, I did let a droid beat me up just so you wouldn't get shot."

Another coo, one that closely resembled a giggle, and Echo reached up to pull open the regulator's cooling system.

Ah- so that was the problem. Encased in two small glass cylinders was what should have been a glowing blue substance, except it was black and marred and looked like a chunk of burnt meat. When Echo reached up and flicked the container it sat in it did not move, but a few crumbling flakes fell down and she sighed. If Echo didn't know any better, she would have assumed that Mando didn't know what a thermoregulator was- what, with all that armour, she was adamant it provided him with enough warmth when it eventually did get cold on the Crest. But Echo was here now, so he would have to put up with her minor modifications, even if it did mess with his stoically strong facade.

Unscrewing the two capsules and bringing them down to her chest, Echo removed the lids and tapped out the cracked black powder that sat within, snatching up her water canteen from the floor and pouring two equal amounts in the glass containers. She raised them to the light to make sure they were clear, gave them a small shake, before laying back down and reaching up to replace them where they had originally sat. They swayed and bubbled as the machine above her head began to whir louder, clearly processing the dramatic change in temperature, until a quick burst of cold air by her feet made Echo jump up and scramble to the nearby vent that sat just above the floor. She pressed her cheek to it and let out a thankful moan at the feeling of cool air as it washed over her cheeks, ridding the sweat from her face, and sending a pleasant chill down her spine. Who needed a real mechanic?

She let out a whoop of triumph as she sat up on her knees, holding out her palm to the kid in what was supposed to be a high five. The Child looked at her confused, his large ears twitching before he raised the little metal ball he was clutching and threw it excitedly at her hand. It barely travelled an inch before dropping to the floor with a clatter, and the baby frowned, his eyelids drooping with despair. Echo grinned and shuffled over, crouching before him, and picking the ball back up. The kid watched her. 

"High five" she repeated slowly, outstretching her palm again and making a movement toward him. He furrowed what should have been his brow. "Like this"

Reaching forward with her other hand she gently grasped his little wrist, bringing his own palm towards her and smacking theirs together. In comparison, his hand was minuscule compared to hers, his three little fingers not even touched the edges of her palm but fitting perfectly into the deep valleys of her dry skin. His eyes widened as they made contact, giggling as his clawed fingers wiggled. 

"Now, high five" 

Echo released the baby's arm and watched as, with as much effort the little creature could muster, he launched himself forward to slap his hand against hers in his best imitation of a normal high five. It was an adorable mess and made her release a loud laugh, looking up just as a dark figure descended the ladder from the cockpit. Mando turned to look at his small son, who had toppled over and into Echo's lap, sit up with the widest smile on his face she had ever seen. 

"What're you doing?" Mando asked gruffly, landing with an oof, and leaning against a nearby wall. His elbow bent slightly as his body sagged, and Echo could tell he was suffering from the heat that was now dissipating into a cool atmosphere in the hull. 

"I fixed the thermoregulator" she replied as she stood, scooping the kid up with her and propping him onto her hip. Her hand instinctively reached up to rub at the side of her neck, which was now fully healed and empty of any finger-shaped bruises. The fight with Zero felt like a fever dream looking back now. "The cooling capacitors were worn out and burnt. Were you not replacing them?" 

Mando shifted uncomfortably on his feet, something he often did when faced with a question he did not want to answer. Echo had begun to pick up on these things- his body movements, that is. Even if she couldn't see his face, or tell how it was contorting as he spoke, she had learnt to tell how he was feeling by the way he positioned his tall body. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Echo feel accomplished in a way like she was finally getting to know the mysterious person she was transversing the Galaxy with. Even if she didn't know his name. 

"I... forgot" he uttered, the sound an airy breath beneath his helm. Echo quirked up an eyebrow. He forgot?

"Well, you should start replacing them often. If not, they'll get burned up and by that time, we'll be dead from hyperthermia" Echo told him in a matter-of-fact voice, walking around him to place the kid down in his floating, spherical, crib and pulling the blankets up and over his tiny shoulders. "I don't know about you, but I don't wanna live in a sauna." 

“You’re being dramatic” Mando grumbled, sounding so much like Shabba when he was in a mood. Echo rolled her eyes and pressed her hand to his Beskar chest plate, feeling how warm it was. “What are you- “

” You’re boiling, Mando, you should take off all that armour- “

The words fell dead on the tip of her tongue as her eyes slowly looked up to meet the impenetrable gaze of his visor. She should not have said that- why did she say that?! It had just slipped out so easily, sounding so normal, and it would have been normal had it been said to any other person. But this was a Mandalorian. His armour was his religion, a piece of himself that he could never shed. And she had just told him to take it off.

Mando said nothing. 

“I-I didn’t mean- “Echo stammered, her cheeks turning red despite the cooler temperature, an awful heat curling in her throat. Pure, sheer, terror. “You don’t-“

” Are you asking me to strip naked?” He asked in a low tone, cocking his head to the side. Echo’s hand was still pressed firmly against his chest plate and she jerked it away, laughing nervously. 

“N-no- I was just... because it’s warm, and the Beskar is trapping the... the heat... and- “Stars, she needed to breathe. “You’ve seen me... naked...” she added with a quiet squeak. 

“I have” he replied curtly, as though the fact that he had seen every inch of her imperfect body was just another fact, and not something that could scare her. “Saw your scar, too”.

Scar? What did he- oh. Oh. Her face turned redder, if that was even possible, every inch of her being telling her to just shut herself away in the fresher until he left her alone. But for some reason she could not move, her feet planted firmly to the spot, the ghost of the scar tingling along her back. 

She did not look at it often- in fact, she had almost forgotten it was there to begin with. It was an ugly thing, slicing across her back in a jagged way, causing the skin to raise up where it had been messily stitched back together. She had been only a little girl when she had received it, no more than eight years old, but it had grown with her into her adulthood, something that she would never lose. Just like the wounds Zero had inflicted, it would never leave her... no matter how much Bacta she used. 

Echo pulled away from Mando and instinctively took a step back, folding her arms across her chest and trying to will away the memory of that fateful night. The screams, the fire and smoke and the pain... it all swirled in her head until everything was too loud, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It disappeared when he continued to speak. 

“How did you get it?” He murmured, his voice carrying over the small distance between themselves. The Child had long since shut himself away in his crib, most likely to take a scheduled nap, only to leave the two-human people on the ship in the presence of one another. It irked her. 

“Does it matter?” Echo snapped in reply, regretting how aggressive it sounded. She had used his common phrase as an insult, but it did not seem to bother him. “It happened when I was young”.

“When you were young?” Mando repeated the words. They sounded vague when coming from his mouth. “You fall off a... a speeder or something?”

”I was eight” she elaborated, slightly confused as to why she was explaining in the first place. It was like he just drew everything out from her, picked her apart just like Xi’an had done to him until she was a mess of thoughts and memories on the floor. He was inquisitive in a subtle way, one that needed no persistence, only waiting for the story he so desperately wanted. “Does it matter?” Echo repeated again in defiance. 

“You’re hiding away” Mando pointed out as he took a step closer to close the distance, looming over her so that she had to crane her neck upward to gaze at him. “Just like you did when I asked about your name”.

” I don’t have to explain myself to you. A scar is a scar, I’m sure you have plenty”. 

“I do” he acknowledged. “But not one that big, and especially not one from my childhood” 

Her heart thundered against her ribs painfully. Did he... did he know who she was? No. He couldn’t, if he did, he would’ve either killed her or handed her over to the Bounty Guild by now- not have saved her life. He was being gentle in the way he questioned her but intrusive all the same, so close to earning an answer as he attempted to scale the walls Echo had placed around herself. They were tall and dark, full of horrors and trauma nobody should see in their lifetime... one that only a few people had climbed. So why was he trying now? 

Perhaps it was the heat, Echo thought, as she found herself leaning against the wall of the hull. Yeah, that was it. The heat was making him careless in the way he talked- just like Spotchka would a normal man. Soon, when he had cooled down, he would return to normal and shut himself away from her. Hopefully. 

“Why do you care?” Echo gritted out. Mando gave her a limp shrug. 

“I’m curious as to why you won’t tell me your real name”.

” Tell me yours first,” Echo said, and his shoulders tightened. He had not been expecting that. 

Mando withdrew slightly, lowering his arms so that they hung by his sides, and vaguely reminding Echo of a child caught out a turn. She was in charge of the flow of the conversation now, a power trip that brought a smug look over her face as she let out a small scoff. He had tried, and he had failed. Echo was not that gullible to give in to his intimidation techniques. 

“I don’t hide away, Mando” Echo told him blatantly, emphasising his ‘name’ in a sharp jab. “I protect myself. Just like i have done my entire life- because one way or another, I have been alone. So, don’t think that you can change that, because you can’t.” One-step and she was in front of him, pressing her finger against his chest. “You may have saved my life, but I am not just another silly little girl.”

He stood and stared down at her finger which dug sharply into the space between his collar bones, and Echo couldn’t gauge whether he was shocked or confused. He inhaled sharply, like he was coming back to his senses, but still did not remove her touch. 

“I never said you were a little girl” he murmured in defence. 

“You didn’t need to”.

He lowered his head until his chin rested against his chest, and Echo was unsure if he was looking up at her with his eyes, his real eyes. She slowly removed her touch and resumed her stance of having her arms folded, deflecting his attention away from her, as her eyes trailed to the Child’s closed crib.

“Did it hurt?” Mando whispered. Echo gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I can’t remember… I did at one point. But then it disappeared” she smiled to herself. “I learnt to not dwell on the pain any longer than I needed to” Echo replied. “Perhaps that’s why I lost to Zero- because I forgot what the pain felt like”.  

“I told you that- “

“You told me I did well.” Echo interrupted him. “But I could see the disappointment even behind your mask- were not friends, Mando, you don’t need to lie to protect my feelings”.

The words tumbled from her mouth as she pushed past him, making a beeline for her workbench, and sitting down, her back to him. He remained standing by the ladder, only turning to stare at her hunched back as she curled herself over the desk, trying to appear as small as possible. She had not wanted to speak the words aloud, but they had come so… naturally.

Both she and Mando were two entirely different beings- he was a Mandalorian, a religion of beings that thrived on their secrecy, and she was a Jedi, somebody who took her life from an invisible entity that encompassed the entire Universe. The idea that they could be friends was ludicrous. It had been Mandalorians who had stolen the dark saber from the Jedi thousands of years ago, it had been the Jedi who fought during the wars that raged before the fall of the Old Republic. Echo knew that if she were to die, it would mean nothing to Mando- just another tally on the number of deaths he had seen. But Echo didn’t want to be anything to him, no. She just wanted her life to mean more to somebody than just her death.

“I wasn’t lying” he explained, taking two long strides forward until he was hovering by her side. Clearly, the air conditioning was getting to his head; he seemed less angry, returning to his normal, honest, self… or as honest as he could be. “Mandalorians do not lie”.

“Mandalorians also do not busy themselves with the likes of someone like me” her tone was harsh and sharp, but honest. Why did he care? Why? “So, what do you want from me, Mando? Do you want the truth? Do you want to know why I lived on Tatooine for so many years? Why I was a barmaid?” She was rising from her seat, anger rushing to her head. “Why I don’t want to tell you my name? Why I want to stay as I am- alone?!”

Her voice rang through the dim hull, loud and angry and exhausted. Her chest heaved up and down. She wanted to cry in frustration, cry just because she could. He was always so quiet, so silent, and defensive, but now he was asking questions- questions she wasn’t ready for.

“I have lived my entire life protecting myself, Mando” her voice was hoarse, barely a ghost of a whisper. “I hid for my protection… and I would rather die, as this, than live like someone who gives everybody everything with nothing in return”.

The Navcomp began to beep, silencing their heated conversation as Mando turned to look up towards the cockpit. Echo returned to her work and did not look in his direction as he begrudgingly left, slamming her palms against the tabletop only when he was out of earshot. She cradled her head in her hands and scrunched up her face, her heart still beating rapidly in her chest- not from fear, but from anger. She tried to force herself to remember something one of her masters had told her when she was young- the dark side is anger. Do not fall to the dark side.

More beeping, and Echo felt the tug as the ship was propelled out of HyperSpace and into the expanse of the Yavin system. Once they landed, she would leave, get some fresh air, and clear her head… yeah- that sounded good. Fresh air, and a clean head.

*

Echo had been walking for hours. From the moment the Razor Crest had landed on the tiny moon of Yavin-4, she had rushed from the rear ramp and all but bounded off into the green shrubbery, not bothering to look back until she was sure she was at least a hundred metres from Mando and his new intrusive personality. She was still angry, more so now than ever, her head reeling with questions as she picked her way through the undergrowth and thick trees of the forest-covered planet. It was a beautiful place, and Echo found herself thankful that they had landed here and not somewhere cold and wet.

Yavin-4 was minuscule in comparison to Yavin Prime, the glaring sun that hung suspended in the sky, the two balls of rock caught in a suspended dance in the outer reaches of the Galaxy. Periwinkle blue skies stretched out over her head for as far as the eye could see, fluffy white clouds smothering the inner atmosphere like a thick blanket and allowing the vibrant orange sun to peek through at intervals. All around Echo, tall trees- with trunks as thick as a stone pillar- reached up toward the expanse of the sky and branches arched out, creating a lush canopy of leaves overhead. Everything was intertwined, the branches of each tree clinging to one another like stooping lovers and provided enough cover from the sun that the back of her neck didn’t tingle from the heat.

It felt freeing, being able to wander the patchwork lanes that cropped up every so often, wandering North with no determined destination ahead of her. She didn’t know where she was going, but Echo was sure she knew the way back, so did it really matter? The Crest would still be there when she returned, so Mando could just hang on a little longer and let Echo set the pace for once. And if he were mad about it, he could deal with it himself.

Echo slowed to a stop in the middle of a dusty lane, stretching her neck back to look up through the gaps in the trees. She had to sling an arm over her head so that she could squint up, staring at the positioning of the sun, trying her best to guess what time it was. The concept of time worked differently on every planet, especially moons, but they had landed on Yavin-4 when the sun was suspended in the middle of her vision. However, by now it had lowered until it was beginning to peak over the edge of the horizon, and Echo assumed it must almost be sundown.

She let out a sigh and continued to walk, not really sure why she had not turned back yet. The anger sizzling in her nerves had long since disappeared, replaced by a sort of… disappointment. Echo hadn’t meant to get angry; she hadn’t meant to lash out so suddenly and insulting; but she hated questions, which was ironic, really. She always pestered Mando, teased him about his name, but when it came down to it, she was the one with something to hide. Compared to Echo, the Mandalorian was an open book that she could peruse as she liked.

“Maybe I should apologise” Echo murmured to herself and the empty road ahead, her eyes trained on her feet as they kicked up waves of dust with each step. Her boots were dirty and covered in dry mud, almost ruined and causing her feet to throb with pain. “Do Mandalorians accept apologies?”

She smiled to herself as she looked back up to the sky, noticing how quickly it had changed from its dusty blue to now being streaked like the colours of a painting. Pinks and purples and pale oranges streaked the sky, illuminated by the slowly descending sun, which tinted the clouds suspended overhead a fiery red. It reminded her of a painting she had seen as a little girl, long before she had arrived on Coruscant, a time when she lived with her biological family and had not a care in the world. The Naboo valued art, it was a part of the culture, and even now- all these years later- Echo still felt an affinity for the little things in life. Paintings and music, the plucking melodies of harmony that the birds sang in a chorus as they rose from the trees. It was picturesque and perfect, everything she wanted to but couldn’t be.

Echo could stay on Yavin-4 forever.

Suddenly, a loud shout from her left caught Echo’s attention, and she had just enough time to turn to see a small figure come barrelling out of the bushes, colliding with her side with a loud grunt and sending Echo and the stranger flying and skidding across the width of the path. Echo let out a humph as she landed on her back, cringing at the sensation that danced up her scratched back as she twisted to look down at the small being who had collided with her so suddenly. The person had landed on her stomach and was currently looking up at her, an expression of confusion and embarrassment evident on his tiny features.

It was a child- a human child. He had a mop of dark, curly, hair that fell over his eyes and tickled his nose, which was sun-kissed and burnt from playing in the shadow of the blazing gas giant. The little boy had a smattering of faded freckles across his ample cheeks, and as he stood Echo noticed that- like her- his clothes were tattered and ripped from days playing amongst the undergrowth. His tanned lips were parted in shock, and as he stared at Echo, he whipped around at the holler of a voice from behind him-

“Poe Dameron! You get back here right now- “

Another person came stumbling out of the fauna, a much older woman with hair as equally as long as the little boys and eyes just as dark. She was a beautiful woman, not much older than Echo herself, and her hair was pulled back from her face to show off the striking features of sharp cheekbones. Her brow was heavy and gave her a constant look of sternness as she gazed upon the boy, her hands planted firmly on her hips in a look of mock disbelief.

“When I tell you to have a bath, Poe, I mean it- I am your mother, so you’ll do as you're told” the woman seized her son by the scruff of the neck and dragged him over, a smile playing gently on her lips as the boy giggled and scuffled with his parent. Echo watched the scene, a look of bemusement upon her face. She hadn’t known she was near a colony but was thankful they were people and not a deadly predator.

The woman looked up and settled her eyes on Echo for the first time, not having realised there was now another person added to the small conversation. Her gaze roamed over her, drinking in each feature before the woman tilted her head and offered an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry about my son,” the woman said kindly. “He never looks where he’s going, he’s pretty clumsy for a seven-year-old”.

Echo smiled. The boy looked at his mother with a look of shock. “I’m almost eight- “

“It’s alright” Echo replied, lingering, and shuffling between her two feet. “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either”.

The boy, Poe, broke out into a wide grin- one that reminded Echo of the Child. “You’re not from around here” he pointed out. Echo nodded.

“I was… myself and my acquaintance landed in a clearing a few hours back. I’ve just been getting a lay of the land, I suppose.”

“You’re out here all on your own?” The woman asked. “It’ll be dark soon, and it's dangerous around these parts. Animals and such, nasty things”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay” Echo lied, not at all confident in her ability to navigate the several hour trek back to the Razor Crest in the dark.

The woman shook her head, having none of Echo’s excuses, and extended a hand toward her. “Nonsense. You’re a traveller, and we have a custom here to be hospitable. You can stay the night with us, refuel and set out again in the morning- I’d rather you got back to your friend safely than in chewed up chunks”.

Poe looked round to his mother; his eyebrows scrunched together. “We don’t have that custom- “

“Ah” she clipped her son around the back of the ear playfully. “Enough from you, or I’ll feed you to a Sarlacc”.

Poe squealed and wiggled free from his mother’s grasp, turning on his heel and darting off down the lane and turning a corner in the distance. Echo could remember being his age, full of life and with little to worry about, just basking in the freeness of the Galaxy that lay at her fingertips. She could vividly recall a memory of herself and a collection of other Youngling learners running around the Jedi Temple, being collared by the Jedi guards and reprimanded, though they always wore a smile when they did it.

“Our colony is not far from here, a mile or so,” the woman told her as they began to walk in the direction that Poe had disappeared in, leaving the tracks of their footsteps in the dirt behind them. “We came here only a few years ago, after the fall of the Empire. Myself and my husband were members of the rebellion”.

Echo looked at the woman with interest. She had never met a member of the rebellion against the former Empire, only heard stories. Obviously, they would not come to a place such as Tatooine, but Echo had been told stories by travellers of their legendary battles above planets, how they had blown up not one but two Death Stars. It was an amazing feat to boast about.

“Your son must be proud,” Echo remarked, burying her hands deep into the pockets of her pants. She nodded.

“He wants to be a pilot when he’s older too- I’ve already started taking him up, showing him the ropes… but what about you? You’re not from Yavin?”

Echo shook her head and cast a look to the woman. “No, I’ve lived many places, but primarily Tatooine. A barmaid if you can imagine”.

The woman quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the type to serve drunk men in the mornings, more of a… I’ll beat your ass if you so much as look at me”.

She laughed loudly, and so did Echo. Poe’s mother was abrupt and short, but in a different way from Mando. She was honest in a kind way, one that brought a grin to the people in her presence, and even from the radiant glow of her skin Echo could tell she was the type of woman to befriend anyone and everyone.

“I’m Shara” the woman introduced, smiling. Echo returned it.

“Echo”

They walked in silence for the remainder of their short journey, turning onto a small lane that led to a small collection of wooden and stone huts settled into a wide, circular clearing much like the one Mando had landed the Crest in. The perimeter was cornered off by a picket fence, and a wooden arch at the entrance announced that they were entering the settlement of Obitelj.

Children pranced and ran about the many pathways that linked the familial homes together, meeting at a large intersection where a well had been erected in the middle of the small village. Here, it was laid with flagstone cobble that was laced with moss and vines, and a small gaggle of children were playing an imitation of hopscotch as Echo and Shara passed by. By now the sky was darkening, lights buzzing to life in the porthole windows of the houses, and mothers calling their children inside to bathe before bedtime. A sense of contentment hung in the air as Echo weaved down the paths, one she had not felt for many years. Everybody here worked as a perfect symphony, much like the chorus of birds she had heard in the treetops, living, and breathing as one entity that existed alone in the Galaxy.

“It’s not much, but it’s our home,” Shara said as they came to a stop at a small hut on the very edge of the settlement. It was a two-story home, much like the others in the colony, made of a smooth sandstone that reflected the sun back into the sky. Its roof was dome-shaped with a single chimney poking from the top, puffing out streams of darkened smoke into the crisp air. Outside, by the front door, the grass was overgrown and riddled with peculiar flowers, and an old generator sat between the tall blades.

Shara led Echo inside the home, which was dark and lit by a single light that flickered a pale yellow, and Echo found herself back in a home almost identical to her own back on Tatooine. The downstairs was small, with a single table and four chairs, a little kitchen, and a couch that overlooked a wall with a scratched family picture hung upon it. A worn rug was laid over the concrete floor, and tapestries draped from the rafters, making the room seem roomier than it actually was.

“I love it” Echo found herself saying as Shara wove her way between children’s toys and into the kitchen, picking up a metal canister and placing it onto the burning hob.

“Would you like tea? I know it is a silly question, but my husband has an affinity for bringing back the leaves whenever he goes travelling. We have more than plenty!”

Echo roamed the small confines the house, taking in every little detail, her fingers reaching out to touch the soft silk of a particular tapestry that hung to divide the kitchen and the dining space. It was embroidered with a gold thread that sparkled in the lamplight, purples and greens and turquoises blending together to form an intricate pattern. It was a piece of art in fabric form, something that should be in an art gallery but instead was in this humble dwelling.

“Yes, please” Echo replied, taking a seat at the table, and wringing her hands together. The house was homely, comfortable, and Echo felt… out of place. For the past few weeks- or had it been months- she had known nothing more than the four metal walls of the Razor Crest. There was no decoration, no pretty colours, or paintings to look at, only dull metal. The Child’s wrinkled green skin provided the only splash of colour, and even then, it was not much.

Echo leant her head against her palm and rubbed the wooden surface of the table with her fingertip, tracing the deep cracks and lines in it’s face. For a fleeting second, she found herself wondering what Mando and the Kid were doing now- were they eating, asleep… coming after her? She scolded herself internally, knowing that Mando did not have the patience to chase after her in the dark. If she did not return soon, he would either hunt her down or leave her behind; either way, she didn’t care. Echo could spend the rest of her lifetime on Yavin and never think of the Mandalorian again.

But Mando needed her, Echo knew that. Without her he was exposed, left defenceless against the legions of Bounty Hunters seeking him and the Child out, and it would not be long until they plucked him up into their grasps. So, Echo could stay as long as she liked, and he would have nothing to say about it.

Shara returned to Echo and placed a small metal cup down in front of her. Wafts of steam rolled from the bubbling pink liquid, filling her nose with the strong smell of lavender and a meadow filled with spring flowers. She brought it to her lips and closed her eyes, feeling the thick liquid pass over her tongue and relishing in the warmth. It tasted like roses.

“So, you said you came here with an acquaintance?” Shara asked, her best attempt to make subtle conversation. Echo took another sip of her drink. “Did you leave him on your vessel?”

“Uh… yes” Echo smiled awkwardly. She did not want to tell Shara they had argued- she did not want this kind woman to think she was a horrible person. But there was something about the way Shara looked at her, her eyes filled with kindness and a sense of trust, that made the words flow from efforts mouth without much consideration. “We argued a little, I just needed some space to clear my head”.

The woman clicked her tongue and took a long drag of her drink. It wasn’t disapproving or scolding but understanding.

“Me and my husband fight sometimes, a lot, actually” Shara chuckled, locks of dark hair falling across her face. “But we always bounce back. Fighting is normal, healthy to an extent- it’s the only way a friendship can move forward and build”.

“Oh, we’re not friends” Echo shook her head with a small smile. Shara’s nose pulled up in confusion.

“You’re travelling the Galaxy together and you’re not friends?” she asked in disbelief. “I find that hard to believe”.

“We just… I don’t talk about my past life much, it’s not something I like to dwell on. When the Empire was around, I was so… scared” Echo admitted to her new friend. “And now that it’s gone… I don’t know, I guess I just- “

“You still struggle to trust people?” Shara finished with a look of knowing on her flawless features. Echo’s heart plummeted as she realised the woman was right.

Echo had thought that she had trusted Shabba, she had told him some things, but not everything. Only the small details he had needed to know. But trust? It was far fetched and distant, a concept she had long since forgotten. Perhaps that was why she always protected herself and never asked for help… she was scared to bestow that trust upon someone. But could she ever trust Mando? He was gruff and quiet and moody, he persisted when she didn’t want him to but remained silent when she wanted him to scream. He was everything she wanted him to be and not at the same time- a rock that she unintentionally found herself beginning to lean on.

He had saved her life not long ago, after all. He had cleaned her wounds without being asked to, cleaned the blood from her body but not stripped her of the dignity of being unconsciously naked in his presence. He had trusted her enough to leave her alone with the Child, to establish a commlink during the job from Ran, and even to wait for him before bailing and leaving with the ship. And Echo knew, deep down, that a small part of herself trusted him to- whether or not she wanted to admit it.

“The Empire ruined me,” Echo said with a shallow laugh. “And it still is, some things are hard to come back from”.

Shara reached out and placed a hand over Echo’s, her skin soft and warm. She gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Myself and my husband both fought in the Battle of Endor. It was… gruelling, disorientating- I didn’t know which way was up or down”?

“He was a sergeant, and I a pilot… we didn’t know what was happening, whether the other was alive or not, but we trusted- we trusted in hope. Hope was the symbol for the rebellion, and once it has become that symbol, you cannot kill it. Give it a name, and it will never truly die. You have to dismantle it and let the world watch on as it crumbles in on itself”. Echo stared at Shara dubiously. “My hope” she whispered. “Was Love”.

“I-I’ve never… I’ve never… loved somebody,” Echo said under her breath. Shara gave her a sad smile.

“Everybody has loved something, whether they know it or not”.

Echo thought hard, sucking in a deep breath, and lowering her gaze to the fingers clutching the handle of her cup. The swirling liquid sloshed around inside, and Echo raised it to her lips, inhaling the deep scent. She had never really thought about love… it had always been back of her mind, a small inconvenience that she never thought would ever become a reality for her. Echo did not want a family, or children, or a… a partner. She had been taught that love led to fear, and fear led to the darkest parts of herself; so why would she embrace it? But maybe Echo was missing out.

Her heart panged to be like Shara, wondering what it was like to have somebody like Poe or her husband that Echo could love as her own. She could picture herself vividly tidying her own little home with her own little children, chasing them, and scolding them for behaving like little monkeys. It seemed so farfetched, but something a part of her yearned for. Could Echo ever really be like Shara? Kind and gentle and honest?

“You’re braver than I am” Echo murmured. “I run away from everything- stars, I ran away because I had an argument with somebody”.

Shara smiled and patted Echo’s shoulder. “Then apologise. Tell him how you feel, it’ll make you feel better”.

“Are you some sort of… quarrel settler in your time off?” Echo grinned just as Poe came bounding into the house, covered in more mud than he had been before, and a rather large rip slashed across his shirt. His cheeks were beaten and red and he skidded to a halt, resting against the table, and gasping for breath. From outside, children’s fading laughter echoed.

“Mom, please I can stay up later- Aria and Orin are going to go to the river to play on the swing!” Poe begged, clasping his hands together and giving Shara pleading eyes. Echo smiled at the little boy.

“Not happening, monkey. You need sleep” Shara stood from her chair and placed a hand on Poe’s shoulder, steering him in the direction of the rickety staircase leading to the upper floor. Poe groaned and stamped his foot into the ground, scowling at his mother. “Do you not want to see your guest off in the morning?”

Poe tilted his head, thinking, and Echo couldn’t help but chuckle. If she had known that morning that she would meet the presence of such a little troublemaker, she would not have believed it- but Poe had more mischief in his eyes than the Child did, and she could see it as clear as day as he turned to observe Echo.

“Only if she tells me a bedtime story” Poe bargained, cracking his mouth into a grin.

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” Shara asked her son, planting her hands on her hips and ruffling the curls of his hair. He ducked away and bounced up the first few steps, scattering mud across the tiled floor.

“You said we had a local custom” Poe teased, smirking. “This is my local custom- come on”.

Shara cast a look at Echo and shrugged in defeat, knowing better than their guest that there was no arguing with the young boy. So, begrudgingly, Echo rose to her feet and followed Poe, waving shyly to Shara who laughed as she began to clean up their teacups.

The upstairs of the Dameron household was not much different than the downstairs, made up of two small rooms separated by a tiny landing that could hold nothing more than a line of clothes drying in the still wind. A window at the top of the staircase was cracked open, providing a beautiful view of the distant sun which was finally disappearing over the skyline. She had not heard anything of Mando, nor seen him, so she assumed he did not care where she was

Poe led her into the room on the right, skipping over to a small, twin-sized bed pushed up against a long window that overlooked the distant courtyard and well in the centre of the settlement. A hanging box of flowers sat just outside of the glass, and Poe pulled on a new pyjama shirt that was clean and not stained with dirt. He smoothed his hair down over his head and crawled under the covers, leaving Echo to observe the minimal decorations as she perched herself on the small chair beside his cot.

They sat there for a few moments; Echo’s arms folded awkwardly as she took note of the posters hung on the stained walls. They were of some children’s comic, all alien species she had never heard of, illustrated with big blasters and large ships. Finally, Poe cleared his throat, and Echo turned back to look at him.

“Do you really travel the Galaxy?” He asked in disbelief, his face sceptical and wearing an expression of disbelief. Echo leant back in the chair and huffed.

“Yeah, I do- sort of” She replied. Poe rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. My friend Aria said you landed with a stupid guy in shiny armour- her mom lets her go exploring the forest” Poe told her smartly. “I bet you just clean the ship”.

“Oh? Is that so?” Echo quirked up an eyebrow. “What If I told you I was the person in the armour”.

Echo had to withhold a laugh at the child’s look of shock, his mouth falling open and his eyes bursting open wide. He jumped up to sit on his knees, leaning forward on his palms until he was inches from her.

“You’re lying!” he declared. “I bet you can’t name… five planets you’ve been to”.

“Coruscant, Naboo, Tatooine, Praadost II and- here” Echo replied proudly, beaming at Poe’s dejected look as he sat back. He pulled his lips together in a tight line.

“Are you really the person my friend saw?” Poe asked shyly. Echo smiled and shook her head.

“No. He is a… he’s the person I travel with” She explained, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling. Somebody had painted a starry night across it in crayons and chalk, a messy picture but sweet all the same. “Did you actually want a bedtime story or was it just an excuse to interrogate me?”

Poe giggled and pulled the covers up to his eyes, hiding his nose, the only evidence of his amusement the way his eyes creased with laughter. Echo shook her head. She would never understand children- they were troublesome and confusing, but Echo loved them for some strange reason. The conversations with them came naturally to her, and she could spend her entire day talking away to a baby with no understanding of Galactic Basic.

“You could tell me a story from one of the planets you’ve been to” Poe pointed out as he settled himself back into his pillow, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them. “I bet you have loads”.

Echo chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. She did not have many interesting stories, but she was sure she could come up with something.

“Let’s see…” she thought aloud, her eyes trailing to gaze out of Poe’s window and the way that the moonlight was reflecting off the ghostly cobble of the colony’s town square. “When I was a little girl- many years ago because I’m ancient- “Poe giggled. “I lived in a temple”.

“A temple?” he asked.

“A temple. It was giant- bigger than this village, and as tall as the tallest tree. It was home to a race of wizards who could move things with their minds, and they were very powerful. The wizards travelled the Galaxy and lived in every corner, inhabited every little, tiny corner you can think of. Well, I was only five or six, when the Clone Wars began- “

“The Clone Wars?” Poe frowned. “What are those?”

“It was very long ago when the two halves of the Galaxy fought for the freedom of separate senates. But that’s not the point- during the Clone Wars, there was a very powerful wizard called Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now, Obi-Wan had this great big sword that he could wield, and one day he entered a battle with an evil villain”.

Poe was hanging from her every word, his lips parted in his excitement and his eyes twinkling as she continued her tale of fantasia.

“The evil villain had many swords, and Obi-Wan was not big enough to fight all of them- but he did. He twirled and he fought and defeated the evil man and all of his swords, using his amazing powers, and became legend”.

“That’s not a real story” Poe huffed in disbelief. Echo shrugged and grinned at him. “Well-Well where is Obi-Wan Kenobi now?”

Echo paused at the one flaw in her story. It had been one Master Vos had told her… but what had happened to the heroine? Echo had no idea whether he had survived the Purge or gone into exile, and she would probably never know. So, she made it up.

“Well, I told you that I’m aeons old, so he’s dead- duh”.

Poe laughed and sunk further into the pillows, his eyes drooping shut slightly. Echo was in awe- were her storytelling skills really that amazing, or was she just boring?

“You’re funny,” the little boy remarked, snuggling into his bed. “Can you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

Echo leant over and pulled his blanket up to his chin, shielding his body from the moonlight trickling in through the open window. She patted the curls of his hair and whispered into the night:

“Goodnight, Poe”

*

Echo awoke early the next morning to Shara cooking her food for her short journey back to the Crest, packing a black backpack full of necessities for the short trip- Echo didn’t have the heart to turn it down, so took it willingly, knowing it would be more flavour than she would get from the rations on the Crest the next few weeks. The middle-aged mother had been kind enough to rent Echo the moth-bitten couch in the downstairs, but hadn’t gotten much sleep- the entire night, it had felt as though a pair of beady eyes had been watching her through the small kitchen window, though every time she went to check there had been nothing more than the buzzing of beetles rolling around in the garden. She had put it down to paranoia instead. It had been in vain, though, as she had awoken to Poe shaking her shoulders vigorously, begging through hiccups for her to tell him more stories before her departure. Shara had shooed her son away, telling him that Echo had to leave soon in order to “rip the band-aid off and be a god damn grown woman.”

The sun was already glaring a burning heat down on the small settlement of Obitelj as she left the house, pack slung over her shoulder and a new pair of boots on her feet. Shara had been too kind in donating them, but the woman had refused to take no for an answer. Echo hoped that she could someday repay the favour.

“Thank you, Shara” Echo smiled as they reached the end of the small lane winding out of the settlement, the grass here damp with morning dew and swaying in the gentle breeze. Poe trailed behind his mother, kicking at stray stones, clearly in a mood that his new friend was leaving so quickly.

Shara shook her off with a roll of her eyes, seizing her son by the shoulders and pulling him in front of her. “Nonsense. It gives you a purpose to come back someday, you’re much more fun than the other stick in the muds around here”.

Echo nodded and buried her hands in her pockets, bending slightly to try and meet Poe’s eyes. He sniffled.

“Do you have to go?” he whined, looking up with gleaming brown orbs.

“Unfortunately, otherwise my Buckethead of a companion will hunt me down” She tried her best to put a lilt in her words, but it only caused Poe to frown further. “I’ll come back to visit- how couldn’t I when I have so many more stories to tell you”.

Poe raised his chin slightly and flashed the smallest of grins. “You have to promise, otherwise I’ll tell my dad- and my dad’s scary”.

Shara rolled her eyes. “Alright, tough guy, enough of the threats”

“I promise- here”.

Echo dug her hand into the deep pocket of her pants, fishing around for a moment before pulling out the thin golden chain she carried. He looked at it suspiciously, a look of confusion on his small features.

“This is for a girl” he choked out, reddening with embarrassment. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“See, here’s the catch- I really like that necklace, so I’ll have to come back for it. So, you best look after it for me, otherwise, I’ll get my space wizard friends to back me up” she mouthed the last words in a carrying whisper.

Poe ran his thumb along with the engravings of the individual ornament leaves, turning it over in his hands to weigh the gold. It hurt her to part ways that held an echo of her past, but she was making a promise- and she hated breaking promises. Someday, Echo would return.

“Well Aria might steal it” he reasoned, his smile widening. “I promise to guard it with my life!”

Echo stood to her feet and wiped off her pants, nodding and returning his smile. There was nothing left to say, so as a formality, she extended her hand to Shara who surveyed it. The women clasped their hands together, but then Shara was tugging her forward and engulfing her in a hug. It was tight and choking and felt so much like Shabba’s. Suddenly, though, Echo didn’t mind hugs all that much. She buried her face into Shara’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of honeysuckle and lemon.

“Be safe” Shara whispered, pulling away and cupping Echo’s face. Echo nodded.

“May we meet again?” Echo said.

“We will”

And then Echo was pulling away, turning with one last wave before setting off down the thicket and disappearing between the tall trees. Even as she walked, she could hear the distant babble of the children in the village, her eyes trained on the way the morning shadows danced like ballerinas across the leaves and the dry dirt underfoot. Her heart twisted nervously as she thought of the confrontation that waited a few hours ahead of her, the conversation she would have to have if she and Mando were to salvage what was left of there… whatever it was.

Echo had to do it. So, she pushed forward and ignored the burning in her calves, speed walking back in the direction of the Crest.

Chapter Text

Echo’s feet thumped against the dirt road as she walked, the only sound in the wide forest spare for the chirping of insects and the clicking of a bird’s peak as it tapped furiously against a nearby tree. She had decided to stick to the road on her journey back, deciding that it would lead her toward the Razor Crest eventually, and would be much safer than traversing her way through the deep undergrowth that grew in waves around her. Shara had told her that many of the dangerous animals of Yavin-4, a few four-legged beasts and such, rarely patrolled the roads, and she would be safe as long as she kept the sun on her left shoulder. So, she did, and even though she knew it would be much faster if she just cut through the forest, the mother’s warning rang sound in her mind.

It had been a few hours since she had left the little colony of Obitelj, and it burned hot on the left side of her neck as she wandered down a curling and cracked cobble road. A few miles back she had passed an old and run-down temple, and though she hadn’t stopped for long, she told herself that when she returned one day, she would explore it further. Shara had told her a quaint little story about an ancient race that used to accommodate the moon of Yavin almost five thousand years prior, a legion of warriors called the Massassi who had been enslaved by the Sith; or they supposedly had, according to the young woman.

There had been no time to linger though, as Echo had a task at hand, one she hoped to complete before nightfall: she had to get back to the ship before Mando got too impatient and left without her. Then she would be in real trouble, stranded on a foreign planet with no way off. Echo supposed that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, though. She would get to spend more time with Shara and her little family, and tell Poe more stories, and live a quaint little life until some other grumpy mercenary decided to pick her up.

Echo turned a bend in the path and saw, up ahead, the slope of something silver gleaming in the mid-afternoon sunlight. It made her pick up her pace slightly, despite the burning sensation shooting through the soles of her feet until she was almost jogging- it was the Crest. She wasn’t too sure why she was running and eventually slowed down before the small haggle of trees that separated the road from the ship. If anything, she should be walking the other way, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Did she really want to forgive Mando- stars, her entire body was telling her that she would rather jump in the belly of a Krayt Dragon than apologise to him.

Her feet fell soft on the crunching of leaves as she tiptoed through the treeline, careful not to disturb the ground underfoot in case of alerting someone. The nose of the ship was turned toward her, and from the slight slope of the hill leading down to the clearing, she could clearly see into the cockpit, which was empty spare the half-turned pilot chair facing toward the door. Her arm reached out as she slid down the incline, coming to a stop with the help of a nearby tree branch, and hanging there, waiting.

Echo waited-and waited- and waited. For what, she had no idea? For Mando to come running out of the holding bay, hollering, and exclaiming about how worried he had been? No, he would never do that, that was too much emotion for him to show in one day. Echo wanted to see the kid more than anything, his tiny feet and even tinier hands waddling toward her upon her return. She hoped he would be happy to see her.

Cautiously, and with the stealth of an assassin, she crept down the length of the ship and ducked under the engines that hung above her head, silently pulling herself around the rear of the ship. Her hand felt out, ready to feel for the button that would extend the rear ramp down toward her- but it was not there. Her head poked around the corner and Echo almost jumped out of her own skin, taking a step back and blinking dubiously at the person sat there, waiting patiently.

Mando was sat on the descended ramp, his elbows resting on his knees which were pulled up to his chest, the kid sprawled out beside him, snoozing quietly in the simmering orange sunlight. Echo had not expected him so suddenly, but he did not move, only cocking his head to look at her as she stepped into the light. She knew she must have looked a mess- all frizzy hair and sunburnt cheeks, but that didn’t matter right now. All confidence had vanished from her body, and suddenly she was a trembling mess, her fingers shaking as they tentatively grasped the straps of her pack. He said nothing, unmoving, as she placed a single foot on the ramp, testing her footing. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

You can do this, idiot, she told herself as she took another step forward, then another, until she was looming over him. Though his helmet did not move, she could feel the burning intensity of his gaze beneath as it shifted to glare up at her… and then Eco was bolting it up the ramp, shoving the pack from Shara onto her workbench and leaning against it. Her cheeks were burning, not from the sting of the sun but embarrassment- stars, she was a pussy.

Snap out of it, Echo, you’re a woman- or… something like that, what had Shara said? Rip the band-aid off. Right. She could do that… totally.

She turned back around and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, tottering over on unsteady feet until she was standing next to Mando. Echo plopped herself down beside him, wincing at the impact on her backside, and thankful for the Child’s tiny barrier between them. It was only a few inches, but to Echo, it felt like lightyears- the Beskar an added barrier that shielded him from her sheepish glances.

For a while, neither one of them said anything. They stared at the beauty of the planet; the exotic flowers that dotted the waving grass, a variety of deep purples and vibrant reds, the vines crawling up the rough bark of the trees, and the canopy of leaves overhead that filtered the sunlight through in golden rays. The soft breeze tickled Echo’s bare ankles, and for a moment she wondered if Mando could see the Galaxy the same as she could- unfiltered, bursts of colour in every corner. Or did the helmet filter it out, taking all of the colours away until it was nothing but a plateau of monochrome, relieving him the temptation of ripping it off in a split second.

It was such an absurd concept that he held- to never remove his helmet, that is. How easy it would be for an enemy to tear it off in the midst of battle, revealing Mando and his entire identity within the blink of an eye. Was he scared of that? Or had he grown not to fear the inevitable, only exist until such a time came. It didn’t sound living, then again, was Echo exactly living purposefully with her façade of a life?

“How old were you?” Echo asked quietly, her eyes trained on a butterfly that drifted across the clearing. “How old were you when you took that helmet?”

Mando said nothing for a few beats, and when he finally did speak, his voice was a murmur of himself “Of age- an adolescent”.

Echo let out a low noise, something like a sigh, thinking about how young that must have been. Fifteen? Or perhaps eighteen, the standard adult age for many cultures. Echo had been seventeen when she was considered to be ‘of age’ by Shabba and had begun working in the cantina back on Tatooine. But by that time, she assumed that Mando would have been a fully-fledged member of his creed, killing and working for a living. How different they indeed were.

“Your culture- religion- it values secrecy, right? For your survival?” Mando nodded, his gaze still trained ahead. “I… that’s how I survive too”.

His head snapped to hers abruptly, as if to say how, but she did not say anything more. She wanted to hear the words from his mouth, for him to say them instead of letting her ramble on with no prompt. She needed to know that he was interested, that he cared, before revealing parts of herself that she thought she could keep hidden forever.

“You’re an open book,” he said simply. “What are you hiding?”

Echo chewed the inside of her cheek, continuing to stare at him nervously. Her lip trembled, realising the weight of what she was carrying, and knowing that one wrong word, one wrong move, and he could take it entirely the different way.

“I… I’ve been running, my entire life. Ever since I was a little girl and got that scar. 28-god-damn-years” she choked out a laugh. “I have hidden- I have run and fought and forgotten who I was just to live in a Galaxy that doesn’t want me”. The words were tumbling from her mouth. “My name- my real name- could ruin me. One slip of it and I could die… and I used to think sometimes that dying would be better than living like this”.

Mando stared at her, his legs shifting slightly toward her. He tilted his head; Echo could feel the hot tears welling in her dark eyes.

“So, when you asked? I panicked…” another deep breath to quell the storm swirling within. “I don’t trust anybody; I never have, and I probably never will- I need you to know that”.

He leant back further until he was resting on his elbows, his torso so long and his legs parted in relaxation. It was a strange sight to see him like this, so confident and open, and perhaps that was why the words had come so easily from Echo. Her heart flitted inside her chest.

“My family were murdered by Separatists” he began, taking his time to form the words in his mouth. “The Mandalorians took me in as a foundling, raised me and educated me in their Ways. I was deeply grateful, glad that they saw potential in me even when I could not. I haven’t removed my helm in front of another living person since I was sworn in”.

Echo was now the one staring, her mouth slightly dry, captivated by his words. Though there was no sadness in his tone, there was something else- something soft and subtle, a longing lilt that he ached for. He wanted to take it off, whether it was for relief or comfort, but he wanted to… he just wanted to be normal, just like Echo.

“Then we both have our own masks” she pointed out with a small smile, pulling her knees to her chest, and settling her chin atop them. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live a normal life”.

“Back on Tatooine, when I told you that everybody there was running from something- I was right, and you looked terrified,” Mando said. Echo looked over her shoulder at him” Why?”

“I thought you were there to kill me or to take me, either way, I didn’t want either to happen” she shrugged her shoulders. “I thought you were just another Bounty Hunter with no moral compass”.

Mando let out a small snort, not one of amusement but one of disbelief. “I wouldn’t have done that”.

Echo’s eyebrows scrunched up and she rolled her eyes. “Really? Even if the price on my head was a million credits? You could buy a new ship”.

Mando shook his head, sitting up and looking down at the kid, who was rolling over and gurgling in his sleep. He looked at the Child whimsically, in a way a father might his own son.

“I might have then, but not now”

“Why?” her voice fell into a whisper, one that drew his attention back to her face.

“You’re a good person, Echo”.

Her name on his tongue made her heart thump powerfully, the blood rushing to her head in a state of euphoria and her stomach flipping with opia. She blinked long lashes at him, trying to straighten the smile that was brimming on her chapped lips.

“I thought there were no good people”.

“I-I changed my mind”.

A short laugh escaped her lips, and she ran an absent hand through her hair, dragging it through dried knots and tugging gently- stars, she needed a shower. She couldn’t bring herself to stand, though, enjoying the gentle conversation Mando provided too much. It wasn’t sarcastic or heated but providing and sustaining- honest and true and everything Echo had hoped but not dreamed of.

“I’m scared” Echo murmured. “That someday I’ll die, and I won’t know what it means to trust somebody”.

A hand reached out and touched her own, guiding it away from where she had pulled her knuckles to her mouth. His fingers were caressing as they wrapped around her wrist, tugging softly until their intertwined hung stationary in the space between them, suspended above the Child. He wanted to see her face, Echo thought, as it truly was- unhidden and real.

“So am I”.

“If it was the other way around,” she said. “And it was down to me to save your life… would you trust me to do it?”

He pondered the thought for a few moments, his grasp around her arm holding steady. Mando leaned his head toward her, to consider Echo, and she felt herself press her lips into a thin line as she watched.

“Yes”

The words made her chest pound painfully as she stared at him. He trusted her, Echo, to save his life if it came down to it… just as he had saved hers. Even after everything

she had said about being scared, afraid to put that trust in somebody in case it was thrown back in her face, he was willing to offer everything he had if his life was on the line. She hoped that the promise would never appear, but it was there in black and white, a verbal confirmation of the connection between them.

It made something strange begin to brew in her head, her fingers tingling as he slowly released her and let his arm fall to his side. Was it trust? Unchallenged and honest, no it couldn’t be. Echo still felt uneasy in a sense, but more because of her own heart rather than the intimidation that rolled off Mando in colossal waves.

“Naboo” her words hung in the air, untouched. He looked at her blankly.

“What- “

“I was born on Naboo”.

He said nothing, taking a few beats to rethink what she had said. He was the only person in the Universe who knew the truth- apart from perhaps her biological family of course, but they thought she had died when she was eight years old. Mando sat up straighter, his back rigid and shoulders pulled back.

“You don’t need to tell me where you’re from… it doesn’t matter, but- “she paused and smiled awkwardly. “If I can’t give you my name, I thought the least I could do was tell you where I was from”.

He did not leave, or stay silent, or throw up a fuss of the unspoken she had just pressured upon him. He chuckled.

“I never took you for a Mid-Rim girl”.

Her brow pulled together, an expression of mock offence and amusement playing across Echo’s sharp features. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” he gestured his hand toward her. “You’re a bit… rough around the edges”.

Her eyes popped open wide. Did he just…

“Least I don’t look I just got dipped in a bucket of metal”.

Planting her hands firmly on the floor beneath her, she pushed herself up, stumbling slightly down the slope of the ramp as she did so. Mando followed quickly, trailing behind her as she waded into the high grass that surrounded the ship. It tickled her waist and swished with the drift of the wind, stray leaves falling from overhead and spinning as they glided to the ground softly.

Echo came to a stop just before the treeline, turning and letting her palms brush over the pin-needle points of the blades of tall grass. It sent a funny sensation up her nerves as she looked over at the Mandalorian. He stood just at the entrance of the ship, leaning against an overhead rafter with his arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked, sounding almost exhausted. “I don’t have the patience to wait around if you’re going on another little excursion”.

She looked to her feet and noticed the way they had sunk into the soft dirt underfoot, wishing she could shed her shoes and dig her toes into it. As a little girl, Echo had enjoyed running through the vast meadows of her home planet- from what she could remember, there had been rolling hills for as far as the eye could see, waterfalls that cascaded into vast and lively rivers, swirling opaque water that would rise to her chest when she would go for an early morning swim. In a way, Yavin-4 reminded her of Naboo… everything was so natural, and the Force here swirled around every tree and flower, singing loudly in its own moving crescendo.

That was the thing about the Force… it sounded so different across the Galaxy. In some places, it was a soft and gentle love song- one that tickled her tear ducts and made Echo want to slip into a deep slumber; but in other places, more lively places, it was a bursting melody that screamed for attention. To her, the Force was its own orchestra- and she, one of the many musicians that drunk from its deep well of life.

Her eyes snapped up to look at Mando, who was still waiting for her, and she touched the grass once more. “This planet reminds me of Naboo”.

He took a step forward, his heavy boots crunching against the fallen leaves. “Have you ever been back?”

“No” Echo shook her head, turning her gaze elsewhere. She hadn’t seen her childhood home since a very, very, young age. She could hardly remember what her house on the planet had looked like. “I… never got the opportunity”.

Another step and he was in the waving grass. “Do you… want to go back?”

He weighed his question carefully, as though afraid he might cause her to spontaneously combust. But Echo did not know the answer.

A part of her had always longed to go home, ever since the Purge. To go home to her mother and father, the sister she was sure she had once had. Echo could not remember their names, and also their faces were a blur in the back of her mind, she still longed for that sense of belonging. But she was afraid; afraid that after all these years, she would no longer belong. Echo was no sophisticated young woman- she was a warrior; she had been brought up learning combat and how to move things with the whim of her mind. She would not fit in.

But here… with Mando and the kid, the constant travelling pulled her thoughts from worry had focused it on her work. With Mando, Echo felt like for the first time in her life, she belonged. He understood her, and she understood him. They were the perfect pair… the perfect pair of friends.

“Someday, maybe” she approached him. “But I think that after all this time, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself”?

“But it’s your home,” he said. “Don’t you… want to see your family?”

Echo was slightly taken aback- of course, she did, but she realised the question wasn’t for her sake. She remembered what Mando said, about being taken as a foundling by the Creed; he had no family, he had nobody to go back to, waiting for him to return after all this time. Mando had nobody.

“I think it’s time that I find a new home”.

They stared at each other, and only now did Echo realise just how close they were. She could hear the modulated breaths beneath his helmet, feel the warmth radiating from the cold Beskar plating, and she was sure that the steady thumping ringing somewhere in her ears was the beating of his own heart. Her lips parted ever so slightly in surprise at the way her body naturally canted towards his.

“Where?” he asked with an exhale of his breath. “There’s not many places like this left in the Galaxy”.

“I don’t know, your rust bucket of a ship is a pretty good start, I think”.

He staggered backwards, as though he had not been expecting such a forward remark. His planted one foot into the ground, steadying his hand on his hip and huffing loudly with a slight shake of his head. “That ship is no home”.

She folded her arms, remembering something that Master Vos had said to her once. “A home isn’t a place, it’s the people”.

For a fleeting moment, it looked as though Mando wanted to both wrap his arms around her and throttle her simultaneously. His fists flexed at his sides; his body drawn up so tightly it looked as though it was about to burst with the exhaustion. He planted himself firmly where he stood and faced her.

He was about to open his mouth- Echo could tell from the sharp intake of air beneath the helmet- but suddenly a pinging sound resonated from somewhere deep within the Razor Crest that sat idly behind them. Mando turned, and Echo peaked around him, to see the kid still asleep and the hull still bathed in partial darkness. He started for the ramp, and she followed.

The hull of the Crest was still as messy as ever as they wound their way through stacked crates, Mando grappling himself up the ladder and into the cockpit faster than Echo could comprehend. She grasped the rungs firmly as she hoisted herself up after him, squeezing herself through the door and into the main control centre of the Pre-Imperial spaceship. It was still empty, just as it had been when Echo had descended the slope of the nearby hill only thirty minutes prior, the view from the cockpit looking much farther into the treeline than she had originally thought. From her position behind the pilot’s seat, she could see as far as the bend in the distant road, which curved right and out of sight, and the peak of the distant temple that she had come across earlier poking out of the tops of the trees.

Mando flung himself into his position, flicking a few switches and toggling a few buttons as the dashboard before him blinked to life. It displayed a variety of colours, all staring up as a mixture of controls at Echo, but Mando seemed to know what he was doing. His fingers flew, trying to seek out the source of the disturbance when suddenly a flickering picture appeared on the small holo display in front of him.

A tiny man stood, dressed in the finest clothes, and standing with the poise of someone who considered themselves of the utmost importance. From what Echo could make out on the grainy image, he had a close shave of black hair and full cheeks, his gnarled hands clasped in front of himself as he shifted his weight between his feet.

“Who’s that?” Echo asked Mando, her eyes focused on the little person.

“Karga” he growled the name as though it was poison on his lips.

“My friend” Karga began gently. “If you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive”.

Mando scoffed loudly as if to subtly say no shit, and Echo quirked an eyebrow up. Clearly, the two men didn’t play nice with one another; but what did Karga mean by still alive?

“You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other- the man who hired you is still here” The strange explained, his hands planted on his hips, and Echo glanced at Mando.

“Somebody hired you?” she asked quietly at the small intermission between the man’s words. Mando jerked his head in a nod.

“To get the kid… I-uh- screwed him over”.

Echo clicked her tongue. “Ah”

“-and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while.”

“You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. So… here is my proposition; return to Nevarro, bring the Child as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want.

“If you succeed, you will keep the Child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild; for a man of honour should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

The image flickered and flitted until it disappeared, leaving only an awkward silence hanging in the air as Echo’s head reeled with the past few minutes of conversation. Karga had said Ex-Imperial guards- he had to mean stormtroopers, which would mean they were under the reign of a disgraced Warlord. Suddenly, she felt very sick.

But then another thought struck her… they wanted the Child? She looked at the place where Karga had stood, her face contorting strangely. What could they want with the kid? He was just as useless as a Womp Rat on a swamp planet.

Mando began to pull back some levers, and Echo felt the ship rumble as the engines roared to life.

“Go get the kid” he commanded firmly. She did not move.

“We’re not going, are we? I mean… your friend said Ex-Imperial guards- “Echo laughed nervously, shaking her head. “That’s a suicide mission”.

Mando stood from his seat to look at her, towering over the young woman in the small confines of the cockpit. There was no way in the name of the Maker that Echo could go somewhere crawling with stormtroopers; they would recognise her, or shoot, or worst of all, kill her- the very thing she had told Mando only moments ago she did not want to happen.

“I have to” he sighed. “To protect the kid- “

“I don’t get it, what do they want with the kid? He’s just… he’s just a kid”.

Mando held her gaze steady, refusing to back down from the silent battle raging between them. If Echo were to go to a planet festering with what was left of the Empire, she wanted answers first.

“I-I don’t know… okay? But if it can clear my name- his name- I’m doing it, with or without your help”.

“I just told you that I have been running and hiding my entire life and now, all of a sudden, you want me to march into a death trap. Sorry if I’m a little apprehensive” Echo barked at him sharply. He rolled his neck and tilted his head back.

“I know- I know that you’re scared, I get it,” he told her. “But… I can try and reason with Karga, get your name cleared too, or-or something”.

Mando was trying to come up with incentive on the spot, and although it was enticing, she would not give in so easily. Decades of credits rested on her head, and Echo was sure something like that couldn’t be erased within mere moments- especially when it was originally imposed by the Empire itself. But the kid… Echo didn’t want him to live a life like hers, one where he was afraid to be himself for fear of being murdered for nothing of his own fault.

Fear is a demon, was something Master Vos would often say. Close your eyes and tell yourself you are not afraid.

I am not afraid. “Okay,” she exhaled, her eyes fluttering closed at how utterly absurd this idea sounded. They were going to die, for certain, and if not die at least seriously injured. All of this hassle for a little kid, what made him so special. “Okay”

“Thank you” Mando murmured, placing a large hand on her shoulder. She waved him off.

“Yeah, you can thank me when we’re dead… what’s the plan, hotshot?”

Mando looked over his shoulder at his console, thinking deeply to himself. Echo waited.

“First, we need to visit some friends of mine”.

Chapter Text

“How old are you?”

“What?”

“How old are- “

The hum of the engines reverberated through the otherwise dim cockpit, the hissing and clanking of the machines and hydraulics whirring as the confines of Hyperspace pressed in around the small ship. It rattled occasionally as it travelled along the dimensional highways of the Galaxy, and the stars streaming past the curved window blurred together in lines of white that stood starkly against their blue background. Blinking and beeping rang in Echo’s ears, and she was sure that she could now match its rhythmic melody after listening to it for hours on end.

Mando was sat in the pilot’s seat, as he always was, his head inclined back so that he could gaze at his partner’s reflection in the bullet-proof glass in front of him. Echo, unusually, was sat beside him- well, behind him- the kid tucked quietly in her lap and snoring delicately. Normally, she spent their voyages through Hyperspace in the hull, but after two days of staring at absolute darkness she had grown bored and ventured up to join her metallic counterpart in his only space of privacy on the Razor Crest. Though he hadn’t protested to the company, she could tell that his shoulders visibly tensed whenever he heard her sniffle or cough.

Echo stretched her legs out in front of her, cracking the joints and groaning as they ached from sitting in the same position for hours on end. Mando made a soft noise beneath the helmet. “Come on,” she sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You could at least tell me how old you are”.

“Why’s that?” he said, his voice lilting. Echo sat up straighter, adjusting the little ball of fabric snuggled up against the padding of her stomach.

“I told you what planet I’m from, it’s only fair”.

Mando did not say anything for a few beats. “That was almost three days ago- and you did it voluntarily, I never forced you to”.

Echo huffed in annoyance- of course, he was back to being Mr Logical. How hard could it be for him to give her one little snippet of information? It wasn’t like she could completely degrade him with a number.

“Please” she pleaded. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours”.

“An exchange?” Echo could hear the smile of amusement even beneath the thick modulator of his helm. Her mind clearly pictured a blank face with a brilliant smile, the corners of his lips quirking upward ever so slightly- she was sure he had a nice smile.

“Perhaps… seen as though you’re in my debt- you do it, I’ll drop the whole planet thing”.

Mando sighed- long and hard like he couldn’t really believe he was giving in to an ideology so stupid and utterly dim-witted. He stretched one clothed arm out and made a strangled noise, letting it drop back down by his side as he continued to look up at the stars flashing by, deep in thought.

“How many years has it been since the Death Star got destroyed?”

“First or second one?” she grinned.

“First”

Echo tapped her chin, screwing up her face as she strained her brain to think. She had never been good at maths- in fact, she could hardly add two numbers together- and was also at a loss for keeping track of time. She usually plotted events around her birthday, which was in the middle of the hot summer, and noted them according to which side they sat on; before, or after. She was sure the first Death Star had imploded before her birthday, which meant…

“Nine years,” she said finally. “Give or take a few months”.

“Nine years” Mando repeated, as though he couldn’t quite believe it had been that long ago. “I was thirty last time I checked- around then- so you do the math”.

“Thirty-nine?” Echo wondered aloud, tilting her head. He nodded stiffly.

She hadn’t thought he could be so old, what with the way he moved so quickly and acted so… gruffly. He embodied the personality of a soft, grumpy, old man and the physique of a young man. Mando was an enigma, but even though he kept fit, Echo had caught him cursing in pain whenever he picked up something extremely heavy or bent over in a small space. Thirty-nine. She wondered if he had a thick beard under the helmet.

“No wonder you act like a village elder,” she remarked, brushing the crook of her finger over the points of the Child’s ears. They flicked and swatted the skin of her palm. “I can buy you a walking stick when we land”.

“Shut up” he grunted, though it was light and void of any deep threat. “Your turn”

“Oh, I don’t know, old man- I don’t wanna make you feel ancient”.

Mando spun his chair, the slit of his black visor burning holes into Echo’s flushed red cheeks. She cracked a sly smile, one which he obviously did not return, before rolling her eyes and letting her hair fall in slits over her face.

“I was born in twenty-seven, so I think… thirty-six? Or it could be thirty-five… what season are we in?”

He extended his legs until his feet almost touched hers, splaying his hands on the pauldrons strapped tightly to his muscular thighs. “You talk too much”.

Mando spun back to face the controls, flicking a few switches as the blinked and beeped at a faster pace, signalling their drop from Hyperspace was quickly approaching. Echo scoffed loudly.

“I talk too much? You’re the one who insults me- “

“You called me an old man”.

She paused, the rest of her sentence lingering on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed it and shrugged, willing to give him the momentary win he was seeking from their squabble. “Yeah, alright, whatever”

Standing from where she had been sat so still, Echo rolled her ankles and shifted the Child so that she cradled him against her side. She would lay him down while they landed, check over her consoles to make sure they were still operating correctly, and hopefully join Mando on his excursion to see his so-called friend- whoever that was. It made her curious as she imagined the type of person Mando considered an actual friend- was it another Mandalorian? Or perhaps it was an equally as tough mercenary he had met within the Guild.

“Want me to get you some joint cream when we land?” Echo asked as she lingered in the doorway of the cockpit. Mando’s head snapped to look at her over the headrest of his chair- a chilling, warning, look that made her laugh out loud and disappear into the dark depths of the Crest.

*

Echo hadn’t expected much from the planet of Mando’s acclaimed associate- in fact, she had expected something much drearier than the bustling hive of greenery that they had landed on; in her mind, she had pictured something close to Mustafar- dark and gloomy, just like the Mandalorian. But Sorgan was the polar opposite.

Bright and green, it looked somewhat like Yavin-4, except a dense swamp covered most of the planet simmering pools of steamy water. Wide forests stretched out for as far as the eye could see, however unlike their previous destination, the planet looked almost uninhabited- there were no trails or dusty lanes spare one long, winding road that carved its way through the shrubbery. From what Echo had gathered, there was no starport, no industrial centres, and no mass population. Utter tranquillity buried within the outer edges of the Galaxy.

Much to her pleasure, upon landing the ship, Mando has begrudgingly allowed her and the child to accompany him in retrieving his friend who- by his suspicions- was drinking it up in a nearby common house (this planets version of a lowkey cantina). It was gloomy and humid inside the domed wooden building, slats of broken wood allowing beams of sunlight to flow in through the gaps in the walls and cover the floor in a golden glow. The place itself was bustling with activity; patrons drinking with friends, a few women sat at one table gushing over a basket of twinkling purple fabric. However, the most interesting aspect of the little cantina was the large group assembled around a makeshift fight pit.

“Hit him!” A beaten-up looking Twi’lek hollered as Echo, Mando and the kid made their way through the crowd. Echo was able to slip through untouched, however, Mando was much broader than she was, and had to jam his elbow into a few nearby men to spur them out of the way. The Child followed in his crib, drinking in the energy of his surroundings.

“Rowdy crowd for such a quiet planet” Echo pointed out as they managed to push to the front of the crowd, her hair frizzed from the humidity and her cheeks red from ducking under arms and over outstretched legs. Mando tilted his head and said in a whisper:

“If you can believe it, it’s been louder”.

“You’ve been here before?” She asked him as her eyes turned to the fight that was currently taking place- well, it was less of a fight, more of a one-sided ass handing.

In the middle of the uneven ring were two people, both bound by a magnetic tether that glowed and spitted a fiery orange. Attached to it were two equally as fiery people- a Zabrak man, his peach skin twinkling with sweat in the sunlight, and a woman who looked as though she was out for an afternoon stroll.

She was much bigger than Echo- both in height and in muscle. Her black hair fell over her eyes as she grinned, two bruised and bloody fists raised in glee as she feigned a step toward her opponent, who jerked backwards. She wore the usual armour- nothing as flashy as Mando’s, but something that looked like repainted stormtrooper armour, and a ringlet of black blocks circled her right bicep, flexing with each twitch of her wrist. Surely this couldn’t be Mando’s friend… right?

THWACK.

The Zabrack lurched forward and backhanded the woman across her face, sending her head jerking sideways as she laughed and split an infamous grin. She was breathing heavily from exertion but showed no sign of relenting as she straightened, allowing her.

enemy to swing again- but he missed. She ducked under his arm, sidestepping his large body, and taking two steps back to stretch the distance between them- or at least she would of, had it not been for her electrifying tether to him.

They circled one another in a jibing dance, each other stepping forward in a threatening way, urging the other to retaliate. The whoops and cheers of the crowd arose as Echo found herself clapping along with them, thoroughly enjoying the fight- unlike others that she had seen, it was not one that was orchestrated for blood. No. This fight was for pure amusement.

Mando stood beside her, arms crossed, and shook his head at the Child who was squealing with glee.

The human woman made a come-hither motion with her hands- the Zabrak responded, darting toward her. Oh, what a mistake. Echo watched, eyes wide, as her fist drove into the man’s throat, knocking him off balance as the other came up and delivered a solid punch to his face that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. Another hit from the man and she was sent stumbling back slightly, regaining her footing by digging her boots into the floor. But the horned menace was too fast.

He grabbed ahold of her shoulders and with a loud grunt, he hauled her back into the bar that ringed the centre of the common house, sending her sliding down it and onto the floor. She touched her face carefully and wiped a smear of blood, a grin still playing on her lips as the Zabrak charged- she was up, again. Echo was amazed at how much stamina this woman possessed.

She drove her foot into his back, sending his torso splaying across the bar in confusion as he lifted his head to turn back and look at her- SMACK. Another punch, he brought his arm back to try and drive her away, but she fell back and resumed that defensive position once more. It was turning into a desperate game now, one where nobody knew who was going to win- or whether either would remain alive. But the woman wore a look of determination as her eyebrows quirked upwards at each of her opponent’s moves, anticipating his next.

There’s no way she can win this, Echo though, watching as the Zabrak wrapped his large hands around and began to yank her forward by her naval. She ran a hand through damp hair, pushing it back so that she could see clearly, trying to hold her ground- but he was too strong. She jerked forward with each sharp pull, grunting, and gasping for breath, her lungs no doubt constricting beneath the thick panels of armour that she wore. The Zabrak was just as exhausted at the effort, the buzzing electrical field he held fizzing in his hands as he tied it around his wrists for extra leverage.

Finally, when he was close enough, he brought his fist up to slam into her jaw. She ducked and weaved around him, driving her fist up and into his ribs as a choked sound left his chest. They struggled for a few moments, tumbling onto the floor, and grasping at each other. She flipped herself over with incredible flexibility, straddling his torso and driving her purple splotched fists into his face repeatedly; when this proved to be of no use, she seized two ends of the electrical cord and wrapped them around his thick neck, forcing him onto his front as he coughed and spluttered.

“Get him!” Somebody deep within the crowd screamed as the Zabrak bared his teeth, trying to pull off his assailant, but it was no use. She had the high ground. He was doomed.

He smacked his palm into the cross-section where the cord extended from his belt and in an instant the line disappeared. He fell forward with a rough shove, leaving the victor looming above him, smirking in triumph as she huffed deeply.

“Pay up Mudscuffers!” she announced, raising her arms in the air as people began to exchange credits with an audible clink. A group of men approached her, slamming fistfuls of money into her outstretched palms with a great look of dissatisfaction that they carried together.

She still wore that same smile even as Mando stepped forward, Beskar gleaming in the dim lighting, and the smile on her face lifted only slightly- falling when he spoke.

“Looking for some work?”

She scoffed airily, swallowing as she rounded and made for a table in the far corner. Mando followed her and Echo, seeing no other reason to stand lingering, tailed after him and the mystery woman.

“I thought we had agreed I got the planet, hm?” she said as she sat at a small table, which was arranged with crates and low stools that creaked under her weight as they sat. Mando sat across from her, looking oddly out of place in the tough surface of his armour.

Echo loitered slightly at his shoulder before sitting, tugging the kid’s crib toward her so that she could keep a close eye on him; she had risked her life saving him before, and she wasn’t about to do it again. The woman tilted her head at Echo, squinting as her eyes searched her face.

“We haven’t met” she smiled. “You fly with him?”

“She’s part of my crew” Mando interjected, looking between the two women. “I picked her up on Tatooine”.

Echo rolled her eyes, not quite understanding why he was speaking for her. Had he not learned with Xi’an? By the looks of it, his friend posed no threat, so Echo leant against the table to face her.

“I work on the computer systems- the stuff he’s too much of a Buckethead to do” Echo smiled. The woman chuckled.

“I like her, Mando- “she extended a hand toward Echo. “Cara Dune”

“Echo” they clasped hands for a moment in a brief shake before releasing. Echo flexed her fingers at how firm Cara’s hold was.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, Echo,” Cara said as she waved over a nearby waiter, who poured her a healthy glass of glowing blue spotchka to which she nodded at him for. “I spent a few weeks with him, and I couldn’t fathom how he doesn’t take that thing off”.

“I am sat right here” Mando grumbled, earning a cheeky grin from Cara. “Can we get back to the reason we’re here, please?”

Cara exhaled heavily and leant back in her seat, folding her arms as she sipped from her canteen of drink. “Shoot”.

Mando shuffled in his seat, clasping his hands on the tabletop, and leaning close as though he was afraid, he might be overheard. Echo couldn’t see the reason for his secrecy, though; the common house was full of people from all walks of life, people who probably couldn’t care less about their business. Echo realised it was probably the way of the Mandalore or something like that, so she said nothing- only listened patiently.

“I… received a transmission, from an old associate about taking out a Warlord that has sieged hold over Nevarro. I wouldn’t usually accept, Karga screwed me over but…” Mando’s head drifted to the Child, who had clambered out of his crib and was tugging earnestly at his cowl that draped along the floor. He leant down and picked him up, perching him on the table. “He ensured that the Child would be removed from the Guild’s records if I succeeded”.

Cara leant back further in her seat; so far, in fact, that she propped one foot on the table as she took long drags from her cup. Eco’s eyes flashed between the two and the silent conversation they were seemingly having. Cara turned to Echo.

“What’s your opinion?” she asked. Echo’s brow drew together.

“Mine?”

“Yeah- what do you think? You think it's stupid?”

Echo chewed the inside of her cheek, not too sure what she thought. Of course, at first, she had been strongly against it- it was an Imperial Warlord. If they even found out who Echo was, or recognised her from the archives, she would be killed within an instant. But the reward was… tempting. Echo was split.

“I think it has its holes but… its as solid a plan as anyone will get” Echo replied after a moment’s consideration, her answer nothing but the truth. “Worth a shot”

Cara was nodding as Mando continued to speak: “It seems like a straightforward operation. They’re providing the plan and firepower. I’m the snare.”

“With the kid?” Cara sat up, staring at the little boy who was tugging at the hem of his dirty brown roves. Mando nodded curtly.

“That’s why I’m coming to you.”

The woman rose her hands, inhaling a breath as she drummed her fingers on the wooden table. “I don’t know, Mando, I’ve been advised to lay low- if anybody runs my chain code, I’ll rot in a cell for the rest of my life”.

Echo stared at Cara inquisitively. So, she was wanted too? How convenient. Her eyes surveyed the band that wrapped around her arm, studying each bar that made it up; it wasn’t tribal, nothing like other species wore, but it must have carried significance for Cara to wear it so proudly, so openly; especially if she was wanted. There was a certain twinkle in her eye that Echo had not noticed before, too, one that shone like a diamond in the starry sky- one that Echo saw in her own reflection sometimes. It was a look carried by many in the aftermath of the Empire… one of loss.

“I thought you were a veteran?” The Mandalorian asked.

At that moment, the Zabrak man returned. He towered over the small group, glowering at Cara as he smacked a fistful of credits down before her- she grinned, he screwed his face up in disgust and prowled away.

“Come back soon- “she called after him before returning her attention to Mando. “I’ve been a lot of things since- most of them carry a life sentence. If I so much as book passage on a ship registered under the New Republic, I’m…”

“I have a ship” he proposed. “I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward. You can live free of worry”.

“I’m already free of worry” Cara answered. “And I’m not in the mood to play soldier anymore- especially fighting some local Warlord”.

“He’s not a local warlord” Echo murmured, then louder. “He’s not local… he’s imperial”.

The look of bemusement on Cara’s face morphed suddenly, as though somebody had flicked a switch inside of her. She no longer looked happy or jovial, she looked furious, like a deep storm inside of her was quelling with each passing second. The realisation hit Echo so suddenly her lips parted. A veteran, the marking on her arm, the bounty? She was a Rebel or had been a long time ago… running from something so similar to Echo it sent a chill down her spine.

Cara had seen things just as Echo had- terrible things, if not worse. She had seen her friends and allies murdered at the hands of the Empire, she had seen planets stripped of their freedom in the promise of something better that had never come; she had dedicated the better part of her life to fighting for a better Galaxy, yet here she was, just as lowly as the rest of the criminals who frequented the Outer Rim territories.

How strange it was, and utterly baffling, that two women from different walks of life could end up being so similar.

“I’m in” Cara smiled, drinking from her cup again, but this time her grip around the material tightened and her arm trembled. She wanted blood.

*

“Tatooine, huh?”

The floorboards of the ship creaked as it soared through the open expanse of the Galaxy, not suspended in Hyperspace for once, just gliding effortlessly among the sea of stars that stretched out for lightyears around them. They had just left the upper atmosphere of Sorgan, the ship no longer humming as they glided between the layers of gas that trapped the oxygen in the fruitful planet, and Cara and Mando had shut themselves in the cockpit for most of the journey, leaving Echo to busy herself with effortless tasks.

She had been wedged beneath her workstation soldering a few wires into the back panel of her monitor when Cara’s heavy boots had descended the ladder into the hull, her footfall pausing just at her feet. Echo looked down and saw the woman’s face just visible through the dimness as she squatted.

“Yep,” Echo grunted as she reached up, her fingers waving to grab something. “Born n’ bred”.

Cara hummed as Echo rolled herself out, sucking on a burnt thumb and gripping her soldering iron in the other hand. She offered her a hand, to which she gladly took, allowing Cara to pull her to her feet as she cared for her burnt skin.

“I never would’ve thought Mando would pick someone like you up,” Cara said, tilting her head as Echo tucked away her tools into the designated box she had dug out of a pile of scrap. Echo shrugged. “Without sounding too harsh”.

“I have my skills,” Echo told her, glancing up at Cara, who was gazing at her. “What?”

“Are you another Mandalorian?” Cara asked. Echo let out a short laugh. Her? A Mandalorian? The idea itself was absurd.

“You don’t see a bucket lying around here, do you?” she gestured to the tidy confines of the hull, walking over to a crate, and pulling it toward her. Echo sat down and propped herself against it, stretching her legs out and rolling her neck as she listened to the joints crack and pop. Sleeping under her workspace had done nothing but create a permanent ache deep within her muscles, one that was always more prominent when she wasn’t constantly moving.

Cara strolled over and landed heavily on her legs, folding them beneath herself and producing a small bottle that she had somehow contained within her pocket. She swirled the red contents around and uncorked the cap, sniffing it delicately and scrunching up her face at the pungent odour that even Echo could smell from a distance. It was harsh and rough, like a cleaning solution, and had no doubt been made in a back alley somewhere.

“What is that?” Echo coughed, the horrid smell burning the back of her throat as she opened her mouth to speak. Cara took a short sip and spluttered, beginning to laugh.

“Engine-room jet juice” Cara uttered hoarsely. She held out the bottle to Echo. “Only stuff that gets me through the night”.

Echo eyed the contents of the flash wearily, not too sure why Cara was offering her some. She had never been fond of alcohol; it had always rung sour in her mouth, and more than once she had thrown it back up along with the contents of her dinner. Growing up as a young woman in Mos Eisley, though, Echo had had her fair share of disastrous nights drinking- stars, who was there to stop her? Certainly not Shabba.

Her slender fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle as she took it from Cara, lifting to her lips and holding it there before throwing her head back and gulping down a large mouthful. Her eyes popped open in surprised, not expecting the acid-like substance that burned her vocal cords and sent her reeling as Echo thrust the bottle back to Cara, who seized it and watched with a grin. It was searing hot and awful, but as it settled in her stomach, the taste was replaced by something lemony, and she looked up with watery eyes.

“I never said to was good” Cara chuckled. Echo shook her head, wiping away the tears that brimmed her eyes. “Come on, Tatooine had worse, surely?”

“No- “Echo choked. “I didn’t… hardly drank- stars, this is awful… you drink this stuff daily?”

“Don’t be a baby- you’re not one of those celibacy girls, are you? Eternal vow to stay pure and all that stuff?” Cara’s facelifted as she stared at Echo, who suddenly flushed a bright red.

As a young girl, one of the first things she had learnt at the Jedi Temple was their vow to forbid any attachments that others- or even themselves- may seek out; so, obviously, that involved the deed that had loomed above Echo ever since she had come of age. She had never touched a man, or a woman, in such a way before- stars, she hadn’t even kissed one. Her own pride had stopped herself and paired with the fear of being exposed at any moment, Echo hadn’t actively sought out a partner to spend the rest of her life with. To her it seemed futile; why develop feelings for somebody if they would only hurt her or leave her?

“No, I just… It was never my thing; I work too much”.

Cara rolled her eyes in disbelief, sitting forward and pointing the flask at Echo accusingly. “I don’t believe you- “another swig, this one longer. “You’re saying you’ve never screw- “

“No!” Echo yelped, causing Cara to flinch and grin sneakily. “I don’t… no”

“Liar” Cara whispered, her eyes turning to see a dark figure drop down from the cockpit. Not now, Echo pleaded. Anything but him now.

Mando turned and unhooked the blaster clipped to his side, setting it in the armoury and pulling the metal cabinet shut before he even paid attention to the two girls sat on the floor. When he did, he tilted his head forward at Echo, who held up her hands in defence, and then to Cara who was still smirking.

He took a step forward.

“What are you two doing?” He asked lowly, setting his hands on her hips; for a moment, Echo thought that Shabba had just materialised in front of her, and she leant back slightly- this alcohol worked fast.

“Just a little shameless drinking and chatting. I wanted to get to know your new friend” Cara teased as Mando drew closer, reaching down and taking the half-empty bottle from Cara. He lifted it to the brim of his helmet, and from beneath it, Echo heard him inhale the scent. “You should join us”.

“It smells like bleach- have you been drinking this?” his gaze turned to Echo, who nodded sheepishly. Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious, especially given the current topic of conversation.

Echo didn’t know why she felt so nervous, had they not patched up their trust issues? Perhaps it was the engine-room jet juice or the intimidating way Mando stood above her, but she could feel her heart rattling around inside of her body, ready to burst out at a moment notice. It was almost… electrifying, in a way. The sensation sent tingles along the surface of her skin that radiated in goose pimples, a warm feeling settling deep down inside of her as she looked up at Mando through dark lashes.

“Is it a problem?” Echo asked, pursing her lips, her voice silky smooth despite the burning in her throat. Cara snorted with laughter. “You could join us, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud for that”.

What was she saying- Echo didn’t even know why she was saying that! The words were slipping from her mouth before she even had time to consider the weight of them.

Mando stood for a few moments, unmoving, before shifting and planting himself on the floor between Echo and Cara, his back to the ladder leading to the upper deck. Echo and Cara exchanged confused glances as he passed the bottle back to Cara, who in turn passed it to Echo, who took a long gulp for bravery; she really was in trouble now.

“…me and Echo were just talking about our-uh- experiences when we were younger” Cara began slowly, the corners of her lips turning up slightly as Mando twitched slightly. It was a slight comfort to know that Echo wasn’t the only uncomfortable one. “You had any Mando?”

“I’ve had plenty of experiences” he shrugged. Cara gigged to herself childishly. “What- “

“She means… uh… sexual experiences” Echo elaborated, the words sounding wrong in her mouth. Shabba had given her a lesson when she was younger, or at least the closest she would get to one, though it had been a flailing mess and he had given up shortly after starting. Still, though, Echo felt like a teenager again- blushing and stammering, not quite sure what to say to the prospect of being what was deemed impure by many.

A silence settled over the small group, one filled by the slurping of Cara as she sipped from her drink and the thrum of the engines as they churned to propel the ship through the cold abyss of space. Mando pushed his legs out and placed a hand on the back of his helm, suddenly looking just as much like an adolescent as Echo felt. The gesture made him look like a boy, not a man.

“I remember my first” Cara sighed whimsically, leaning back, and stretching her arms above her head. “A Twi’lek, very pretty, called Elim. She was gorgeous, worked maintenance in the squadron I was stationed with… wonder where she is these days”.

Echo looked at Cara. “Rebel?”

“Mmm,” Cara hummed, closing her eyes. Her lips glimmered with the stickiness of the horrid liquid she held. “Man, did she have a strong right hook- what about you, Mando? Must’ve had some fun before you went all grumpy”.

Echo turned back to Mando, who was staring at the floor, silent. He gave a limp shrug, like he wasn’t too keen on the conversation but stayed for the sake of it: “One”.

“Lucky girl” Cara whistled. “What was her name?”

“I-uh-can’t remember” he murmured, though there was a lifting note to his tone- beneath the helmet, he had the smallest of smiles at the memory. “I was young, not long before I was sworn in, I wanted to… do stuff before I couldn’t anymore”.

“Can’t Mandalorian’s marry?” Echo found herself asking as she rested her head back against the crate. Her hair fell over her face, but she made no effort to move it. “I thought they could”.

“Some do, not many”.

“What about you? You could’ve had a nice life with that pretty widow from the village” Cara interjected. Echo squinted slightly, a fire squirming in the pit of her belly. Mando looked at Cara.

“No. I would not have married her”.

What woman? Echo wanted to spit, but she held her tongue. The indescribable feeling in her grew only larger before dissipating, her heart flattening at the prospect of the insurgence of emotion that had just swelled within her- had that been… not it couldn’t be jealousy.

“Come on, Echo, you may as well tell us now” Cara interrupted Echo’s internal thoughts, causing her eyes to flick up. “Who?”

“Nobody, I’ve never- “

“You’re a virgin?” Mando said, cocking his head. She wasn’t too sure what the word meant; different planets had different names for the term, and she supposed this was the one Mando was familiar with. “You’ve never had sex?”

“No” Echo snapped, flustered, before softening her tone. “I’ve never… I’ve never even kissed anybody, alright?”

“There’s not been anybody who caught your eye?” Cara shuffled forward until she was sat on Echo’s right, bumping her shoulder with hers, the best form of sympathy the hardened woman could show. Echo shook her head before smiling gently, a deep memory wriggling from the recesses of her mind.

“There was one boy” she mumbled to herself, closing her eyes at the fond memory. “Before the first Death Star blew up- he was a smuggler, very handsome”.

“Oh please,” Cara rolled her eyes. “I bet he just had puppy dog eyes”.

“No! He really was… he would always come into the cantina when he was on the planet, chatted me up, you know” Echo blushed suddenly. “He was called Han… he travelled with this great big Wookie if you can believe it”.

“Did he ever try to… you know- “

“He tried to kiss me once- except he missed and kissed the Wookie instead” Cara and Echo chuckled. “Then he just disappeared, right before the Civil war”.

“C’mon” Cara argued. “You wouldn’t have voluntarily been with someone like that, would you?”

“I mean…” Echo trailed off, remembering a very explicit story some of the local girls had exchanged when he first arrived on the desert planet. Echo decided it wasn’t for Cara’s ears. “I might’ve”

Mando sat up at her words, straightening his back and flexing his fists. In that moment, another thought occurred to Echo as she watched the way the leather expanded under his movements: Han was a boy… she wanted a man.

As if he heard her, Mando glared at Echo unbreaking. Her skin grew warmer than it already was at Cara’s intrusive questions, her tongue suddenly loose and unable to form any words as she brushed her hair behind her ear, the Mandalorian watching her do so. For a second, his finger twitched, as though he wanted to repeat the action instead than let her do it.

Was Mando jealous, just as Echo had been? It was impossible. There was no way-

The ship jerked sideways, sending Echo knocking forward and into Mando’s lap and Cara rolling down the hull as it swayed and jittered with the manic movements that swayed the Razor Crest. Red lights began to blare as her eyes sprang open, met with her tiny reflection in the cold Beskar- minuscule, but terrified looking, as a pair of hands seized her shoulders and pulled her up to sit in a hard and sturdy lap.

Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars-

Echo was so close to the Mandalorian that her laboured breathing fogged his visor, splaying out across the gleaming Beskar as fingers dug into her upper arms. He did not move her but held her there, staring back, as her fingers curled into the unarmoured muscles of his sides… she could feel the muscle beneath, strong and sturdy, his ribs expanding as his breaths synced with hers.

The position felt wrong, provocative, her legs over his lap as she sat so perfectly captured in his hold… yet she couldn’t bring herself to move. Every nerve in her body was telling her to get the hell of him, to roll-off or dart away, but she couldn’t- she was frozen, both by her own muscles and the vice-like grip of Mando’s leather digits.

“Did you leave the kid in the cockpit?!” Cara yelled from where she was pulling herself up, and in an instant, Mando had flipped them over until he could crawl off Echo. She looked at the space he had been, craving for his touch again- no, what was she thinking? She didn’t need it; she didn’t need it-

“You okay there?” Cara asked as she bent over Echo, who nodded feverishly and placed a hand over her heart.

 It remained there until the ship had levelled out, the red lights had stopped blaring, and order had restored on the ship… but still a lucrative feeling swam in Echo’s body, one she was not able to get rid of until many hours later when she was finally alone.

Chapter Text

As a young girl, arriving on Tatooine for the first time, Echo had thought it to be the most derelict, horrible, place in the entire Galaxy; no, the entire Universe. At first, it had repulsed her- the sand, the two glaring suns that rotated the planet every day, the population of mercenaries and smugglers and criminals that scrounged the planet. Before that time, Echo had never known poverty such as it- of course, during her first leg of exile, she had had to make sacrifices to guarantee her own survival, but Tatooine? It contradicted everything she had been raised with.

The Jedi did not believe in luxury, so far as to the extent that they all dressed the same, ate the same things, and meditated in the same ways. Echo had been raised in a culture of indifference, to believe that her own sense of individuality was not the priority and to believe in the Force as the higher level that determined fate in the Galaxy. Fate was like a child’s story to her now that she was much older though, and Echo found it strange to believe in something that had warped her childhood into one of terror and violence. Fate was nothing but a drunken fool’s belief, but here on the dusty planet of Arvala-7… Echo thought that fate might be of use to some degree.

When they had first dropped out of hyperspace into the atmosphere of the rocky and barren planet, Echo had thought that the Mandalorian had imputed the wrong coordinates; or that they had run out of fuel and were being forced to make a pit stop. The ball of gravity and earth looked almost uninhabitable, the clay red surface stretching out forever, not a spot of green or dense foliage insight. However, when they had descended through the thick layer toward the surface, Echo’s worst assumptions had come true.

“I have a friend here who can help us out” Mando had told her when Echo had asked why the hell they were on the desolate planet. Another friend? His limitless supply of associates he could pull up at a moment’s notice was ridiculous.

When Echo had first met him back on Tatooine, she had thought he was friendless, existing only to roam the universe as a lone machine; but now she had met Cara and the kid, and soon she would be meeting another person who she hadn’t known existed up until that point. Echo had thought she’d finally managed to get to know him, the real him, just a little bit… apparently not.

“Help us out with what?” Echo asked as the ramp to the ship descended, landing heavily in the brown dirt of the rocky mountains and sending up a blanket of dust in its wake. Cara was already outside soaking up the gloomy and slightly depressing sum, leaving Echo and Mando to talk as he juggled the kid in his free arm while the other hand clutched his blaster.

“To watch the kid” he nodded his helmet toward the green gremlin, who’s large eyes were drooping slightly. He had not slept the entire trip to the planet and was completely burnt out at this point after causing mayhem in the ship. It was a relief to Echo that she didn’t have to keep an eye out for him too.

Her eyebrows quirked up as they both began to make their way down the ramp, their footsteps echoing off the steel metal of its surface. Echo paused slightly at the bottom, looking over the edge at the ground-up rock and sand underfoot; she had not stepped foot on a desert planet in weeks, and the thought irked her, as though it was a taboo subject, and she should not be doing it in the first place. Mando didn’t notice her hesitation, only walking further as she called out to him:

“I thought I’d be watching the kid”.

He stopped and turned, looking at her over his broad shoulder. “Can’t, we’ll need your help”.

They needed her help? But Echo was… she didn’t quite have the word for it. She wasn’t strong, at least not physically, and had practically lost an easy fight to a droid with a mechanical processor for a brain. She had never shot a blaster, at least not accurately, and would feel much safer near the Child, knowing she was out of harm’s way. Coward, a dark voice inside her hissed, just do the job and don’t be such a wuss.

Was she a coward for not wanting to join him? What use would she be? The only thing Echo could do fluently and with the accuracy of a sharpshooter was wield a lightsaber; and if she did that, it would only reveal her true identity within an instant. Sure, she could also hack and program, but what was the point of that in a firefight? It wasn’t like she could throw a motherboard at a group of stormtroopers and hope to knock one of them out.

“My help with what, exactly?” she placed one cautious boot on the ground, then the other, lowering herself down from the ramp and feeling the uneven earth beneath the soles of her shoes. “As you already know, I can’t exactly throw a punch”.

“Does it-“he paused, watching as her eyes widened in annoyance. Apparently, he had learnt from past mistakes, because he sighed and jerked his head towards an outcropping of small buildings in the distance. “Just come on”

Begrudgingly, Echo obliged, trailing behind their little throng of misfits as they trudged across the open desert plains of Arvala-7. It wasn’t a particularly hot planet given its terrain, with strong winds sweeping down from the tall valleys and sending a shudder of goose pimples along her arms as she walked. The Child floated alongside her in a little box that Mando had fabricated from a crate and a hover belt, apparently enjoying the short hike as he was now wide awake. It baffled Echo how he could hold so much pent up energy in such a tiny body, though she did not dwell on it; according to Mando, he was fifty-years-old, so who knows how his stamina and metabolism operated.

As they drew closer to the outcropping it came into focus, a tiny moisture farm sat isolated among the mountains. There was no picket fencing like there had been at the Dameron residence, no borders defining the reach of the business, and it had only a single building compared to the colony Echo had visited on Yavin. There was a single enclosure where a great, round, beast sat slurping from a wooden trough, gurgling as they walked closer, and puffs of smoke unfurled from the chimney of the small home and into the sky, where the sun glared harshly off the curve of Mando’s helmet and into Echo’s eyes.

When they were at the front of the farm, a small being emerged from the hut, almost a head-and-a-half shorter than Echo and with a strange, leathery pink face that closely resembled a human, but not quite. His nose was upturned and he had tufts of white hair protruding from beneath his cap, bushy eyebrows tickling the goggles glued to his wrinkled forehead as he nodded sharply at Mando. This was his friend? The being looked peaceful and not at all like the type Mando would befriend, but then again, she had thought that he wouldn’t befriend Echo.

Cara inclined her head to Echo and whispered. “Who’s this guy?”

“Beats me” Echo murmured in reply as the little man turned and lead the Mandalorian inside. Echo and Cara followed closely, ducking to squeeze through the tiny door.

The inside of the hut was cramped and lived in, throws and blankets spread out across a makeshift bed and threads of sourced herbs hanging from the ceiling as they dried out. The air was musty and warm, and it reminded Echo of her own home, peaceful and quiet among the wide range of the planet it was located on. She had to pick her way over small boxes and stools, minding she didn’t hit her head, as the man sat down at a tiny round table and gestured to a collection of seats. There was no window here to shine sunlight over Echo as she sat down on a little stool, folding her legs beneath herself and looking toward the humanoid creature.

“It hasn’t grown much,” said the man, gesturing to the Child, who was staring at him with wide and affectionate eyes. His voice was gravelly and a little high pitched, though he spoke in Galactic basic, and Echo wondered what species he was.

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast” Mando replied, still stood stoically in the doorway… or at least as stoically as he could. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his neck leaned forward so that the crown of his helm would not scrape against the domed ceiling. Echo tilted her head. What was a Strand-Cast?

“I don’t think it was engineered” hummed the stranger. “I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks too evolved. Too ugly”

Cara and Echo exchanged looks- did he just call the Child ugly? A lick of annoyance surged through her heart, though it quickly evaporated, at the man insulting her favourite little monster in the Galaxy. She didn’t care for the Child; at least not in the way a mother would… she just liked him. Yeah, that was it.

“This one, on the other hand, looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora” the humanoid straightened and pointed to Cara, who looked up. Echo snorted with silent laughter.

“This is Cara Dune. She was a shock trooper” said Mando.

“You were a dropper?”

“Did you serve?” Cara asked hesitantly, tilting her head so that strands of black hair fell over her eyes. The man shook his head.

“On the other side, I’m afraid. But I’m proud to say that I paid out my Clan’s debt, and now I serve no one but myself”

“Must be nice” Echo interjected, her voice slightly hoarse. There was no malice behind it, only a longing for what this man had. He lived freely, by himself, with nobody to worry about besides his own mind and his livestock. Echo could only dream of such solace.

“And you” he turned and smiled at Echo, warmly. “You… I feel like I have seen before”

Echo’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing red. She was very much sure she had not met this man in her life, though she was not sure where he could have seen her before; wanted posters, perhaps? But her image would have been of a child’s from decades ago, and she was sure she looked nothing like she had then. And if what he said was true, he had served with the Imperials, and they had had little-to-no presence on Tatooine.

“I…don’t recall meeting” Echo answered sheepishly. “I’m sorry”

“It’ll come back to me” He waved a hand at her. “My name is Kuiil, it is a pleasure to meet both you young ladies”

Echo and Cara grinned.

At that moment, the sound of mechanical clanking echoed through the hut, and the small group looked up to see something pull itself through the doorway, holding a tray with cups in its metal grasp. It was a droid, one that Echo had never seen before, with an array of glowing red eyes positioned around its cylinder-shaped head, and it moved rigidly as it straightened and spoke in a bass-like voice:

“Would anyone like some tea?”

It all happened so suddenly. Mando and Cara pulling blasters from their belts and aiming them steadily as they shot out of their seat. Kuiil stared in a state of confusion, as did Echo, as she reached out to touch the Mandalorian’s shoulder. He jerked away.

“Please! Lower your blasters” Kuiil reasoned, holding his palm out. “He will not harm you”

“That thing is programmed to kill the baby” Mando spat, his hold wavering slightly, but he did not move. Cara’s arm lowered slightly.

“Not anymore” Kuiil replied. The droid stepped forward and bent over, placing the tray on the table as its joints groaned with the effort. “It was left behind in the wake of your destruction, I found it laying where it fell- devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic.

“Little remained of its neural harness, reconstruction was quite difficult…  but not impossible. It had to learn everything from scratch. This is something that cannot be taught with the twist of a spanner. It requires patience and repetition. I spent day after day reinforcing its development with patience and affirmation, and it developed a personality as its experiences grew.”

Mando hesitated slightly, letting his blaster fall to his side. Echo was simply beaming.

“You completely reconstructed what it was manufactured to do” She gushed, smiling at Kuiil. He nodded. “Amazing… I’ve always wanted to try but I could never afford my own unit… I suppose though with its neural harness damaged it wasn’t difficult to erase the procedures it was built with?”

“She is smart” Kuiil pointed out to Mando. “A rare virtue among the young”

“Is it still a hunter?” Mando asked quietly, disregarding Kuiil’s statement.

“No,” Kuiil replied. “But it will protect”

Mando and the droid stared at one another for some time, and Echo could clearly tell that the Mandalorian was caught between two dominating factors. Echo though was simply fascinated at how Kuiil had managed to reprogram a hunting droid for etiquette. Truly remarkable.

“Me and Cara need to discuss plans in the Crest” Mando said after an eternity, earning a sharp look from Cara, who had just begun sipping on a cup of tea. “Come on”

Cara rolled her eyes but did not protest, giving Kuiil a wave of farewell-which he returned- and standing up. Mando stormed from the hut and she followed, and Echo listened to their footsteps retreating until they were nothing more than whispers of the planet, their prints being the only thing left behind of their presence. Echo continued to stare at the door for a few minutes before she finally turned to look at Kuiil, who was staring at her intently, his eyes squinted.

“Is… everything okay?” Echo asked hesitantly. Kuiil continued to stare.

“When I first met the Mandalorian, he was very shy,” he said, beginning to pour himself a cup of frothing, translucent, liquid. It frothed at the surface and tickled the hairs of his thick brow as he held it out toward her. “He offered to take me on as crew, a mechanic to fix his ship whenever he destroyed it.

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Yeah, well, looks like you got off easy. That job has been bestowed upon me.”

Kuiil nodded, taking a drag from his own cup and pulling his face together. The droid was tinkering around and cleaning as his owner sat idly, perhaps relaxed for the first time in centuries. He smacked his lips together and nodded to Echo.

“That weapon you carry, I have not seen one for many years”

Echo froze slightly from where she had brought the cup to her lips, feeling the wooden surface brush against her skin and how warm it felt. She was unsure what Kuiil meant- of course, he meant the lightsaber hilt dangling from her utility belt, but he had seen one? If he had his suspicions, he would have voiced them already, surely.

“I don’t know what you mean” Echo muttered. She set the cup back down, suddenly not very thirsty.

Kuiil smiled. “The lightsaber. It is a weapon from the time of old, of a more civilised age where the Empire did not run rampant on the Galaxy. Show it to me.”

Echo obliged without saying another word, reaching around and unclipped it from her waist. She placed it on the table in front of him, the action strange to her now that she had not shown it off in years. As a young girl she had been proud when she had first constructed it; it had required intense construction to place all the individual parts together, and she could remember her first duelling class where each of her classmates took turns boasting. Back then it had been large in her tiny hand, but now it was slender and long, looking almost natural as her fingers brushed across the surface.

Kuiil said nothing and pulled it closer toward him, his smaller hands running over the intricate detail and swiping over the switch, though it did not ignite. He nodded his approval sharply, turning it over and watching how the surface reflected in the dim lighting.

“These weapons are rare indeed. I remember being a young boy and watching the sorcerers wield them- a sight it was”

“Sorcerer?” Echo forced out, trying her best to keep her tone neutral and not at all incriminating. “Never heard of them. I found it in a scrap heap”

Kuiil chuckled and held it out- then he pulled it back toward himself, moving his thumb up to trip the switch that would ignite it. Echo jumped over instinctively, snatching it from his hold and extended it from her body as a ripple of yellow light burst into the room. The blade hummed and whirred as she stared at it, slightly out of breath, feeling the energy surge up through her fingertips and into the deepest recesses of her body, twisting around her until her muscles relaxed and she held it with effortless ease.

The blade of the lightsaber was too large for the small hut, and Echo had to angle it downward so as to not damage the metal walls. The roaring noise of it filled every corner until it was almost deafening, the heat hot against her skin as she threw her head to look at Kuiil incredulously. He simply smiled.

“I… can explain?” Echo said, giving the handle a jerk as it disappeared and the sound hummed to a stop. “It’s just like… memorabilia- collector’s item, you know?”

“You are a Jedi” Kuiil stated as Echo sat back down, wringing her hands together. He did not seem like the type of person to maliciously reveal her secret, though he held a look of knowing in his beady eyes, and it was then that Echo realised he had known since she had first set foot in his house. “A skilled one”

“Please don’t tell Mando” she set the lightsaber down on the table and dragged a hand down her face, her heart twisting slightly. Kuiil tilted his head.

“He does not know?”

“No.” she snapped sharply. “No… I never told him- I never want to tell him. He can’t know”

It wasn’t that Echo didn’t want to tell him; every fibre of her being was screaming at her to do it. But as a young girl, in the aftermath of the Purge, Master Vos had scolded her routinely, reminding her that she could never tell another living soul of who she truly was unless she wanted to meet a cruel and unforgiving end. It hadn’t exactly been a friendly tactic, but it had worked, and Echo had always kept vigilant about the dangers that conspired against her with each passing day. However, when the Empire fell, she thought that it would be easier to own up to who she really was-  the Imperials were gone, and she was safe, but it had only made telling the truth even harder when deep down she knew she had lied to Shabba for the better part of their relationship.

Echo was scared to admit to it.

“You do not trust him,” Kuiil said, less of a question this time, and she nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the cup of tea before her. “He trusts you, though?”

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to trust him… I’m trying to and I want to but I just… I can’t” Echo admitted, her eyes glancing up to meet Kuiil, who was listening.

“The Mandalorian is not a trusting person, I gathered that much when he visited briefly to collect the Child” Kuiil pointed to the kid, who was now fast asleep in his snug little box, and Echo had almost forgotten of his presence; as she usually did. The Child could be so quiet sometimes it was as though he did not exist, and was only a ghost of the creature before her, his voice a whisp. Echo stared at his little green face as Kuiil continued to speak. “The Child was a bounty, and the Mandalorian was sought to seek him. I see now that his care for the creature stopped him from handing him over”

Echo hadn’t known the full extent of Mando’s deal with the kid- though she had guessed he had a hand in the protection of him, what with having a bounty and all. What Echo hadn’t realised though was that Mando was the one originally tasked with the hunt- and that knowledge sent a feeling of unease rippling up her spine. He had been willing to hand over such a defenceless and innocent creature; so why would Echo be different?

“He cares about the Child” Echo mouthed the words as she brushed a finger down the kid’s nose. He wriggled in his sleep. “He thinks of him as his own son”

“And you?” asked Kuiil. She looked at him.

“What about me?”

“Do you care for him? The Mandalorian?”

A red hue crawled up Echo’s neck and spread across her cheeks, which she had only just realised were deathly pale. The question made her heart thump painfully against her ribs, and she found her eyes roaming the small interior of the hut to find anything- something- to focus on other than Kuiil’s eyes.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know the answer; of course she did, except she had never thought about it too much before that point. Did she care for him? No. She couldn’t, it was forbidden. Attachment was a childish ideology that would lead to her downfall- it would lead to fear, and fear led to hatred. But she didn’t hate Mando, and she didn’t think she ever could. He was the man who had taken a flying chance on a womprat from Tatooine, who had given her the opportunity to explore planets full of so much life and love it was almost disorientating.

Echo could never allow herself to care for him though- because she knew if she did, she would lose him. Just like everyone else she had ever cared for; her family, her classmates at the Jedi Temple, Master Vos… they were all either dead or gone, never to return and set their eyes on her again. The pain of their loss was indescribable, and Echo knew that if she ever experienced it again, it would rip her apart from the inside-out.

“No” Echo breathed. “I never can. Love is… dangerous- I don’t love anyone”

“That is nonsense”

“It isn’t nonsense” Echo replied. “Love no one, and no one can hurt you”

Kuiil stared at Echo sadly, reaching his hand out and patting the back of her own in a comforting way. Her heart ached at the words, the words she knew to be true. If she loved nobody and rebuilt the fortress walls around her heart then Mando would have no chance of scaling them; whether he meant to or not. And if she had no sentimentality for him, it would hurt much less when he finally decided to leave.

“Does he know your real name?” Kuiil asked softly. Echo found herself laughing as she closed her eyes- how was it that she had known this man no more than an hour, and he could already see through her as though she was as clear as glass.

“No- maybe someday. Before I die, I hope”

“He will be waiting a very long time then” noted Kuiil, a mischievous glimmer in his old eyes. Echo tilted her head; cheeky as well as intuitive, what an odd combination.

“You won’t tell him… that I’m a Jedi, will you?” Echo asked him, pursing her lips. Quill gave a sharp shake of his head.

“I will not, but only in hopes that one day you will. He deserves to know”

Did he deserve it, though? It was a thought that plagued Echo’s thoughts even in the darkness of sleep. Sure, he had saved her life- and he would probably save it again in the near future, but how did that give him any leverage over her decisions? And even if it did, why had he not seized the opportunity already, just like she had pestered him about his age a few days ago. Mando was a puzzle to Echo, and she only realised then how very far away she was from solving it.

It was then that Echo made a deal, one with only herself, that nobody would know until such a time came that she revealed it. On the day of her death; which given the current climate, could be rapidly approaching, she would tell Mando everything. Every last detail down to the minuscule parts, things he may not even want to know- about her family, her religion, what foods she likes, about that cute little Bantha baby she saw once- everything. And if that day never came, Echo could stay true to herself, and keep her word to Master Vos.

“Trust only in the Force” she murmured to Kuiil, who looked at her inquisitively. “That’s what my Master said to me before he died… that I should trust only in the Force- perhaps now, I’m beginning to think that it’s impossible”

“I know nothing of the Force, but I know that it grants its wielders a great power- one that was used for good in the times of old… you are that good,” Kuiil said.

Echo shook her head; she was far from the good in the Galaxy. “I’ve done things, seen things I could have stopped and I did nothing…” Echo paused, her throat suddenly dry. “I…I’ve killed people. Real people- people with lives”

Kuiil squeezed her hand again but harder this time. “You are not a killer, Echo. Your heart is pure”

“But-“

“I have spoken” He cut her off, raising his hand to silent anymore protests she might have. She gave him a half-hearted smile, a small weight lifting from her chest now that somebody knew… but she was still unsure whether she was glad or not.

“You know, you’re pretty cool for a guy who reprogrammed a murder droid”

“I will take that as a compliment”

*

“They’re… cute- in a sort of ugly way”

“Cute?” chuckled Cara, jostling Echo’s shoulder. “They smell like a drunkard on a Saturday night”

Echo smiled as she knelt on the hard floorboards of the Razor Crest, the surface cold beneath her skin and comforting after hours of trapped in the stifling hold of the ship. They had left Arvala-7 not long ago, and Kuiil, the droid IG-11, and his duo of brutish blurrgs had joined them on their trip. The blurrgs were large, humpbacked, creatures with faces that moulded into their bodies and scaly skin that reflected the circadian lighting of the Crest across the walls. Enticing them onto the ship had been a difficult enough job, but now they were snoozing idly, not at all bothered that they were hurtling through space at a thousand lightyears an hour.

“Come on, look” Echo suggested, pushing her hand through the mesh of their makeshift enclosure and stroking it down the closest ones face. It exhaled under her touch, such a docile creature for its size, as it rolled over and snorted. Cara and Echo laughed. “They’re adorable”

“The blurrgs are peaceful for once,” said Kuiil as he descended the ladder from the cockpit, walking to stand at Echo’s side. “You have a natural affinity for their temperament”

Sure, they were ugly creatures… there was no denying it, but they gave off radiant energy that Echo found herself enthralled by. She knew that her connection with the Force deepened when she was surrounded by the natural sow of every planet she perused. Even if their fauna did come in the form of big, brown, lumps.

“They’re sweet”

“They smell” Mando called as he dropped down. He landed with a loud thump on the floor and wandered over. “They smell bad”

“Not as bad as you do” Cara mumbled quietly, earning a sharp glare as she grinned cheekily. Echo stood and folded her arms. “Why do they have to come anyway?”

“Assistance,” Kuiil said. “They are able to carry great weights-“

“Echo” Mando interrupted, the calling of her name sounding clear and crisp as she looked up at him.

Do you care for him? A voice whispered in her head as she met his gaze, clenching her jaw as she lifted her chin. The Mandalorian?

No. She didn’t. She never would- never; and she swore that to herself… she had to…

“Yes?” Echo asked hoarsely after a few moments, her hands finding comfort buried deep in her pockets.

“Can we… talk?” He tilted his visor toward Cara and Kuiil, who were both trying to pretend as though they were not listening. “Alone”

Echo’s heart pounded a beat against her chest as she swallowed. “Y-Yeah.. let’s uh- up?”

“Yes”

He extended his arm out and Echo followed, taking three long strides across the hull and pulling herself up into the small gangway outside of the cockpit. It was much cooler up here as she slid through into the small compartment and looked around, tilting her head back to look at the stars streaking by. She listened to the sound of the door behind her sliding shut, the hiss of hydraulics as it locked, and very suddenly she was gripping the back of the seat she stood before.

Mando said nothing for a while, letting only the thrum of the engines around them and the distant conversation of Kuiil and Cara fill the tension that hung like a thick weight in the air. It was suffocating and tight, filling her lungs until she couldn’t breathe and she was forced to turn-

The Mandalorian was stood only a foot away, and Echo was confused as to how she hadn’t felt him so close. He stooped above her, holding himself rigid and still so that he closely resembled a statue.

“Is everything alright?” Echo muttered, though her voice was barely audible. “You don’t normally-

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said. Echo’s brow drew together in confusion as he took a step back. “Telling you that you would be coming with me and Cara on Nevarro… it’s not that I don’t-“

“You don’t think I can protect the Child?” Echo finished his sentence, though no sarcasm dripped from her words. She knew what she said was true; she couldn’t protect the Child, and she had proven as much already. “It’s okay, I understand”

“No- no” He blurted out, holding his hands out. “No, that’s not what I mean at all, Echo”

Echo buried her hands deeper into her pockets until she could feel the bases, pinching the material between her fingers in an effort to relieve the tension built up in her muscles. For a moment, Echo was glad for space.

“I want you to come because I want your help- you see things differently… I suppose” he paused and rubbed the back of his helmet. “I… uh… I wouldn’t have got this far without you- it only feels right”

“Hang on a moment,” she said, turning the chair of the pilot's seat and sitting down so that she faced him. She leant forward on her knees. “You think I can help you? I got my ass handed to me by a droid, Mando, I can’t-“

“Stop” he snapped. “Just… stop, okay? I don’t care if you can beat up a droid or not, that’s not the only thing that matters to me” he came closer, kneeling in front of her, and Echo could feel the piercing look of his eyes through the visor. “What matters to me is that you tried. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for the Kid when you hardly knew either of us at all. I will never forget that”

“So you… trust me?”

He paused and let out a small noise from beneath the mask; a laugh, one that was amplified by the mechanical filters. “Yes. I trust you, Echo”

He trusted her; the words made her heart fill with something she did not care to name. It was as though she was staring at him in an entirely new light… and she hated it- no, she didn’t hate it, but it crawled under her skin and made her want to wrap her arms around the strong Beskar weights strapped to his body.

“Mando!” Cara called from the hull, her voice muffled against the thick metal separating them. “Your kid is… doing something!”

Echo recoiled as he rose to stand above her, staring at her for only seconds before he turned and began to walk toward the door. She leapt to her feet, and reached one hand out, letting it fall against his arm, and let her fingers close around it.

Mando halted and looked over his shoulder, inclining his head as she sucked in a breath. Echo wasn’t entirely sure why she had stopped him; her reaction had been based on instinct, not a choice, and she wanted to say something, anything, but the words would not materialise. As a result, she was left blinking up at him, a blush creeping across her skin.

“What is it?” he asked, his own hand wrapped around hers so that they were caught in a tight grip with one another.

There were a thousand thoughts rushing through Echo’s mind faster than the stars slipping past the Razor Crest, all jumbled and muddled until they were the same form of one another. She was sure she had never felt such a way before, and never intended to again, at least not for a very long time.

“Nothing” she whispered, but it was a blatant lie.

She watched him go, feeling the imprint of where his hand had touched her skin as he retreated into the darkness. Echo sank back down into her seat, dragging her hands down her face, as she mouthed the only words she had wanted to say in that moment:

“I care for you”

Chapter Text

“Please will all passengers return to their allocated assembly points to prepare for landing. Please will all passengers return to their allocated assembly points to prepare for landing”.

The voice of the cruiser’s automated announcement system rung like a sharp chord through the long, winding hallways of the ship; filling every crevice, every space between the alien species bustling from one point to another, and bombarding Echo’s ears with thunderous footsteps as they clambered past her. It was enough to stir her from her slumber, forcing her eyes open as her head lolled to the side to see the hemisphere of a distant planet begin to take place as they dropped out of Hyperspace.

She had not realised she had fallen asleep and scolded herself for it as she pushed herself up, resting her head back against the small indent of the observation window, her skin clammy from days without a shower. They had been hurtling along the Hyperspace lane for days now, having disembarked from the dirty planet of Corellia, and by the looks of it were rapidly approaching their destination- a sandy, Outer Rim planet called Tatooine. She wasn’t too sure what she had expected upon seeing it for the first time, but it certainly wasn’t what she had pictured.

Echo had imagined a planet crawling with recommissioned Star Destroyers, TIE fighters cruising the atmosphere with a terrible screaming sound to remind the inhabitants of who was looming above them… but the planet looked abandoned, barren spare a few small dots that could only be the foundations of towns and villages. Two suns shone brightly in the distance, and Echo knew that it would be far hotter than the lukewarm temperature of her previous home on Al-doleem.

“Hey, kid” a gruff voice called from some way down the hall, and Echo looked up to see one of many crew members stood there, his arms folded and his stance square. “What are you, deaf? Get to your assembly point!”

Echo blushed red and swung her legs over the small ledge she had been perched on, dropping to the floor as she bowed her head. “Sorry, sir”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever- now scram”

Turning on her heel, she scampered off in the opposite direction, trying to will her mind to remember the route back to the passenger assembly point she had been assigned upon first boarding the ship. It did not take long until she found a family Rodians she recognised from the Space Port and followed them back to the large open hangar bay, which had been cleared of smaller aircraft to make space for cots that had been erected in every free space, and a collection of mats on the floor. It was cramped in here and hot, too hot for Echo, and she suddenly remembered why she had sought out a place to rest elsewhere.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the ship- it was a nice model, one that was Pre-Empire and still worked in good condition- but Stars, it was musty. Similar freighters had been used during the Clone Wars, as Echo remembered seeing many disembarking from Coruscant with transports full of refugees, but this was a much different era of the Galaxy; the Republic was gone, and freighters such as the Allegiant Bird operated for the benefit of shipping civilians to the Outer-Rim, where the presence of the Empire was less common and more opportunities lie in wait… or at least that’s what the Captain of the Allegiant Bird had claimed before they had left the spaceport.

Running a hand through dirty locks of hair, Echo managed to find herself a small mat in the far corner of the hangar, wedging herself between a metal ventilation shaft and a stack of crates filled to the brim with food. During her short time on the Allegiant Bird, she had done her best to keep herself out of the way of anybody who might think that she was of significance; crew members, mercenaries who prowled the corridors in search of people to pick on, and even children, who had come to her often asking if she would like to play a game with them. Echo had felt bad turning them away, and wanted nothing more than to spend a few, bliss-free, moments acting like a kid again, but she knew that if she did, she risked exposing herself to anybody and everybody who might strike her down within a second.

Trust only in the Force, she reminded herself as the freighter rumbled beneath her, preparing its deceleration for its journey through the atmosphere of Tatooine. As soon as this old thing lands, you leave, and get as far away from civilisation as possible- but what did she do after that? Echo had never been on her own before, and it had been much easier surviving in the larger cities of Corellia, where she could live off stolen scraps and sleep in the shade of colossal bridges… but Tatooine was a desert, and from what her Master had told her briefly, it was full of criminals and locals who would kill her without a second thought.

Echo cursed herself as she clenched her fists, trying to focus her mind on the feeling of gears turning beneath her feet, the trembling turbulence of the freighter and the energy that rushed past them at a thousand miles an hour. Why had Master Vos told her to come here, of all places? She would have much preferred a calmer planet, perhaps one like Alderaan, where their people were known for kindness and acceptance; she had heard stories of the famed Organa family, and how they worked toward a more accepting Galaxy.

Or home… she could go back to Naboo- to her mother and father, her older sister… perhaps maybe even some younger siblings now, after all, it had been many years. No, Echo, she told herself. You can’t, if you do the Empire will find you, and kill you and your family.

The Empire. They sure knew how to ruin everything for her.

Echo jerked forward as the Allegiant Bird landed heavily, and a chorus of cheers arose from the some thousand people crammed into the large hangar. Children squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down, and mothers chased their younglings to try and wrestle them into their grip as the large ramp began to blink. Hydraulics hissed, and steam filtered out as it eased itself from the frame, lowering to reveal blinding light and a wide expanse of… absolutely nothing.

Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled herself up with the help of a nearby pipe, wiping the sleep from her eyes that stuck and pulling her hood farther over her face. She did not have much spare the single cloth bag she had managed to acquire, and she pulled it tighter over her shoulder as she surged forward with the crowd of opportunists scrambling to fight their way off the ship. Their movements were like an ocean; swaying and pushing, carrying her with them without her having to do much than move her feet, and people of all races, all genders and species, heights and beliefs crammed in around her from all sides… yet with all of the energy around her, Echo had never been more alone; the last of her kind, completely hidden away like a precious gem.

Her first feeling of the outside world was sand. Coarse and rough, seeping in through the holes in her boots and tickling her feet as she landed with an oomph on the hard ground outside. The heat hit her like a brick wall, and for a brief moment it felt as though she was on a simmering beach- like the ones on Scarif she had always wanted to visit, but Master Vos had forbidden her from ever seeing. She had seen pictures of the serene blue waves and the white beaches, green foilage stooping over in large, open-palmed trees that would surely graze against the back of her neck.

However, Tatooine was not Scarif- there were no beaches, just an endless void of dull sand stretching out for as far as the eye could see; which was pretty far. A small spaceport rose around her in domed buildings made of the same coloured sandstone, speeders and great fur beasts sitting idly in wait for any passengers that may want a ride out of the town. It was almost suffocating to Echo, so many different people rushing by, all with somewhere to be…

Suddenly, she realised that she didn’t know what to do next.

She had achieved her goal: get to Tatooine in one piece… but what now? The sun- no, the two suns- were slowly beginning to dip over the distant horizon, casting a watercolour painting of purples and pinks across the dimming sky, shadows beginning to dance across the small alleyways between the houses and across the fabric overhangs of market stalls. Echo didn’t know anybody on Tatooine and she had used the last of her credit supply to buy passage to the planet, so as far as she was concerned, she was fucked. At least she could cure aloud now without her Master scolding her.

“Shit” she murmured, a smile curling itself along her lips as she adjusted the grip on her bag and began to start forward.

All she had to do was find somewhere to lay low for the night, as well as a little food, and then in the morning, she would set out in search of a job. Tatooine was claimed to be a land of opportunities, so perhaps she could find work in a Hangar bay, fixing up ships- it was one of the few non-Jedi skills she possessed… or perhaps cleaning, even though she didn’t like scrubbing floors very much.

Echo’s eyes roamed over her surroundings as she walked down what must have been the main street of the town, a swinging sign on a nearby cantina telling her that she was in a town called Mos Eisley. At least the name of her new home was a start. The start of the rest of her life, she realised.

It did not take long for her to find a small doorway, one that looked relatively abandoned and was hidden by some disregarded barrels, hiding her from the view of anyone that may walk past the alleyway it was concealed within. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it would do until she found some more appropriate lodgings, and Echo reminded herself of this as she settled herself down and wriggled around, trying to get cosy.

She pulled her jacket tighter around herself as a harsh chill washed through the small gap between the two buildings, and she propped her knees up against the adjacent wall of the doorframe as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Instinctively, one hand wrapped around the hilt of her weapon, and she hummed. A few moments passed, and then a few hours, as she listened to the low drone of people passing by, the distant music of the cantina she had walked past earlier swirling in the night sky, eventually boring her into a deep, undisturbed, sleep.

A sharp poke in her ribs is what awoke her a few hours later, early morning sunlight streaming in through the small gap in her hood and stirring her awake as that same sharp jab poked her again, this time in her cheek, and she jerked away. Echo rolled sideways and into the alleyway, turning around to look up at the doorway she had been curled up in- but there was no door, only a pair of thick legs, and her eyes widened as they rose to meet a large man stood there.

Her throat constricted painfully as she jumped to her feet, pulling the lip of her hood further over her eyes and casting deep shadows along the hollow her jaw as she stood there shakily. The man tilted his head, dark eyes surveying her as she stared at him in fright.

“If you’re looking for scraps, I ain’t got any” he announced after a few moments, placing one hand against the doorframe and leaning there. It was only now that Echo realised how big this man was… well, big might have been an understatement. He was huge.

His bald head glinted in the light of undistinguishable lamps, a thick beard hugging the contours of his face as his other large hand propped itself against his hip. He wasn’t fat, but built of muscle she didn’t know a man could have, and his voice reverberated through her chest when he spoke again:

“I said, I ain’t got any scraps- what, you a mute?”

“N-No sir” Echo squeaked, her eyes glued to the floor, too nervous to meet his eyes. “Sorry”

“Sir?” he chuckled, folding his arms and leaning over so to better meet her eyes. He reached out and peeled back her hood, surveying the dirty surface of her face, and his brow pulled together in deep concentration. “You’re in a state, kid- how old are you?”

Echo swallowed. “Sixteen… I-I think”

He leant over further until he was almost Echo’s height, hooking his finger under her chin and tilting it toward him. Usually, she might have batted a stranger away, but for some reason, the action brought a certain comfort over her- she had not felt the touch of another person’s skin against hers in months, and it ceased the rapid thrumming of her heart.

“You on your own? Where are your parents?”

Echo pressed her lips into a thin line, not quite set on an answer. Truth was, she wasn’t at all entirely sure if her parents were still alive- she hadn’t seen them since she was four years old, and their faces were a blur of voices in the deepest corners of her mind. So, instead of making up a story, she answered plainly and flatly.

“Dead”

The man hummed and released her, withdrawing to stand over her once again. Echo prepared herself for a swift backhand, or perhaps for him to chase her out of the alleyway, but instead, a grin split across his face and he gestured to the depths of his home.

“C’mon, I’ll fix you up some breakfast. You look like you went to hell and back, kid”

Echo looked up at him, not quite sure what to say. She knew better than to willing trust a man she had only just met, but a part of her yearned for food- actual food, not the trash she usually sustained herself off.

“A-Are you sure… I mean, you don’t know me, and I-“ Echo said, her eyes searching his. He rose a hand, silencing her protests.

“You’re a kid, and as far as that goes, you shouldn’t be on your own in a place like this. At least let me fix you something up before you go on your way, alright?” he told her firmly, less of a suggestion and more of an order. Echo nodded and followed his welcome inside.

She turned her head back as she crossed the threshold. “Thank you”

“You got a name, girly?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nodded.

“Echo”

“Well, nice to meet you Echo. I’m Shabba”

*

“Echo? Echo, wake up”

A pair of strong hands closed around her shoulders as the world shifted into focus around her, waking her from her stupor and jolting her back to reality. She couldn’t feel the rough wind of Tatooine on her cheeks anymore, and she felt cold- like there was no warmth in the Galaxy, only darkness. Again, there was a persistent tapping on her arm, and she turned her head and forced her eyes open to stare at cold, expressionless Beskar.

Echo yawned as she stretched her legs and arms out in front of her, loosening the tension that had coiled up after being curled up in the pilot's seat of the cockpit for however long she had been asleep. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, and her vision was blurred as she cracked her neck, rolling it around with a low groan.

Stars, she was aching like she never had before- sleeping in that damned seat was an awful idea. However, with the new additions now taking up space in the hull, she had had no other choice, except maybe the small confines of the fresher, perhaps.

“Hey,” Echo said groggily as she pushed herself to sit up, squinting into the dark expanse of space stretching out in front of her. It was empty and vast spare one single planet, which rotated idly around a sun almost twice its size, pulsing and bubbling with a fiery energy that would no doubt singe them if they got too close. “We here?”

“Yeah” Mando replied as he leant against the colourful control terminal, tilting his head toward her. “I would land, but you’re in my seat”

She smiled sheepishly as she hooked a hand around the back of the chair and stumbled to her feet, still entwined with sleep as she rubbed her hands vigorously over her face, willing some life to come back to her delusional state. Though she ached and her joints groaned, that unintentional nap had been the best rest she had gotten in what felt like aeons; when really it was only a few weeks. Sleeping on the hard floor of the Razor Crest hadn’t proved welcoming on her spine, and compared to the chair, it was unforgiving.

“Sorry”

“Good sleep?” Mando asked, sounding genuinely interested as he slipped into his position, flicking a few toggles and pressing a few buttons Echo had never bothered to learn the names for. He looked natural in this position- commanding his ship, that was. Like he was made for this purpose and no other, perhaps in another life he would have become a pilot.

Echo hummed in reply as she leant her head back against the wall, her eyelids drooping shut only slightly and trying to remember the dream she had had. “Beats sleeping on the floor”

Mando made a small noise beneath the modulator as the ship turned with his direction, angling itself toward the distant, hazy, outline of the distant planet. Echo pulled her brow together and took a step forward, leaning over him so that her head hovered in the small space between his head and his shoulder.

“What?” She asked, a small smile on her lips. “Not all of us have a spine made of Beskar”

He turned his head toward her, and for a single moment, Echo wished he wasn’t wearing his stupid helmet. She wanted to see the way his lips parted for her, the way his eyes were no doubt searching hers, concealed, only millimetres away. Most of all, she wanted to feel what the soft pair of skin felt like against her own-

No. No, no, no- she did not just think that. Her eyes popped open in surprise at her own intrusive thoughts and she pulled away, blinking stupidly. Mando continued to look at her, even as her skin grew hot and her palms shaky.

“Well, what do you suggest?” He asked in a quiet voice, one that was only loud enough to carry the short distance that stood between them. Echo stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. “I invest in sleeping quarters?”

“S-Sure… if you want to… uh… sleep good?”

Sleep good? Sleep good?! As well as being a complete idiot, she also sounded like one too. Stars, Echo, pull it together. She cleared her throat and stood taller, as though it may carry the confidence she longed for desperately at that moment.

“Sleeping quarters would be good- or at least a bed, with a real mattress… maybe?”

Mando stayed silent for a few moments, turning the idea over in his head as he looked at her. Finally, he returned to gaze out at the shape of Nevarro’s surface beginning to form and exhaled heavily. It wasn’t one of annoyance, but like one of defeat, as though he couldn’t actually believe he was considering it.

“If we make it out of here alive then I’ll buy you a cot- not a bed- that is… somewhat comfortable”

Despite her embarrassment, a smile glimmered across her face as the tension curled up inside her stomach loosened. Echo ran a hand through her hair and nodded.

“See, I told Cara you weren’t a complete ass”

“Cara said what-“

Before he could question it, the ship began to rumble with the pressure of the atmosphere as they began to descend through its outer layers, abruptly cutting off his question as his attention was pulled toward the task at hand. Echo was thankful for it as she assumed her position in the seat only a few feet behind it, still grinning like a little kid.

As the Razor Crest rumbled and jittered with each straining burst of force that pushed against the ship, she leaned around to peer over Mando’s shoulder at the planet quickly approaching.

The surface of Nevarro seemed to be bubbling with red hot liquid, molten rock spilling over hillsides and pooling into large rivers and lakes that caused rolls of steam to radiate from its surface. The crust of the planet itself was an ashen colour, the sunlight doing nothing to brighten the surface that seemed to be drowned in a permanent, dark, shadow that seemed desperately depressing. Only a few days ago, she had thought that Arvala-7 was ugly; but Nevarro was on a whole other level of horrid.

“No wonder the Imperials are holding their forces here” Echo mumbled, more to herself, as she rose silently from her chair and walked forward. Now that they had pressed through the atmosphere it was much easier to stand, yet she still leaned against the control panels, trying to get a better look at what may lie ahead.

There was nothing for miles- no civilisation, no little colonies popping up, not even moisture farms. It looked almost uninhabited, at least from this side, and Echo could tell it fit the criteria for Imperial Warlords to establish their frightening rule over the unsuspecting.

As they cruised lower, Mando tapped a few buttons on the Navcomp, swinging the nose of the Crest eastward so that it cruised like a glowing orb along the tips of the mountain ranges. He did not pay Echo’s ogling much attention, though he often shifted himself under her so that he could reach whichever toggle or switch he desired to flip.

“Where’s your contact?” Echo asked him, turning her head slightly.

“Lava plains a few miles from the city… there”

He pointed to a small spot that opened up in the land between the hills and swirling streams of lava, where specks began to shift into focus. Her heart twisted slightly… they couldn’t be stormtroopers- no, they were too dark, the white armour would stand out starkly against the dark backdrop.

“Do… do you trust him? Your friend?”

“Karga is not my friend” he reminded her as the ship began to slow, lilting up slightly so that it could land gently on the uneven surface far below. “And… I’m not sure. I guess we’ll see”

Echo snorted quietly. “That why you’re bringing me along? So I can attempt to tackle him if he gets a little bit too suspicious?”

The Razor Crest bumped slightly as it landed on the ground, the engines whirring to a stop and leaving the machines all around her disturbingly silent. She had not heard that void-like silence in almost four days, and it felt unnerving now more than ever knowing she was only miles away from the people who had so desperately hunted her as a child.

“Sure, that’s the reason”

Mando stood up from his seat and darted around her, slipping out of the door as she followed him down into the hull, where the Blurrgs were shifting restlessly and Kuiil was placing large saddles on their humped backs. He jerked his head toward one and she nodded, hoisting herself up on one and wincing at the uncomfortable way the ridge of its spine bumped into her legs.

Cara mounted one beside her, holding her arms out to steady herself and grunting when the great beast stepped forward. Echo laughed and seized her arm, and Mando clambered on in front of her, Kuiil joining his side as he jabbed his hand into the glowing green button beside the rear ramp and letting it descend with a clunk.

“How do you ride these things?” Cara muttered as Echo placed her hands on the skin just behind Mando’s back, too scared to hold onto him for extra support and rather she fall off than touch him so intimately.

“You sit on it and hope it doesn’t kick you off?” She replied, earning a grin from Cara as Kuiil led the way down and outside. Mando followed, and then Cara and the small group emerged into the surprisingly chill air of Nevarro.

As they toddled across the dusty grey dirt of the rocky ground, the group Echo had seen upon landing drew closer, the man at the front recognisable from the small picture she had seen on the holo. Greef Karga didn’t look much different from how he did then- cropped hair, a knowing grin, and his hands planted firmly on his hips as he halted. The people who joined him, hard-faced and sceptical, gripped their blasters tightly as the Blurrgs stopped only feet away.

“Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando,” Karga said in a booming voice as he cast a look around the small area, a smile on his face. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here”

Mando said nothing, and neither did anybody else. Karga drew his brow together and nodded to the others.

“It appears introductions are in order… it seems we’ve both provided a security detail”

Still nothing. Only the howling wind filled the silence, and even though she did not touch Mando, she could feel the tension rolling off his body in thick, rapid, waves. He… hated Karga? No, that couldn’t be it, or he would never have agreed to come. No, he was scared; not for himself, but for the Child, who was snoozing lazily in his crib back on the ship.

Karga pointed to Cara, who rose her brow in amusement. “I recommend the shock trooper guards the ship. These lava fields are lousy with Jawas.”

“She’s coming with me” Mando stated in a tone that did not beg Karga to argue. However, the man pressed.

“The town is now run by ex-Empire. If a Rebel dropper is with us, they’ll all get their hackles up”

“She’s coming.” Mando snapped. Karga’s eyes trailed to Echo, and he moved to open his mouth again- “And so is she”

Pride swelled in her chest a little, or perhaps it was her inflating ego that he held her so highly to defend her.

“Fine” Karga huffed, though his face told a story of how he totally wasn’t fine with the deal. “Fine. At least cover your tattoo, no need to flaunt it. Now… where is the little one?”

Echo and Cara exchanged looks, a conversation that spoke a thousand words- neither woman trusted him, and Echo wasn’t all entirely sure if he trusted them either. Still, though, Mando raised the gauntlet strapped to his wrist and pressed a few buttons, and the Child’s crib came bobbing out of the hull until it slid to a stop in front of Karga.

The hatch split and opened to reveal the green-eared-monster within, who blinked and looked up at Karga with wide eyes, unaware of the stakes of the situation at hand. Karga stepped forward and reached into the cradle, hoisting the child up and to his chest with a sort of… weird affection.

Mando’s hand strayed to the blaster hung by his side and, without even thinking, Echo’s hand flew forward and wrapped around his own. He froze. Echo froze. His hand froze.

She felt him lift himself higher, his spine straightening at the sudden and unexpected contact. Echo moved to pull her hand away but then she felt it- the subtle squeeze of his hand against the few fingers hooked around his palm; not a warning for her to get off, or a threat, but a… gesture that he returned to her, a sort of comfort for him to ease up and not do anything rash. It sent flutters through her body.

“So, this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about,” Karga said as he bounced the Child in his arms. “What a precious little creature, I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head”

He set the Child back down in his crib and Echo released Mando’s hand, confident that he wouldn’t just start shooting, but also missing the absence of his stronghold around her own.

“Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all. The sun drops fast on Nevarro; we can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank then make our way into town at first light” Karga informed them, turning his back with a gesture for them to follow.

Again, Cara and Echo looked at one another with uncertainty… she tilted her head and Echo shrugged. The Blurrgs started forward, and they followed.

*

By the time the small sun on Nevarro had set, the group of… well, people, had set up camp by a small embankment along a winding orange river and kindled a fire to heat up what food had been brought along. With the absence of trees and wildlife on the hot planet, there was little to rest on, and the flames of the fire were supplied by hot rocks dug out of the river running beside them.

The Blurrgs had taken it upon themselves to settle down some feet away from where Kuiil was tending to their feed, and Cara and Echo had propped themselves up against a large rock that was relatively comfortable, jostling shoulders and discussing things that weren’t of any relevance at all. Home planets, childhood stories- boys and girls and beings alike. Though she had only known her a small while, Cara seemed to be one of the few people who didn’t look at Echo like she was a fragile mess, but like she could bring down an entire planet with just a sweep of her hand.

Though Echo couldn’t actually do that, she knew Cara probably could.

“Come on, you can’t tell me your mother named you Echo” Cara insisted quietly as she offered Echo a leg of whatever meat was cooking above the fire. “That’s just… well, it’s a bit stupid”

“How is it?” Echo asked, her face screwed up. “A names a name, isn’t it?”

Cara paused for a few moments, thinking it over. “Sure… but Echo? Really?”

Taking a large bite of meat Echo chewed hard, the rubbery substance between her teeth not exactly her idea of fine dining. It was rough and dry and tasted like it had been rotting for weeks.

“If you must know, it’s a nickname. Got it as a kid, it stuck” she swallowed and continued to speak. “After I… yelled into a canyon once”

Cara laughed.

“What? It’s true!”

“That… is the stupidest origin story I have ever heard,” Cara said.

“Go float yourself” Echo grumbled in reply as she shifted herself to lounge back against the rock. Cara smiled, her teeth glinting in the dancing firelight that illuminated the darkness around them.

From beside her, Mando began to speak loudly, jerking her and Cara and causing them both to strain their ears to listen.

“Let’s go over the plan again” he announced, voice low yet carrying a certain finality to it. Karga, who was sprawled out beside him, rolled his eyes.

“We both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table and… you kill him” Karga replied simply.

“Tell me about the reinforcements”

Karga huffed in annoyance, apparently not fond of the Mandalorian’s wanting of a thorough plan.

“They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck- poof, they’ll all scatter” Karga elaborated.

“And what if they don’t?”

“They will” the man insisted.

“That’s not good enough” Mando snapped, slowly turning his head to look at Karga. Echo had never heard him sound so… well, she didn’t really know how to describe it. Scared? Nervous? Agitated? Like he was scared at any moment the Imperials might pop out and slaughter them all like animals.

“If for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realise that I’m their best path to alternative employment, and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild hunters along with your two lovely ladies will cut down anyone who bucks,” Karga said, pointing to his entourage and Echo and Cara.

Cut down? Echo couldn’t cut down- at least not without her lightsaber, anyways. The most she could do would be to trip up the stupid ones who don’t look where they’re going, or perhaps throw some stones and hope they shatter their helmets.

“How many will there be?”

At this point, Echo was surprised that Karga wasn’t cursing Mando out. He looked infuriated with the relentless questions, close to throttling him into silence.

“No more than four” Karga sighed heavily, shifting so that he could haul himself to his feet. “he travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me, nothing can go wrong”

As Karga approached the carcass of the animal suspended above the fire, a horrid feeling rushed through Echo- one she had not felt in a very, very, long time. It caused her sentences to heighten, the small hairs on her arms to stand on end as she reached out, trying to grasp Karga before the inevitable happened-

Out of nowhere, a great winged creature swooped down, snatching the chunk of meat he had pulled off in his hand and slicing through his arm. Karga howled in pain as the small group leapt to their feet, Echo more out of fright, as a barrage of red blaster fire lit up the night sky.

Heart pounding, she rushed to the Child, making sure he was okay before throwing her head over to Kuiil, who was shielding his head with his arms. He stared at Echo, urging her to do something… but she couldn’t bring herself to. The hatch slammed shut over the kid just as another creature appeared alongside its friend.

They both swooped low, trying to grab at the terrified people scuttling around. In horror, she watched as one soared down and wrapped its talons around one of the Blurrgs, attempting to lift it off the ground as Kuiil hollered.

“No! Let go of her!”

Eyes wide and limbs trembling, Echo acted again without really thinking. She dropped to her knees and shuffled around on the floor, seizing a hand-sized blaster off the floor and stumbling forward. She raised it, her arms straight and rigid, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The flying creature shrieked in pain as the shot hit it’s leg, dropping the Blurrg with a heavy thud as it flapped its great wings and began to retreat. Breathing heavily, she fired again-and again-and-again, not stopping until it was out of sight.

Kuiil rushed toward his livestock as the blaster fire slowly dyed out, everyone still defensive, blasters raised, as Echo dropped hers and stared at the spot where the bird had been. Were they… were they gone?

More screaming, and Echo whipped around as one of the beasts emerged from the darkness and seized one of Karga’s friend, flying up and up and disappearing into the darkness. Then another joined the squabble, digging its claws into- no.

Mando fell backwards and onto the ground as it landed on top of him, pecking furiously at his Beskar helm as he flailed. A strange feeling surged through Echo at that moment- blazing, white-hot anger.

Get off.

Her fist curled at her side as the beast reared its head back, coughing and choking, wings convulsing as blaster fire turned toward it. Rage filled every crevice of Echo’s body, one that refused to subside, as she glowered at the animal writhing in pain as bolt after bolt of electric plasma assaulted its scaly skin.

She would kill it. She would kill it for what it was doing- what it had done. And she would enjoy every moment of it.

“Echo!” A voice bellowed in her hear, a hand grasping her own and spinning her around. It jarred her from her state, her head twitching as she snapped out of whatever trance she had been locked in.

The bird on Mando batted its wings and soared into the night sky, followed closely by red shots, as Kuiil rushed before her. He stared at her in a mixture of fear… though she couldn’t really understand why.

The cawing of the giants faded into the night sky as the adrenaline coursing through her body dissipated slowly, and Echo found herself teetering around, tiptoeing the line between unconsciousness and confusion. She pushed past Kuiil as she cradled her head in her hands, only to knock into a solid chest.

Echo looked up through bleary eyes at the Mandalorian, who grasped her elbows and ducked his head, the visor staring her down as he breathed heavily. “Hey- you okay?”

She nodded stiffly. “Y-Yeah, just… knocked my head”

Slowly, Mando raised a hand and placed it against the curve of her head just above her ear. It took everything inside of her not to lean into his touch, but eventually, she gave in, leaning into the cradle as he continued to study her. This… this felt good, nice even.

A grunting sound came from behind him, and he turned.

A few feet away, Karga was on the floor, cutting the arm that the beast had sliced and sweating profusely as his face contorted into a weird expression. Kuiil hurried over and knelt beside him, lifting his arm which was marred and bleeding from deep scratches.

“He’s hurt badly,” Kuiil said.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine” repeated Karge, before groaning with pain as Cara seized it roughly.

“Hold still” she commanded as she turned it toward the light, pulling out a bottle of something. “They got you good”

“How bad?” Mando asked as she jabbed him with a small adrenaline needle.

“Bad. The poisons spreading fast”

Echo hesitated before taking a step forward. Poison? No wonder they had tried to take the Blurrg. They weren’t scavengers, they were predators.

“So this… this is how it happens” Karga hissed as she pressed a cloth to stem the flow of blood. Echo knelt close by Cara’s side, observing the deep wound.

“Don’t be so dramatic” she grinned. “I need another medpac! Got any other medpacs? Anyone?”

Karga’s friends shook their heads, exchanging worried glances; whether that be for their leader or the man who had been snatched away only minutes before. Whatever fate lay in wait for their lost comrade was not one that was idealistic.

“I’m guessing that’s a no”

A small nudge pressed against Echo’s leg, and she looked down to see the Child stood there, staring.

“It’s still spreading, this isn’t working”

The Child raised a pudgy little arm out toward Karga, bringing it down to rest atop the deep wound. Cara stared at the kid incredulously, but Echo waited with baited breath, not quite sure what he was doing. He closed his eyes.

“he’s trying to eat me” cried Karga pathetically.

“No, he’s not” Echo whispered.

Then she felt it. She felt it oozing from the kid’s fingertips, wrapping around the wound and dispelling the poison from his body- a connection that reached out toward Echo in Karga’s time of need, one that she had overlooked so many times. How had she not sensed it before?

The feeling felt familiar, right, like coming home at the end of a long day- perhaps that’s because that was what it was. The Force welcoming them both home… the kid could use the Force. He was like her.

All of a sudden, it made sense. Why he had a Bounty, why Mando seemed determined to save him, why she had felt drawn to Mando in the first place. It was all because of the Kid.

Echo looked up and saw that Kuiil was staring at her.

There was a small thud on the dirt as the kid fell backwards, clearly exhausted from exerting himself, and Echo picked him up and held him to her chest- for her comfort more than his. She looked at Karga’s arm, which was unscarred and perfection- no cut or gash in sight. The Child had done the inevitable, healed someone in their time of need, a skill most rare among the Jedi, yet here he was, doing it as though it was just as normal as breathing.

But it wasn’t rare for him because he was a Jedi; or, at least he would have been, had the Order not fallen. For once in her life, she did not feel so alone in the Universe.

“The kid needs to sleep” Echo announced suddenly, standing up and carrying the Child with her. She gently placed him down in his crib and stood over him, still gazing in awe at the trinket of her past that had been hidden under her nose this entire time.

“Y-Yes” Karga agreed. “We… all should sleep everyone!”

Nobody spoke as they dispersed across the campsite, mostly unsure of what to say at the gremlins magical abilities, and instead choosing to ignore them rather than talk openly. Perhaps for the best, Echo though as she slid down against the rock once more, her throat dry and palms clammy.

She was glad, of course, that the Kid was like her- special, in a way. But a sense of dread filled her too… if the Imperials wanted him for his abilities, they would surely recognise her and then… well, it wouldn’t end well at all.

Closing her eyes briefly, she told herself to calm. There was no point worrying now; better try and rest for a few hours until morning and figure out what she would do then. Tilting her head back, she began to drift off, when something touched her side and she opened her eyes once more.

Mando sat down beside her, touching their legs together as he stared off into the fire. There was no space between them, and her legs were practically thrust on top of his from where he had positioned himself, as she slowly turned to look at him.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, not bothering to look at her.

“Hey” she replied quietly.

“Is your head okay now?” He asked, returning to their conversation from earlier. Echo blinked and then nodded, having completely forgotten that they had just been attacked by murderous birds, her mind otherwise occupied. She smiled slightly.

“Yes… yeah, I’m okay, it should wear off in a few hours”

“You should sleep,” Mando told her, turning his visor only slightly. “Rest will help”

For a second, she laughed, dropping her chin to her chest. She gestured to the rocky landscape around them. “I would, but there’s not a bed for miles… unless you want me to be groggy and moody in the morning”

A few moments of silence passed between them; one that was peaceful and fluent, not forced. Mando raised his arm behind her and, with a slight nudge, pressed his hand against the other side of her head so that it settled on his pauldron.

The Beskar felt cool against her flush cheeks and sort of comfy, though not as much as a real bed would be. She could sit in this position for hours, undisturbed, and not complain at all. Echo could feel the way his shoulders rose with each breath, and the steady beat of his pulse some millimetres below the surface beneath her, and that was enough. If this was the most comfort she would ever get in her entire life, then it would be enough.

“Sleep” he urged, settling back so that she moved with him. “I don’t want to have to deal with your snarky comments when I’m trying to kill a man”

Though the sentence was crude, she smiled. “Such a gentleman, Mando. No wonder you get all the ladies”

He did not reply, and she took this opportunity to again let her eyes slip shut. Though she did not sleep for a while, she let her thoughts consume her, powered only by the gentle breathing of Mando beneath her, and how it sounded sliding through the small gap between his lips and his helmet and over her ear. Unfiltered and… perfect, a gorgeous sound to listen to.

She had stopped fighting intrusive thoughts some time ago, and now let her feelings swirling around inside of her until they were bursting to the brim. She wanted to stay like this forever.

Eventually, and against her own will, unconsciousness began to pick at her, pulling her deeper and deeper as she slouched further against him, propped up by only her legs as they instinctively swung over his. And then she was asleep.

*

Mando rolled his head back and closed his eyes against the dark tint of his visor, blocking out the endless expanse of stars before him and turning his attention to the still rapid thumping of his heart against his chest. The Beskar weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he wished he could relieve himself of it for some time- sneak away into the darkness and strip it away, leaving only himself stood there... as he was, not as the metal man with a vengeance. It was how he had been seen his entire life, and though he enjoyed the anonymity it brought him, he often wished for somebody to see beneath the mask. 

Still, though, his chest tightened as he looked down; down at Echo, who's breathing and grown slow and relaxed, and the dark curls of hair falling in strands over her face. For once she looked peaceful and calm, not wearing her usual scowl or sporting a snarky remark on the tip of her tongue. It made him smile slightly- a small smile, a tiny smile that was only visible to him and nobody else. He wondered if she always looked like this when she was alone... he'd like to see it more often, maybe.

It was hard to deny that he didn't find her beautiful, he had from the moment he had first set eyes on her in that dusty cantina on Tatooine. Dank Farrik had been the first words that had come to mind. But over time, he liked to think he'd grown fond of her- seeing past the grating annoyance she sometimes bounced around with and at how caring and compassionate she could be. Stars, he had chased after her on Yavin-4, had he not? Watched her from the window of that local's house to make sure she was safe. Some days ago, the kid had been the only person in the Galaxy that truly knew him. There was no one else he ever really cared about seeing again. But then he looked down at Echo again, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

Chapter Text

As soon as the sun began to peek over the horizon, the small band of misfits continued their journey to the capital city on Nevarro. It was a gloomy and humid day; grey clouds swirled overhead, and the landscape puffed out a thin layer of steam that trickled into the air as it disappeared. Echo was tired and aching- mostly from sleeping on hard rock, as well as the hard plate of Beskar she had called a pillow for the night.

Upon waking up only hours ago, she had been a blubbering, idiotic, mess. Red in the face and still delirious with sleep, she had apologised profusely to Mando- who didn’t even seem to acknowledge her, all the while Cara snickered in the background. All morning she had teased her mercilessly for cuddling up to him, and Echo knew she would never live it down; even though it had been the best nights sleep she had had in what felt like a millennium.

However, now that the excitement had settled down, a sort of tension seemed to envelop everybody- anticipation and nerves all rolled into one at what lay in wait for them. As the sun rose steadily in the sky, Echo found herself lingering toward the back of the group, where Kuiil was with his small pack of Blurrgs and the Child. The Child- the most special little green-eared being she had ever met. It was still unfathomable to think that he was like her… and it was comforting to know that for once in her pitiful existence, she wasn’t all that alone.

The Child cooed and babbled on to himself as Echo strolled alongside Kuiil, who sat perched atop one of the Blurrgs, his expression solemn and his lips pressed into a thin line. It confused Echo; normally he was chatting away, asking her about ideas for future reprogramming of IG-11, but today he was… silent.

Echo patted the kid’s head as she turned to cast a glance over at the Ugnaught, who did not meet her eyes. “Hey, Kuiil… are you- is everything okay?”

Kuiil jerked upward slightly before he faced Echo, blinking as though he had been lost deep in thought. Perhaps he had, but it was hard to tell.

“Yes,” Kuiil said simply as he looked back to stare at the group some twenty feet ahead. “Yes, just… thinking”

“About what?”

Kuiil paused for a few moments. “The Child… did you know?”

Her brow drew together as she considered this- did she? Deep down, did she know all along? No. If she had, it wouldn’t have come as such a surprise, but… maybe the hints had always been there, and Echo was too oblivious to see them.

“No” she shook her head as she buried her hands deep in her pockets. “Never. I just thought he was some… weird little thing that Mando picked up in a back alley”

At this Kuiil made a noise, something that closely resembled a laugh as he lifted his head. “I have heard tales of the Force, the power that the Jedi take from the Galaxy itself… how it has been used for both the good and evil powers that fought to control it”

Echo knew what Kuiil was talking about: the Sith. They had been a whisper of a legend among the younglings in the Temple, the evil forces that fought to dominate the Force and wipe out the Jedi. It was said in an ancient prophecy- one taught to them in a long-ago lesson- that a Chosen One would rise eventually, and bring balance to the Force. But as a child, Echo had been taught that the Light was the only way… so how could there ever truly be balance without the darkness within it?

“Yes. The Jedi and the Sith fought for thousands of years”

“I thought that drawing darkness from a pure good within our surroundings was impossible, however…” he looked at her this time, deeply. “Last night, when the Mandalorian was being attacked, something within you changed”

Changed? Echo had no idea what he was talking about. All she could remember was Mando falling over, and then suddenly he was fine again… she hadn’t given the small blip in her memory much thought.

Kuiil continued. “You were… not yourself. Your eyes were angry and scared, a look I have seen many times”

Against all of what Kuiil was saying, Echo laughed. This old man was crazy.

“What’re you saying? That I drew from the dark side of the Force?”

Kuiil said nothing. Echo stopped short in her step for a few moments. Had… had she? No. That was impossible. She would never… never.

Echo opened her mouth to question Kuiil further, but a shout from up ahead garnered her attention, and she looked to see Cara beckoning her to join the group where they had stopped along a small ridge. With a sigh she waved to Kuiil before jogging to catch up, coming to a stop by the woman’s shoulder.

Over the ridge and across a large flat of burnt rock was a city; dull and bland, it looked no different to its surroundings. The building’s there had domed roofs that glinted with the sun, and a large stone archway announced its entrance where several small craft were assembled- Imperial craft. Years of evading such ships had given Echo a great knowledge of their appearances.

Cara jostled Echo’s shoulder and nodded to two white dots painted against the setting: “Troopers. Obviously didn’t get the memo about the Emperor getting blown to atoms”

“Quiet” Mando hissed, sending a tremor through Echo as his voice carried on the howling wind. The two women shut up.

Karga exhaled deeply as he looked out over his home- at least, Echo assumed it was his home. Despite having his back turned to her, she could see the tightness coiled up in the muscles of his shoulders, and how his fingers wavered as they rested on his hips. He was… waiting, anticipating something.

“I guess this is it,” he said, unmoving. His voice lilted, only by a decibel, but it was a tone she had heard many times before. When an owner was about to put down their Bantha.

Something’s wrong, a voice whispered in her head, then- something’s going to happen. No, she was just overreacting. Surely they were safe-

Footsteps crunching against the fallen ash roared in her ears, and suddenly her throat was constricting. By the time she had seized Cara’s elbow to pull her down, a ricochet of blasters sounded in the blue sky.

Red streaked past her vision as there were two heavy thuds- but not the thuds of Cara or Mando. Echo looked up to see Karga holding two pistols outwards, then spun around, staring at the fallen bodies of his comrades. He had shot them.

“What the hell?” Echo asked as she threw her gaze back to Karga, who had raised his blasters in submission. Mando approached him, his own weapon drawn, ready to pull the trigger at any second. At that moment, Echo wished she had had one of her own.

“There’s something you should know” Karga announced, sounding much more relieved than he had before. He walked past them and kicked over the body of one of his friend’s, showing them the gun he had been holding in his grasp. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid”

Of course. Of course. How had they been so stupid? To make an agreement with Bounty Hunter’s? Echo had never felt more ashamed. After all of these years of surviving on her own, and she still couldn’t tell a simple ruse from the truth.

“But after what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it. Go on, you can gun me down here and now, it wouldn’t violate the code! But if you do- this Child will never be safe.”

“We’ll take our chances” Cara threatened, her face one of pure anger. Echo sympathised.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?” Karga said. Mando continued to glare at him, blaster held readily.

“This is ridiculous” Cara exclaimed.

Echo shook her head. “He’s right. The kid will never be safe as long as he has Imperials after him”

Both Karga and Cara looked at Echo incredulously, but she knew she was right. For most of her life, she had been running, and at what benefit? She had never had a normal childhood, a normal life for that matter… she had always lived in constant fear. She didn’t want that for the kid. While he still had a bounty on his head, he would never get to know the meaning of true, undefined, happiness.

“Echo is right” Kuiil offered. Echo smiled in gratitude.

“Listen” Karga interrupted. “We both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him and then you three-“

“No” Mando snapped.

“Let’s just kill him and get out of here,” said Cara. Echo shot her a look.

Slowly, agonisingly, Mando lowered his gun. Echo’s heart swelled in gratitude- not for the fact that he was going to spare Karga’s life, but for the notion that they might just free this innocent child from a lifetime of horror and pain.

“He’s right”

“What are you doing?!” Cara exclaimed, her brow raised. Mando tucked his blaster away.

“As long as the Imp lives, he’ll send hunters after the child,” Mando told her.

Cara rolled her eyes in frustration. “It’s a trap!”

“Bring me” Mando turned back to Karga, who inclined his head.

“Bring you?”

“Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I’ll kill him”

Karga seemed to consider this for a few moments before nodding, holding out his hand. “That’s a good idea. Give me your blaster”

Despite Echo’s wanting for them to kill the Imperial, her eyes popped open and her jaw fell slack. Was he going to- yes? Echo watched in amazement as Mando willingly passed his blaster to Karga. In all of her time spent with the Mandalorian, she had never seen him without a weapon by his side. Now, without it, he looked… naked, almost. Vulnerable.

“What are you doing?”

“This is insane”

Cara and Echo blurted at the same time, though for two entirely different reasons.

“It’s the only way”

“Then I’m coming with you” Echo stated. Mando’s head snapped toward her, and Cara stepped forward, a silent agreement that she was in too.

“No, no, no!” Karga interjected. “That would make them suspicious”

Echo chewed the inside of her cheek as an unruly plan began to twist itself around her mind. She knew it would be suspicious- anybody who wouldn’t be was stupid. But there was a hitch, one she could get away with… while also risking her entire life at the same time.

“I don’t care, I’m coming” Cara argued.

Mando shrugged. “Tell them she caught me- but Echo stays with the Ugnaught-

“Like hell I am!” Echo protested, folding her arms. She refused to sit idly while the rest of them risked their lives for this child… this child that was the last of her kind. “I’m coming!”

“You don’t uphold the look of a hunter, nor do you look like one of my… acquaintances,” Karga said in mild amusement. Echo stepped forward.

“But I have a bounty,” she told the group, and Karga’s expression grew into one of confusion. She held her wrists outward to him, like somebody ready to be shackled. “Grand treason against the Empire and Emperor Palpatine himself”

A deathly silence consumed the group. Nobody spoke, nobody moved- only stared and watched as Echo cocked her head to the side, smiling slightly. If this was the reaction she got for one small fact, what would they do when they found out about her true identity?

“Treason?” Cara asked, stepping forward after a few moments. “What did you do- blow up a Star Destroyer?”

Echo gave a small laugh. “Eh… something like that”

“Alright… she can come too. I suppose the Imperial will want somebody accused of treason- but she brings the Child.” Karga pointed at Cara.

“No” Mando shook his head defiantly. “The kid goes back in the ship”

“But without the Child, none of this works!”

“I have a plan,” Mando said. “Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the Child and seal yourself in. When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors.”

Kuiil nodded and walked toward Mando, handing him a small transceiver. “Here’s a commlink. I will keep the Child safe… and you-“ he looked at Echo. “Keep them safe”

“Yes sir” Echo replied.

“Let’s go”

*

“Can I ask you something?” Cara asked in a low voice as they approached Nevarro. It had only been twenty-or-so minutes since they had left Kuiil, yet already the cuffs shackled around her wrists made her skin sore and tingly. They had walked in silence until this point, Echo trailing behind Mando while Cara stood by her shoulder, the only sound being their crunching footsteps. Echo looked at the hardened woman.

“As long as it has nothing to do with my sex life… sure”

Cara gave her a small smile. “Were you really tried with treason? Or was that a lie to get Mando to let you come along”

Echo looked at her boots moving slowly along the ground, the thin layer of dust covering them. What harm was there in a little truth?

“Yes. It’s true”

Cara said nothing for a few seconds. “If you don’t mind me asking, what… what did you do?”

“I can’t remember,” Echo said truthfully. “I was only a little girl. More so to do with my… species, more than anything”

“I get that” she acknowledged. “I’m sorry”

Echo only nodded, not wanting to say much more as she looked up and saw that they had drawn much closer to the large, arched stone passage leading into the city. Two troopers were positioned outside of it, lounging lazily against their speeders, and the mere sight of them sent a spike of hatred through her heart. How could they act so carefree after being responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent lives?

As they came to a stop, one of them rose to their feet. “Chain code?”

“I have a gift- no, two gifts, for the boss,” Karga told the trooper, pointing to Echo and Mando as they bumped shoulders. Echo did her best not to sneer.

“Chain code?” repeated the trooper.

Karga sighed and reached into the lapel of his jacket, pulling out a small card and showing it to the guard. He snatched it from him and held it to a small device, which blinked in acceptance as it scanned whatever information lurked within. The trooper shot a look at Mando.

“I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet- an extra ten for the girl”

Echo’s face fell into one of pure… well, it was more than anger. She wanted nothing more than to smash the trooper’s head against the rear of his speeder. Instead, her lips pulled into a sweet smile, like the one she was so accustomed to.

“Ha-ha,” Karga laughed nervously and pointed at Mando’s helm. “Not a chance. That’s going on my wall!”

Mando slowly turned to glare at Karga, whispering. “On your wall?”

It took even more effort to conceal the abrupt snort of laughter that rose in Echo’s throat.

“Go ahead,” the Stormtrooper said finally, handing Karga his card back and holding his arm out to admit them through the post. Cara pushed Echo through with a fake abruptness, and they set off through the winding streets of the city.

Dozens upon dozens of stormtroopers milled around, chatting in groups and throwing food at one another without another care in the Galaxy- it made Echo’s entire body tense up as she took small, nervous, steps forward. Four- Karga had said four troopers, not an entire freakin’ batallion! She had not seen this many soldiers since the Clone Wars.

“You said four” Cara hissed. “There are more than four troopers”

“Four guarding the client. Many more here in town” Karga elaborated. Oh, wonderful, he had been very clear. “Thing’s got really heated once Mando crashed the safehouse”

“You crashed their safe house?” Echo asked in a small voice. Mando grunted. She adored that he was a man of many words.

After a few minutes of walking down the endless streets, they came to a cantina, one that was not much different than her own dwelling back on Tatooine. It was dark and dingy; however as they stepped through the door, Echo noticed that this one was practically void of any life at all- that was unless you counted the small personal guard and the shrivelled older man sat at one of the booths.

“You see? Four” Karga mumbled, shunting Mando and Echo forward.

Karga led them down a series of small stone steps as the man rose and greeted them, white hair slicked back against his scalp and small eyes staring with curiosity at the small group. His eyes roamed over Mando’s gleaming armour, then at Echo, his brow twitching ever so slightly.

“Look what I brought you, as promised- with an extra addition, also” Karga smiled with a false warmth at the man.

“What exquisite craftsmanship,” the man said in an ethereal voice, running a hand over Mando’s chest plate. From where she stood, Echo could feel the way his muscles froze like ice and wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. “It is amazing how beautiful Beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

“I would be obliged” replied Karga.

“Please sit,” said the man, gesturing to the booth beside him, and Echo slid into it, closely followed by Mando, and then Cara and Karga. “It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches- judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity… peace”

“You call yourselves heroes yet condemn and murder innocent people when they do not submit to your objectifying rule. You snatch children from their parents and turn them into killing machines- where I am from, we do not call that peace and opportunity” Echo mumbled, though her voice was loud enough to carry. The Imperial’s gaze trailed to her with a piercing intensity. He said nothing to her comment.

“Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.”

Her blood was boiling, her vision clouded with a haze of red. How dare he talk of the Empire’s will for peace and freedom, when all she had seen was death and anguish. The Empire had ripped her from her home and thrown her into the Galaxy as a mere child, all because she was born into a life she often did not want. It was not her fault that she could wield powers beyond man's capabilities, yet why punish her for it? Because they were scared?

“You know nothing of death” Echo sneered. This time, the Imperial did pay attention- as did the guards as she shifted forward, her shackled hands balled on the tabletop. “You murder innocent people yet call yourselves the victims of war- you build battle stations that decimate entire planets, and for what reason? That they uphold different beliefs than your own? You create martyrs then struggle to understand why you cannot keep your hold on the Galaxy that you formed-“

“You know nothing, you insolent girl!” The Imperial slammed his palm onto the table, teeth bared. “What do you know of war?”

“I know that I am the product of thousands of years of fighting. What about you?”

The Imperial said nothing, only breathing angrily. Karga’s voice split through the tension as he reached over and pulled Echo backwards. “My apologies- the girl is still antsy that our hunter caught up”

Beneath the surface of the table, a hand wrapped around her knee. It made Echo flinch enough that she sat back, her heart still thrumming as she looked down at the leather fingers clasped around her leg- Mando’s hand. He squeezed it encouragingly, a beg to calm down, and she succumbed. Slowly, her hand shifted and lay atop his. Neither of them moved.

The Imperial drew himself up once more and looked at the child’s crib, which had bobbed behind them inside and slid to a stop beside the booth. “I would like to see the child”

Karga smacked his lips together “Uh… It is asleep” he said, laying a hand atop the crib.

“We will be quiet” the Imperial replied, reaching forward. “Open the pram”

Echo and Cara exchanged looks over the heads of the two men, and Echo watched as her hands instinctively tightened around her blaster. Suddenly, though, one of the troopers approached and leant down, mumbling in his superior’s ear.

The Imperial hummed. “Don’t think me to be rude. I must take this call”

He stood and walked toward the bar, where a holo appeared, and Mando leant close to Echo, his fingers working at her shackles. Only then did she realise he had worked his way out of his own.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as she flexed her hands, staring at the red sores around her wrists that revealed themselves as the cuffs melted away. She nodded, though it only conveyed little of her enthusiasm. “Give me the blaster”

Reaching around, Echo lifted the back of her shirt and wiggled the blaster out of her waistband, trying her best to hand it to Mando without the troopers spotting. Karga shifted uncomfortably and Cara leant in closer.

“You only get one shot,” he told Mando.

“This is bad, you said four” Cara whispered frantically.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?”

BANG.

A single blaster shot ricocheted off the walls of the cantina, and Echo stared at Mando in surprised. Had he just- no, he hadn’t, as he was staring at Echo with blank fear. At that moment, all hell broke loose.

An onslaught of fire rained down upon the cantina, littering bodies across the floor as Mando seized Echo and hauled her to the floor, throwing the table up to act as a shield between them and the red-hot bolts of energy flying past their heads. Echo had no idea where Karga or Cara was, and frankly, it was the least of her worries, as Mando pulled her close to his chest and held her there

Screams of pain filled the air and cried in her ears as she balled her eyes up, all but feeling the sudden drops in her stomach as lives all around her slipped away. Despite her hatred for the troopers, it was a horrible feeling- to feel their souls disappear, leaving only empty shells of who they had once been. Her fingers curled into Mando’s sides as she tried to squeeze the ugly tears away.

The battery of fire seemed to last a lifetime as Echo tried to calm her breathing, eventually pulling away and looking up to see red light illuminating the wall behind Mando. His hand was flattened across her back as he looked around the corner, poking blaster out to see who was attacking them.

After a few prolonged moments, the fire ceased, leaving only the buzzing of fried electrics and clattering of canteens as Echo slowly unravelled herself from Mando, looking around to see Karga and Cara huddled by her side, looking equally as terrified. She held out her hand to Cara who took it and squeezed- she was okay.

“What the hell just happened?” Echo mumbled quietly as she peaked her head over the edge of the round table, her eyes flickering around the dark cantina, but she could not see where the fire had come from.

Mando nodded his head at Cara, and they both moved to flank either side of the long window that sat behind what was once the bar. Cautiously, Echo crawled around the table and the back of it, pressing herself up against the underside of the wall so that she could get a better look if she needed to. Outside, the roaring of a transport pulling up filled the stagnant air.

“What’s happening?” Echo asked Cara as she peeked around the wall. Her face fell.

“Four stormtroopers?” She asked Karga in astonishment. Echo risked a look through the window.

Beyond the cantina, in the small courtyard, a small army was gathering. Guns prepped and drawn, all aiming at the single window of the cantina. Her mouth went dry. This couldn’t be good- but where had they all come from?

“This is bad”

“Kuiil. Are you back to the ship yet?” Mando asked through his small comm link. “Are you there? Do you copy? Are you back on the ship yet? Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here! We’re pinned down!”

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit” Echo repeated in a mantra, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Oh fuck, we’re so screwed. I’m so screwed”

“Hey” Mando commanded. “Calm down, we’re gonna get out of this”

Echo looked up at him and shook her head. “Not this time”

The screeching of engines filled the sky, one that was familiar and foreign at the same time as Cara cursed and chanced yet another look. The sound only grew louder as it drew closer until a rumbling shook the floor… one that Echo knew all too well. It was the sound of a TIE fighter. The sound was followed by a heavy footfall drawing close.

“You have something I want” a deep voice called, and Echo shuffled to sit up on her knees, gazing out of the window. Just beyond the threshold of the window was a man; donned in black flight armour and a billowing cape, he wore a look of concentration and malice. He couldn’t be- no, the Moffs were all gone, surely.

“Who’s this guy?” Cara asked.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.”

“Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us?” Mando pleaded through his comm once more. “Kuiil, come in!”

“In a few moments, it will be mine” the man leered.

“Kuiil! Do you copy!” Mando demanded. There was no response.

The man outside continued. “It means more to me than you will ever know.”

For minutes there was a silence- a defeated silence. With no response from Kuiil, it did not take a genius to add up the facts; they had the Child. It seemed as though within an instant, all of Echo’s hope had diminished. She had failed.

“Is there another way out?” Cara asked Mando, who seemed to be staring at a point on the floor. Echo could feel it too- he was disappointed with himself.

“No,” said Karga. “That’s it”

Mando glanced out of the shattered window, his blaster held tightly to his chest. “What about the sewers?”

“Sewers?” Karga repeated with confusion.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape”

A spark of hope ignited itself in the pit of Echo’s stomach. A covert- an entire army of Mandalorian warriors lay only feet beneath them, ready to be called to arms at a moments notice. They could get out of here; they could rescue the Child and live. Initially, Echo thought she would be shocked at the revelation of Mandalorians hiding beneath Nevarro’s crusty surface- but after coming to know Mando, it was the least startling of his many secrets.

“Yeah!” Cara nodded. “Sewers are good.”

Mando raised the vambrace strapped to his arm and began to fiddle with it, his helmet tilted downward in concentration. It began to beep rhythmically. “Scanning for access points”

Echo wrapped her hands around the window ledge and pulled herself up, sneaking along until she stood beside Cara. Though she was still breathing heavily, some of the initial shock of the attack had worn away, leaving only pulsating adrenaline that wormed its way through her body. She poked around to see the stormtroopers waiting patiently, their leader silent yet terrifying.

“What are they waiting for?” Echo murmured. Cara gave a stiff jerk of her shoulders.

The crowd parted. Echo watched, transfixed, as a small huddle came jogging in, carrying a large black machine between them. It looked heavy and was almost twice as tall as Echo was, but she didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what it was. It was a weapon- one meant for destruction and death. Her heart rate picked up.

“Shit- they’re setting up an E-Web” she exhaled. Echo shot her a look; she had heard of rocket launchers and machine gun turrets- but what the hell was an E-Web?

“It’s over,” Karga said.

“What? What is it?”

“I found the sewer vent” Mando finally concluded, pointing to a spot along the far wall where a bench ran the length of it.

“Let’s hurry this up then, shall we?” Echo moved toward the direction he had gestured in, pulling away cushions and discarded canteens.

She tugged with a grunt and pulled the seatback until it landed on the floor with a thump, revealing a black metal grate embedded into the wall. Cara pushed past her and tugged on it, wincing with the effort, but it did not budge. She tried kicking it, ramming it with her shoulder- but it stayed put.

“It’s assembled!” Karga called from where he had stayed to keep watch. “How long until that thing’s cleared?”

“Blow it!” Cara barked at Mando. He shook his head.

“I’m out of charges- Echo?”

Echo’s brow drew together in a look of mock anger. “Don’t look at me, you don’t let me touch anything in your damn armoury!”

“You came here without a blaster?!” Cara hissed. Echo shrugged as if to say perhaps. Cara only rolled her eyes in frustration. “We’re so screwed- get out of the way!”

Leaning over, Cara seized her gun and hoisted it up to rest against her waist. With a whir like a roar and a loud bang, she began to fire against the grate- her only attempt at cutting through, casting red light across the room and reflecting off the Mandalorian’s Beskar helmet.  The metal sizzled and bulged under the heat, and for a fleeting moment it looked as though it may work- but when she finally ceased fire, it simply emitted a cloud of steam and the dying embers as it cooled down.

From outside the cantina, came a booming and boastful voice. “Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of… consideration”

Consideration? An Imperial warlord wanted them to consider something- had they really changed their quotas so drastically?

“Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporise mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model”

Echo looked at Cara, her face as white as a force ghosts. How did he know? The man continued.

“Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears”

She stared at Mando- Din, with wide and uncertain eyes. Her heart seemed as though it was slowly cracking, not out of fear, but out of pain- the pain she could feel radiating from his body as he took two cautious steps forward. What had that name awoken within him? Pain? Trauma?

“I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. Or perhaps you will take advice from your final companion? Who has seen such a weapon kill those who fought to protect her during the siege of the Jedi Temple of Coruscant? The one person among you who may save your life with her gift, but chooses not to. How is it that you lived…”

No. No this couldn’t be happening. Her head pounded, the world was spinning, and Echo was quite sure that she was about to throw up on the floor. She steadied her hand against the wall and braced her for the cold hard rush of truth coming toward her-

“Lady Shéa Naberrie" 

Chapter Text

As a young girl, Echo had thought that no fear would match the one she had carried through the days of the Great Jedi Purge. Horror, anxiety, paralysing horror. It was all she had been able to think about- all she could feel besides the impending doom that any moment may be her last. When her master had died, the only fear she had had was being the last of her kind- the last of the Jedi- and the sorrowful burden that it placed upon her nimble shoulders. What had she done to deserve this? That was the only question she had ever been to ask herself- and one she thought back to often whenever she was in peril.

Over time, though, Echo had learnt to accept that if she was the last of the Jedi, there was nothing she could do to rebuild the order- she was untrained, disconnected, and an unstable mess. So, a quaint little life in the backwater cantinas seemed almost like a welcoming thought. But now here she was, thousands of lightyears from Tatooine, and in the middle of a stand-off. And all she felt was terror.

Her heart felt like it might combust, clenching and straining uncomfortably and forcing her to her knees as she clenched one hand over her chest. It was as though the entire Galaxy- no, the Universe- was imploding around her, and she was the nova that had started it all. Breathe, she tried to tell herself- but the air would just not come. Her breathing was staggered and without a rhythm, yet still the roar of activity around her filled her head with a strange buzz.

She made a choked noise, a desperate attempt to anchor herself to the drone of the Imperial’s voice echoing in from outside.

“The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.”

A breath in- a breath out- stars why did it hurt so much? Panic. Pure panic.

Karga called out to the Imp. “What do you propose?”

“Reasonable negotiation” the man replied. Karga scoffed.

“What assurance do you offer?”

“If you’re asking if you can trust me- you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I will gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand. The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire”.

A short silence followed the Warlord, and Echo concentrated on the thuds of his boots receding until they eventually disappeared. She propped her leg beneath her leg and sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands, and wishing the pounding inside of her away.

“I say we hear him out” Karga proposed, turning to look at them. But nobody looked at Echo.

“The minute we open that door, we’re dead” Cara huffed, hauling her gun over her shoulder.

“We’re dead if we don’t”.

“We can’t give him the Child” Echo mumbled; then louder. “We can’t hand him over”.

“Why not? You hiding something from us? It wouldn’t be the first time” Cara sneered, causing Echo to sit up and glare at her. “Come on, you’ve obviously got plenty of secrets, Shéa”.

Echo shot to her feet and stalked toward Cara; her fist raised threateningly until she was face-to-face with the woman. She wasn’t angry- well, she was a little. She didn’t want to hear that name.

“Sorry, Carasynthia, I didn’t realise I wasn’t allowed to keep to myself”.

“Hey” Mando snapped, pushing himself between the two. Echo backed down, exhaling heavily. “What is it?”

“Naberrie!” Cara said loudly, pointing at Echo. “She’s a Naberrie!”

Echo folded her arms and tilted her head. Mando spoke up: “What’s a Naberrie?”

“They’re practically Royalty on Naboo- you know the senator Padmé Amidala? That was her line” She leered. “Yeah; this whole time, we had a princess on board. What, you run away, huh?”

Karga took a step forward and placed a hand on Cara’s shoulder. She roughly shrugged him off- there was only hatred in her eyes. What did she have against Echo; the Naberrie name? She didn’t even consider herself a Naberrie, it had been that long.

“She’s not just a Naberrie” Karga murmured in a low voice, and he looked at Echo knowingly. Of course- he was old enough to have lived during the Clone Wars. “You lived?”

Her throat seized up, and she wanted to nod, but she couldn’t. Only ugly tears welled in her eyes, begging to spill.

“Lived? I don’t understand” The Mandalorian sighed in exasperation. “We don’t have time for this!”

“You’ll want to make time. She-“he pointed at Echo. “She’s a Jedi”.

“A what? What in the name of the Maker is a Jedi?”

Echo turned and moved to the bar, sliding down against it as she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them. Cara stalked to a dark corner of the room, but Mando only moved closer, holding a hand out to her comfortingly.

Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to run; to run far away so that he may never know his secret. But on the other side of the door was a small army of stormtroopers ready to gun her down, and there was no other escape. Secrets weren’t necessarily bad things- but this one might just kill her.

“A Jedi” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Ancient warriors from the time of the Republic. Murdered in the mass when it fell, chased into exile for no other reason than being born different”

“The Jedi commanded the clone armies and trained on Coruscant” Karga elaborated. “They frequented these regions until they were murdered- the bounty on your head- is that it?”

Echo only nodded solemnly. She didn’t want to speak anymore. She didn’t want to exist anymore. Mando said nothing, only took a step back.

“How are you alive?” Karga asked.

“Luck” Echo told him. “The actions of others. I… I don’t know anymore”

“The Kid?” Mando asked her hoarsely, rubbing his helmet where the bridge of his nose should be. “Is he… like you?”

When Echo said nothing he made a small noise like a growl, balling his fists, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he may just strike her. Instead, he stamped his foot against the ground, and she pulled herself up. She would not be timid in a time such as this.

“This whole time? You knew?” He spat the words towards her, and each stabbed her like a sharp knife in her heart. He sounded… betrayed. Like a child who had been refused his favourite toy.

“No!” Echo snapped. “No. I only found out last night- when he healed Karga, but I… I’m sorry”

He looked at her. And looked at her. And looked at her. Stars, she wished he would say something. Perhaps that was the worst part- the silence. It was what tore her apart in all the places she didn’t know could be torn, bringing her down until she was only an empty, vacant, shell of the person she had once been.

“So you’ve been some ancient warrior this entire time and you did nothing? Just acted like a naïve girl?” Cara snorted from where she had been sat, twirling a stick around between her fingertips. A naïve girl? Is that how they saw her?

“You wanna see naïve?” Echo started. “I was eight years old! Eight years old and running for my life- I saw all of my friends die, I saw all of my masters die! And the worst part?! You wanna know the worst part?! I couldn’t go home!”

Her voice had risen to a bellow, and despite the threat of death looming outside, she refused to soften her tone. She had been quiet for far too long- and now, now she was ready to scream.

“I lost more than you can ever comprehend! So don’t ever- ever- call me naïve!”

“You sat back and let us do the work though, didn’t you!” Cara leapt to her feet and stalked closer, the muscles in her biceps twitching. “When you could’ve… done something!”

“ENOUGH!”

Both Echo and Cara’s heads snapped towards the Mandalorian, who was stood some feet away, his arms folded. They took a few steps backwards, though fury still sizzled in them both, and stared at him. He pushed off where he had been leant against one of the tables.

“That man out there is Moff Gideon; so save the arguing for another time.”

Cara’s brow pulled together and she set her hands on her hips. “No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes”

“It’s him,” Mando told her. “He knew my name”

How had she had forgotten? Only moments ago she had heard Mando’s name for the first time; Din. Strangely, it seemed to suit the mysterious persona beneath the mask, and Echo wondered if that had been the first time he had heard it in years, just like her.

“So? What does the prove?” Karga asked with a shrug.

“I haven’t heard that name spoken since I was a child.”

“On Mandalore?”

“I was not born on Mandalore,” he said.

“But you’re a Mandalorian!” Karga protested in confusion. Echo sighed deeply.

“Mandalorian isn’t a race.” Echo interjected, earning a stiff nod from Mando. It was something, she supposed.

“It’s a Creed” he finished. “I was a Foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn into the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the Purge- that’s how I know it’s him”

“Shit” Echo cursed, dragging a hand down her face. “That’s how he knew mine- and that the Child was alive. During the… Jedi Purge-“ it still felt strange to say the word aloud. “They recorded all of the identifications of both Jedi Knights and Younglings not found- gave them to Inquisitors to hunt us down”

“Well… that explains that” Cara shrugged, and though she glared at Echo still, it was somehow gentler than it had been before.

“He says he needs us, which means the Child got away safely- Echo” Mando called to her, and she perked up. “What does he want with the Kid? He’s like you… so he must be special”

Echo shook her head as she cast a look out of the window, eyeing up the rigid form of the troopers out in the courtyard. What did Gideon want with the Kid? Sure, he could manipulate the Force, but he wasn’t trained, he wasn’t coherent. It was a mystery… but then a sick thought struck her.

If the kid was safe- then great, that was amazing. But what if Echo could get everybody out alive, the kid included, and let him be free. They were the same format of a different being… so what difference would it make to Moff Gideon which Jedi he had?

“Hail the Ugnaught again!” Cara told Mando, but Echo was already striding toward the door.

It took a few moments for anyone to notice; but when they did, Mando had caught up to her in two short steps and seized the crook of her elbow, spinning her around to face him. She stared up at the black slit of his visor, emotionless.

“What’re you doing?” Karga asked, without any real hint of curiosity. Mando inclined his head toward her.

Echo gave him a sad smile. “He wants a Jedi, right? So I’m giving him one”

“What?”

“No!” Mando said gruffly, his hand sliding down her arm to grip her wrist tightly, refusing to let her go. “We’re all getting out of this”

“You don’t understand” she groaned in frustration. “He will never stop until he gets what he wants. The Child… he won’t have any good memories at all- only fear and pain. Do you really think he has a chance? That he could grow up and have a happy life?”

Mando said nothing, his grip on her only tightened.

“Mando…” she said quietly. “I’ve been running my entire life- but I’m tired. Up until last night, I thought I was completely alone in this Galaxy, but I’m not. I have a chance now to give this kid the life I’ve always wanted”

“You want forgiveness?” He asked, breathless. “Fine. I forgive you. I forgive you, Echo. Please”

“We’re out of time,” Echo told him.

“I can’t let you”

“You can. It shouldn’t be me… but it is”

“Don’t tear yourself apart, please” Mando begged her, his other hand coming up to grip her free wrist. He squeezed. “We can get out of this”

“Tearing myself apart is the only thing I know how to do- everything I have ever done has led me to this moment, and I can’t just let it go”

“Echo” Cara’s voice rang in her ears. “They’ll kill you”

“I know” she tilted her head, and a single tear- one salty track of water slid down her cheek and splashed onto her chin. “It’s okay”

“Please don’t go, Echo” Mando’s voice was barely a trembling whisper as her eyes shifted back to him- now, more than ever, she wished she could look upon him, openly and truly. But she never would be able to. Perhaps they would meet again someday.

Slowly, Echo raised her hand and let it cup the Beskar cheek of his helm- so cold and clean beneath her fingertips. Raising onto her tiptoes, she leant around and let her lips press against the cool ice of its surface. Mando’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she could hear the wavering breath beneath the modulator.

Echo was not afraid anymore- in fact, she was ready. It made sense now; why she had been compelled to join him back on Tatooine. Stars, it felt like a lifetime ago that she had left, when it had only been a few short months. She hoped that Mando would tell Shabba all the things that she hadn’t been able to; it was the least that he deserved.

“I trust you”

Her final words lingered in the air as she turned and pulled herself from the Mandalorian’s begrudging self, placing her palm over the sensor beside the door and watching it whip open. She stepped out into the brisk chill of Nevarro.

Dozens of blaster barrels snapped toward her as the door shut behind her, and Echo began to walk forward with long strides, her hands coming up to her head to show that she was unarmed. The troopers exchanged looks as she came to a stop before them, lifting her chin indignantly.

“I am here to hand myself over in exchange for the freedom of my friends”

Echo’s words hung as one of the troopers approached her, blaster raised cautiously. “Moff Gideon wants the asset, not some girl”

“I believe that Moff Gideon would be pleased to obtain a different asset- one with a far higher midi-chlorian count by my assumptions”

The sentence seemed to trigger something within the trooper as he nodded to his comrades, who swarmed Echo like bugs to a lamp, seizing her arms roughly and tugging them behind her back. She felt metal cuffs clasp around her wrists.

Hands shoved her forward as she chanced a look over her shoulder and at the window into the bar which, from the outside, was scorched with blaster marks that burned the surface an ashen black. Within, she could see the glint of reflective Beskar and smiled at it.

“Move it,” One of the troopers said gruffly, shoving her head down as they lead her toward the docked TIE fighter in the middle of the courtyard.

They forced her to her knees and surrounded Echo in a tight circle, almost half a dozen blasters trained on her from all angles as she looked upward. They hadn’t bothered to frisk her, though one leant forward and seized the hilt of her weapon that hung from her belt. He raised it and turned it over in his hands.

Echo scoffed.

“What is this?” He asked one of his friends quietly. He showed it to Echo. “What is this?”

“It contains pain killers for my… lady problems”

The stormtrooper dropped it with an audible grimace as the trooper to his right snorted with laughter. He returned his blasters aim to her forehead, and Echo could do nothing but look up at him expectantly.

“Where’s the Moff?” One of the other troopers asked, looking around. “Doesn’t he want to decide if she’s good enough?”

“FN-8739 said he went to the toilet” another mumbled. The entire group made a sound of agreement. Really? A toilet break in the middle of a deadly standoff? “I hope he comes back soon, my backs really itchy”

Is this what stormtroopers talked about during their off time? No wonder their aim was terrible.

Suddenly, one of the stormtroopers radios crackled, and worried murmuring came through it. The same stormtrooper who had taken her weapon sighed and held it up to his face, his blaster hanging limply by his side.

“What? Slow down, I don’t know what you’re saying-“

A distant sound echoed through the clearing, and she looked toward the direction Echo had come earlier. A flash of red- not bright, but… pulsing. A blaster rifle. Had one of the stormtroopers accidentally shot at something? No, they mostly kept the safety on.

But then there was another- then another- steadily growing louder. Then explosions- multiple explosions that made the ground shake as Echo twisted her body around, the stormtroopers doing nothing to stop her but stand and stare. The screeching of a speeder began to roar in the distance.

The regiment of soldiers shuffled to face the winding street, obviously preparing for something, and Echo simply watched- whatever it was, it was coming fast. Faster than the troopers could comprehend.

A small, dark, blip began to steadily grow as it zoomed down the narrow street leading to the courtyard. It grew larger and larger, individual arms and legs beginning to form, and that was when Echo recognised it as the droid- Kuiil’s droid. Strapped to his front was the Child.

Her eyes popped open as the droid twisted around and began to shoot the stormtroopers in the clearing, ducking her head as blaster bolts soared above her, looking up briefly to only see the droid leap from the speeder and send it crashing into a huddle of soldiers. It exploded with a tremendous roar.

Echo knew she had to seize her opportunity. She closed her eyes.

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me- stars, please work. Her balled fists opened, her palms extending rigidly to grab the hilt of her lightsaber as it flew into her hand, the switch shifting under her thumb as it ignited through the locks of her cuffs. Her knees bent as she leapt upward and spun- and, with surprise, cut down the men formed around her. They fell harmoniously to the floor with heavy thumps.

The courtyard erupted into chaos as red streaked past her eyes, the whirring blade of sandy yellow coming up to meet each one, deflecting it back against walls and their original origins, almost moving on its own accord. Echo did not need to tap into any part of the Force to fight these- she had done the same movements ever since she was a little girl on Coruscant.

Fluidly, like water flowing through the cracks in a stream, her arm twisted and turned, her body with it, and she slid past bolts of searing energy and met them with clashes of light. This felt good- amazing even; like the one thing she had been missing her entire life had finally returned, because it had. Echo had longed for this for years.

One of the stormtroopers ran at her, but she simply cracked her neck; spinning on one foot and holding the other leg out, swiping his feet from beneath him. He grunted and she twirled the hilt of her saber, driving the blade downward and into his chest. She looked up to see Mando stood there, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

He stared in… amazement, perhaps? It was difficult to tell. He stood there for so long, in fact, that she had to seize the fallen trooper’s blaster and shoot over his shoulder at the man readying to kill him some feet away. But he did not jerk with the movement.

“You going to stand there all day or help me?” Echo asked with a small grin as she discarded the blaster on the floor, walking toward him. He shook his head.

“I didn’t know,” he told her as she continued to deflect the blaster bolts careening toward them. Almost automatically, he assumed a position behind her, creating the ultimate defence.

“Didn’t know what? That I wasn’t weak?” She called as she sent a stormtrooper flailing. His own shots rang in her ears.

“No! I always knew that- just… not that you could fight like that”

“I’ll take it as a compliment” A smile, and she returned to the task at hand.

But the stream of troopers never ended; they seemed to be emerging from every crack and crevice in the city, from places she had never seen them before, and her arms ached with the effort of wielding a weapon so powerful.

“We can’t keep this up much longer!” Echo called to Mando over the chaos of the fight. “We need a plan!”

“I have a plan!” He told her as he pressed his back up against hers, cool metal seeping through the dampened material of her shirt. “But it's sort of stupid”

Echo slashed out at a trooper who had made to punch her. “Just do it”

With a silent nod, Mando started toward the E-Web canon, which sat idly in the midst of the blaster fire. Echo followed- more as protection than anything and watched in amazement as he hauled it up and rested the long barrel against his hip. Against her best interests, she felt herself internally melting at the action.

Stars he was strong.

Echo jerked as a stray bolt whizzed past her ear, and turned just in time to see Cara shoot the assailant from her position in the window. The hardened woman gave her a thumbs up.

“You’re crazy!” Echo yelled at Mando as the cannon whirred to life.

“I know”

The rapid firing of the cannon lit up the sky as it gunned down rows upon rows of white-armoured stormtroopers, each one falling atop one another lifelessly. She was glad for the break from defending him and took to watching, ogling just how… fearless he seemed. Adrenaline was the only thing pumping Echo’s heart to keep beating, and without it, she was sure she would crumble.

Echo was about to continue the fight- to jump back into its heat- but stopped herself short. Instead, she glared at the shrouded form of Moff Gideon, who had finally emerged from hiding. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her lightsaber; except, he only raised his blaster to shoot at Mando.

“Don’t try it!” Echo shouted at him, easily redirecting it toward the wall behind his head. A sick smile only twisted his lips. He raised his blaster again.

Suddenly, the Galaxy seemed to move in slow motion- Echo being the only thing operating along the normal time continuum. Gideon’s aim slowly shifted to a black box some feet in front of her, his finger pulling the trigger, and she had just enough time to drop her saber and raised both palms outwards.

Then the explosion happened.

“No!” Echo screamed.

Fire burst forth as he stretched her palm outwards, watching as Mando was sent flying back into a wall by nothing but her own will, the other keeping the fire at bay in a pulsing orb. She gritted her teeth in pain, not enjoying the way the force pulled at the muscles in her forearms and tried to rip them from her skin. She let out a cry.

The pain was indescribable as she continued to push; one hand keeping Mando pinned against the wall, the other stopping the tyrant of fire trying to rip him apart. She couldn’t let go. She couldn’t let go.

“Echo!” He bellowed, and she turned her head to stare at him; her hair fell in sweaty dregs over her face, the fire licking at her fingertips and burning them. “Echo let go!”

“No!” She sobbed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t! You’ll die!”

“You’ll die if you don’t let go!” He argued, grunting as he struggled against the invisible force holding him there. He banged his fists against the stone wall. “You’ll die!”

“I told you that this was my destiny” she nodded, licking her dry lips. “Remember?”

His head lifted slowly, the realisation of what she was saying dawning over him. “Don’t you dare!”

“I don’t want to!”

Her knees buckled beneath her and Echo fell to her knees, the hold on Mando falling so that she could turn her full attention to the blast slowly growing in size beneath her fingers. She could do this- she had to do this; for him. She couldn’t let him die.

A primal scream tore from her hoarse throat and she pushed back against it and- stars, it was working! The fire was moving backwards, changing its course of direction toward Moff Gideon! She could do it! Her connection wasn’t broken anymore- she could feel the Force flowing freely through her once again.

“Run!” She called back to the Mandalorian. “I’ve got this!”

Echo staggered to her feet and pushed again, and again, and again until it was almost far enough away that she could make a break for it. But then something began to spread along her torso; a strange, numbing, pain that made her look down as she pressed one hand against her stomach and pulled it away.

Scarlet red blood coated her palm, her fingertips shining with it as a wave of dizziness washed over her. That was… blood. But where had the blood come from? Her head snapped up to see Moff Gideon stood there, his blaster raised. He shot again.

Her shoulder jerked back from the impact as her elbow gave way, and the rigid form disappeared within an instant. The fire grew large, and Echo felt herself let go for only a split second, the feeling soon replaced by a wall slamming into her and sending her flying back and colliding with something hard.

The world slipped into darkness.

*

When Echo’s eyes blinked back open, she was back inside the dingy cantina. A heat was swelling some feet away, but all Echo could feel was wave after wave of drowsiness washing over her. She moaned, then cried out when something hard pressed down against her stomach.

The world blurred into focus.

Her own reflection was staring back at her, warped and slanted, as Mando’s visor met her eyes; his shoulders were trembling, and he moved to shift her upward, though she only moaned out in pain. It hurt too much to move- to breathe, even. She just wanted to lay here for the rest of eternity.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he repeated, brushing damp hair out of her eyes.

Echo’s face contorted as she looked down at the blood-stained patches of her bare stomach. Somebody had ripped her shirt open, and Cara was working desperately to stem the flow of blood leaking out of the rather large wound in her skin.

“It hurts” she whimpered, new tears coating her cheeks. “It hurts”

“I know” He sighed. “I know”

“Please… make it stop…”

“No” he snapped. “I told you I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? So I’m going to do that- Cara!”

“She’s losing too much blood!” Cara told him in frustration. “I can stop it but not for long”

Echo’s chest rose and fell staggeringly as she raised a bloody hand and cupped Mando’s cheek, smearing red across the dirty chrome surface. He looked back at her and lowered his head toward her sadly- she had never seen him this sad, and even in her delirium, it made her heartbreak for him.

“It’s o-okay” she gasped between jitters of breath. “We’re okay”

“I’m not letting you die” he protested firmly. Echo smiled, amused at the way he thought he could stop the natural course of life.

“You have to” she whispered. “It’s okay… I’ll be okay”

“Stop being so stubborn” he gritted out, cupping her cheeks with his own. “You’re going to live”

“We both know you’re wrong” she smiled softly.

Echo took one of his hands and pulled it toward her eyes, her fingers working at the leather glove there. He didn’t stop her, or even tell her to, but watched as she pulled each of his digits from the confines of clothing. Echo tugged limply and watched skin- actual skin- meet her eyes. He was human after all.

“You s-saw me naked” she chuckled hoarsely, lacing her fingers with his. “So i-it’s only fair”

Mando flinched slightly at her action but welcomed it, squeezing her hand just as he had done back when they had first landed. It was an intimate action, one that would have made her blush any other time. She thought she would feel pain and agony, just as she did with any other person but for some reason, he felt… different. In a good way.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, trying to entice conversation from her drooping eyelids.

“I just feel you”

“Echo…”

“Shéa” she corrected him. “Y-You may as well… c-call me that now”

He sighed heavily. “Shéa”

Echo wasn’t listening- only reminiscing. Hearing that name after so many years; it was like tearing off a mask she had worn for far too long. Finally Echo- no, Shéa was free. No longer were there binding that tethered her to the terrestrial plane she wandered, no worry engulfing every nerve in her body. Only bliss.

Perhaps now she could rest easy.

Chapter Text

Shéa hated water duty; in fact, she couldn’t really understand why it was called water duty, and not the worst thing in the entire Galaxy. She despised it with every fibre of her being- the hike down to the stream, having to carry buckets laden with the swirling, translucent liquid back up the small incline to the little cabin she lived in- everything. She knew she could never hate anything more. She often asked her Master why they couldn’t just take their water sources from the humid clouds that hung in the sky- just as many other planets did- but he always replied with the same words: it’s not natural.

So what?

It was on water duty that Shéa often found herself missing their former home; a little hillside house on Zeffo. It had been warm and cosy, with a log fire that heated the rooms in the winter months and wide-open windows they could throw open in summer. It had had a spectacular view of the Zeffo tombs, too, which Shéa could vividly remember perusing when they had first arrived. Oh, how she missed that mountainous planet.

They couldn’t go back, though, she knew that. The Empire had occupied it some years earlier, and they had been forced to flee or reveal themselves- so, by some strange circumstances, they had come to find Al’doleem, a small river moon in the mid-rim. They had settled here due to its Jedi temple situated atop one of the many mountain peaks, though Shéa had never seen it personally- a fact which she would like to keep as the way it was.

Despite this, though, she could still see the roof of the temple poking the sky from their little cabin, and as she dipped her hand in the rushing stream water she looked up toward it. She sighed.

Shéa knew she should be concentrating on the task at hand, but she just couldn’t. For the past few days, she had felt strange- stranger than usual. She supposed it had come about after their recent trip to the nearby spaceport.

“What is it?” Master Vos asked from where he sat some feet away, collecting his own buckets of water and pulling them up to sit on a rock beside him. Shéa jerked to look up at him. “You’re daydreaming again”

“Sorry” She mumbled in reply, bowing her head as she filled her own containers. “I was just… thinking”

Master Vos chuckled and tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear. During their time in exile, his hair had grown longer than Shéa had ever seen it, and was tucked back with a piece of rope that often looked close to snapping. Lines had formed in the creases of his cheeks, and his skin was more tan from years working in the sun to harvest their own crops for food. Shéa, however, looked exactly as she had when she was eight-years-old.

“Oh?” he mused, tilting his head with a knowing grin. “Does it have anything to do with the boy from the spaceport?”

“N-No!” She stammered, her cheeks flushing red. “What boy?”

However dumb Shéa tried to act, she knew it was in vain. Master Vos was always right- and he was again on this occasion.

“What was his name again? Corro?”

“Corrin” Shéa corrected quietly, the ghost of a smile on her face. Corrin was one of the local lieutenants who took registry of the ships coming in and out of the port- a few years older than she was, he had red hair and a chiselled jaw, and the most gorgeous blue eyes. “And I wasn’t thinking about him… well I was- but only a little bit”

“It's troubling you?” Vos asked, shifting his weight so that he sat cross-legged. “Is it because he works for the Empire?”

Shéa shook her head, shaking the hair out of her eyes. “No… it’s not that, I just- I saw him flirting with another girl”

“Ah” Master Vos clicked his tongue and leaned back, basking in the sun. It was the middle of summer, and Shéa’s fifteenth birthday had only just passed, so the sun sizzled high in the sky. “The tribulations of young love”

“I don’t love him- it doesn’t matter, okay? I’m not allowed” she said dejectedly, cupping a handful of water in her palm and letting it dribble back into the stream. “He’s just a stupid boy”

“Why aren’t you allowed? I don’t see anybody stopping you” he shrugged with a grin, tempting her. She only rolled her eyes.

“It’s against the code, remember? The one you repeat every single day”

Despite their exile and the fall of the Jedi Order, Master Vos had still taken it upon himself to make her his padawan- just as he had promised when she was a little girl. He tutored her every day; whether it be in politics, ethics or even combat. Her skills were unmatched, and though Master Vos would not admit it, her skill with a lightsaber almost outmatched his.

“Of course you are, I did in my youth”

“But Master… I thought Jedi were not supposed to form attachments” Shéa tilted her head inquisitively. Was he suggesting she rebel against the code that had kept them alive for so long?

“Attachments do not lead to the dark side. Fear of losing them does.”

“I don’t get it” She laughed in response. “You can be attached to something, but not fear to lose it?”

Master Vos leaned over the water and dipped his hand into it, closing his eyes. “Treasure those around you while you can, my very young padawan- and celebrate when they return to the force”

“You mean when they die?”

“Death is as natural as the way the water flows”

Shéa frowned. “I wish it weren’t”

“But it is. Once you accept that, the dark side will never take you” he grinned at her.

“Well… like I said, boys are stupid”

“I never said it had to be boys-“

Shéa cut him off, splashing a wave of water at him that sprinkled his cheeks and clung to the tip of his nose. He beamed at her, and she beamed back.

*

Later that afternoon, when the sun had dipped in the sky and the clouds hung low overhead, Shéa found herself in the small garden in front of their cabin, digging into the dirt and poking little seeds into the pouches. She didn’t mind this chore as much as collecting water, and though her hands were caked in dirt and her nail beds were filthy, she felt more at ease than she had been earlier.

Master Vos was somewhere inside the cabin, which was small and made of the local trees, a slope wooden roof giving way to a brick chimney that her Master had crafted himself. It puffed out rolls of white smoke, and as she settled back on her knees, she looked up and wiped a hand across her forehead.

“Did I tell you to stop?” her Master chuckled from behind her, and she turned to look at him, her brow drawn together. “Come on. Dinner is almost ready.”

With a huff, Shéa pulled herself to her feet and wiped her hands on her pant legs. That was when the sound filled the sky.

It was a roar- but not like any other she had heard before. It echoed like a ricochet of blaster fire, causing the birds to rise from the trees and the leaves on the branches to shake. It filled her with a sense of dread as she turned, only to see a dark blip on the distant horizon, which steadily began to grow larger.

Her lips parted to open but Master Vos’ hand was already on her shoulder, pulling her back with a certain intensity.

“Inside. Now” he commanded as Shéa threw him a look.

“What? What is it?” She asked him, rooting herself in the doorway. “Master?”

Master Vos’ eyes were wide and frantic as the dot grew large enough to make out- it was a ship, a TIE fighter to be more specific. Pointed wings slanted against the sky as it ripped through the air had a lightning speed, heading straight for them.

“They’ve found us?” her voice was a ghost of herself, but it rewarded her no answer. Master Vos shoved her inside and ripped the door shut, sealing her in and himself out. She banged her palms against the door. “Master!”

There was no reply.

Shéa rushed to the small window beside the door and ripped the curtains open. It was too small for her to climb through fully, but big enough to watch as the TIE came to hover over the clearing, louder than ever, and begin to descend toward the ground. It landed with a thump that shook the walls of the cabin, and she watched, transfixed, as the hatch on top of its round body lifted open.

Master Vos was already there to greet it, one hand straying to the weapon clipped to his side while the other curled into a fist. Both of them stared as a dark figure emerged- a man, clad in black with a sweeping cloak and a dark helmet. It was not Darth Vader- no, she had seen enough propaganda to tell the difference, but this person looked eerily similar.

An Inquisitor.

“Can I help you?” Master Vos called to the man as he floated down gracefully from the top of his craft, landing softly on the grass underfoot. His shoulders were incredibly broad, and even from this distance, she could tell he towered over her Master. “Sir?”

“Quinlan Vos. A pleasure” the man leered loudly, his voice carrying on the wind. “You are a tough man to find.”

She saw Master Vos jerk his shoulders as he scoffed. “As I intended. I suggest you leave while you can”

“And why would I do that, Master Vos? We’ve hardly acquainted ourselves yet; my name is Valor Zapal”

“I know who you are, Zapal” Vos growled. “Leave”

The man- Zapal- began to pace before Master Vos, his cloak whipping in the wind. Carefully, he raised his hands to unlock the clips of his helmet and pull it off his head, revealing a marred face and a few wisps of golden locks. He looked… ugly. That was the only nice way to put it. Shéa knew that soon, though, he would be dead, so she did not dwell on his looks much.

“You know why I am here, Vos. Where is the girl? I would like to make this quick” Zapal asked, and Shéa’s heart pounded heavily.

“Dead” replied Master Vos simply. “Killed by illness”

The man frowned. “A shame. I would have liked to give her the chance that you will not be granted.”

“You will try”

Master Vos took the hilt of his blade from his belt and ignited it, the green bright in contrast to the dull grass underfoot. His opponent smirked and took his own weapon, a curved black handle, and let the red blade roar to life. It looked disgusting- the shade of blood it was no doubt stained and tainted with. The thought of the disease that curled around its crystal made her feel sick.

“Do not make this hard for me, Vos. I recall many good days during our training together”

Their blades met on the first strike. Shéa’s hands dug into the wooden frame of the window.

“You will remember, Val-“ with a grunt, Master Vos pushed back against Zapal’s strike and their sabers collided again. It was an intricate dancing of light- good and evil clashing reverently like two lovers caught in a tight embrace. “That I did not wish to take the easy way out, unlike you!”

They began to move faster and faster, Zapal’s much larger frame nothing compared to her master’s quick and precise movements. He ran circles around the Inquisitor, dancing around him- teasing him.

“You could have joined me, Quinlan! It didn’t have to end like this!”

Zapal was… weak, Shéa realised. His strikes were loose unlike Master Vos’. Her eyes widened.

“I’m no traitor!” Master Vos bellowed, just as Shéa screamed.

“Master!”

Master Vos looked over his shoulder as she threw herself through the small gap in the window, rolling onto the ground with a grunt and onto her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows just in time to see Zapal- who had seized his opportunity- disignite his blade to let Vos fall through it… and then he lit it again.

The blade stabbed through his stomach. Shéa screamed like a wounded animal as Master Vos’ body went rigid. Zapal smirked as he jerked his blade out her Master’s body, and she watched as it fell like a ragdoll to the ground, coming to rest between the blades of grass.

No. No. Her eyes were betraying her.

Shéa stumbled to her feet and ran forward, seizing her Master’s body and pulling him into her lap as she fell to her knees. She cried out and choked on a sob as she stared down at his pale cheeks- he couldn’t be… no…

Streams of tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto his body as she bowed her head, bringing their foreheads together and willing him to just wake up. But he wouldn’t. Above her, Zapal snorted.

“Get up, girl” he commanded, drawing Shéa’s gaze so that she looked up at him through blurry vision. He looked… amused. Like her pain was funny to him. “Your Master was weak”

“No he wasn’t” she spat, climbing to her feet and facing the man. Her fists clenched in anger. “You are the weak one”

“Oh?” he cocked his head to the side and smirked. “If I am weak, then why did the Jedi Order fall? It fell because it was full of idealistic fools such as your Master”

“My Master wasn’t a traitor!” She shrieked, though the Inquisitor showed no indication of anger. He just grinned wider. “Nor was he a coward!”

Valor Zapal rolled his neck, cracking it lazily before he looked at her again, his brow raised. “If only you knew the power of the Dark side, young one. But I will do what I must”

He brought the still sizzling blade over his head and down in a strike- but he was not as fast as Shéa. Her own lightsaber met him halfway- pure yellow meeting with tainted red, casting sparks around them in a halo as they continued to stand above her Master’s fallen body.

Zapal’s eyes popped open in surprise as she beared her teeth, letting the anger that flowed through her turn into pure, unmatched, power. Zapal was physically stronger, though, and she grunted as he pushed the full weight of his body down on her, causing Shéa’s knees to buckle slightly.

“You would do well to stop fighting” he leered at her as she held her other hand out.

“Probably”

Something flew into her hand, and before Zapal could comprehend her movements, another lightsaber joined her defence- a green one. Vos’.

It formed a cross with hers as she pushed back with a scream against Zapal, sending him flailing backwards as she advanced, twirling the blades around her body like an exotic dancer might with blades of fire. Zapal panted as he looked up at the young girl- slightly scared, but also excited. He was anticipating each of her movements.

“Vos taught you well,” he remarked, jerked his head as she rushed forward, preparing to strike again-

Shéa dodged to the side and let him streak past her, bring the green blade down on top of him- he met it, but he could not meet her true weapon. He dodged back as she swiped at his stomach with the blade- then with her foot- then with her other foot. She twirled in the air like a storm of power, landing swiftly on her feet and returning to a position where he could not poke her before he had time to strike again.

“Fight me, you coward!” Shéa demanded. He obliged.

Shéa stood and waited as he charged forward, one blade held in each hand, and when he was only metres away… well, she flipped them. She held them in a way only Master Vos had taught her how. She dropped to one knee so that Zapal passed over her and- in his confusion- she stabbed him.

She drove Master Vos’ green blade upward and through his chest, and Zapal stopped. A calm washed over her, then exhaustion, and she pulled the blade out and rose only to hear the Inquisitor fall. When she turned, she stared down at his quivering body, which was face-down in the grass.

He was shivering and sweating when she pushed him over with her foot, staring down at him in disgust as a slither of blood dribble out of the corner of his mouth. Pathetic, she thought.

“H-How?” Zapal choked out, coughing and spluttering on his own blood. She holstered the two blades on her belt and continued to glare at him.

“Because I am no coward. You were never worthy of the Force”

Zapal laughed, groaning with pain. The colour was fast draining from his face. “You may have killed me, but they will keep coming girl”

“I know” she whispered, as though the realisation hadn’t really sunk in yet. Her entire Galaxy was shattered- she was no longer safe… but had she ever really been safe? “And I’ll be ready”

A smile fell dead on Zapal’s lips, and that’s how it remained. She could feel it- she had been trained to. The life was gone, the Force leaking away and disappearing into the air, only to impregnate the nature around it. Zapal was dead. Good.

Only when Shéa looked down at her hands did she see that they were trembling. Her fingers balled into fists as she stared at the distant outline of the temple, flinching to life when a low moan came from behind her. She spun around.

“Shéa” Master Vos mumbled, his hand reaching up as she rushed over, kneeling beside his crumbled form.

His normally vibrant eyes were glassy and glossed over, turned toward the misty sky, and his lips were dry from the lack of blood pumping through his veins. He turned to look at her ever so slightly and she forced a smile onto her face, grasping his hand.

“I’m here, Master”

“Z-Zapal… where is-“

“Dead” she whispered, her head falling as he closed her eyes. “I killed him”

Master Vos shuddered beneath her, and his other hand came to clasp hers tightly. “It should have been me. You’re too young”

“I did it Master… we’re going to be okay”

He sighed in exhaustion. Already, she could feel the life in him slipping away. “Young one… there is not much time left”

Shéa shook her head in disbelief. Why was he saying such things? She just needed to get him inside the cabin… but why wasn’t she doing that? For some reason, her body refused to move.

“Don’t say that. I can dress your wounds” she urged, her voice shaking with each word. “I can save you”

“You already saved me, Shéa… t-this is my destiny” he forced out, gulping.

“Stop it. Stop that- no it’s not. You can’t leave me, Master” teardrops fell and splashed his cheeks. “I can’t be alone”

Master Vos’ head lolled toward her, and his eyes met hers. He looked too tired to continue- if only she was strong enough to heal him, but she had never leant how.

“You will never be a-alone… I p-promise”

“Master… Master?”

Master Vos’ eyes had drooped shut, and suddenly the tears were coming a lot faster. She shook his shoulders, but he did not reply- and then, the inevitable happened. His body just… vanished. Unlike Zapal’s, it disappeared into the wind, leaving only the blood-stained, sweat-soaked clothes he had been wearing. Her mouth fell open into a strained oh.

This couldn’t be real- in a moment, her eyes would open again, and she would be back in bed; he would walk in and tell her to get up, and she would roll over to see the garden she now stood in. But when her eyes opened, her Master was still gone, and for the first time, Shéa was all alone.

She screamed into the unforgiving sky.

*

“You should sleep, you know,” said Omera softly, pressing a damp rag into Din’s closed fists. The action made him flinch and look up for the first time in hours, and as he stared at the kind woman, she did nothing but a smile. “It isn’t healthy to dwell on bad omens”

“I-“ he started, but instead paused and pursed his lips.

His joints ached from rigidly piloting the ship towards Sorgan, having to juggle the navigation with checking on Echo to make sure she was still breathing. Stars- he didn’t even know how she was still alive; he could still vividly see the blood oozing from the open wounds that littered her body, even when IG-11 had tried its best to patch them up with Bacta- it was endless. He supposed it was her Jedi powers- yes, that was it.

Still, though, her still-beating heart did not do much to dispel the anxiety building up inside of him, and he had not left her bedside since arriving on Sorgan. He wasn’t too sure why- Omera had reassured him that she would make a full recovery- but something about the way Echo just looked so… lifeless sent horrible pains shooting through his chest.

Din looked up at Omera and nodded, unfurling his unclothed fist to reveal the blood that had stained his skin. He hadn’t put his glove back on after Echo had removed it, and her blood still sat there. He began to wipe it away.

“She is strong” Omera hummed as she busied herself around the small lodge, the distant, jovial, screams of children filling the air. “But she wouldn’t want you to worry”

“I know” Din murmured. “I’m just… making sure she’s not scared when she wakes up”

Omera chuckled. “For her benefit, or your own?”

Din said nothing- mostly because he didn’t really know the answer. Was it for his benefit? Maybe a little bit- he wanted to be the first thing she saw when she finally opened her eyes… he wished that would be soon. Even though a part of him was still angry that she had concealed the truth from him for so long, he just wanted to know that she was okay.

“Your son misses you, though” the local woman continued, kneeling beside Echo’s bed and brushing strands of damp hair from her pale skin. She looked almost like a sleeping angel- he had heard about them from the Elders, and the peaceful aura they radiated. “He kicked up a terrible fuss when you left him with Winta”

“He will be fine,” Mando said gruffly, biting down on his tongue. “I think he is… worried. He had some sort of connection with her- I guess he knows that she’s in pain”

She dabbed a washcloth across Echo’s forehead, and for a fleeting moment, her brow twitched in concentration. Was she… dreaming? He hoped they were good, and not at all like the nightmares he had heard her screaming about in the dead of night.

“The Child has formed a maternal bond with her?” Omera asked, smiling gently. “That’s sweet. He needs it”

“Why?”

Din inclined his head toward Omera, who simply shrugged.

“When a child is raised, I believe they take strengths from both maternal and paternal figures in their life. You are… determined and strong, and she-“ Omera gestured to Echo’s sleeping form. “From what you have talked of, is resilient and loyal. All good traits for a young child”

“Me and her aren’t-“

“Really?” Omera quirked a brow upward. “You sit by her bedside refusing to eat, and you dare tell me you don’t at least care for her?”

Beneath his helm, Din bit down on his lip hard. He didn’t want to admit it- stars, why didn’t he want to admit it? She was all he could think about, every moment- every second- of every single day he lived in this damned Galaxy. She was there in every dream and thought, her face being the first thing he thought about before he fell asleep and when he awoke again. Her laugh, her smile; the little scowl she did whenever he asked her does it matter?

Din bowed his head and looked down at his hands again, rubbing circles over the brazened skin of his knuckles. She had saved his life… all of their lives- so why couldn’t he bring himself to say it? Maybe it was the years of locking himself away, building a fortress so tall that nobody could climb it- yet within one fell swoop she had knocked it down until it was nothing but a cloud of ash.

“The Way-“

“Your religion should not determine who you care for,” Omera said quietly. “Love is the purest, most precious feeling in the entire Universe”

Din glanced at her, reaching out to take her bare hand in his. The sensation sent jolts through his skin- it had been so long since he had touched another being so intimately, it felt almost crude.

“How could she care for me when I can’t even show her my face?” His voice came out choked and quiet, scraping against his throat and trickling out of the modulator in a dull set tone. “I can’t ever expect her to live a life she never asked for”

“If she truly cares for you” Omera nodded reassuringly. “A mask won’t matter to her. Only the person beneath it”

“But what if I’m not even a person anymore?”

“That won’t matter either” she pressed. Mando surveyed Echo’s face.

Shéa was her real name- the name she had asked him to call her before she slipped into unconsciousness. He knew he was supposed to use it, but it seemed so… strange to after all this time. It was soft and gentle, nothing like the person he had grown familiar with- the woman who had fought a droid to save the kids life and thrown herself in front of an explosion for him. But maybe that was a good thing. She could be both callous and soft, and Din wouldn’t care either way.

Shéa’s lip quivered and she whimpered, and Din leaned close, pressing his Beskar forehead to her damp one softly in a Keldabe. Perhaps when she woke up, he would ask her about her true feelings- but for now, he would watch over her, even if it led to his own demise.

Chapter Text

The first thing Shéa heard when she awoke was screaming. Loud and rumbustious, drifting to her ears from a distant place that she couldn’t exactly pinpoint. It rang in the air, fading with the wind and followed by laughter so hearty and joyful that it sent a deep pang through her body. Where was she? Where was Master Vos?

Her eyes opened next, squinting against bright sunlight that streamed into the small room and bounced off the wooden walls, basking it in a golden glow that tingled her skin with warmth. It was nothing like the sun on Tatooine; which was harsh and grating, no, this one felt familiar, somehow. Was this Al’doleem? No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t recognise the room she was in, or the bed she lay in.

Then she remembered everything. The fight with Zapal. Fleeing to Tatooine. Shabba taking her in. The battle on Nevarro. Being shot. The man… Mando.

Her head twisted, contorting to seek him out, staring against a blurry backdrop that twinkled in an indistinguishable haze. She was tired, so tired. Like she had run a thousand miles only to keep going until her legs were burning and her lungs were screaming for air. Shéa planted her hands firmly against the soft mattress she lay on and pushed herself up, up so that she could bring her knees towards herself and rub her eyes with her fist, fighting the impending sleep away.

It was only when she made to tug her other hand up to brush her hair out of her eyes that she realised she couldn’t- not from an inability or deadness, but something was holding it, someone was holding it. Shéa looked down at tanned fingers tangled around her own, bruised and gnarled knuckles peeking out beneath a long sleeve. The hand was large, almost as large as both of hers together, and the nail beds had been bitted to exhaustion, all jagged and bloody.

Who was that?

Her eyes trailed up, up over a dark tunic and thick biceps, squinting against the harsh glint that reflected the overhead sunlight against the wall behind it. Curved and chrome, she stared at her own reflection, her brow knitting together in relief.

“Mando?”

Shéa’s voice was hoarse and gritty, dragging against her throat like sandpaper and forcing itself from her mouth in a choked gasp. She sounded on the verge of tears, and she probably was, watching as he stirred slightly, a grumble coming from beneath the all-to-familiar helm. Her palm calm to rest gently on the crown of his head.

“Mando” Shéa repeated. The Mandalorian jerked awake.

He looked left to right and all around him, apparently pissed that someone had awoken him as he shifted his limbs stiffly with a large groan. He had been sat, hunched over, and the rough wooden floor, apparently abandoning the chair that sat idly supporting his back, and much rather preferring the closeness that the ground gave him. Had he been asleep, or just daydreaming? Shéa wasn’t even sure if he did sleep anymore.

Mando turned his head slowly and cricked his neck, apparently settling himself back down for another quick snooze- however, Shéa’s hand moved from his head to his shoulder, and he froze. His entire body went rigid, coiling up with tension as he moved slowly to stare at her, black visor meeting her weary eyes and tired expression as his chin lifted.

He said nothing, he did nothing, just stared. Like he was finally seeing her after months of separation, and maybe it had been months- Shéa had no way of knowing. It certainly felt like she had been asleep that long.

When Shéa forced a smile to her force, trembling, her lips pressing together in a thin line and her brow pulling upward, Mando finally moved. He sat up and pushed forward, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her close; so close that she almost fell off the cot she was curled up in and into his lap. He was breathing erratically beneath the helmet, his exposed hand curling into the tangles of her hair and the other splaying across her back, digits tickling her sides as he tucked her head into his neck.

Shéa breathed him in- he smelt… different. Better, cleaner? She laughed outward at the thought. Like lemongrass and apples, his usually musty scent absent as it tingled her nose. She only found herself bringing her arms up and around his shoulders, holding him close, afraid that if he let go she might crumble into a million different pieces before him. He was alive, that was the most important thing, a mantra she kept repeating in her head over and over again until it was emblazoned into her skin.

She wanted to say a thousand different things, each one so much different from the next: am I alive? Where’s the kid? Is he alright? Where’s Cara, and Karga? What happened to Moff Gideon? How did we escape? How am I alive?

Instead, Shéa settled to sucking in a last deep breath, listening to the way she could hear the Mandalorian’s pulse thrumming against her ear, so steady and gentle, a vast difference to the man she was so accustomed to. Only then did she realise he wasn’t wearing his armour and flinched back.

It must have been a trick of the eye, but no. His armour was nowhere in sight, only the metal dome of his helmet to shield his face. Had something happened to it? Shéa’s hands ran down his arms, fingertips shuddering at the way she could feel each intricate muscle and dip of his natural body- it felt crude, almost. Like he was naked. He practically was.

“Your- Your armour- where is it?” she asked, her eyes raking in every inch of his body. It was almost impossible not to “Mando where’s your armour-“

He raised a hand to cup her face, bare skin brushing over her own. It made a crimson glow creep along her neck and onto her cheeks. “It’s ok. It’s over there, I-“ he paused. “I didn’t think you were going to wake up”

Her eyes flicked back up to meet his vacant stare. “I am alive, aren’t I?”

He laughed, a breathless and airy laugh, his touch slithering from her far much sooner than she would have liked and falling to his lap. He knelt in front of her, staring at her so intently. Shéa’s lips parted slightly.

“How long?” she asked hoarsely. “How long was I asleep?”

He considered this for a moment. “A week, maybe two.”

A week?! She had been asleep for a week?! Why were they still here? The Hunters would surely be coming for the Child, and most likely Shéa too. They had to go. They had to get the hell off whatever planet he had brought them too and leave before its too late.

Shéa was already up and throwing the bed covers off her legs when Mando switched into action, stumbling back as she pushed him away and stood on shaky and wobbly legs. She stared at her feet, wiggling her toes, and began to put one step forward- and then another- and then-

“Shit!”

Shéa let out a squeal as she went tumbling to the floor, bracing herself for the crash that would surely thunder through her body on impact, but it never came. A pair of hands wrapped around her before she had a chance to inflict any real damage, hoisting her back up and against a solid chest that was surprisingly comfortable. 

“Hey” he mouthed softly in her ear, head lowering to her level. His fingers squeezed into her side so pleasantly strong. “There’s no rush”

She only whined in reply. “We need to go. We’ve been here too long, the hunters-“

Mando plopped her back down on the bed and brought the blankets up and over her legs, an effort to force her back into a state of relaxation. But she couldn’t- she had been asleep for days on end and was buzzing with so much pent up energy she thought she might combust.

“Echo,” he said firmly, the name making her writhe. How had she forgotten? She wasn’t Shéa anymore; she had shed that name many years ago, constructing a fake persona by which she had lived since she was a teenage girl. “You need to relax. Your body is… well, it’s still healing, I think”

“Healing?” she repeated, looking back at him. He nodded and carefully reached out, taking the hem of her shirt and peeling it back to reveal- shit, that was big. A large, jagged, scar stretching across her lower torso in the place that Gideon had shot her.

He poked it softly and her face contorted at the uncomfortable sensation that ached through her body. “Luckily, the droid had some Bacta, but… Omera- the woman who I brought you to- said that it was… internal? I don’t know what that means. You shouldn’t be alive”

Shéa’s eyes widened slightly. That was nice of him. “Thanks” she mused quietly.

“What I mean” he pressed, dropping her shirt and smoothing it out in a gentle caress. “Is that your… Jedi powers somehow stopped you from dying”

Oh. Oh. Had she… had she really done that? Shéa had heard of such events before- of Jedi willing their bodies into a state of hibernation, a state where they could keep themselves alive despite the outward conditions battering their physical body. It was as though she tethered her soul to the host it consumed, refusing to let go.

But the thing was, Shéa hadn’t meant to do that; in fact, she really had no idea how she had done it, or if she even had, but it was the only explanation. Mando was not one to over exaggerate, and she could vaguely remember tiptoeing on the brink of death back on Nevarro- this was… strange, to say the least. Then again, she could move things with her mind, so strange was only a natural part of her life.

“Force hibernation” she muttered quietly. Mando either didn’t hear her or didn’t care enough to press further, and Shéa found herself grateful for the few moments to think to herself. “Where are we?”

At this, Mando sat upright, wiping his palms on his pants and looking back towards the window furthest from them. “Sorgan”

“Sorgan… where we picked Cara up?”

“Yes. I know a woman here- a village, actually. I…” he trailed off and glanced back at her. “I panicked”

He panicked? Mando, the stoically cool Mandalorian who killed people for a living- who, in line with the saying, kicked ass and took names- panicked? It was absurd and drew a hearty laugh from Shéa that made him look up and chuckle with her. It was a nice sentiment to know that he was still human, even more so now than ever.

“It’ll take a lot more than a few shots from a blaster to get rid of me, Buckethead” she smiled at him. Under the helmet, she was sure he was smiling back.

“You’re a jackass, Echo”

Shéa pursed her lips and watched as he pulled himself up to sit beside her, their knees knocking together as he placed a large hand on her thigh. It sent electricity buzzing through her skin; tingling her fingertips and setting her on fire at the proximity in which he sat.

Her head turned slightly as she spoke. “Shéa”

“What-“

“My name… is Shéa,” she said, knocking her leg against his. His fingers dug into her thigh slightly. “There’s no use in hiding who I am anymore, not from you. You saw me, didn’t you?”

He took a few moments to respond, the silence filled only by his deep breathing that came out staticky through the modulator. “Yes… but I understand if you don’t-“

“If I don’t trust you?”

Mando’s words fell dead on his lips. Shéa only smiled sadly at him; only a few weeks ago, she had told him that she didn’t know if she ever could trust him, yet now here she was, practically exposing every dark part of her that he might want to reject. But for some strange reason, he didn’t.

They sat in silence for some time, saying nothing, just… existing. It was nice and placid, something Shéa missed about the early days of their relationships- his silence could say several different things, but right now? Right now it told her that he was still apprehensive.

“I know” she forced out finally, sighing. “I know it’s hard. But now you know- you know what I had to do… I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner”

“Tell me what?”

He was looking at her again now, intently, deeply, just like he always did. “That it wasn’t you that I couldn’t trust… it was myself”

Saying those three words was like lifting an entire weight off her shoulders because Shéa knew them to be true. She had been running for so long, acting as though she couldn’t trust people, but really, she was just scared of letting herself ever care about another person again- after Master Vos, losing somebody… it would destroy her.

But losing him, losing Mando? Shéa couldn’t bring herself to think about it. That was the reason she had done what she had; the reason why she had thrown herself in front of an explosion, sacrificed her own life to save him and the others and the kid- because she couldn’t lose him. Why was that so hard to admit to herself?

“Before I came to Tatooine, I lost… everything,” she told him quietly. “I lost people I cared about- people I still care about. I lost who I was, and what it meant to be… to be what I am”

“What were you meant to be?” he asked in reply, tilting his helm down toward her. Shéa closed her eyes.

“The Jedi were meant to be protectors of the peace, but- but I think that we lost that ideology long before we fell. I can’t uphold what I was conscripted to, I was just a kid who thought being special- being different- was cool. Now I realise that I can never be what my Masters were”

He hummed, nodding. “You don’t have to be like them, Shéa. You owe them nothing”

He was wrong- so wrong. She owed the Jedi everything, she owed Master Vos everything. If it wasn’t for him, she would have died a long, long, time ago.

“I do, and-“ she broke off, her throat closing around the thoughts threatening to spill. “I just didn’t expect to meet you, that’s all”

I didn’t expect to let myself care for you, that’s what she wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to. She had never, not in a million lifetimes, expected to care so deeply- so truly- for somebody who’s real identity was a mystery to her. Yet here she was, completely succumbing to him, like a book unfurling itself for the very first time.

Maybe in another life, she told herself as she gazed upon him. Mabe in another life, she could allow herself to fall in love with him, and live the domestic life she had always dream of.

“Mando-“

“I know” he breathed, and only now did Shéa realise how close they were. Somehow, he had shuffled closer, and his face was only inches from hers, their breaths mingling together in the small space they had created. Her heart thumped tremendously against her chest, and Shéa felt the sudden urge to seize him where he stood and do something… something stupid.

Did he know, though? That thought was recurrent as they gazed at each other, silent, their breaths telling the stories they couldn’t. Did he know that she cared for him? Maybe. He always had been the interpretive type.

“Thank you, Mando” Shéa murmured finally, lacing her fingers together.

“Din,” he said. “You already know it, so I see no use in pretending neither of us heard it, besides… it’s only fair, I did see you naked"

Despite that sentiment of the moment, a grin split across Shéa’s still tired face. “Shut up”

Din’s hands moved up to cup her neck, and for a fleeting moment, she thought that he might actually kiss her- through that damn bucket and all. But he just continued to look at her, tilting her head towards him, her lips only millimetres from the metal surface he adorned. She was still smiling, still laughing, still… breathing, she realised.

After all of the fighting, all of the pain and the torture and the trauma- Shéa was still here.

While wrapped up in their singular moment, neither Shéa nor Din noticed the door to the room crack open, nor the two people entering, followed by a little green monster who all but screamed in delight. The noise made Shéa jerk back and Mando jump to attention, drawing his blaster from Maker knows whereas he whipped his head around.

“You’re awake” the woman stood in the doorway greeted as the Child writhed in her arms, making grabbing motions toward Shéa who only looked on, perplexed. She was a pretty lady with hair longer than Shéa’s and tanned skin, a warm and gentle smile on her slim features as she approached the pair.

Din, realising that there was no imminent danger, allowed his shoulders to relax as he lowered his blaster and nodded to the woman. “Omera”

Omera, that was her name. Was this the woman that had saved her life?

“The Child came running when he heard voices, he is… quite taken with you,” Omera said, pausing before Shéa and lowering the kid down to her lap.

He all but tumbled out of her grip and into Shéa’s arms, snuggling into her side and… was he crying? She judged so by the way his little shoulders shook and his great big ears flapped. Her mouth pulled downward in a frown as she brushed the crook of her finger over his head and he shivered, but not out of fear, out of… relief. Who knew that such a little guy could have so many emotions?

“Omera is the one who healed you,” Din said from where he had retreated into the corner of the room, his arms folded as he shifted uncomfortably between his two feet. Shéa turned to look at Omera.

“Thank you,” she told the older woman. “If not for you-“

“There is no need to thank me. The Mandalorian told us all about your bravery”

At Omera’s words, a crimson blush illuminated Shéa’s face. Bravery? That was a bit far fetched.

When Shéa looked back up, she stared past Omera and around her, to the little girl who was lingering by the door frame, a look of starry awe on her young features. Shéa smiled warmly, giving her a small wave, and she jerked upward slightly. Omera turned and laughed.

“This is my daughter, Winta” Omera held an arm out towards the young girl, who rushed toward her mother and hugged her side. “She was quite taken with your stories of heroism and bravery. Winta?”

The little girl, Winta, shuffled forward on uneven feet and approached Shéa, burying her hand into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper. She handed it to her, and Shéa unfurled it, looking down at the images depicted across it.

Was that… was that her? Yes, it was. The childish design was almost accurate, depicting her fighting off an entire army of stormtroopers like some sort of superhero. It made her let out a laugh and a big grin, and shit, a single tear that she quickly wiped away.

“It was supposed to be a get well soon card” Winta explained, pointing to one of the smaller drawings. “That’s the baby, and that’s the Mandalorian- but he’s smaller because you’re cooler”

Shéa looked at Din, who only shook his head as if to say don’t. Fine, she’d tease him about that later.

“Thank you” Shéa whispered to the young girl, beckoning her closer. “But between you and me, Mando is the strongest hero of them all. Super scary, too- but don’t tell him I told you that, okay?”

Winta giggled and nodded, taking her drawing back as she cast the Mandalorian a shy look and dashed back to her mother, who smiled gently at her daughter and ushered her toward the door. “When you are feeling better, we would like to have you join us in the village for a meal. The other children were also taken by your stories, and are excited to meet you”

“I…” she paused, biting down on her lip. You don’t need to be afraid anymore, she reminded herself, yet something… something felt different. Not with Din, or about the people, but with her… with Shéa. She ignored the feeling and nodded. “I’d love to. Thank you… for your hospitality”

Omera shrugged her off with a wave of her hand. “Do not thank me. It is a pleasure”

And then she was gone, swinging the door shut behind her as the mother and daughter disappeared, leaving only her, The Mandalorian, and the Child alone again. She looked down at the kid and smiled, noticing how he had curled up in her arms and all but dozed off.

Din was the first to speak, sauntering over and plucking the baby from her aching arms. “You should sleep, too”

“I’ve been asleep for over a week; I think I’ll be okay.”

“Shéa” he warned, that deadly tone edging back into his voice. She rolled her eyes, knowing that there was not much point in arguing with him- by the time night fell, he would always win. Begrudgingly.

“Okay… okay”

Pulling the covers back up and over her legs she settled down, burying her face into the softness of the pillow and relishing in how… comfortable it was. Back on the Razor Crest, she had slept against the duffel she had brought with her, which mostly contained old electrical parts and a few spare shirts. But this? Oh, this was like floating on a cloud made of nothing but air.

Her eyes drooped shut almost automatically, dizziness still swirling somewhere in her head as she shuffled where she lay. Din moved around somewhere, and Shéa listened to the creak of the chair as he sat down beside her. Against her better will, she could not help but smile.

“Thank you” was all she whispered, and he said nothing. Not until she was on the brink of sleep, aware that maybe he was right, maybe she did need more sleep.

“We’re ok” he murmured, and that was it. There was nothing more, only darkness.

*

When she finally slipped asleep, and he was adamant that she would not wake again, Din carefully slipped off his helmet. It shocked him; the feeling of the cool breeze on his wet cheeks, how dangerous and safe the action felt- at any moment, Omera could walk back in- although she was prone to knocking- or Shéa could open her eyes and he would no longer be the faceless stranger she had come to know.

But he didn’t really care. Not then, at least.

Feverently, Din wiped at the tears staining his cheeks, swiping it off his palms as he rubbed at his pants. He hadn’t meant to cry, at least at first he hadn’t, but seeing her in the way she had been had struck a deep chord in his heart, triggering a waterfall that hadn’t ceased until only moments earlier. Maybe it had been by how tired she looked, or how he could actually hear the lilt of pain in her voice as she talked about losing those she loved. He knew the feeling all too well- the feeling of being completely helpless, watching those around you fall like ragdolls.

It was how he had felt that day on Nevarro, staring down at her limp body in his arms, trying to resist the urge to storm out of the damned cantina and gun down Gideon where he stood. But he hadn’t- and stars, he wished he had. It’s what the bastard deserved; both for what he had done to her, and the childhood he had stolen from the little kid currently snoozing away in his bassinet.

Din dragged a hand down his face and exhaled slowly. He had wanted to say so many things to her, but for some reason, he hadn’t been able to put them into actual- coherent- words. So instead of blubbering and sputtering in front of her, he hummed and leant back in the wooden chair.

“Before I met you” he began, rubbing at the stubble that dappled his jawline. “I felt alone- so alone. Even with the kid, cause he can’t talk- he only just… looks. I hadn’t talked to a real person in weeks. I suppose I was sad, too… not in the conventional way.

“I didn’t cry- didn’t scream. Stars, I wish I had cried. It was like this wave was washing over me, again and again. It knocked me down, and… when I tried to stand up, it just came for me again. My only escape was to shut myself off, hide beneath this helmet and hope that nobody would see me for who I truly am”

He held the splinter of Mandalorian culture up to the light and turned it in his palms, watching as the light refracted off the surface and sent beams of golden rays shooting off in every direction. It was strange to him, to think that this is all that Shéa saw; a chrome helmet, and nothing more. She must feel naked compared to me, he thought as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Exposed while I wear all this armour.

It wasn’t that he wanted to give up his life as a Mandalorian- no, he could never do that. He depended on them too much, the religion that had given him life when he was nothing else but dirt on the bottom of the Empire’s foot. But sometimes, he wished there was more to it- more than hiding, scheming… existing without a purpose or a unique identity he could call himself by. A dynasty he could craft for himself, separate from the life he had lived all these years.

When he saw Omera and Winta, and the other families in the small village, all he felt was jealousy. Once upon a time, he might’ve joined them- given everything up and settled down, long before he had killed and destroyed and hunted to give him some sort of purpose in his life. Did he have a purpose now? He wasn’t quite sure.

“When I met you in that cantina,” he said hoarsely. “I… got confused. I lied when I said that your friend- Shabba- told me where you lived” a small chuckle. “I tracked you down, somehow. I hated myself for it, I did for a long while, but I couldn’t deny the strange… feeling that I felt whenever I saw you. I guess I’ve just given in to it now”

He watched, transfixed, as Shéa moved in her sleep and rolled over, now facing the wall, and Din could do nothing but smile to himself. He was glad she was okay- glad she was alive and breathing, giving out those smiles that somehow managed to spread to everyone around her. He didn’t care about anything else; about who she was, who she had been, or even what she had done. Whatever her worst memory was, Din was determined that he could somehow magically erase it.

Cautiously, he reached out a hand and pressed it to her shoulder comfortingly. Shéa shivered under his touch and mumbled drearily.

“Sleep tight” was all he murmured as he pulled back on the helmet, attached the armour to himself like a second skin, and picked up his rifle. He didn’t want to leave her, not even for a moment, but knew that it was probably for the best. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise”

And even though Din knew she could not hear him, he knew that- deep down- she already knew.

Chapter Text

Shèa stared at the tree. In fact, she stared so intently that she was almost surprised it did not break under her glare, bark splintered from years of swaying with the gentle breeze that cascaded overhead, leaves all ruffled and silhouetted by a halo of fallen and broken twigs.

She tilted her head and sighed.

Stars, why was she even here?! For once, it was a question she could not answer.

Shèa had been in the forest for what must’ve been several hours by now, only a throwing stone from the bustling village obscured by the treeline, yet truly and utterly alone. Nobody knew she was gone; and if they did, they hadn’t bothered to come to find her, because she had been stood in the same spot for eternity, lightsaber hilt clutched in one hand and the other fist balled. The stance felt familiar, yet at the same time, all wrong.

Her thumb swiped across the switch, listening to the whir as it roared to life, and she brought it up, balancing the blade just beside the tree- not close enough to burn it, but close enough that the yellow glow rippled over the surface and cast itself over the floor. It was the simplest movement, one she had practised a million times over, yet it felt so odd. Disconnected, not flowing the way it used to.

She brought it back to her side and let out a growl of frustration.

What was wrong with her? It should be easy- to swing it and twirl it, bring it close enough to scar the tree but not slice through it completely. To let the Force flow through her like water sliding over wet stones, a waterfall dripping into an open river, but as she flipped the weapon in her hand and listened to the buzz of the blade, her entire body cringed away.

Defeated, Shèa cast the lightsaber to the forest floor and took her refuge on a nearby rock.

Great, she thought solemnly, glowering at a purple flower some feet away. First, you almost get yourself blown up, and now you can’t even use the lightsaber you made. Way to go, asshat.

Looking down at her hands, she noticed the way they trembled- not out of fear, or terror, but just… trembled. Her fingers jittered slightly, an action she had only noticed some days ago when Mando had told her about Kuiil’s death… yeah, that was probably it. Kuiil was dead, how could she forget?

Shèa had felt almost empty when Din had told her, the knowledge hitting her almost harder than the explosion on Nevarro had. Here she had been, basking in the somewhat peace of Sorgan’s hospitality, while Kuiil had been dead. Dead. Shèa felt like a complete failure.

Kuiil had been the only person in the Universe who had known who she was, what she was, and he had never questioned her about it for a single moment. He just let her exist as she was, without much argument, without as much scepticism as Cara had given her when Moff Gideon had revealed her true identity those weeks ago. Weeks. He had been dead for weeks.

And all for what? Gideon was dead, so she supposed there was that, yet for some reason, Shèa didn’t feel satisfied. It was a cruel thought, to want revenge for a being she had known for little more than a few days, but late at night, when Din was not looking and she was pretending to be asleep, she found herself yearning for it. So badly to the point that she had wanted to throw on her clothes, take the Crest, and seek out the rest of the Stormtroopers who were left in the aftermath.

Kuiil was dead because of her- or, at least, that’s what Shèa thought as she pressed her head into her hands and closed her eyes. If Shèa had only told the others the truth earlier, maybe she could have protected Kuiil.

Din had wanted her to stay with Kuiil and IG-11 on the ship, where it was meant to be safe; but no, Shèa had insisted. She had begged and fought and pleaded, but if she hadn’t gone, if she had stayed with Kuiil, he would be alive and breathing. Because of her own stubbornness, he was now buried beneath a pile of stones somewhere on Nevarro, nothing more than a speck to the remnants of the Empire that still took it upon themselves to prowl the outer edges of the Galaxy.

For the first time in a long while, Shèa didn’t want to do anything.

She didn’t want to run or fight, or to do something worthwhile- to do a task or a chore that actually meant something. Her heart was filled with an impending sense of hopelessness. Endless nothingness, stretching out for as far as the eye could see; like a desert, except much drier, and much more depressing.

Shèa hadn’t felt that way since Master Vos had died, and probably for good reason. He had also died because of her- protecting her, sacrificing his life only to be cut down mercilessly by a friend turned foe. Back then, Shèa had been a fragile and naïve child, so hellbent on surviving that she hadn’t taken a moment’s notice to consider what she could have done differently.

Fight. It always came down to that. She should have fought and screamed and cried, given her own life just like she had for Din- why had Vos and Kuiil been different? Why had she thrown herself in front of a stranger, a criminal, yet not the two people in the entire Universe who truly knew her?

“You’re a coward” Shèa muttered, smacking her fist against her leg. Her shoulders sagged. “A fucking coward”

A growl of annoyance left her throat as Shèa leapt to her feet, stalking towards the thick trunk of the tree and extending her palm outwards. The hilt of her lightsaber shot into her palm so suddenly, so violently, that it sent her careening to the left. But she did not care.

Anger coursed through her body as the buzzing beam of white-hot energy burst to life, roaring in her ears as she gripped it with both hands and brought it down in a crescendo of light above her head. Her muscles ached, her body groaned for her to just stop as the wound on her stomach stretched and cried, but she did not care.

Fizzling sprung from the bark of the tree as the lightsaber split it open, the leaves overhead rustling as a long gash appeared in the sturdy wood. She was practically gutting it, teeth bared as she yanked it out and brought it across this time in a sweep.

Shèa remained like that for a while, just… attacking.

Coils of frustration and anger and guilt spilt from her as she let out cries, tears bubbling in her eyes as she hit the tree again- and again- and again, the surface glowing with heat. Her strikes were not deep enough to cut it down cleanly, but enough to mar and scar it, leaving it with permanent marks that looked so much like the ones that adorned her own body.

One swipe for Master Vos. One swipe for Kuiil. A dozen more for the Jedi, for her friends- for every damned life that the Empire took.

Shèa didn’t even realise she was screaming until she heard the soft thump of her lightsaber hilt land softly by her feet, rolling away into the undergrowth as her knees buckled from beneath her and sharp shocks ran up her legs. Her fingers curled into the dry ground beneath her hands, grabbing- clutching- for anything that could ground her, that could bring her some sense of faith, of hope… but there was nothing.

An endless nothingness was stretching out around her, suffocating her until she couldn’t breathe and she was gasping for air. Her chest heaved heavily and her throat was hoarse from the animalistic cry ripping from it, joints aching with the effort of holding her body so rigidly. She was sure that somebody from the village would hear, but there was nothing, her voice drowned out by the laughter and the peace of the villagers some fifty metres away.

She deserved the pain, Shèa reminded herself as her heart thundered and her stomach clenched. I deserve this, this heavy burden of pain. To live with it for the rest of a painful existence.

Tears were dribbling down her face, a mixture of sweat and salty water accumulating on her cheeks as she reeled back and turned her face skyward. Far above her, beyond the thick overhang of green leaves and intertwined branches, was a baby blue sky, reaching up for aeons until it disappeared into the void beyond.

Oh, how Shèa wished she was a part of that void now. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so much- feeling nothing. Just existing as a small particle among trillions.

“Shèa”

Her head whipped around, tear-blurred eyes searching the darkness of the trees that surrounded the small clearing she had taken refuge in. It was a whisper, a breath carried on the gentle breeze that swooped down and over her head… a voice though, nonetheless, concealed by the darkness.

Surely it was just a trick of her imagination- and that she was probably going crazy- Shèa pulled herself to her feet on trembling legs, reaching down agonisingly slowly to retrieve her weapon. But as she moved to hook it over her belt, she heard it again.

“Shèa”

Once more, the blade burst to life, and she held it close by her side. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

It was as though the darkness that surrounded her all but engulfed her voice, the stretched tone dissipating into nothing as she searched the trees, trying to seek out who was there. Was it Din? No, it couldn’t be, this voice was aloft, almost ethereal in the way it slid over the treetops.

Shèa called out again: “Omera? Is that you?”

Still, there was no answer, and a sense of dread and peaking curiosity curled toward Shèa. Was it her mind playing tricks on her? There was only one way to find out.

She cast a look over her shoulder back towards where the village was, the sound of children laughing still carrying itself through the dense forestry. She knew her way back, at least she did as long as she kept the sun on her left shoulder, and Shèa wouldn’t go that far- only far enough to determine whether or not there was actually somebody lurking just beyond the ringlets of sunlight spilling onto the floor.

Besides, she reminded herself as she started forward, lightsaber held high and her hand shaking at her side, she could always scream.

Her feet were light as she darted along the forest floor, ducking and weaving between tree trunks, the crown of her head skimming against the lowest hanging branches. Shèa had to squint against the ever-growing darkness, which seemed to grow even denser with each step she took, and the receding sound of bubbling chatter as she drew farther from the village was almost like a melody to her ears- for the first time in weeks, she was truly alone.

It wasn’t that Shèa hated being on Sorgan, in fact, she almost loved it more than she had growing up in the Jedi Temple back on Coruscant. It was peaceful and warm, the only squabbles being that of the children arguing who was it in their game of tag. Compared to how life had been the past few months, it was like a vacation both her and Din needed, though he still refused to admit it.

Knowing that Shèa could get around now without tumbling over, he had taken to leave for extended periods of time, mostly with the excuse that he would rather make his way for their accommodation rather than live off the villager’s hard work. A part of Shèa envied him for it, yet another part of her yearned whenever he was gone, staying up as late as possible, looking out into the forest for that familiar glint of Beskar.

To put it simply, she missed him. Sure, he was only hunting- or dealing with the local pieces of shit- but stars, she missed him. Missed the way he grunted whenever she told an awful joke, or the way his shoulders tightened whenever she said his real name… it made her smile, knowing that just like her, he was still getting used to the sound.

But obviously, she missed him the most because he wasn’t around to keep his devil-spawn of a force-sensitive kid in check. Obviously.

Hopping over a fallen log, Shèa extended a bloodied hand out as she skidded down a steep incline, her already tattered boots scuffing against stones and twigs hidden beneath the blanket of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. It was much darker here, darker than she had ever imagined it to be, the sunlight only piercing the veil overhead in thin slats that reflected off tree trunks as though they were mirrors.

She had to feel her way through, emerging into a tiny clearing that stood on a sheer drop. Shèa didn’t have the nerves to edge toward it, but her eyes narrowed, focusing on a small spot at the very last tree, which partially hung over the cliff edge.

A figure was stood there- well, the shadow of one, at least. Half concealed by the base of the tree, it was dark and blurred, slender fingers stood stationary and tendrils of hair billowing. It called out to her, raspy and light.

“Shèa”

Shèa said nothing. She just stood there, staring at it, her heart thrumming in her chest. This had to be a trick now- it had to be. A trick of the light- yes, it was just a trick of the light.

Her voice was dead in her throat as the lightsaber hung limply by her side, the blade dying as she clipped to her belt and took another step forward. By now, the throbbing ache in her fists had ebbed away, now replaced by a numb feeling.

She reached out, but a hand clamped around her wrist, pulling her to turn. Shèa reacted instinctively.

Her other arm snapped up, hand curling to drive into the face of the perpetrator, but she was stopped. Her opponent's hand encircled her wrist, holding her still, as Shèa brought up her knee to slam into their groin.

As her leg connected with something hard she heard a grunt, and then a foot was hooking around her own, pulling her toward them and sending both tumbling to the ground in a mess of flailing and kicking limbs.

She was still struggling, kicking out her legs as they rolled across leaves and twigs and stones, the sunlight glaring into her eyes until finally, they came to a stop. It was as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and Shèa was left panting, prying her eyes open to stare up at her attacker.

Her mouth fell into an oh.

Above her, Din huffed in exasperation. “You need to work on your anger issues”

Oh, shit- had she… had she kicked him in the dick? She had. Oh no. Nervously, Shèa forced a sheepish smile to her face, the shadowy figure long forgotten.

“I thought you were somebody else”

Din was between her legs, large hands pinning her wrists above her head as she wriggled around on the hard, dirt, floor. Shèa had never really realised how strong he had been up until that point, the sheer mass of his body pressing down onto her, making her nothing but weak and writhing. Sure, she had been this close to him before, but not this close. And especially not in a position such as that one.

“Thank you, for almost punching me” he huffed as Shèa screwed her face up, tilting her head back so that she could glare through the slit of his visor. “You’re not as scary as you- shit!”

With a short laugh, Shèa wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed back. It must have taken him by surprise, thighs squeezing around his torso as she flipped them over and climbed onto his stomach, settling there as his head knocked back against a mound of mud.

This was different.

Din looked almost vulnerable as Shèa’s hands shifted to grip his own wrists, pushing him back down as he fought to sit up. It was clear to tell that he didn’t like this; he hated it. Even more so when a wide grin broke out across her face, the only one she had shown all day.

“Not scary, huh? How do I look now?”

He considered her for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “Like a child”

Shèa’s face was one of pure offence, clambering off him and swiping the accumulated leaves and flecks of dirt off her pants as Mando pulled himself to sit up. His cycler rifle was still slung across his shoulder, Beskar marked with lines of muck from traversing the dense forestry that covered most of Sorgan’s surface.

Begrudgingly, Shèa moved to extend a hand out to him, to help him up. Din seemed to be fine on his own though, stumbling around to regain balance as he straightened up and she pulled her hand back toward herself.

“What are you doing out here?” Din asked though Shèa heeded him no attention. She was too busy turning back toward the cliff edge, searching the tree line for that shrouded figure she had seen stood there.

The figure was gone. The shadowy outline, the alluring voice- gone with a whip of the wind. But where? Shèa had been so sure it was real, the prickling of her arms creeping back down her spine. She was still staring at the sheer drop as Din cleared his throat again.

Gently, Din touched her shoulder, and she cast a look back at him. “You alright?”

Blinking, she nodded. “Yeah, I was just… I thought I saw something, that’s all. You’re not supposed to be back for another day”

Din shrugged. “There isn’t much out here, and work is scarce. So I thought I should come back to… check on the kid”

Shèa nodded, shifting her weight between her feet as she pressed her lips into a thin line. Why did she feel so awkward? She knew she shouldn’t- she knew Din, better than anybody did, yet it was as though there was still this barrier between them, separating them like clothes might a person from exposed elements.

“You shouldn’t be out here, you know. You’re still-“

“Healing” she sighed. “I know”

What had Shèa expected? Even despite his distance from her, he still acted like her own, personal, guard. Make sure to rest, don’t do any strenuous exercise; whatever that meant. Shèa knew she shouldn’t have been in the forest in the first place, especially not training, but for all she knew, he would be gone for another day.

“Come on. We should go back before it gets dark”

He gestured back in the direction of the village, so she turned and started forward, slowing her pace so that he could catch up. Eventually, they fell into a relatively slow pace as they picked their way through the undergrowth.

Neither of them said anything, too focused on climbing over fallen trees or squeezing through the gaps where two had grown too close together. Compared to the clearing Shèa had been in earlier, it was thick here, wild and unruly, something she hadn’t noticed when rushing through it before.

There was a certain tranquillity to the madness, the way that nature had threaded through the earth, reclaiming it as its own. Perhaps that was what called Shèa out to the cliff edge, the planet itself. It would make sense, obviously; after all, the Force connected every living thing, so was it so absurd that the local fauna would call to her in a way that another person also would.

Din spoke up as they treaded up a gentle slope, hanging off a tree branch so that he didn’t skid back to the bottom. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but I haven’t had the time yet”

For the first time in days, they finally had something in common. It seemed as though every time the two of them tried to have a private moment together, somebody was there- whether that be Omera or Winta, or the kid, or one of the other village children asking Shèa to come play games with them. She didn’t mind the begging all that much, but after that moment she had shared with him after awakening… something had changed between them, she knew it by the tension that hung in the air whenever they were close.

“Oh?” her brow quirked up as she lingered by a tree, offering him a hand that he waved off. “What about?”

He exhaled as they resumed their hike. “About us. Our arrangement”

The words that fell from his mouth made her falter in her step, staring at him with knitted eyebrows as he stopped to look back at her. Their arrangement? Of course- how could she have forgotten? The sole purpose as to why she was here, on Sorgan, and not back on Tatooine with Shabba.

Their first meeting felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few, short, months. Shèa was with Din to work, to work for him by scrambling tracking fobs. In return, she got to travel, to see new things, and to leave him at any given moment.

“What- What about it?” she asked, throat slightly dry as her heart twisted. He gave her a limp shrugged and continued forward, leaving her to scramble to keep up.

“The Child no longer has a bounty, I ensured it when I left Karga on Nevarro. Our agreement was that you would scramble the fobs looking for him, but now that there are none-“ he paused. “I believe our contracted terms have come to an end. So… where would you like to go?”

Shèa hadn’t really thought about it, not even once. She had always thought that she would just decide when that time eventually came, or perhaps she’d just go back to Tatooine and to working in the cantina, living out her days with the same endless routine. But now… now she was clueless. Where did she want to go?

Going back to Tatooine just felt wrong, like she didn’t belong there anymore; and maybe she never had. Shèa had once thought that Tatooine was somewhat her home, but the truth was, it never could have been. Naboo was meant to be her home, and so was Coruscant, Zeffo, Al’doleem…but the only home where Shèa had felt like she truly belonged? It was with him.

“You’ve done more than originally asked of you. I never meant for you to get involved in… all of this” Din continued, the sunlight now beginning to slide through the treetops reflecting off the crown of his helmet. Shèa followed him mindlessly, head reeling with thought. “I understand if you want a peaceful life, away from all of this. If you want to go, just tell me. I will take you there”

Her mouth opened, and for a second, no words came out. “What if I want to stay?”

He stopped abruptly and turned, staring straight through her, like he was trying to figure out how mentally deranged she truly was. Shèa gave him a crooked smile.

“You want to stay? Here? On Sorgan?”

She shook her head. “I can’t go back to Tatooine, and there’s nowhere else I’ll feel safe. The kid, if he’s like me… it would be like leaving my own family”

“So you- you want to stay? With me?” he seemed confused, stepping toward her as his shoulders pulled back tightly. “I don’t want to-“

“I want to stay. You…” a deep breath, and she sank onto a toppled log, looking up at him. “You never asked about that day. The one that Cara talked about- the reason I had to hide. You never asked, like you already knew, and I’m thankful for that. I’d rather spend the rest of my life with somebody who just accepts me for existing, rather than people who want to know every aspect of who I was, and who I am now”

He sat down beside her, far enough away that they did not touch, but close enough that Shèa could still feel his presence. The day the Jedi fell was not one she thought about often, in fact, it was one she had tried to forget about altogether. But after Gideon, and learning that the Child was like her- it opened up so many wounds that had been hidden for years.

Did she want to talk about it? To relive it? Stars, she didn’t know. But Din’s presence was like a comforting omen, pulling the words from her without so much as a breath of a question because he knew. He knew what it was like to lose everything in one fell swoop… or at least she assumed he did.

“I don’t want you to get hurt again” Din murmured, drawing Shèa’s eyes to him. He… wanted to protect her? “You could have died on Nevarro-“

“But I didn’t” she replied shortly.

“I know” he sighed. “I know, but you could have. My life- the one that I live, it’s dangerous. More dangerous than I thought it would ever be. And now with-“

“With what?”

Din paused slightly, obviously internally scolding himself for slipping up. She leant forward, urging him.

“When you were unconscious, on Nevarro, we found a Mandalorian. She… she told me that the Child is my ward, and as a Mandalorian, I have a duty to return him to his own kind”

His own kind? Did he mean the Jedi? But they were all dead, at least they were, as far as Shèa knew. She had not heard of whispers of secret convents, or lone masters remaining. They were all gone.

“The Child has powers he cannot control, he needs to learn. I didn’t think you would stay, after all that happened” Din said, looking at her.

“I…” Shèa shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Was she a Jedi? Technically, she should have been… could have been if she hadn’t fallen down a path of neglecting her roots. When it came down to it, Shèa didn’t know the first thing about what it meant to be a Jedi anymore. “I can’t train him”

His shoulders fell dejectedly, as though his last hope had just crumbled before his very eyes. It made her heart sink, reaching out for him and placing a hand over his pauldron.

“I’m sorry, Din”

“Don’t be” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have expected you to. It’s okay, I’ll take you back to Tatooine, you can-“

“No” she interrupted, shuffling closer. “I want to, I really do. But even I don’t know how to control the gift I have, my training was never finished. For me to train him… it could lead down a dark path the Child would never be able to return from”

Sitting up, Din inclined his head, an indicator that he wanted her to elaborate. But Shèa would not. Tell him of the tales of the Sith? Their darkness, their reign of terror? It would shake him to the core to imagine the little innocent baby turning out that way.

Her job was done though, she knew he was right. Shèa knew though, deep down, there was still so much more for her to do.

“But I can help you find another Jedi, wherever they may be. We’ll find one, I promise” she told him. “Where do we start?”

“The Armourer informed me that I must find other Mandalorians to help me in my quest, but the thing is, I don’t know of any other convents to seek out,” he told her, sitting straighter now. “We could start on Correlia, I suppose… but it’s a cesspit”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Shèa stood and paced the small clearing, drumming her fingers against her chin. A Mandalorian? She had never seen another so unconcealed as Din was, in fact, she had only seen them in holos and through drawings depicted by young children.

The obvious choice would be to start somewhere with a large population, somewhere where word travelled quickly.

As Din watched she stopped short and turned to him, smiling.

“We start at the centre of everything.” She said. “Coruscant”

*

“You’re leaving? But you still need to rest!”

The sun had long since set on Sorgan, the brilliant moonlight casting a twilight glow over the rooftops of the suburban village. The pools of water twinkled with the reflection of a million stars, and torchlight bathed the small village square where a swirling campfire illuminated the night. Around it, children danced and played, their parents chatting idly, and in their small corner of the clearing, Shèa looked up at Omera with a sheepish smile.

Beside her, Din’s shoulder’s sagged. Their bags were already packed, with enough rations to last them the long hyperspace journey to the inner core worlds, and Shèa knew that whatever Omera said, he would not succumb to it. But Omera was persistent- naggingly, persistent.

Much like Din, she still thought that Shèa needed rest; even though her wounds were now nothing more than pink scarring, and she felt somewhat okay, spare the odd numb ache that spread through her shoulder whenever she raised it too high above her head. Shèa liked Omera- she was kind, too kind for somebody living in the Galaxy that they did- and had this sort of aura that surrounded her, so warm and comforting that Shèa wanted to delve deeper inside of it.

But she was also stubborn.

Crossing her arms, she tsked and shot Din a glower. “I don’t agree with this at all. What if she gets another fever-like she did last time? You don’t know how to cure it”

The Mandalorian made a sort of gesture that made him look extremely offended, though Shèa knew Omera’s words to be true. Din was good with his hands- he was a good fighter, a good listener, a good strategist. He was smart, too, and knew many more languages than she ever dreamed of. But when it came down to the caressing gentleness of healing? He was clueless.

“I’ve looked after her before” he grumbled.

“With Bacta. It may be a universal cure, but it can’t solve anything”

He huffed. “You just said it was universal care-“

“I think what he means, Omera” Shèa interjected, inclining her head to look past the mother-of-one and at the small dance that had begun some feet away. “Is that we’ve overstayed our welcome. It wouldn’t be fair to take any more of your supplies, especially when I haven’t been paying my way”

The deep strum of a hallikset filled the air as Omera pressed her lips into a thin line, considering this for a few moments. Finally, she nodded and turned her head over her shoulder to look at Winta, who was currently entranced in a dance with one of the other children.

“Will you at least stay the night?” she asked. “Winta would be heartbroken if she didn’t get to say goodbye”

“We really should-“

“Of course” Shèa cut Din off, shooting him a look. Coruscant wasn’t exactly going anywhere, and if they were going to find a secret convent of Mandalorians, they would be there. So what was one more night? One more night of fun and peace before they were thrust once more into the dangers of transversing the open expanse of the galaxy.

With a grateful smile, Omera turned and disappeared somewhere into the ground, following the hollering of her name as Din set his hands on his hips and glared at Shèa. At first, she didn’t pay him any attention, instead grinning as she watched the villagers dance and swing each other around, caught up in jovial matrimony with one another.

Shèa hadn’t heard the steady beat of a hallikset since she had been a child, the strings slipping against the pad of one’s thumb a soft melody to her ear as she tapped her foot along to the beat. Somebody was singing, but she couldn’t make out the words, yet they brought calm to her heart. She wasn’t one to dance- no… but maybe for one night, she could let loose? Stars, she hadn’t used that expression in a while.

“Shèa” Din finally snapped and she looked up. “We really should go now, before sunrise- what if-“

Rolling her eyes she pushed herself off the bench she sat perched on and approached him, folding her arms as she craned her head back. He ducked his head to meet her gaze, his fingers wriggling at his sides.

“It’s one night, Din. The kids already knocked out, and there’s no point in waking him now, he’ll only cry and scream- they’ll still be there, I promise”

He mumbled. “And if they’re not?”

“Then… you have exclusive permission to say I told you so”

With a gentle smile, Shèa cast a glance over at the dancing villagers. Would he… no. That was too insane to think- he would never ask her to dance. In fact, dancing was probably against his cree, right? Had to be. Mandalorian’s didn’t dance. But when she looked back at him, he was staring at her, the firelight gleaming in the curve of his helmet.

“Do you… want to-“

“Hey” a smooth voice slipped in, and both Shèa and Din turned to see a young man stood between them, white teeth twinkling with a brilliant smile.

The young man was rather handsome, with a head of black curls and dark skin that glowed in the refracted fire that shone across to where they stood. His eyes were deep and warm, and he extended an open hand out to Shèa, who stared at him in confusion.

“Hi” she breathed. Din said nothing, only shifting uncomfortably as he took a firm step back. “Everything okay?”

“Sure is” he grinned again. “I came over to ask if you would like to dance- that is if it's okay with your boyfriend”

“He’s not my-“

“We’re not-“

Din and Shèa exchanged glances and she felt a crimson blush creep onto her face. The man cleared his throat again.

“Perfect. Well, do you? I promise I won’t step on your feet”

Dance? With a stranger? Of course, she wanted to, who wouldn’t?

“I’d love to,” Shèa said, placing her small hand into the open palm of her new companion and gripping it firmly.

Without a second look back at Din, who had skulked off to a quiet area, she allowed the young man to tug her toward the campfire, his hand soft again her bruised and knarled hands. As they neared the villagers, the music grew louder, feet thundering as they moved quickly. It was as the man pulled her close, one hand settling on her waist and the other still grasping her hand, that she realised she didn’t exactly know how to dance.

Back on Tatooine, people hadn’t really danced, and if it had, it had been drunken and slurred, all stumbling without any real rhythm. But the villagers on Sorgan were retracing steps they seemed to have memorised, twirling around one another, clapping along as they laughed toward the open sky.

Her eyes widened as her partner began to move them in a circle, slowly at once, then faster, and Shèa had to bounce on the tips of her toes to keep up. She let out a sharp laugh, not nervously, but out of thrill.

“What?” he asked over the loud music. “Am I not good, my lady?”

Shèa laughed again. “I don’t actually know how to dance- not like this”

They slowed to a stop and he stared at her curiously, brushing curls of hair behind her ear and tucking them there. The sensation sent shivers along her arms, so soft and casual, but so tender. Intimate, just like the way Din had touched her once.

But in that moment she didn’t care about Din, he was sulking somewhere, probably going over the route to Coruscant the next day. The boy in front of her was free and happy, everything Shèa had always wanted to be.

“Really?” he mused, still holding her in that same position. “Well, you’re a natural. But if you want a tip- just jump and spin, nobody’ll notice”

He winked at her, and Shèa’s face grew warmer. “O-Okay”

“Here, I’ll show you”

His hand curled tighter into the dip of her waist, tugging her closer so that their chests were flush against one another, and then he began to guide her.

She followed his steps- forward once, then to the side, then back, then forward. It was slow and methodic at first, but as she fell into the rhythm of the intoxicating harmony, it became easier, faster, until they had met that same pace again. The pair worked in harmony, much like Shèa and Din had when winding their way through the forest, silent yet completely understanding each other.

Her hair spun out like a halo around her, concentrated face turning into a wide smile up at the young man as they twisted their way through the throng of villagers, jumping and laughing together, the people around them clapping on encouragingly. For the first time in her life, Shèa felt a feeling other than impending worry at what lay in wait for her.

Before, she had thought she knew what freedom meant. To go anywhere, to see anything, but this… this was free. Free to do something without a care, without what other people thought, so caught up in the moment that for a while she forgot that she was a Jedi, she forgot about Kuiil and Vos, about that day all those years ago.

In that moment, she was just like any other girl, dancing with a boy who thought she was pretty. Pretty… suddenly, she didn’t mind that word so much.

As Shèa looked up at the young man, who was staring down at her, she imagined a different face. One that was blurred over, mysterious, yet all so familiar. Originally, she hadn’t cared about Din, but now she realised it was imagining this boy to be him- that he was the one she was dancing with, he was the one holding her tight against him and laughing so gently into her ear, head bowing into the crook of her neck. She wanted the boy in front of her to be him. But why?

She wanted every experience, whether new or old… the melody wound its way into her heart as a strange feeling, one so tight yet so liberating as her eyes glossed over and she blinked up at the young man. She wanted it to be with Din.

*

“Not joining in on the festivities?” A soft voice called out, causing Din to look up from where he had been leant against the side of a house. The dull throb of music came like filtered mechanics through his helmet as he stared at the small woman approaching him, a sleeping child in her arms and her hair slightly ruffled. “You look angry”

“Do I look like the type to dance?” he huffed out, rolling his eyes beneath his mask. Dancing- what a stupid concept. So boisterous and loud, too loud for him. If Din was going to dance it would be slow and tranquil; not that he would dance. Ever.

Omera hummed to herself as she stood beside him, bouncing her small daughter in her arms as they both looked out across to the campfire some twenty feet away. He could see the flames licking at the sky from here, couples joined by the arm, and his eyes sought her out almost immediately, his stomach falling as he saw the way her face lit up, and the boy who held her so closely.

Din had seen Shèa happy before, obviously, but never this happy. Unlike him, she looked like she belonged on Sorgan. Maybe that’s why he felt jealousy curdling at his heart.

“She’s pretty,” Omera said.

“Yeah, she is” the words slipped out of his mouth carelessly and he stood straighter, shaking his head. “For a- for a person, I mean. I’ve seen prettier women”

Omera laughed softly and stroked a hand over Winta’s hair, giving him a knowing look. “You’re lucky she’s just as oblivious as you are. Go ask her to dance”

“No”

“Why not?”

Din paused. Well… well because he was a Mandalorian, and he didn’t dance. He didn’t want to dance. At all. Never, in a million cycles.

Sighing, he leaned back and folded his arms. “She’s already with her new friend- whatever his name is. She’s happy”

“You mean Pierre? Oh, he’s just a flirt, that’s all. He means no harm” Omera assured him, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But he’s not an idiot for coming to his senses”

“She wouldn’t dance with me anyway”

Omera shrugged and adjusted her hold on Winta, shifting her so that the young girl was cradled in her arms. Din didn’t know how she did it; for such a small woman, she had a mighty strength about her, like her arms never grew tired from the weights she heaved about. Whereas Din? Well, he still wasn’t used to holding the child for prolonged periods.

“Do you want to know why she danced with him, and not with you?”

Din shook his head. “No” he paused for a moment. “But, hypothetically, if I did-“

“It’s because he actually asked her”

Ask her? That’s all he had to do? No, that was absurd. Shèa had made it abundantly clear that she viewed him as nothing more than a Buckethead… even if the pet name did make him grin like a teenage boy under his helmet. No, what was he thinking- he hated that name. Yes, hated it. He was Mando, or Din. Not Buckethead, or shiny, or… or…

“I can’t” he mouthed dejectedly, tearing his gaze from where Shèa had been resting her head against Pierre’s shoulder and dropping to his feet. “I can’t stop her from being happy”

“You already are. Goodnight, Mandalorian”

With a small wave, Omera turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Din to stare aimlessly after her.

He already was? How? Was it because she was joining him, instead of returning home to Tatooine? It couldn’t be, she was the one who insisted that she wanted to join him. Omera didn’t think- no! Shèa didn’t care for him, she couldn’t. In the short time, he had discovered her true identity, he had done his research, just like any other person would. The Jedi couldn’t form attachments, it was forbidden, so why would Omera suggest such a thing?

“Dank Farrik, pull yourself together” he gritted out, rubbing the bridge of his chrome helmet. Now wasn’t the time to obsess over a girl that he had a childish crush on. He had a job to do, one that he had to complete by the decree of his creed.

But, maybe if something did happen with her along the way, he wouldn’t be too mad… who would be?

Chapter Text

“Alright, repeat after me. Mah nambo Shéah”

She screwed up her face, glowering at the thin visor in front of her with intense concentration, her tongue twisting around the foreign words.

“Mah nambo Shéa”

The Mandalorian sighed and sat back, cocking his head at her, but she only huffed in defeat. This was futile; they had been at it for days, going back and forth, yet nothing that came from her lips sounded right, the dialect so much gruffer than the Galactic Basic she had grown up speaking fluently.

“You’ve almost got it” he reassured her with a shrug. “It’s not easy”.

Shéa gave him a look, one that screamed don’t chide me. “It’s so stupid. I hate it”

“Come on, try this one. Jee nrom bu soocha Tatooine, jee thirtee keeta”

Pressing her lips into a thin line she sat up straighter, rubbing her clammy palms on her pant leg as she nodded. She had this, it was just a stupid sentence, one that sounded familiar but foreign at the same time. Shéa had grown up listening to the twisted snarl of Huttese, yet she had never been able to master it- perhaps because of the way it fell dead on her tongue, or how it felt so jagged, like sharp rocks spitting bullets from her mouth.

Din held out a hand, urging her, and she sucked in a breath.

“Jee nrom bu soocha Tatooine… jee thirtee… keeta?”

Beneath the helmet he made a small noise of indignation, eliciting a grin from her. “Not bad, for a Lady of the Mid Rim”

It took everything Shéa had to refrain from rolling her eyes, swinging her legs over the crate she sat perched on and standing on dead legs. The hull was quiet and dark spare their humble conversation, the only light being the thin strip spilling from the fresher and dappling across the floor in flickering rays, and somewhere in the dark, the Child was snoozing happily.

How long had it been now? A full cycle, almost, trapped in the confines of Hyperspace, hurtling toward the very centre of the Galaxy itself; Coruscant. Shéa had almost forgotten how long the journey took, millions of lightyears stretching out around them like intricately woven thread, solar systems and planets flashing by in slipstream of blurred stars. The first few days had dragged, but as time slinked along, Shéa supposed she got used to the isolation. It gave her time to think.

In those first few days of restlessness, Din had kept mostly to himself, yet as they neared the end of their voyage he seemed to have ventured down from the cold walls of the cockpit to tease her, to wind her up with snarky remarks that otherwise would have gone unnoticed. He was nowhere and everywhere, in every nook and cranny that she tried to retreat to, and Shéa couldn’t remember the last time she had slept for longer than a few hours.

Maybe it was the loneliness that had made him so forward, she didn’t know, but what she did know is that she wanted space. And a shower, that would be nice too.

“Where’re you going?” He called out to her as she wandered over to the fresher, wrenching the door open wider and letting fluorescent light spill into the darkness, washing over her face so brightly that she forced herself to squint. “Giving up already?”

Stooping over the small washbasin, her hands made nifty work in turning on the faucet, smacking it when no cool, filtered, water came pooling out. Great. Absolutely wonderful.

“I haven’t had a shower in days, so my apologies if I’m not the perkiest of girls in the Galaxy” she grumbled in reply, switching it back off and glancing over at him. He was still sat hunched on his crate, yet he had swivelled to face her, his hands clasped before him. “How long till we arrive on Coruscant?”

He looked down at the vambrace clasped around his forearm and swiped his thumb over the surface. “Not long. We should be dropping out of Hyperspace soon”

“Thank the stars”

Gathering her hair in one hand, Shéa pulled it back and atop her head, pulling it out of her eyes and securing it there tightly. It was dirty and greasy thanks to a lack of freshwater, and honestly, Shéa felt gross too. All she wanted to do was slip into a bubbling warm bath- like the kind she saw women relaxing in on the holo net- and let the Galaxy dissipate around her.

Maybe there would be baths on Coruscant. There had to be, right?

Smoothing back the frizzy hairs that sprung free from the hair ties hold, she turned, only to see Din stood in the doorway, staring at her.

It took her aback slightly, so much so that she instinctively stepped away, her back pressing up against the washbasin behind her. Cheeks flushing red, she inclined her head up toward him.

Another thing that Din had taken upon himself to do was becoming increasingly closer to her, and Shéa had no idea why. Before, he had been sparse in his affections; the odd touch, the odd lingering glance that didn’t really say anything, yet everything all at once. And then on Sorgan, when she had awoken, and he held her so close, so tenderly… her heart leapt as she thought about that moment.

It would be stupid to deny that his touch hadn’t made her feel something. It sent her skin ablaze, igniting the nerves along her muscles that fidgeted to bolt every second he spent close. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once, pulling her deeper, closer than she wanted to be, but stars if she couldn’t resist the plunge awaiting her at the bottom.

“Your hair,” he said finally, reaching out a hand and brushing a stray piece away from her eyes and behind her ear. “I’ve never seen you with it…”

“Up? I know, I hate it”

Turning on her heel, Shéa stared at her reflection in the small mirror suspended above the sink, and watched as the corners of her mouth pulled downward. Ever since she had been in her early teens, she had hated the shape of her face- her jaw was defined, but soft at the same time, the crown of her head rounded and just weird. Like an egg… sort of.

“You look nice”

Her eyes flicked up to meet the steady gaze of his visor and the redness of her cheeks only glowed brighter. Nice? He thought she looked… nice? That meant pretty, right? It had to.

Oh, stars, what was she doing? Stood here, thoughts running wild like a lovesick schoolgirl, blushing madly and all but giggling in his presence. It was embarrassing.

Clearing her throat, she gave him a stiff smile. “Thanks?"

At that moment, a rhythmic beeping echoed down from the cockpit, and he disappeared. Like a wind of relief, she let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and followed after him.

Her mind was still reeling with his statement as she grasped the rungs of the ladder, pulling herself up and into the cockpit and sliding herself through the crack of the door. The cockpit was dark and bathed in a white glow that seemingly emanated from the stars themselves like the Galaxy was calling out to the little shuttle hurtling through the folds of space and time. So wide and open, so… free, reflecting in the wide eyes of the child, who had all but apparated out of nowhere, tugging on her pant leg.

Stooping down, she hooked her hands under his armpits and pulled him up, settling the little monster on her hip and poking the wrinkles of his forehead. He gazed up at her whimsically, blinking slowly, drinking her in as three pudgy fingers reached up, the beeping still ricocheting in her ears as Din slid into his seat and pulled himself forward.

He began to methodically press and flick switches, fingers daintily grazing over levers and holo pads that scrawled with text and information Shèa had never bothered to learn to understand. To her, she knew only one other language, that being the coded text she dedicated most of her time to decipher. But this? Coordinates and calculations, numbers coinciding with one another…. It was like a whole new civilisation had sprung up in their midst.

But Din was smart, she had known that ever since their first night on the Crest together. Logical and precise, each navigation route perfect down to the last star. It was an art that he often lost himself in, spending hours upon days sat in this little room, eyes no undoubtedly running over the console, charting every known place that they whizzed by.

As the blinking of the noise grew more persistent, Shèa perched herself on the edge of one of the seats and cradled the Child in her lap securely. She knew what it meant, the whining, the insistent screaming of the control centre. It was a warning, counting down the seconds until-

The entire ship jolted forward, and suddenly there were no more streaks of stars, no more luminescent blue glowing like the twilight of the moon, only stars; and lots and lots of ships.

They had emerged into a sea of metal, almost every inch of the open void occupied by perusing ships patrolling the outer atmosphere: Galactic Cruisers, Warships, Leisure Yachts, Frigates, Starfighters- Shèa had never seen so many ships gathered before. It was like a silent community drifting among one another, smaller pods weaving between the bows of armoured cruisers, large giants that hung suspended like metal plates above the glimmering world behind.

 Shèa hadn’t seen a force this colossal since the Clone Wars when she could look up from her bedroom in the Jedi Temple and see the barricade of Republic Cruisers looming like an ever-growing presence in the sky. It was a show of power- not for intimidation, but for a spectacle. To remind the people on the bustling planet below who was now in control. The New Republic.

It was only at that moment did Shèa remember that the New Republic actually existed- that they ruled the Galaxy now, not the Empire. But it was hard, even more so when their reach did not extend out to the drier planets like Tatooine, which were lawless and rough. Here- this planet- it was civilisation. Structured and proper, lacking the cesspit of criminality that stirred in the Outer Rim planets.

How strange to think that only years ago this force of hope- of good- was overruled by the grandeur that had been the Galactic Empire. Shèa hadn’t had many run-ins with them; spare the fight on Navarro or the odd patrol that came through the cantina back on Tatooine, looking for rebel sympathisers. In fact, her only clear memories were from when she and Master Vos had taken refuge on a small planet called Zeffo… even then, despite their distance from the imperial fleet, their power had been overbearing. Shèa and Vos had fled in the night.

But now, looking at all these ships… it sent a strange sensation through Shèa’s chest, forcing her forward, craning around to get any and every glimpse she could. Din made a small noise as he leant out of the way.

“You’re worse than the kid”

Shèa said nothing, just stared in awe. The sight of her childhood home, the one place she had truly felt safe, sent a flurry through her entire body. So strange, yet so welcome. Only a few months ago Shèa would never have imagined she would end up back on Coruscant, but now… now she was.

The Razor Crest soared and dodged through frigates and cruisers, the sun peaking over the curve of the planet casting glints of golden light like shafted beams across the interior of the cockpit. It blinded Shèa, but not the Mandalorian, as he only brought the ship to dip down into the atmosphere. At this height, it was practically non-existent, a thin translucence dome that offered no resistance as the ship took the plunge, and then they were there- among the skyscrapers. Home.

“It’s… big” Din murmured in running commentary, earning a look from Shèa. Big? It wasn’t just big, it was colossal.

Pillars of concrete and metal rose into the clouds and silhouetted themselves against the setting sun, the windows shimmering as they passed down through them. Weaving and darting, like a thread through soft cotton, and dipping until the ship was skimming along one of the upper highways. Far below, as Shèa peered over the side, she could see down into the sharp drop.

“Five-thousand-one-hundred-and-twenty-seven floors,” she said, looking back at him.

He stared back at her blankly then sighed. “Do you really think we can find Mandalorians here?”

Shèa pressed her lips together, deep in thought. Could they find Mandalorians here? There had to be some vessel here, somebody who knows where they are, or knows who they are. It was the most densely populated planet in the Galaxy. Shèa just hoped her own logic hadn’t gone entirely out of the window.

“It’s worth a shot, right?”

Turning her attention back toward the planet below, Shèa noticed that he was bringing the ship down to one of the many hangars scattered across the surface. As a child, Shèa had been brought to one when she first arrived on Coruscant, fresh-minded and wide-eyed with the hopes and dreams that any other kid would have. How very naïve she had been.

As the Mandalorian brought the ship in low, a steady ringing echoed out over the intercoms as they descended into one of the many circular bays, floodlights flashing red and glowing like alarms. The noise was deafening and paired with the bang as the ship touched down, it sent Shèa reeling as she took one-then two- steps back.

She had almost completely disregarded the fact that she was still clutching the kid tightly, and when she looked down, she only saw him staring perplexed at the city rising up around them. So insignificant, yet so important, all at once. The outline of the skyscrapers towering around them was vivid in his wide eyes, and as Shèa pulled him closer, he reached a little hand out toward them.

“Home” she whispered, quiet enough so that Din would not hear, as she smiled down at him. “This is your home”

He cooed, turning those big eyes toward Shèa. And then he smiled; a toothy grin that carried to her heart, tilting his head back and forth, big ears wiggling.

“Hey” Din cut through gently, rising from his seat with an exhaled breath and placing one hand against the low of her back. “Are you… okay?”

Shèa looked at him, brow knitted tightly. “I think so- why?”

“Well… this was your home. So I get it if this is weird”

Shèa could only roll her eyes playfully. Coruscant may have been her home once, but was it still that now? After all this time, after all of the running and the hiding and the fighting- could she ever look at it as she once had? So hopeful, so excited? No. It was here that the Jedi Order had died, and on that day, a part of her soul had too.

“It’s not,” she said, though her voice choked in her throat. “I’m okay. Let’s just get out of here, this ship is starting to drive me crazy”

Without much more of an agreement, Shèa turned and slipped out of the cockpit, clumsily swinging herself down the ladder while still clutching the child to her side. As she landed on the metal floor, the back ramp of the ship opened and revealed the dazzling city.

Her lips parted in surprise as she slowly made her way down the ramp, each footstep echoing in the wide expanse of the hangar bay as her head twisted and turned to take it all in. From the Razor Crest, she had been able to see the entire expanse of Coruscant- if not at least half- but here, on the ground, it was like she was back on Praadost II; amongst buildings that resembled great, stooping trees.

Her grip only tightened on the Child as she stepped onto the flagstone tiles of the hangar bay, gazing up at the twinkling sun that was just visible through the spaces between the buildings. She felt like a kid again, all small and short-haired, wearing the flowers that her mother picked from the villa gardens before bidding her farewell. This moment felt just like the first time she stepped foot on the planet… except now she was taller, and her eyes were more sunken- tired.

Din joined her side some moments later, his footsteps heavy as they thumped down the ramp with a duffel full of what she could only assume was weapons, his cycler rifle slung across his back. The hatch closed with a hiss and a thump behind them, leaving them stood in the open oval, and a silence fell over them.

“Where do we start?”

*

Shèa had always thought Din to be the uptight kind of guy; sensible with his credit, preferring to live in absolute squalor rather than splashing it on items of no sentimental value. At one point in her life, Shèa would have upheld the same ideologies- what was the point in spending credits she did not have on items or experiences she would forget about? It was futile.

Well, clearly Shèa was wrong on both accounts.

They had been wandering the upper levels of Coruscant for what had felt like hours, with no real sense of direction or any objective whatsoever. Just walking, drinking it all in, letting the kid squeal himself into a tired stupor as he reached and grabbed for every being that passed by. Around them, districts rose and fell as they passed through, business owners hollering after them, salesmen shoving exotic perfumes and delicacies under their noses.

Din had no interest in them, however, Shèa found herself trailing behind his purposeful stride, lingering at the vendors, trying her best not to swipe any of the free bits shoved under her face. Shèa felt like a kid on Life Day all over again; except this time the Kid was her, and she was the ghost of Shabba, pulling him away and bouncing him on her hip as he hiccupped and blubbered into her shoulder.

As the setting sun sunk lower along the skyline, though, their legs grew tired. They must have wandered out of the shopping district some time ago, as the only buildings growing around them now were Inns and apartment complexes, dotted with speeders that lined the streets. It was crowded here, each space filled by concrete walls and dim alleyways, with flickering lights that cast ominous shadows into the otherwise darkness that shrouded the entire street.

Would they go back to the Crest soon? She hoped so, wanting nothing more than to sink down onto her makeshift bed and slip into a deep sleep right there. Maybe try and coax some water out of the showerhead.

But Din was unrelenting, walking even faster now, his pace thunderous as Shèa began to jog to keep up. “Wait up” she croaked out, stifling a yawn as people jostled her shoulders.

Reluctantly, he stopped, turning to face her as he inclined his head. Maybe Din wasn’t one to sleep, but for Shèa, it was a necessity.

“We need to keep going,” he said as she drew closer, shifting the Child’s weight from one hip to another.

Shèa sighed. “The Kid’s tired. I’m tired. Din, you’re-“

“Not tired.” He replied, looking over his shoulder. But what did he expect? Coruscant was huge, and if he thought he could walk its surface in a few hours, he was completely wrong. “If we go back to the Crest, we’ll have to start all over again”

A sneaky idea struck Shèa at that moment as her pursed lips turned into a coy smile, and she turned to look up at one of the buildings they resided beside. It was tall, a lot taller than those surrounding it, with balconies jutting out at intervals and flowing banners hanging down from a series of ledges, each displaying the flamboyant crest of the New Republic.

It seemed ludicrous- nothing that Din would go for. But Shèa longed for a shower, or a bath- hell, just to get properly clean. And for a real bed… oh, it sounded so luxurious, sending a tingle through her as she looked back at him. He was gazing at her, chin lifted as he surveyed the towering inn she had been considering.

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she smiled. “We could stay here?”

Silence. Utter dead silence. The only sound that filled the stretched promenade was the humming of speeders as they raced overhead and the bubbles of chatter that arose from passers-by. He surveyed her for a moment; probably internally monologuing the dirty dishevelment she was in, all red-faced and messy-haired. The kid probably looked no better- getting sleep in a place as noisy as Coruscant wasn’t exactly easy, especially on street level.

His chest rose as he sucked in a breath before bowing his head, his own sign of submission, and a smile of relief broke out on Shèa’s face as she turned on her heel and started toward the Inn. Behind her, Din followed, though he kept an unusually long distance.

As they passed under the threshold and into the lobby, Shèa remembered just how gritty Coruscant was. In her youth, Shèa had become accustomed to the sleek marble and quartz tiles of the upper levels; the levels where senators held stately penthouses and only the richest and the wisest lived. In the Jedi Temple, it had been clean too, for a Jedi was never messy, and the ideology reflected on their home.

But on the few occasions that Shèa and the other younglings had been permitted to go out on expeditions, she had noticed the vast change. How that- in the lower levels- people would sit on corners begging, while children of all species and dialects ran around in clothes two sizes too big. It had been a shock back then, but now, Shèa was one of these people. A civilian- normal, somewhat.

The interior of the Inn was shabby at best; concrete walls of the same texture as the exterior rising up into a curved ceiling, where circadian lights lined the walls and glared brightly down onto the mismatched tile floors. The lobby was small and compact, and a small front desk was tucked next to the elevator bank, where one had been cordoned off by blue tape and the other stood ajar.

Oh, Shèa thought, sidling up to the young girl perched at the front desk. Maybe a shower was out of the question.

As she drew to a stop, Din lingering at her shoulder, the girl looked up from her datapad and clicked her tongue. A bubble of gum exploded from her mouth before she spoke.

“Can I help you?”

“We would like a room for the night… please,” Shèa asked, forcing a smile onto her face as the girl ran her eyes over her figure- then Din’s- then finally coming to rest on the kid’s pudgy little face. “Three people”

Tutting to herself she turned to a computer, poking a slender finger at the keys as it flowed blue across her otherwise pale face. “There’s a two-unit on floor three-ninety-four… unless you’re like… together”

Shèa and Din exchanged looks at the same time. Together? Did she mean- oh she meant together… like together. Like two people who were in love were together.

“We’re not… together. We’ll take the two units” Din intercepted, chucking a stack of credits onto the desk without a second word.

The girl eyed it up but said nothing more, sliding them a keycard across the surface and mumbling something about having a nice stay. Without much of a choice, Din seized the key and Shèa’s arm and steered them to the elevator bank.

For a few moments, she stumbled over her own feet before regaining her balance, shuffling after him as he jammed a finger into the rusted metal button and tapped his foot impatiently. The numerical digit suspended above the door blinked red, flashing as it descended toward them, each floor passing by in a blur. The Child watched them, transfixed, and had almost lulled himself into sleep by the time a rhythmic ding rang out and the metal shaft slid open. Stepping inside, Din punched in-floor three-nine-four, and they jolted upwards.

The ride to the three-hundredth-and-ninety-fourth floor was silent, Din’s deep breathing only echoing back against the dingy metal walls of the elevator. A mirror lay flat against the wall they rested against, and the lights twitched as the entire room rattled with the gears pulling them upward.

Shèa wondered if Din was used to these surroundings; grimy and unstable, probably filled to the brim with mercenaries and criminals. But perhaps he wasn’t. Shèa had never seen the Mandalorian look somewhat comfortable in any other place apart from the Razor Crest, but here… well, he already looked out of place, his helmet tipping side-to-side as he surveyed each corner of the elevator.

Eventually, though, it slid to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal a long and winding corridor that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, disappearing into the darkness. Moth-bitten carpet layered the hallway as they wandered down it, looking over each room number, and the wallpaper lining the walls was peeling down the side, stained with strange brown substances and something that smelled like a Bantha on a hot day.

“Here,” Din said, coming to a stop before a green-painted door. Over the surface was a golden label, and splotched black ink read 2034. “This is it”

He slid the small keycard into the lock and it clicked, swinging open to reveal… well, nothing spectacular, but what had Shèa expected?

A room darker than the hallway they stood in waited beyond the threshold, long and tight, a couch sitting beneath a long window that overlooked the darkening skyline of Coruscant. There was a simple table, some chairs, and two doors on either side of the sitting area which no doubt led to the bedrooms- plural, she hoped. Even the thought of sharing a bed with the Mandalorian made her shiver. But Shèa couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.

Cautiously, Shèa entered first, craning her head around as her companion flicked on the lights and bathed the room in an ominous yellow glow that made her squint against it. Wow. This room was a lot higher up than she expected… given that it was over three hundred stories up.

“This was not worth five hundred credits” Din grumbled as he closed the door sharply, dumping his duffel on the dirty countertop and rolling his neck. “

Shèa turned her head to look at him. “That’s cheap for Coruscant”

Settling the Child down on a couch cushion, Shèa leaned over and looked down. Far down. Far enough that she couldn’t even make out the bottom of the Inn, shrouded by a swimming sea of grey clouds that obscured the buildings below. “Are… you okay?” he asked.

This had been the third time Din had asked her if she was okay in the past several hours, and- honestly- it was beginning to eat away at her. What was there to signify that she wasn’t okay? The dark bags hugging her eyes? The dead volume of her hair? The way she rolled her eyes as she turned to him? Shèa was fine.

Sighing in exasperation she poked her head into one of the rooms, smiling to see an open bed settled in the middle of a small room. It was covered in dark sheets and flat pillows, and though it didn’t look all that soft, it was much more inviting than her little corner back on the Crest.

“Shèa” he repeated from somewhere deep in the apartment.

“I’m fine” Shèa exhaled, folding her arms. “Seriously. You don’t have to keep asking”

“I know” he paused, shifting his weight between his feet, causing the Beskar strapped to his body to clink against one another. “I’m just making sure”

“Look, we’re here, that’s what matters- right? We’re here to find Mandalorians, not to think about whether or not I’m going to have a meltdown”

He considered her for a moment before giving in, lifting his vambrace and bringing up two fingers to swipe across the display. As he did so, a shimmer of blue light lit up the room, and then she saw it- Coruscant- the entire planet glowing before her very eyes as a holographic blueprint. She took a step toward it.

It was terrifying, really, seeing the entire expanse of her childhood home glimmering back at her. She could see the skyscrapers and the shipyards, the open pits where the city dropped off into oblivion, all the way down to the lowest level where cesspits covered the floor. 

As Din approached the round table by the couch he pushed it forward, and the image shifted, turning and rotating as it settled itself on the surface. He nodded to it, then looked at her: “You’ve lived here. Where would the Mandalorians go?”

Shèa shrugged. “It’s a big planet, a lot of hiding places. Corners, alleyways… it would be impossible to find Hunter’s quarry here”

It was true. Here, on Coruscant, a tracking fob would be virtually useless; what with the dense population and the ever-moving crowd that migrated like a flock of birds, it would go crazy. It struck a thought within her- why hadn’t she hid here as a child? How stupid she looked now.

“Well, if you were a Mandalorian, where would you hide from the Hunters?” he asked bluntly. Her eye widened slightly, pointing to the lower levels, which were darkened with the overshadowing of the towers looming above.

“Here. The Undercity”

“The undercity?” he reiterated, moving the image closer. “Here?”

“It’s what we called it as kids- or the underworld. Pretty dark down there, sits just below the power grid. It’s like hell down there, believe it or not,” Shèa told him. “I suppose there could be a convent down there, I’d say… here. Level fifty or below”

He nodded again in acknowledgement, sliding his vambrace shut, and the hologram disappeared. Din unhooked the blaster and clipped it onto his waist, saying nothing as Shèa watched him. She knew by now that he preferred to work in silence; why? She had no idea. Maybe he could think better with the absence of chattering or awkward small-talk.

But it was as he was tucking thick rounds into his bandolier that Shèa spoke up again. “You’re going now?”

He glanced at her, the visor tipping to look her up and down. “Yes.”

Her brow knitted together as she folded her arms. They had just gotten here- what was the rush? Surely he didn’t want to get rid of the Child so soon, not after Nevarro, when they had all but given their own lives to ensure his safety with Kuiil. But maybe he did… the kid was a handful- even Shèa knew that- but she was hoping he could stay around a little longer, maybe until that he finally learned to babble in Galactic Basic, and they could share their own memories of home.

“But- but we just got here. At least get some rest” Shèa said with a frown. “That is unless you want to knock yourself out during a standoff”

“Believe it or not” he huffed, stalking over to his duffel and ripping it over. He began to dig around. “I don’t need as much sleep as you”

Her mouth parted in mock offence. “Somebody’s grumpy”

He glared at her as he walked back over, standing close- too close. His movement made Shèa back up into the table until her back knocked into the edge, looking up at him through hooded eyes as he loomed dangerously above her. From here, she could hear his every breath, somewhat heightened through the modulator as it came out in erratic rasps.

Suddenly, her heart was beating fast. She had been this close to him before- obviously- but not when a liquid fire was coursing her veins, sending a deep panging through the pit of her stomach. Her entire body was hot.  If she had thought any of their previous interactions had been intimate, then this was on an entirely different level.

His hand reached out cautiously as she gulped, and watched transfixed as he lifted it up toward her face. But then it was gliding past her cheek, barely skimming her hair, and then reaching over her shoulder to grab something on the table. Her heart dropped in disappointment.

In a low voice, he mumbled: “I’m always grumpy. You should know that by now”

And then he withdrew, taking whatever it was he had reached for and turning his back on her as he walked toward the door. It took Shèa a few moments to compose herself, but when she did, she lurched toward him and seized the crook of his elbow. “Hey. Wait”

He did wait- thankfully- halting in his step as her grip only tightened. “If there are Mandalorians in the Underworld, I need to find them”

“Then let me help” she urged, releasing him. “You can’t do everything on your own”

Din only inclined his head, and from beneath the helmet, she was sure he was scrutinising her.

“No. You’ve done enough.”

With those words, he made to leave again, but Shèa was faster. Slipping around him she darted in front of the door, acting as its own sentry as she stood guard, arms held out to invite his protests. But he didn’t bother to fight her, just exhaled heavily and placed his hands on his hips as he stared her down.

Shèa quirked her brow. “Maybe you could stop acting like I’m a liability”

“I-“ he paused. “I don’t think you’re a liability. You… have more common sense than some people”

Than some people? Did he just… did he just call her stupid? Shèa was not surprised.

“Look… we went through stuff, okay? And now here we are, trying to get this weird little alien back to a race of space wizards who I once thought I belonged to. It’s weird- seriously fucking weird. But you can’t do everything on your own, not when I’m here to share that weight with you”

With her arm cast out toward the sleeping Child, he looked back, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the small little form. Reluctantly, he nodded. “I know. Thank you”

Shèa took a step away from the door and towards him, unsure as to whether she should comfort him or say nothing more, but before she could realise what was happening, he was moving fast. He spun and seized her arm, tugging her toward his chest so that she collided with it, and then pushing her back and away toward the couch while he made a run for the door. Stars, he was quick.

By the time that Shèa had balanced herself against the wall, it had slammed shut, shaking the entire room and leaving only the shadow of darkness and a very disgruntled child, who had just been rudely awoken. Frustrated, she let out a strangled noise.

He would never change.

Chapter Text

Being alone sucked. Before, on Tatooine, it hadn’t been too bad; she had her trinkets and broken old data consoles to toy with, she even had a small collection of cassette tapes that Shabba had gifted her over the years. On the odd occasion, she might even have dug up the reeds growing in the foundations of her little home, much preferring to tire herself out than to sit idly by.

However, on Coruscant, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

One might’ve thought that there would be bars and cantinas, betting shops on every block stuffed full of beings of all ages, species, and heights. Coruscant was supposed to be the centre of the Galaxy, yet here she was, bored out of her mind and alone, with only the company of a pudgy little bean for company.

When Din had fled from the unit, she had expected him to return not long after; a few hours, perhaps the next morning. But he had been gone for almost a full week, and Shéa could not help the impending worry that was beginning to swell in her chest.

For the first few days, she had found solace in the activities of the Child; playing, talking aimlessly away about matters he was too small to comprehend. How his dad was a jerk, a jerk that for some reason, she felt naturally drawn to. Stars, she even bathed him in the small washbasin in the bathroom, much to his dismay. Shèa had cleaned the entire unit, fluffed the couch pillows, and scrubbed the window surfaces until they were no longer grimy or covered in a thin layer of dried dirt.

By day four though, she had run out of things to do, and instead had taken to meditating

As a kid- back when she had lived in the Jedi Temple- Shéa could remember her Masters reprimanding her for her lack of concentration. Sitting still and being quiet had not been one of her strongest skills, and despite their dedicated hours to sit and wait patiently, she had always managed to cause chaos somehow. But since the fall of the Order, and all of the running and fighting, she couldn’t recall the last time she had sat down and at least tried.

So, on the morning that concluded a week of a Mandalorian free presence, she sat down cross-legged on the balcony of the apartment and closed her eyes.

It should have come naturally to her, Shèa knew that. Meditation was one of the key sources of a Jedi’s power- a ritual in which they not only forged a deeper connection to the Force but gained a better understanding of themselves… at least, that was what Master Vos had said. Shèa never understand why though; why not actively use the Force, would that not deepen her connection also? Or was there a piece missing to the puzzle, one that she still had difficulty grasping even in her old age.

The Force. That was what she had to concentrate on. Only the Force and nothing else, feeling the way it ebbed and flowed through each being that resided on Coruscant.

With a deep breath, she held her lungs tight, allowed her shoulders to relax, and reached out.

For a few moments, there was nothing, only the drilling of speeders whipping past some floors below, and the laborious droning of the person on the next balcony over. It was frustrating to tune it out, but she pushed- and pushed- and pushed-

Her breath hitched when she felt it.

Life. Death. Violence and peace, a combination of entities all consumed into one glowing fire that twirled and danced along her skin. It was like music, the Force singing in her ears in a rhythmic melody as it floated in the molecules in the air, slipping over clouds and pounding down on the pavements some several hundred feet below where she sat.

As a young child, the Jedi Masters had often told the younglings how the Force flowed through them; how in some it was like music she could hear so clearly now, each person having their own distinct thrum of chords, while others felt it physically, purely. Feeling it in the plants and flowers that scattered the landscape. Others, like Shèa, couldn’t feel it at all. Only in those moments of dire need, when she called upon it for her own survival. Like on Nevarro.

Years of refusing to meditate and connect with the Force, to strengthen her bond with the midi-chlorians surging through her bloodstream, had weakened her. Had the Order not fallen, Shèa would have been powerful. True and pure, nothing but a beacon of light in the sea of dark waters- just as Starlight Beacon had been in the days of the Old Republic. A station of hope… hope.

But in that moment, the connection was not strained. It was strong, the melody of the music calling out to her slow and steady, a gentle tune to which she allowed herself to carry along, the soul of her own body flying over the tallest points of the city. It bummed softly, lilting as she cruised over the heads of the young, deepening when her fingertips tickled the crowns of the old.

Shèa could see things too; people, laughing and talking, a baby crying for its mother as a nurse droid held its newborn frame close. Her mind reeled and then she was looking upon the final breaths of a frail old Twi’lek, his green leku shrivelled with age as he gazed upon the slats of golden light glowing through a nearby window. A flash and a young couple were waking up in one another’s arms, their connection so strong and true, a dyad in its own sense.

The sensation curled around her and twisted her in a way that felt good yet horrible at the same time. Billions of thoughts crushing in around her, screaming in her mind- but it did not consume her. No, it ebbed away as a spring of life sang its chorus to her. Balance.

Din- where was he? Could she find him, hone in on that soft, brash, melody that seemingly emanated from him whenever he was peeved, or too tired to deal with Shèa’s snarky remarks. It was a steady beat that synchronised with the thrumming of his heart, that same beat that she had heard when she slipped asleep on his shoulder. Comforting, like a warm fire by a homely hearth. 

Her brow knitted together as she focused on that tune, her face pulled together tightly in the sincerest expression she could muster. Shèa didn’t have to find him; he was probably fine, cooped up somewhere, perhaps he had even found Mandalorians by now. Or he could be dead in a deserted alleyway. There was a plethora of possibilities, but if Shèa could find him… if she could find him she would feel at ease.

Shèa stayed like that for a while. Cross-legged, wind rustling the tendrils of curled hair as a soft breeze brushed down from the highway far above her head. For a city so loud it suddenly became deafeningly quiet, as though a blurred filter had been pasted over the scenery, opaque glass separating them.

She searched far and wide, compassing the wide curve of the planet, but she found nothing. Only screaming children and drunken men stumbling out of cantinas in the lower levels. Shit, she cursed, cracking one eye open- something she came to regret instantly.

A loud yelp left her mouth as she glanced down, noticing that she was no longer seated comfortably upon the floor, but hovering some three feet above it. Her jaw went slack, heeding her no time to prepare for a rough landing as she fell clumsily, landing on her back end with a harsh grunt.

The force of landing so suddenly sent a shudder up her spine as Shèa groaned and rolled onto her front, pulling her elbows up to support her body as she bared her teeth. She hadn’t even realised she had been doing that- floating, that was. Like some sort of ancestral being. Shèa knew that even with the utmost of concentration a Jedi could contort their body in ways that others could not, but it’s not like Shèa had meant to. Sort of.

As Shèa lifted her head and pried her eyes open, she was met with a pair equally as large, blinking back at her as green wrinkles shuffled over the steep threshold of the door and extended a tiny hand out to her. The kid cooed.

“Hey, trouble”

The Child waddled further forward, stumbling to a stop as his soft skin came to rest against her cheek, touching it tenderly. He observed her dishevelment for a while, grinning toothily, his eyes alive with wonder. Wonder at what she had been doing, perhaps. Had he ever learned to meditate? Stars, what was she saying- Shèa didn’t even know if the kid had been at the Temple, but she clung to that hope. The hope that she wasn’t alone in the Galaxy.

As he continued to stare at her he blinked once- then twice- before reaching deep inside the pouch of his ruffled robes and pulling something out. It was… a necklace?

Shèa watched transfixed as the little boy wriggled the metal pendant out and into the palm of his hand, showing it to her proudly as she reached out and grazed it with her fingertips. It had an odd sort of design, the shaped skull of an animal; one that seemed so familiar, yet distant at the same time. A depiction she had seen in the books in the Jedi Archives, thick pages of yellow crumpling around the ink.

“Who gave you this, huh? You make it yourself?” She asked the Child, a useless excuse at conversation. “You’re pretty talented”

He made a small sound in protest and let go of it, letting the signet fall heavy on his chest as he raised a pointed finger and cast it out over the rooftops of Coruscant that stretched out along the horizon. He was pointing toward someone out there- far away- too far for her to see. Din.

Of course. It was the only logical explanation. Shèa knew the Mandalorians valued their clans over anything, it was one of the few small slips of information she could recollect from her childhood. And the signet itself- a Mythosaur, how could she forget? The legendary steed of the Mandalorians themselves. A child’s story within the truth.

With a soft smile, she stooped over and swept the Child up. “He’ll be back soon, I promise. And he’ll be safe. Always is”

Sadly, he leant his forehead against her collar and huffed deeply. A pang resonated through her chest.

In their short few months together, Shèa’s feelings had grown toward the Child. At first, she had been terrified of him; all green skin and dark eyes, the strangest little creature she had ever laid eyes upon. But there was something about him that screamed comfort- whether that be his soft hugs or high toned voice squeaking in her ear on an early morning. Thinking back to a time before the kid, it was hard to imagine that life. A life without Din, too.

Din and the kid were her found family- one that she wouldn’t change for the fate of the entire Galaxy. Shèa was no longer a lonely tinkerer in the backwaters of Tatooine, she was… something more. Real.

*

“Seriously? You’re going to make me feed you? Like a baby”

The kid glared up at her, determined, thick tears welling in his deep eyes as he blinked innocently. Shèa exhaled, her face screwed up, as her spoonful of ready-made food suspended only inches from her mouth.

Was he really going to do this now? Oh, how much like Din he was. He was supposed to have fallen asleep hours ago, the nightlife of Coruscant already blaring some three-hundred stories below where they now sat. Her only goal that evening had been to put him to sleep, have a somewhat nice shower and snuggle up under the scratchy blankets in her temporary bed.

But no. The kid wouldn’t sleep- or eat his own food for that matter, wouldn’t give her two small minutes to herself, and worst of all… worst of all he wanted Din. It was evident by the way his lip trembled as one of his clawed hands clung to the signet necklace hung around his neck.

With a strangled groan she dumped her spoon back into the bowl and glowered at the kid. “You suck, seriously”

He only giggled in response as she scooped up some more of the mashed food and held it out to him, watching in distaste as he clamped his mouth down around the spoon happily. Not like it was my food or anything, she thought, feeding the monster the remnants of her meal before picking the bowl up and dumping it into the sink.

As she did so, though, she could not help but lean against the counter and look down into the depths of the basin. Shèa just wanted… stars, she didn’t know what she wanted. Din to come back, perhaps? That would be amazing.

“Maker, just come back already… stupid Buckethead. Leaving me with his angry little kid, like that was a part of the job description” she grumbled, turning only to see the Child laughing to himself and bouncing around on the table. “Not part of the job description”

For the rest of the night, Shèa busied herself with the caretaking business of maintaining the child’s happiness, lest he dissolved into one of his screaming tantrums. She bathed him- again- and scrubbed behind his little ears, dunked his dirty onesie into a bucket of murky water and hung it up to dry, and managed to scrub the sticky substances off the dinner table all before the digital clock chimed midnight. And when it did… oh when it did, the kid finally snoozed off, tucked into her side as she cast her gaze out over the silhouetted skyline of Coruscant.

The stars twinkled high above the rooftops as the Child snuggled against her waist, ears fluttering as her eyes opened and closed slowly. Shèa must have been tired from running around all day, or perhaps it was all that meditating from the same morning, but she felt like she could lie here for hours and not move a single aching muscle.

She hadn’t even had time to undress into her nightwear as her eyes slipped shut, throwing darkness across her vision as she mumbled and rolled onto her side, pulling the kid close like a rag doll. He was so squishy… and soft… and warm. So warm in fact that she didn’t even notice that she had fallen asleep until the noises of the city outside blurred over, the pumping music disappeared, and the numbness of her body prickled across her skin.

She was on fire. No- no she wasn’t, the building around her was on fire. Large windows had been shattered, throwing tiny shards across the marble-tiled hall. Once proud and vibrantly coloured banners had been torn down, their frayed edges flaming and puffing smoke into the air, and the stench of a thousand sweaty bodies pressed in around her as she halted where she stood and spun around on the spot.

Where was she? Somewhere deep inside the temple, in a hallway she had never been to before, somewhere close to the Council’s chambers. Outside of the stone walls, the city of Coruscant glimmered like a lost jewel in an ocean of diamonds, and Shèa approached it cautiously, pressing her face up against the glass. She wished Master Vos was here, he would know what to do, but with the Temple in ruins, she feared that it was not such a simple fix as it might have been before.

Shèa closed her eyes as she leaned her head forward, letting the exposed breeze blow over her lashes. But her small glimpse of peace did not last too long, as a scuffling and hollering of voices over in the next corridor sparked fear in the pit of her belly, and by the time that the scout group of Clones was marching down the corridor, she was already sprinting away from them.

“Hey!” One called after her, a heavy threat as her heart thundered. Keep running, she reminded herself, keeping running and don’t look back. “Don’t let her get away- you, take the south!”

Her feet slipped and skidded as she rounded the corner, scrambling to remain upright as she slipped and darted between fallen cases, hopping over piles of rubble. Floors below she could hear the ricocheting fire of blasters and the screaming of people… her people… as their life force left their bodies. She could feel it, their life, trickling out of them, and it sent an awful sickness through her as she blinked away the tears.

Her lungs burning, Shèa slowed to a stop and leant over on her knees as she sucked in deep breaths. The air was full of thick smoke now, blurring her vision and burning it hot white. Where was she going to go? There were Clone Troopers everywhere, and her friends… her friends were… they were dead.

A small sob left her lips as she stood up straight and rubbed at her face, not wanting to break down, but the feeling was overwhelming. Her knees buckled beneath her body, but before she could fall, something- no somebody- grabbed her wrist and hauled her behind a marble column.

Her mouth opened to let out a scream, but then a hand was clamping over her face, large and warm, covered with something wet as her eyes sprang open and she stared into the white mask of… of a Clone. Shèa’s first instinct was to fight, to struggle against his grip and shriek, kicking wildly to try and struggle away. This couldn’t be it. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to die.

“No” she pleaded, shaking her head frantically as he pulled off his helmet and dropped it to the floor. “Please… p-please”

His hair was cropped short and a single line of black sliced through the left portion of his face, highlighting his eyes as they scanned her sweaty and dirty face. He was identical to the others, but there was something in his eyes; remorse? Perhaps from the blood dripping from his neck, where it looked as though somebody had dug their fingers into a gaping wound.

Slowly, he lifted a bloodied finger to his lips, and her protests fell dead on her lips. If she was to die now, why scream and cry? As any Jedi would, Shèa would accept it… even if she was only still a little girl.

Her lip trembled as he pulled his hand away finally and crouched before her, holding her out of the way of the pooling moonlight and shrouding them both within the dark shadows. Down the hallway, the echoing slaps of footsteps drew closer before receding, filtered voices barking out indistinguishable commands.

When the trooper finally spoke, he was low and quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid”

“T-They… they killed- they killed my friends” she whispered. He nodded solemnly.

“I know, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

She sucked in a breath and looked around, frightened. “What’s happening?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the floor. His fists furled and unfurled in anger- though Shèa could not tell whether it was at himself, or at his comrades who continued to rain down blaster fire around them.

“I… I’m going to get you out of this, alright? Going to get you someplace safe, go one of the Jedi” he said, nodding along with each word. “We’re gonna get you out of here”

“But Master Mandila is… Master Skywalker killed her”

The clone’s eyes widened and- very suddenly- he pulled her into a tight embrace. A hug. A simple show of affection she had not received since she had last Naboo, and her family, those years ago. Physical affection was not customary in the Jedi Temple and was almost frowned upon, as the Masters told the younglings it would lead to attachment, which was strictly forbidden. But this? It was… it was an expression of the stressed need for comfort.

Shèa was a kid. And the clone trooper? A soldier who had never had his own voice.

“Come on, quick” he sniffed as he pulled away, standing up and taking her hand firmly in his. “Stay close to me, okay? You’ve got to do everything I say”

She said nothing but nodded in affirmation, her small legs quickening to keep pace as he pulled her further along the hallway and deeper into the labyrinth of the Temple. They twisted and turned, sped up when they heard soldiers and slowed as the raging fire that burned around them roared toward them. The journey seemingly lasted forever until finally… finally… they came to a stop on the topmost floor.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Dozens of rushing footsteps filled the hall as the trooper stopped, threw his hard to and fro, before seizing Shèa’s shoulders and pushing her back toward one of the vents that poked out of the stone wall. Yelling followed after as he knelt and ripped off the cover, ushering her inside.

“W-Wait” she panted, gripping his hand tighter. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about it kid, just stay here, okay? I’ll come to get you once the coast is clear” he smiled softly, helping her inside the small chute.

It was tight and stuffy, the metal warm from the heat rising through the floors. She had to shimmy back to fit her body inside, and the hilt of her weapon grazed against the surface as he made sure she fit comfortably. As he moved to fit the cover back over, she held out her hand.

“Thank… thank you” Shèa murmured, blinking at him. “Thank you”

He tried to keep his smile steady, but Shèa saw his face falter brokenly. “You’re a kid, I’ve always got you”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, as though trying to will away the voices growing louder with each passing second. “Hero”

Despite the moment, Shèa could not help her naturally childish giggle. Hero… how fitting.

Hero rolled his eyes as he secured the grate over her small space and stood to his full height, which was clearly visible from her position. Just as he was lifting his helmet over his head and securing it, though, two groups of troopers rounded the corners at either end of the corridor, trapping him, and Shèa saw the way his shoulders fell in defeat.

Flashlights beamed across the darkness, illuminating the walls as they searched, creeping closer as though they were afraid to disturb the layer of ash that had settled underfoot. Hero drew himself up to his full height as he lifted an arm in the air and waved it, beckoning them over, and one adorned in a deep blue paint stepped forward. The Captain.

“Hero,” Said the trooper, scanning her new friend’s armour. “Your blood?”

“Yes… sir” Hero forced out. “One put up a fight. Didn’t last long”

A few of Hero’s companions shoved past him and continued to search the hallway, shining their lights into every dark corner and crevice, and Shèa had to shuffle back to avoid the straying beams. Now she could only see Hero’s feet, and her hand reached up to push her hair out of her eyes as he shifted his weight between them.

“Alright, well… did you find the girl, at least? General Skywalker wants a status update to report back to the Emperor”

Emperor? What Emperor? And what had tempted Master Skywalker- one of the most devoted Jedi- to turn against his own Order, his own family? To strike down defenceless younglings. Shèa could not help but strain her ears to listen.

“Gone. By the time I got up here, she had made of. Perhaps jumped… it… wouldn’t surprise me”

There was a pause. “You’re insinuating that an eight-year-old girl thought to kill herself?”

Almost automatically, a ripple of clicking sounded from outside the vent. Blasters cocking to attention as Shèa waited with bated breath. Hero was silent for a moment.

“Yes, sir,” he said stiffly, hatred oozing from each word. His feet stumbled forward, joined by another pair, and she assumed he must have been shoved. “Watch it-“

“Sir” a voice joined. “His inhibitor chip is gone”

More cocking and Hero was backing up toward the vent, shielding her from view. Shèa could almost feel the liquid hot adrenaline pumping from his artificially created body, surfing through his veins, willing each action to tremble as he came to a stop. The group surrounding him pulled in tighter.

“You don’t understand” Hero began steadily. “You’re all under… you don’t want to do this”

“We are following the orders we have been given, trooper. Orders from Emperor Palpatine himself. If you don’t follow them-“

“I am no traitor. Several years ago we swore to serve and fight alongside the Jedi, not- not turn on them like a pack of savage animals. Do you not remember Geonosis? They ran into the fight with us, not like some… they treated us like people, not objects. Not like the others”

“The Jedi are traitors to the Republic!” The captain barked.

“Then so am I!” Hero yelled, twice as loud. “I would rather stand with the people who treated me like an individual than kill and murder innocent children… children that are like us. They had no choice in this, no choice in how they were born- ripped from their families, and for what?! To die as martyrs?!”

His superior stepped closer. “Stand down, Hero. You’re our brother”

The sound of air filled the room as Hero spit at him. “I am no brother to a legion of murderers”

It took all of Shèa’s power to hold back the scream that tore from her throat as an assault of blue blaster bolts rained down upon Hero, illuminating the vent in a washed colour as his body fell with a heavy thud, his armour sizzling. Tears leaked from her eyes as his face fell into view, helmet rolling off, and leaving her to stare into empty and blank eyes.

The blaster fire did not relent though. No, it continued to rain down upon him, staining and burning his body, filling her nostrils with death and rot until she screamed so loud that it broke even her own ears.

 She thrashed and kicked as the vent around her seemingly began to close, and then she was sitting up and gasping for air, pushing damp hair away from her eyes and letting retched sobs wrack her shaking body. At the foot of the bed, the door to the room banged open.

Her mind was still fizzing too much to comprehend the figure stood there in the darkness, shafts of moonlight bouncing off his Beskar chest plate as he looked around, blaster raised. Her eyes met the slit of his visor and something seemed to still in her: relief, maybe? She couldn’t figure it out.

Din stepped further into the room and pulled the door to the nearby closet open, poking his head around inside, before looking back to her and letting his shoulders fall. By now her breath had slowed, though she could still feel the sweat coating her skin, coils of hair clinging to the nape of her neck as she sat up and looked down, her hand reaching out to search for the Child… where was he?! He had been right there-

“Hey… don’t worry, the kid’s asleep in the next room,” Din said, stepping closer and coaxing Shèa out of her terror.

Swallowing thickly she looked up at him, watching as he holstered his blaster and bent over slightly. He brushed strands of hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, cradling her face for a few moments like that, as though looking for any damage. His thumb rubbed her chin.

“I…” Shèa cleared her throat and screwed up her face. “I’m sorry, it was just a nightmare”

He inclined his head. “It’s okay… I get them too”

Stars was that embarrassing, she thought as she pulled away from his hold and shuffled back up the bed, pressing herself firmly against the wall and drawing her knees to her chest. Her heart was still jittering with adrenaline, and she was hyper-aware of the pounding of her pulse along her neck, hot and deafening. All she could see was Hero’s face… hear his scream as he was ripped into… every time she closed her eyes.

“When did you get back?” she asked him quietly, glancing up to see him stalk toward the balcony and pull the curtains shut, devouring the room into darkness spare the luminescent glow emitting from a lamp in the far corner. “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours ago, you looked… peaceful, so I took the Child so that you could rest.”

Oh. Shèa supposed that was nice… sort of. She would have much preferred if he had awoken though- to ease the restlessness that had all but consumed her that past week. Or maybe so that she could hug him, exert some of those feelings that were mindlessly swirling around in her head.

“Get some rest” Din called to her as he made his way back to the door. “I’ll wake you in the morning”

“Wait-“ Shèa protested, sitting up slightly. The Mandalorian stopped and cast his gaze back toward her. “Will you… will you stay?”

He stared at her for a moment, either torn between actually staying, or not quite comprehending what she had asked of him. His hand rested against the door frame and he stood up straighter. “Stay… here?”

She nodded firmly.

“I don’t want to be alone right now”

He lingered before finally relenting, moving back into the bedroom and sliding the door over behind him. Slowly, cautiously, he made toward the bed and lowered himself onto the foot of it, sitting there uncomfortably, unsure as to what to do with him. He only slid up further when Shèa patted the space beside her, shuffling over to give him more room, and he joined her.

They stared at the wall across from them in unison, unmoving and unspeaking, basking in the presence of one another that had gone so long untouched. A gentle caress of tension hung in the mere inches between their shoulders, building higher and higher, practically willing for them to delve into deep conversation.

For the first time, it was Din that took the plunge.

“Are you… are you alright?”

She turned her head slightly, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. “I…” was she alright? No. How could she be? “I don’t know. Coming back here… I thought I was ready. But it just feels so different from what I thought I remembered”

“You lived here. There’s no shame in mourning what you lost”

Shèa shook her head and closed her eyes against the lamplight. “I accepted that I lost my home a long time ago. The memories are what makes it hard- the nightmares, flashes of my past that I forced away as a kid. Repressed, even. Memories that tore me apart from the inside with guilt and shame”

The words felt like sharp daggers impaling her heart; guilt…shame… turmoil. It was all anybody could feel, had they been through what she had. Hero had sacrificed his life for her, brutally murdered by his own brothers. The same specimens from which he had been cloned. Was there any other emotion to feel?

“That night… what happened to your people shouldn’t define you as a person. You were a child. What could you have done to prevent it?”

“Not gone with the Jedi when they took me from my home? Not… not ran when my friends- when my friends were killed by our Master”

His head snapped to her, fixating her with a glare. “What?”

A bittersweet smile overtook her face as she recounted the events, tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. “When it all happened… when it happened, the Clone Troopers- the soldiers sworn to protect the Republic- stormed the Temple and killed any Jedi that stood in their way. The Elders… the Masters who taught us, cared for us, hid us in the Council Chambers.

“But then he came. Skywalker- it's one of the few names I can recall from that time. We asked him what was happening, why would the Republic’s own legions turn against us? And then he- he-“ she sucked in a shallow breath and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing away the bubbling spike of panic. “He killed them. He killed them all, yet I managed to escape through one of the passageways…”

“Shèa-“ he spoke softly, twisting his body, reaching out for her.

“I can still hear their screams. I can still hear that lightsaber striking down again and again- and again- and whenever I have a moment to myself I just… relive it all over again. Like this never-ending nightmare that I can’t escape from”

His hand shot out and seized her cheek, forcing her face to turn to him, the blubbers of invisible tears sliding over her cheeks as he stared her down. Shèa tried to wriggle back, but his hold was too strong.

“It’s okay to fall apart a little… they were your family. But you’re a fighter, you just have to keep on fighting”

Her breath rattled in her ribcage as her hands came to rest atop his, framing her face. “Maybe I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe I don’t want to do… this anymore. I would- I would rather feel complete… feel unconditional love than continue fighting, because that is what I have been doing my entire life.”

“That’s… what you’re afraid of? Not being loved?” he repeated, his touch softening slightly.

“I’m scared of ending up alone”

In that second, that tiny frame where nothing else seemed to move but their bodies- he pulled her tight to his chest and held her there. Just like he had on Sorgan his arms wrapped around her body, squeezing tight, a reassuring hold as Shèa’s consciousness faltered. But then she was clinging onto him just as tight, eyes fluttering shut and refusing to let the tears fall as her fingers curled into the fabric of his cape. It was soft, softer than she had expected it to be, a stark contrast to the cold and hard exterior of his armour.

As her grip tightened on the fabric he only pulled her closer, so much in fact that she found herself settled into his lap, one knee bent beneath her legs to cradle her steadily while the other stretched out along the bed. As Shèa pulled away slightly to stare at him she found herself looking down, his helmet lilted, and that was when she saw it.

The slightest slither of skin.

It was barely visible, and only so because she had arched her body away. A little plump, tanned yet visible in the dark, of the underside of his chin, covered in stubble and looking… nice? Sure, she had seen his skin before; his hand, the feeling of it bare around her own, but this… it sent flutters through her stomach and her heart hitched as she sat upright.

Her fingers reached up and grazed against it. Shèa was sure she felt him visibly shiver, and like a small child who was entranced with a gizmo or gadget, she repeated the action.

“Shèa…” Din said lowly, a partial warning that hung weakly in the air.

“It feels weird” his head cocked before she smiled slightly. “I like it”

Din hesitated, his hand encircling her wrist and returning it to her own lap, and suddenly Shèa was sure she had truly fucked up. She shouldn’t have done that- could Mandalorian’s even be touched? Oh no-

“Close your eyes,” he told her, gazing up at her blankly. Her brow knitted together in confusion. “Close them”

“Look, if you’re going to try and mess with me, tonight is not the right time-“

“Just close them. I promise I won’t scare you”

Reluctantly, Shèa closed her eyes and waited patiently, unsure as to what he had planned, and whether or not she should be absolutely terrified, or allow the slight curiosity within her to pique. As her vision blanked she strained her ears to listen, feeling the Mandalorian below her shift and reach up to grab something before he was taking her hands again and pulling them upward-

Her palms came to cup something soft and bristly, warm under her skin as her fingers moulded around the shape. Her thumbs pawed something soft- cheeks. She was touching cheeks, the tips grazing over plump lips and up toward the button of a nose. Shèa’s entire body stiffened as the realisation dawned on her, and suddenly she was squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, refusing to allow them to the accident of slipping open and revealing all.

His face was between her hands, in her hold, in her control. And one false move would give up everything he had worked so hard for.

“You…” she muttered, her head shaking slightly in disbelief. “Put it back on”

“You’re not alone, Shèa. You never will be”

“Din” she repeated firmly. “You need to put it back on”

His hands still holding hers over his skin he moved them up, her fingers sliding through tassels of short hair, then down over the length of his skull, sliding around his nose and overlong lashes. His jaw was firm, just as she had dreamt it to be, and tightened as her hands came to rest on either side of his neck, pressing slightly.

It took all of her self-restraint not to kiss him right then. Despite everything he stood for- everything that she stood for- it was an overwhelming urge that refused to ebb away. But his lips had felt so soft, so supple and willing… so… real.

She couldn’t. But maybe he could someday. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. Someday when the entire Universe didn’t stand in opposition, when they could finally be free as themselves. Not as a Mandalorian, or a Jedi. Just Din and Shèa.

Her face pulled together and she ducked her head, tucking it into his deck and burying her face there, not wanting to feel the temptation any longer. His hands fell to her back and his chest rose slightly with a small laugh of indignation, fingers trailing up the curve of her spine to smooth down her hair.

“Sleep” he murmured into her ear, his unfiltered voice rich and smooth. “I’ll watch over you”

Her body flinched slightly with amusement as she settled herself. Perhaps sleep would help to erase the physical image of his face slowly beginning to form in her head, all strong features and ample eyes.

“How?”

He paused and shifted her so that she curled into his side, the Beskar comforting and not at all harsh against her cheek. “Scare away the bad dreams, I suppose”

“Shut up, Din” she grumbled, though a red tinge glowed across her face, which she buried into the closest pillow. “Just… shut up”

“Sleep well” he sighed, hand still stroking through her hair. But it proved a nice distraction to Shèa, the rhythmic motion lulling her closer toward sleep. “I’ll be here when you wake up”

She blinked slow and long, fighting to keep her eyes open, though she wasn’t sure why. Here, at this moment, was the comfiest she had ever been. On Nevarro they had slept next against a rock; but with the mattress beneath her and the sheets padded around her body, it was almost as though she were floating upon a cloud made of the fluffiest air.

All Shèa could think about as unconsciousness overtook her body was the feeling of Din’s face between her hands, his body beneath hers, and how hot he had felt. Temperature-wise, obviously. A dark part of her stirred- he’d feel much better without the armour, and all that gear on. She could do nothing but smile girlishly at the imaginative thought.

“You always are” were her last words before the darkness closed in around her and she drifted off, temporarily unplagued by the terrors of the night-conjured by her own mind, and safe.

Just as she always would be, as long as she was with him.

Chapter Text

The next morning, they left the inn.

Din had roused her just before the sun had begun to peak over the rooftops, hastily stuffing his things back into the single duffle he had brought with them while manhandling the kid . It took Shèa a while to adjust to the slurred sleep embracing her body, but when she finally did, the Mandalorian had bundled her out of the tall building .

Chapter Text

It took some time for Shèa to drag the lifeless body of the bartender back into the Crest, and by the time she did, she would not have been surprised if a full day had flashed by. He was heavier than he looked, even with his gangly limbs and long legs. He had been far taller- and stronger- than she, and yet here he was; brought to his knees but a droid.

The thought made her smirk as she looked down upon him, watching his head slip to the side as his chin rested upon his chest.

She had managed to prop him up against the wall, his wrists and ankles bound by a piece of cord she had fished out from the bottom of her duffel, however the knot work needed some improvement. It would do until Din returned.

A sudden jolt shot through her chest. He wasn’t going to return.

“No loose ends” Shèa repeated, as though she was hearing them for the very first time. Despite the blatant obvious intention, they still didn’t seem real.

From her feet, Bolt chirped questioningly. Shèa looked down to him.

“No, I don’t have a plan”

Stepping away, Shèa turned her attention to the weapons locker that was now propped open, it’s full contents on display. Lots of blasters, lots of big guns she didn’t know the name of, and her lightsaber, which was tucked away into a corner and winking back at her.

Snatching it up, Shèa clipped it onto her belt, before her attention turned to the blaster Din had given her… his blaster. It was still set on her workbench where she had left it, winking at her.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she wrapped her hand around the handle and pulled it toward herself. He had given it to her afterall, so surely he had wanted her to use it- or had he know what Dina’s plan had been? Had he knows she would come for him?

Bolt called out an iteration of do you know how to use that thing?.

Shèa replied with a one-armed shrug as she slid it into the waistband of her pants. “You pull the trigger, right?”

Exasperated, he let out a sort of whinnied and scratching noise. A sigh, Shèa realised, as her eyes flicked to make sure the bartender was still slumped against the wall.

“I need you to stay here and watch the kid- do you know how to fly a ship?” he chirped. “Of course, I never doubted you. Go up to the cockpit and make sure you’re ready to make a getaway when I get Di- I mean the Mandalorian, okay?”

Hopping up onto the chair beside her workstation, and then the tabletop itself, Bolt considered her. Even in their short friendship, Bolt had apparently made easy work of reading her very well. Was it a droid thing, perhaps? She didn’t know.

Shèa had never befriended a droid before. Nor had she taken on an underground crime syndicate- but there was a first time for everything.

“Here” Shèa said, digging around in her bag for a moment before fishing out a small item- a comm link. The same one she had used during the job with Din’s old crew. “Tune into the same frequency as this and listen out for my word. Then you come pick me up, and we get the hell out of here”

To where?

Once more, she shrugged. “There should be somewhere on the Navlog. Just make sure it’s peaceful. And preferably without the presence of Imperials”

Bolt gave a sharp nod of affirmation as he hopped across the desk toward her and back down onto the floor. Shèa could not help but smile, turning to watch him go. That was when she saw the kid.

“Hey” she smiled, approaching the bunk where he sat. He had curled himself into the blankets Din had left there for him, and his pointed ears were sunken in… worry, perhaps? Without words, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. “I’ll bring him back, don’t worry”

The Child’s eyes twinkled as he gazed up at her, his mouth parting in a quiet coo.

Shèa tapped his nose and rubbed her forefinger across his wrinkled forehead. “I promise. He looked after me, so now its my turn to repay the favour. But you gotta be good for me, okay?”

He could only coo, burrowing himself deeper into the gathered blankets.

With a final rub she hit the button beside the bunk, watching as a sheet of metal came down between her and the Child, hiding him from sight. Beneath her feet, the ship roared to life, ready to flee at a moments notice.

Shèa sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, wincing only at the aching feeling across her neck where she could feel deep bruises blossoming. Turning on her heel, she began to step toward the ramp, but stopped once more, and looked down at the bartender.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his brand new jacket and cowl, and then flicked to her own tattered attire.

By the time Shèa left the dockyard, she was adorning a new outfit, and leaving the frozen form of the bartender in a slab of carbonite behind.

*

The street was louder than she remembered it; or perhaps it was busier now, full to the brim with people pushing past and lining three-bodies-deep outside the array of nightclubs scattered along the long stretch. Beings of all different species moulded together into a blurred sheet before her, only their feet visible beneath the drooping hood of her cowl as she sidestepped between drunken women and men roughly shoving one another.

But Shèa could only focus on her feet- the way they moved nimbly, silently. Had it not been for her erratic breathing beneath the hood, she would have thought herself to be a part of the shadows themselves. Moving so slickly that she became one with the darkness that threw itself into the darkest corners where the luminescent lights could not reach.

Shèa pressed forward, further into the dense throng moving like water down the street.

She tilted her head up, eyes scouring the signed postage hung like beacons above the buildings. A food bar nicknamed in Aurebesh flashed by, the lettering flickering in a sickly green, and she was sure that the taller building with pink imagery was nothing more than a brothel.

However, none of these buildings were her destination. No, she sought something brighter. The most vibrant building of them all…

Princess’ Hope.

“Back of the line!” The bodyguard at the door barked as Shèa approached quietly, his thick arms crossing over one another, as strong as ancient tree trunks. “Don’t make me kick your ass”

The man in front of the bodyguard, a withered looking Twi’lek, only scowled before skulking off to the back of the very long line, grumbling all the way. Shèa took this opportunity to slide in front of the larger man, staring up at him through dark lashes and allowing the hood to obscure the top half of her face.

“Did you not hear me?” The bodyguard snapped, placing his hands now on his hips. “Back of the line”

Shèa said nothing. The guard growled in frustration, reaching around for something- but Shèa was faster.

Pulling Din’s blaster from the waistband of her pants, she jammed the barrel of the weapon into his naval suggestively. For a fleeting moment, he was taken aback, his step faltering as he raised his arms up in mercy.

“What-“

Shèa jerked her head up. “Can I speak to your manager?”

For someone working so far down in Coruscant’s underworld, she would have thought he would be more accustomed to being held at gunpoint. But his expression told an entirely different story. Or at least it did until it shifted, his brow knotting together as his mouth pulled back to bare his teeth on display.

“Nice try, kid” he chuckled deeply, reaching down to take hold of her wrist and yank it up. “I’ll take this- ugh!”

In a swift motion, Shèa brought her knee upward, smashing it into his groin and watching as he keeled over and landed heavily on his knees before her. Ripping her arm free of his hold, she shoved the cold tip of the gun against the dampened skin of her forehead.

“Don’t make me use this thing. It’s uncivilised.”

Around her, the crowd parted, an obvious result of the scuffling. A few women cried out, skittering backward, obviously not used to seeing something so… explicit right before their eyes. Others said nothing, only watched on.

The bodyguard stared up at her nervously, his tongue flitting out to swipe across his dry lips.

Insistently, she pressed the gun harder against his skin, forcing him to kneel further into the gravel underfoot. Finally, his eyes skirted to the door some feet away from where pulsating music was radiating from. A silent confirmation, nonetheless.

Exhaling in relief, she tucked the gun back into her pants, and took a step toward the metal doors.

“Wait, you can’t just-“

With a rushing blast of cold air, the doors flew open with a bang. She turned to consider the guard. “I’ve got it, thanks”

He could only stare at her with a mixture of astonishment and fear as she entered, and the doors closed behind her, submerging her in the darkness.

He was here. Din. She could sense him through the walls, if that was even possible. His energy, his… force. Once, Master Vos had told her the Force flowed through every living thing- and that what separated her from the rest was that it had chosen her.

Yet as she stood in the long corridor of the nightclub, she could feel his roaring from the depths of the brick walls. He was alive. But not for long, she could only remind herself.

Shèa found herself breathing deeply in an attempt to soothe the erratic beating of her heart as she began to walk down the hallway, her hands swinging absently by her sides. It was at this point she pulled down her hood and shook out her hair, letting it spill down her back as she drew closer to the blaring music, which seemed louder than it had earlier that day.

On the left of the hallway, a door – which she had not noticed before- opened, and red light spilled into the dark.

From behind it stepped two men- bodyguards- both armed with large blasters and dressed down in scraps of cloth. Shèa slowed in her step, watching as they positioned themselves close to the doors that would lead her into the club, and to Dina.

“Stop right there!” One barked, raising the blaster. “You ain’t going no further!”

Shèa obeyed and halted in her step, standing wide as she breathed deeply.

Beside the guard that had shouted the order, the other man shuffled forward. “Now turn around and get the hell out of here! You got no business here!”

“I want Dina” Shèa told them, her voice flat. Void of any emotion, any indication as to her next move. “Now”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” The first grunted out. “This is for threatening her!”

The sound of a blaster bolt ripped through the corridor, a pulsing energy like no other that warped in the air as it soared down the corridor toward her. The Force bubbled inside of her suddenly, and then it stopped.

The guard who had shot it lowered his weapon, staring in disbelief. “What the-“

Shèa tightened her fist, and the bolt imploded in on itself, showering the hallway in sparks.

“Shit!” One of the guards yelled as he ducked, covering his eyes from the sparks that rained down now from the exposed ceiling. “What the-“

A scream tore itself from his throat as a sheath of searing yellow light pierced his chest, and he fell limp against Shèa as she shoved him off and to the ground. The other guard, who had retreated further toward the doors, began to fire his blaster.

Her body moved on instinct, just as it had on Nevarro, shifting and turning and sidestepping as she met each blast with the force of her lightsaber, which roared at the impact of absorbing the energy. She felt it deep within her, as though she too were absorbing the energy, and each electron only made the drive for her revenge stronger.

Revenge for what, though, she was not so sure. But when she found Din, she would know. More than she did in that moment, at least.

The guard rasped, breathless, as he pressed himself up against the doors leading into the large nightclub beyond, his hand fumbling for the latch as his gun clattered to the floor.

Lowering her blade, she extended her hand, and he suddenly went rigid, as though his body had turned into a metal rod. His face was one of fear.

“I do not want to kill you” Shèa told him. “So don’t make me”

In response, he shook his head, whimpering. “I w-wont! I promise!”

Shèa nodded and gently released him. “Now, open the doors, and get everyone in there out. I only want your boss”

Gasping he nodded again and turned, unlatching the doors and throwing them open to reveal the crowd of bodies beyond. The noise hit her and she grimaced at the smell, watching as the guard moved into the crowd and began to wave his arms around.

At first, nobody paid him any attention, only shooting him rude looks as he grabbed a few peoples arms and began to tug them toward the hallway she still stood in. It was not until he retrieved his blaster and began firing did they heed his words.

“Out! Everybody out, now, or I swear to god I will shoot you!”

A hushed whisper passed over the crowd as the music skidded to a stop, and a few people began stumbling drunkenly toward the door.

The guard fired more shots, and then the entire room began to move. They rushed toward Shèa, who remained where she stood, her blade still ignited so as to create a wide pathway as those passing her hugged the walls. Scared chatter floated past her ears as the shots continued, and a few people yelped as she moved against them and toward the main room.

Given how many people there had been, she was surprised to see that the room was mostly empty spare a few stragglers who were now being ushered out by passersby. The guard, who looked exasperated, rested against a nearby steel pillar.

Shèa turned to him. “Go”

He did not need telling twice, and before long, Shèa was the only person stood on the wide expanse of the glimmering dance floor. Turning, her eyes searched the darkness.

“Dina!” she called out, her voice hoarse in her throat still. “Show yourself!”

Her voice echoed in the dance hall as she flicked the blade of her lightsaber out, and she loosened the knot in the neck of her cloak as it fell from her shoulders and onto the floor. Silence ensued as she stepped away, rolling her shoulders.

She was ready.

“Dina-“

“Well” a smooth voice interrupted her, and Shèa whipped around, squinting at a door beside the bar. “Isn’t this a surprise”

There, framed against the pink and purples of the neon lights, stood Dina. Her hair had been slicked back from her face now, and her skin shone with a dewy glow- sweat, she realised. Someone had been having fun.

Shèa bit down her jaw, feeling it tremble as her fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her blade.

“Where is he?” Shèa asked in a quiet, shaking voice, which carried easily now that the music had died.

Dina tilted her head, her bottom lip jutting out as she skirted around the curve of the bar and leant up against it. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though I must admit… you are far more intriguing than I initially thought. I’m assuming that poor excuse of a bartender wasn’t able to subdue you after all?”

“He’s indisposed”

“As he should be” she replied with a glimmering smile. “Come, sit with me”

Dina gestured to one of the booths as she made her way over, sliding into the seat and stretching her arms out along the length of it. Shèa watched her, the blade of her lightsaber distinguishing.

“I am not here for pleasantries”

She inclined her head toward Shèa. “Then why are you here, Jedi?”

Anger rippled through Shèa, and she snatched the blaster from her waistband, shooting at a point just above Dina’s head that scorched the wall. Her breathing laboured, she lowered the blaster, glowering at the blue-skinned-woman who could only chuckle in reaction.

“I seem to have touched a nerve- so that is what you are? A Jedi. I should have known from that killing glare you have…” Dina trailed off, and realisation struck her features. “You’re one of his, aren’t you?”

Shèa said nothing as Dina leant forward on the table.

“You’re one of Vos’”

Her face fell slightly, betraying whatever stoic expression Shèa had been trying so desperately to hold. Dina’s smile only grew louder as she stood once more, surveying Shèa now with a much keener interest.

“Oh, I knew Vos. Though I’m surprised it took me this long to figure it out… he always did have that same look as you. Not quite anger, but not quite happiness either. I liked to call it the look of death”

Her fingers trailed the table top as she spoke, grinning to herself still.

“Don’t you speak his name” Shèa spat, her voice wavering as the grip on her lightsaber trembled.

“We were friends, back in the day, me and him” Dina began, pulling an idle drink set upon the table toward her with a long finger. Wrapping her hand around the stem, she took a long drink, her eyebrows raised. “Though I doubt he would’ve told you what he got up to during his free time”

The blade beside Shèa bled out, and she was left clutching the ornate handle. “Tell me where he is, and I will leave here without killing you and the rest of your men”

Dina’s mouth parted in amusement. “Aren’t you just the little firecracker. Don’t worry, your… friend is alive. For now”

“Where?” Shèa repeated again- no, demanded. She did not care for the woman’s games, or her small talk. She had come for him, and him only.

She leant forward on the table, clasping her hands together. Shèa took a step forward. “I said he is alive for now. So be a good girl and sit down.”

Anger bubbled in her, but so did something else. Fear. For now meant not long- she didn’t have long to get him. Shèa’s mind could only think of disturbing scenarios as to what Dina had done to him.

Against her better judgement, and reluctantly, Shèa tucked away her blaster, sheathed her lightsaber, and approached the booth on unsteady feet. As she took a seat, Dina reclined, folding one leg over the other.

“Good girl” she goaded, running a hand through the smooth texture of her light hair. “I can see why Mando keeps you around. Obedient, yet fiery. I have to admit, I didn’t take him for one to fraternise with women such as yourself”

Shèa’s brow knotted together in annoyance. “Such as myself?” she repeated, aloud.

Dina chuckled airily. “Women like us, I must admit. There is a reason they keep us in the dark, and do not allow us to show until they desperately need us. I assume that’s what this is? You have come to save your darling, damsel, Mandalorian”

When Dina put it like that, she was nothing short of correct. She had come to save Din, but he did not… hide her away as the woman said. He protected her, right? Kept her out of harms way, even when he did not need to.

Shèa crossed her arms defiantly. “I don’t follow”

Dina exhaled, smiling still. “My dear, men like your dear Mandalorian were- are terrified of us. As they have been for centuries. Have you ever wondered why they speak down to us? Objectify us? Scrutinise us?”

Silent, she shook her head in reply.

“Because they fear our obsolete power. And because of it, they murder us. Hide us away” she whispered. “Your Mandalorian does not value your strength… he’s humiliated by it. Why do you think I run things down here in the Underworld?”

He was… scared of her? Din wasn’t scared of her, or humiliated by her for that matter. He was… he was… She didn’t know how he felt, actually. However, images prickled the edges of her conscious. The way he had looked at her when he first saw her as her true self, not the fantasy she had created from the outside looking in.

Maybe it had been fear. A sunken feeling crawled over her chest, and suddenly it felt extremely heavy.

“I don’t care what he thinks, or what you think” Shèa leered. “I am here for what I want, so give it to me”

“Aha!” Dina said loudly, clapping loudly. “There it is. That fire. No wonder Vos picked you, he always did like the temperamental ones. I remember that Twi-lek of his… Secura was it? Oh, she was snarky before he kicked her into shape”

Aayla Secura. She had almost forgotten that name; Vos first Padawan, a Twi’lek who had often spoken of in high regard. Aayla had been smart- mischievous, but Shèa supposed she had learnt that from Master Vos himself. Shèa wondered what had happened to the old Jedi Master.

But Aayla was no cause for concern now.

“Enough of this” Shèa snapped, banging a closed fist onto the table top. “I came here for the Mandalorian, so either you give him to me, or I will take him”

Dina blinked. “I would like to see you try”

Lurching to her feet, Shèa twisted, and began to march off in the direction of the door that Dina had emerged from. If she had to guess, it was her best bet at finding Din- wherever he might be.

Following her, Dina rose also, and stepped out of the booth.

She called out after her. “Or perhaps is it your Aunt that you get such fire from?” There was a pause. “Padmé Amidala?”

Shèa faltered in her step, foot hovering above the ground as her head shifted to glance back at Dina, who was stood proudly. What had she said? She turned fully, facing her.

“Which would make you the dead little girl the Naberrie family pore on the holonet… Shèa Naberrie.”

“How?” Shèa asked in a trembling tone. “How do you know?”

Her fingers furled and unfurled at her sides, desperate to reach for her lightsaber and strike Dina down where she stood. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

“It’s easy to find out what you need about your enemies when their face is being shouted like red murder in the Bounty Hunter’s Guild” Dina explained, reaching into her deep pockets and pulling out something small and circular. A holopuck, she realised. “If I were you, I would tread lightly”

Her long, blue, finger swiped across the surface, and suddenly a face appeared. Her face, barren and gaunt, staring back at her. Suddenly, it all made sense.

“You already knew what I was the moment I walked in the door”

Dina inclined her head. “I run this level. It wasn’t that hard to figure out who was coming to my club to threaten me, not when I have eyes and ears everywhere”

Shèa took a step forward, her eyes still glued to the holopuck. If she had a bounty, that could only mean Din did also… the Kid too, probably. How had they not known, after all of this time?

“So, what? You turn me in to the Guild and make a little cash, is that it? I’ve lived this long on the run, I’m pretty sure I can do it again” Shèa argued. “You don’t scare me”

“Oh, money means nothing to me. Not when the Imperials are offering something so much more worthwhile”

Of course, the Imperials were involved- who else? Din did kill Moff Gideon afterall. They should have known they would be out, sniffing for revenge.

“I’m leaving, with the Mandalorian. Now hand it over, and I won’t strike you down where you stand” She said calmly.

Dina puckered her lips. “I don’t think you’ll be getting very far.”

With a dismissive wave over her shoulder, a set of doors banged open, and a gaggle of people emerged. Two of her bodyguards, ones that Shèa hadn’t yet threatened or beat up, came stomping in, dragging something between them. A mass of hunky metal and dark fabric, shoes scraping the floor as it hung sullen between them.

Shèa did not need to guess twice. It was Din.

She started forward, ready to launch into an all-out fight, but Dina held up her hand, halting her in her step without so much as a word. The guards lumbered into the middle of the dancefloor, which was still blinking in a multitude of colours, and dropped him to the floor with an almighty thud.

Din lay there, unmoving, his chin against his chest and legs askew.

“Thank you, boys” Dina said to the guards, who only bowed their heads before disappearing back the way they had come. The Pantoran turned to Shèa, gesturing to Din. “See? He’s alive, as you can see”

“What did you do to him?” Shèa hissed.

Her eyes raked up and down his body, staring at the splotches of dark in the spaces his Beskar could not cover: the stretch of muscle between his neck and shoulder, the area just beneath his chest plate, his hip. Blood blossomed across the dark tunic he wore beneath his armour, and he made a guttural sound full of pain and anguish.

“My boys got a little carried away” she shrugged as thought it were nothing. As though Din were nothing.

The fury screaming through her veins struggled to the tips of her fingers, which tingled, itching the air. It felt as though electric static were coursing through her body, rearing it backward, trying to shoot within an instant.

“Don’t worry, though. The Imperials will be here soon, and I’m sure they’ll see fit that you’re both looked after well”

Her breathing came shallow. “The Imperials have no jurisdiction over Coruscant” she said in a low voice.

“You either stay, and live, or the both of you shall leave in bags”

Shèa’s head snapped to glare at Dina, and she snatched the hilt of her lightsaber. Her arm pumped as it roared to life, pointing the ignited blade toward Dina.

The corners of her eyes creased as they narrowed. “I am not scared of a half-baked Jedi”

Her arm swung out, and now she clutched the lightsaber with both arms firmly by her side. Her feet shifted, sliding across the sticky floor.

“You should be”

Darting forward, Shèa brought the blade of her saber down in an arch, expecting Dina to either slip out of the way or succumb to it. What the Pantoran did, however, left her confused.

Dina did not move. Or die. Or even cry out in fear. Instead, she brought her own arm up, and met Shèa’s strike with sizzling blue.

As Shèa stood back and stared, wide-eyed, the fury in her only grew stronger. Before her, standing awkwardly yet proud, was Dina clutching a lightsaber. A blue one, nonetheless; the mark of a Jedi Guardian. But Dina was no Jedi.

Shèa shook out the tightness in her arm as she encircled Dina, who only turned to watch her.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, incredulous, her mind reeling. How could she have a lightsaber.

Dina looked down, considering the weapon. “This old thing? As it happens, the black market has a rather large trade in old lightsabers. I suppose theres no use for them now, given that all the Jedi are dead”

“It does not belong to you. You cannot control it” Shèa gritted out.

The woman chortled. “Can’t i?”

Stepping forward, she swiped out, however Shèa met her blue blade with her own, pushing upward and sending her staggering backward at the harsh force. She could feel it even in the way Dina held the lightsaber that it did not belong to her, nor did she have an ounce of the midichlorians coursing her blood that Shèa did.

It reminded Shèa of herself as a child, playing pretend with one of the wooden sabers the Masters gifted to the Younglings when they first arrived. Then, they had simply jabbed and swiped at each other, oblivious that- in the years to come- they would become the fiercest fighters in the Temple.

Dina feigned forward, then back again, calculating her next strike. Did it not come natural for her? Of course not, why would it?

Shèa spun her saber, and she turned with it, darting toward Dina as their blades met in a clash overhead.

The Pantoran bared her teeth, straining to push Shèa back, who could only glare at her, their faces inches from one another. She could see the sweat beading on Dina’s brow, a mixture of fright and tension. Above them, the lightsabers cried out, plasma against plasma sizzling and surrounding them in a halo of sparks.

She kicked her foot out, striking Dina in the stomach, and she staggered backward. Shèa closed the distance, advancing, as Dina wildly struck out in a desperate effort.

Bouncing onto her tiptoes, she arched her body inward, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blue plasma as it swerved against her skin. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or her own anger, that blinded her from the sudden pain that erupted across her torso.

But she didn’t notice, only following Dina as she scrambled further back.

Their strikes met low, then high, and even in between their midriffs. Shèa was not naturally strong, or fast either, but Dina’s own inexperience contributed for her shaking movements. She could not meet each blow from Shèa with the same matched velocity, nor could she flow like she did, her entire body carrying itself along with the Force like water trickling over a smoothed stone.

While Dina struggled to even bring the blue lightsaber down over her head, Shèa twirled it in her hand effortlessly, even going as far as to toss it from one hand to the next. She could have used the force had she wanted, but she did not.

Her own morals would not let her.

At an interval, Dina managed to push Shèa away; far enough so that she could step backward for her every step forward, resulting in an endless circle in which Shèa stalked her relentlessly.

“Would you really kill a civilian?” Dina asked, exasperated, the faintest hint of a tremble in her tone.

“No. But then again, you are no civilian”

She chuckled, nervous. “I thought the Jedi were not killers”

“Last I recall, the Jedi Order is no more. So do not threaten me with my own religion”

A strangled noise left Shèa’s mouth as she struck out again. Dina deflected the blast.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Kill me, and the Mandalorian will see you for what you truly are”

Her comment caused Shèa to pause slightly. See her as what she was? And what would that be… ruthless? A killer? If she were that, than he no better. He had killed far more people in his lifetime than she had in a moment’s breath.

“Are you?” she asked in return, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Dina’s eyes widened.

“You’re… you’re just like Vos” Dina spat out, pushing strands of hair back from her face. Shèa brow knotted together. “Corrupted. Tainted by the dark, just like he was”

“Shut up!”

Shèa stepped forward, and their blades met again in a shower of sparks. Dina grimaced under the weight of her strike, her elbows shaking out to try and push backward. When she did, Shèa spun her blade out, waiting in earnest.

She would kill Dina, yes. She did not care for her antics any longer, even despite the sour blows her words left against her heart.

“Tell me, did you love him? Vos? Did your own… darkness kill him, because you were too weak?”

Shèa yelled out in anger. “I said shut up!”

In a moment, she was before her.

Dina made to jab out, but it fell short, leaving her arms- and the lightsaber- suspended out before her. In an instant, Shèa took advantage, and looped her lightsaber around and over the top.

The Pantoran screamed as the yellow of her blade sank through her wrists, and Shèa caught the blue saber as it fell into her open hand. Defeated, Dina dropped to her knees before Shèa, breathing heavily as she stared down at the place where her hands had been, which was now replaced by two sizzling stumps.

Her face suddenly became pale, slick with sweat as her eyes flitted up to Shèa, who loomed above her like a dark omen. Her mouth opened, wordless.

“Tainted” she managed to cough out amid the shock racking at her body. “You’re… t-tainted”

Shèa clutched a saber in either hand, inhaling deeply. She said nothing.

“And everybody you love is going to die because of it-“

The words fell dead on Dina’s lips, for as she spoke the last one, Shèa plunged the two crackling blades through her heart.

Dina fell limp almost instantaneously, sagging against the blades before they retreated back into their hilts, and she crumpled to the floor. Her lilac hair fanned out around her head, long lashes brushing her paled and wet cheeks as slowly, blood began to trickle from the open wounds.

For a moment, Shèa stared at her laying there. She felt… she didn’t feel anything. Not even relief, her entire body numb, head spinning as though she were drunk on the sick euphoria of watching her soul slowly pour from her body.

She was dead. Shèa had killed her- murdered her. She looked down at her hands, which hung vacantly by her side, to see she still clutched the two blades; her own, and another’s.

Somewhere behind her, Din made a noise, and it was as though she burst back to life.

Shèa spun on her heel, stumbling over blindly as she tucked the sabers onto her belt and crawled up beside him. Her hand slid under his helmet, pulling him toward her as he slowly rolled onto his back, apparently moving his lips silently as he breathed in deep, guttural, breaths.

He was alive. He was alive.

“Hey” Shèa said hoarsely, placing her other hand on his chest. “You’re okay”

“What… What are you doing here?” he croaked, his head tilting to look at her. “I-I told you-“

“To stay on the ship, I know” she repeated with a small smile.

He looked, even sounded, terrible. The blood on his tunic had spread further now, and as she pressed a hand to the deep gash along his shoulder, it came away slick and stained red.

“How?” he asked emptily. “How did you find me?”

Pulling him to sit up, Shèa shuffled, positioning herself below his arm. She hoisted him up, wobbling as he rested on her, and groaning under his weight.

“She sent one of her lackies to… well, it didn’t work out, to put it simply”

Disorientated, his gaze drifted over to the crumpled form of Dina, who was only a few feet away. “You… killed her?”

“Yes”

There was a small pause, and then he nodded. “Thank you”

*

By the time Shèa had managed to lumber back to the Razor Crest, Din dangling off her like a small child, he had all but drifted asleep. She could feel the way his chest was rising and falling in staggered intervals, and occasionally, his hand would encircle her upper arm, stilling them for a few minutes while he regained his breath.

Had one of Dina’s lackies been following them, Shèa was certain they would have not made it back. Yet as they rounded the corner and crawled up the dockyard toward the ship, they had gone untouched, the only beings in their way being the Hive Rats that scoured the streets for scraps.

As Shèa helped pull Din up the ramp, the Child emerged, his ears still drooping and his eyes blinking away the sleep.

He made a coo of noise- a worried one, she noted.

“He’s okay” Shèa called out as she unwrapped Din’s large arm from her shoulders and settling him down on the floor, his back resting against the metal doors of his weapons cache. “I promise”

The Child only blinked at her as she scooped him up, climbing up the ladder two-rungs at a time and squeezing herself into the cockpit. Inside, Bolt was waiting patiently, perched upon the centre console of the controls, his scomp link plugged into a hidden port.

When Shèa entered he looked up, beeping erratically. She set down the Kid on one of the back seats, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

“You ready to go?” she asked Bolt, looking at him. He gave a nod of affirmation. “Alright, get us out of here. I don’t know if we were tailed or not”

He beeped again, and the scomp link began to whir as the engines of the ship rumbled loudly. Turning, Shèa navigated her way back down into the hull, landing softly just as the ramp slammed shut.

Din was still sat on the floor when she looked up, though he was clutching something in his hand… bandages, she realised. Ones he had gotten from a now open compartment just below the weapons cache.

“I’ve got it” she told him, stooping down to snatch the bandage from him, and earning a very tired- yet aggravated- look in return. “You’re hurt”

“I-I can do it” he gritted out harshly, one of his hands splayed across the deep gash in his torso. He inhaled. “I can do it”

Shèa crouched down and took his hand in her own, pulling it away to stare at the dark patch of blood staining the fabric he wore under the thick layers of Beskar. When her eyes rose to his face, he was staring back at her.

“I know, but let me” she told him. “You’ll, uh… you’ll need to take it off”

“Take what off?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, swaying as the momentum of the ship rising rocked the hull sideways. A hand on the wall, she braced herself.

“Your armour”

For a moment he stared at her, and for a moment, Shèa was terrified he was about to pull his blaster on her. But then she realised he didn’t have his blaster- she did, and it was still tucked into her pants.

Perhaps that was a good thing, for the heavy silence that carried made her want to shoot herself so as to end it quickly.

But Din only sighed and leaned forward, his fingers crawling up his chest to hook around the metal chestplate that clung to his body. Shèa blinked at him, startled, as he gave a small tug.

Nothing happened, and he slowly turned to look at her.

“Can you-“ he paused, shuddering. “Can you take it off? Please”

“Yeah, yeah”

Her words came fast as she sat down on the floor before him, positioning herself between his legs as she reached forward and slinked off his bandolier, her fingers reaching for the corners of the chest piece he had failed to pull off.

“Just… just pull” he groaned, and she did.

The chest plate came off almost easily, and she clutched it to her chest like a prized piece of jewellery, leaving her staring at the fabric of his flight suit. Sure, she had seen him without the armour before, but only in a hazy memory- one where she had just woken up from what was, apparently, a several week coma. But she could hardly remember the way he had looked, so staring at him now was like seeing him in an entirely different light.

Din cleared his throat and Shèa jerked, setting the chest piece down hurriedly.

Next were his pauldrons, which fitted into each other. They gave way to his cloak, which Shèa managed to tug away, and the gauntlets that fitted around his forearms; she was careful with these, though, frightened that if she grazed something they might spit out plumes of fire.

When she had managed to pull off his gun belt, she leaned back, looking at his unarmoured self. It seemed strange, yet as she observed the wounds closer, she could see they were much deeper than they originally thought.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

“What?” he asked her, his voice quiet. “What is it?”

“I…” her tongue swiped out, licking her dried lips. “They’re a bit deeper than I thought, so…”

“So?”

She huffed out a breath and clenched her jaw. “You need to take it off. Your top, I mean”

He was silent, and then he nodded. “Can you… close your eyes”

Her eyes were shut before she even had a chance to reply, pressed tight together as she brought her hands up for good measure. There was scuffling for a while, and the clink of him taking off his helmet so that he could wriggle out of the top.

Finally, when it stopped, she felt hands pulling her wrists away, and her eyes popped up.

Shèa was thankful for the bad lighting in the hull, which flickered every so often, and hopeful it hid the hue of red that spread across her cheeks, hot as fire. So perhaps she had never seen somebody shirtless- well, that was an over exaggeration. Of course she had seen someone without a shirt, just never in such… close proximity to which he was.

If anything, though, she found his naked torso interesting.

Despite the gaping open wounds that littered his side and shoulder, and the blood smeared across his skin, it was as though the tanned surface told a million different stories at once. Stars, he had tanned skin. More tanned than she realised, but in a golden way… a beautiful golden way.

Besides the stab wound, his shoulders and upper arms- even his forearms- were littered in small scars, one which ran from his neck down to above one of his pecs. Dark hair dappled his chest and danced down his naval, disappearing below the waistband of his pants, and the taut muscles in his biceps were defined, carved from years of dragging heavy bounties and doing maker-knows-what.

Was she staring? She was definitely staring. Absolutely. How could she even deny it?

“Help… please?” he huffed out.

“Right!”

Shèa leant to the side and tugged open the door where he usually kept his stash of medical supplies, opening it wide enough to hide her face as she reached inside, searching for the last dregs of bacta she hoped he had. As her hand swiped around inside, pulling out more rolls of gauze and such, she could not help but cringe… she had been staring at him- well, his chest.

Her hand it the back of the compartment, and she pulled it back.

“Where’s the bacta?” she asked abruptly, closing the door over to look at Din, who had rested his head back against the wall. “Din”

“We ran out… I used it on you when you were hurt”

Her brow furrowed. “And you didn’t think to get more?”

“I was busy” he shrugged.

Great. Wonderful. They had no bacta, and without bacta, she couldn’t paste it on and leave him to heal. Her mind blurred over; back on Tatooine, Shabba had showed her how to stitch the skin together. It had been painful, given he had demonstrated on a cut on her leg, but she was sure she could remember… if she thought a bit harder.

Standing up, she moved to the fresher, seizing a small metal box as she did so.

“Do you have a suture kit?” she called over her shoulder as she filled the box with lukewarm water.

He shuffled, sitting up. “A… what?”

Shèa flicked off the faucet and returned, snatching up a clean rag as she did before settling down before him. She placed the box of water on a nearby box and began to soak the rag, talking as she did.

“A suture kit. It’ll have a little needle, some thread stuff, bandages?” he looked at her blankly. “In a blue packet?”

“Oh” he hummed. “In there, I think… that’s what they’re called?”

She huffed in amusement as she reached back into the cabinet, searching around before eventually pulling out a small, blue, packet. Unsealing it, she gently settled it upon her leg, before turning back to Din, who was watching her with interest.

“What’s that for?” he asked. “You’re not-“

“Here, turn around”

Pulling him forward, she helped him move so that his back faced her, and he could rest his head against the wall. From here, she could clearly see the deep gash along his shoulder, which- though it trickled with blood- was not gushing extensively. It wasn’t too deep, just a surface wound.

Squeezing the excess water from the rag that had been soaking in the metal pan, she brought it up, and began to gently wipe away the dried and fresh blood. Din hissed.

“So” Shèa began, working away still, her eyes focused on the marred flesh and the way his back rose and fell steadily. “Want to tell me how they got the upper hand, or is it too embarrassing?”

“It’s not-“ he tensed as Shèa pressed the rag against the cut, pressing into it as she reached over and took the small contraption settled on her knee. “Embarrassing”

“Must be, otherwise you would’ve told me already”

She took a small packet of clear liquid from the kit and popped it open, still pressing the wet rag to his shoulder as she poured the contents of the needle tip. When she pulled away, it was cleaner and clearer.

Placing the cloth to the side, she steadied herself, waiting for him to speak.

“They jumped me as soon as you left-ugh!”

He grunted as she pinched the skin together and pushed the tip of the needle just below the surface, his hands slamming against the cabinet and causing it to rattle. Shèa didn’t flinch, only holding steady as he breathed heavily, the shape of his spine curving, skin slick with sweat. She waited for him to calm, and when he looked to have, she pushed further, and began to thread the two sides of skin together.

“They jumped me as soon as you left” he repeated, this time softer, and only shuddering as she pushed the needle point through the skin again. “Big guy on top, smaller one grabbed my legs. I… I tried using my whistling birds, but they knew what they were doing. Knocked me out before I could”

Shèa coated the needle point in more of the clear solution, cleaning it from blood before continuing. His skin felt hot to the touch now, and she could only hope he was not burning with fever.

She promised herself that, wherever they landed, she would find him some.

“Dina sent someone after you?” he asked when she did not reply, turning his head slightly.

Her brow quirked. “She did. The bartender”

“Did he… hurt you?”

He twisted his upper half to look at her, her arms stretching to make sure he did not pull the stitches loose already. She hesitated for a moment before brushing her hair back, her free hand grazing the soreness of her neck.

Din reached out, one finger brushing her skin lightly. She lifted her chin so he could see better.

“What did you do to him?” Her gaze turned to the place where he stored his carbonite body collection, and he followed. He made a noise, a snort, as though he were proud. “Good girl”

He turned back so she could finish her work.

It did not take her long to tie off the last stitch, snipping off the excess thread and dumping the needle into the water as she placed a square of gauze over the area. As she wrapped it, her hands moved against his skin, and she could feel him visibly flexing under her touch.

“Here” she murmured. 

Standing, she offered him her hand, pulling him with her and helping him to stand on uneasy feet. When she pulled out the bunk for him to lean back against, he sighed thankfully, his body sagging with exhaustion.

Shèa made short work of starting on his torso, kneeling before him with her kit once more. However, the wound here was more shallow, and as she dabbed away at it with her wet cloth, Din watched her intently.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Who taught you?”

She narrowed her eyes, pressing the rag to his torso to try and stop the blood flowing from the open hole. “Taught me what?”

“That… healing stuff”

“You mean first aid?” he nodded. “Shabba. My Master, too, but mostly Shabba. Bacta was expensive on Tatooine, so whenever I hurt myself, he would show me how to fix it.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “He taught me this when I fell down a boulder field and cut my leg open”

Din nodded as he listened along, tilting his head back and sighing.

“I can teach you, if you want” she continued, pulling the rag away and replacing it with another square of gauze, sticking it flat against his skin. “This stuff. Maybe it’ll stop you from using up all the Bacta”

He looked back down at her, his shoulders pulled back tightly. “I…I’d like that”

“Okay” she whispered, sealing off the gauze and wiping her hands on her pant legs. Her hands on either side of his waist to steady herself, she stood straight, fingers grazing his skin as she moved upward. “How are you feeling?”

His voice was quiet. “Good” he said, tilting his head to look at her.

Shèa placed a hand against his chest, still feeling the hotness along his skin. “You’re burning up, I think you’re running a fever”

“I…” he staggered a little, falling into her, and Shèa wrapped her arms around his midriff to steady him. “Yeah, maybe”

Removing her arms from around his middle, she placed her hands on his chest, gently forcing him back to sit on the bunk.

“Rest, I’ve got it”

“The ship-“

“I’ve got it” she didn’t, but Bolt did. Din didn’t need to know that, though.

He nodded and pulled himself onto the bunk, laying back as she pushed it back into the wall. When she was sure he wouldn’t move to get back up, she picked up the metal box of water and returned to the fresher, shrugging off her jacket in the process.

When she squeezed herself into the small room and closed the door over, she dumped the box into the empty basin and stared back at her own reflection.

She looked… tired. Hollow, almost. Her hair was frizzy around her head, and she noticed the curls that once stood so defined had seemingly dropped, her hair now hanging limp by her cheeks. She looked pale, too, she noticed. Was it exhaustion? Hunger? She didn’t feel hungry.

Shaking off the thought, she began to wash the metal box out. Her stomach graze the edge of the basin.

A sudden pain shot through her torso and she staggered, falling into the door and causing an almighty clatter as the contents of a nearby shelf rattled. Outside, Din must of heard, as he called out to her.

“Shèa?”

She blinked away the stars in her eyes as she hunched over the wash basin. “Y-Yeah?”

There was a soft rapping on the door. “Are you okay?”

Shèa stood straight again and looked at the reflection of herself in the mirror again, flinching as she saw a dark patch on her grey shirt she had not seen before. Slowly, she gripped the hem and lifted it, wincing at the sight.

Along her skin, at a diagonal that ran just under naval, was a gash. Not one from a knife like Din’s though. No, this one was marred- cauterised, she realised, barely bleeding but searing with pain all the same.

She thought back to Dina, when the woman had swiped out and she was sure she missed it. Apparently, she had not.

“Shèa” Din repeated, and the doorknob rattled.

She seized it suddenly, pulling it back shut with a bang. “I’m fine. I’m fine”

Outside, there was a sigh.

“Go rest. Please”

The doorknob rattled again. “Open the door”

“Din, I’m fine” she snapped aloud, and on the other side of the fresher door, his protests fell silent. “Go rest.”

There was no reply, only the sound of his retreating footsteps, and she exhaled in relief. He was the one that was hurt. She had to look after him- how many times had he cared for her now? Nursed her back to health?

This time, she could do it on her own.

Still cringing at the scorching pain shooting through her abdomen, she grasped the neck of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, dumping it on the floor in a bloody heap so that she could get a better look. Gently, she touched it, and rubbed her fingers together as they came away sticky with her own blood.

Shèa looked around, picking up the dirty rag she had used to clean Din and rinsing it clean under the cold faucet. She pressed it along the wound, shuddering as it stung blindly.

How she had not felt it before, she didn’t know. Perhaps the high of her adrenaline had kept her going long enough to make sure that Din lived. She couldn’t even begin to think what she would do if he had died. Cry, perhaps? Go on a murderous rampage, probably.

Had he died, she was certain much of Level 1313 would no longer be breathing.

Staring at the wound in the mirror, she scowled as her eyes caught sight of her hair, fingers fumbling to lift it up to her line of vision.

“That bitch” she hissed, surveying the burnt ends where a chunk had been sliced off. That bitch had cut her hair. “Shit”

She tossed the blood-soaked rag into the basin and ran her hands back through her hair. It was just her hair, but it was her hair. Shèa’s hair. She had not cut it since she was a child.

Looking around the fresher, she noticed a pair of large scissors set just beside the toilet. She snatched them up and seized a portion of her hair, looking back to the mirror. She hadn’t cut it since she was a child. She hadn’t… murdered since she was a child, either.

She thought back to Nevarro, but had that really counted? Those men had armour, had not spoken a word to her. So why was it now that an impending feeling was settling heavy on her chest, suffocating her.

Shèa had murdered Dina in cold blood. Not in defence, not to escape. She had sought her out and murdered her, murdered her when she could have just walked away and been done with it.

Her hand trembled as she held the scissors. That was when she cut.

Shèa began to chop away at her hair, grasping random parts and letting the dead strands fall into the running water, watching the hair swirl before washing away. Dina’s face flashed in her mind, and she cut again. She could hear the woman’s scream as she dismembered her hands, screeching in the near distance as more and more fell into the basin.

Her blood pounded in her ears. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her hands shook, fingertips tingling, and her vision blurred over so suddenly it made bile rise in her throat. Get it off, was her only thought. Get it off. Get it off!

She couldn’t look at it, feel it. She couldn’t look at herself, as though if she were, she would see the words murdered etched into her cheeks. Shèa suddenly became aware of how breathing was, and she dropped the scissors with a clash, falling back against the toilet and gripping her head in her hands.

She had killed her. She had killed her. She had killed her. But why did she care?

Dina had hurt Din, yet she had killed her. Why? Why? Why?

It was as though she were trying to reason with anything other than her own mind. In that moment it had felt so right, but now? Could she… could she have saved Din without killing Dina? Or anyone else? Or was that her destiny… to be a… a ruthless killer.

She remembered how she had felt when she watched Dina die. Glad.

Her body lurched forward, and she was only fast enough to lift the toilet seat before she was throwing up the contents of her stomach into the bottom. Her body seized with the action, the gash along her stomach aching as she curled in on herself. Tears bled from her eyes, wet against her dirty skin, as she wiped her mouth and rose uneasily.

Apparent of the feeling of her sticky skin, she turned to the faucet and splashed water over her face in an attempt to quell the rabid panic swelling in her. She wanted to scream, not cry. Claw out her lungs so that she could breathe, because as the minutes passed, it felt as though she were suffocating more and more.

Gasping for air, she bent over the basin, and looked up at herself.

The person who stared back was a stranger.

Chapter Text

She was stood on the edge of a cliff. Or, perhaps, it was just an extremely sheer drop. One where, if she peered over the edge, a haze of fog masked what lay in wait for her far below.

Trees rose up around her on every side in a crescent-moon shape, and the grass in the small clearing swayed; the wind was strong here, as was the fog. The fog. It was everywhere.

Shéa did not know how long she stood on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the endless swirls of mist far below. Each gust of harsh wind caused the hairs on her bare arms to stand on end, and when she looked down at her hands- palm up- they were a ghastly white. Not her own paleness, though, which she deemed tan in comparison to the sickly hue.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, and when she breathed in, it was guttural and shallow. There was a fleeting sound. A bird, she realised, and her head snapped up to look out, not down. How had she never looked out before?

She looked as far as the fog stretched, past the horizon, where jagged peaks poked out from the clouds, coated in a thick blanket of white. Above them, small shapes bobbed up and down the sea of clouds- ships. Ships that looked somewhat like TIE fighters, though they were larger, and more bulky looking.

She should step forward, Shéa told herself. But if she did, she would surely fall.

Yet it was as though her entire body was on auto-pilot. Her feet lifted from the ground, dismissing the screaming voice in her head, and as she took one step forward, her bare foot pushed against the ground. She expected to feel a sudden terror, yet there was nothing.

Another bird chirped, and she took a second step, carrying herself closer until she teetered on the edge of despair. Her heart thundered, yet it heeded no response.

She did not care- no, her body did not care. As though it were not truly hers, and she was but a blank mind, screaming from the inside looking out.

Shéa squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, the cliff was gone.

She stood in a sparse forest. The trees were evenly spaced out, as though someone had planted them deliberately. They crawled up small embankments, where patches of crystalline white smattered the landscape, thawing with the fast approaching spring.

Though the trees looked gnarled, too thin to stand without snapping in the careless breeze, the trunks were thick enough that they could have supported a Bantha. Tightly interwoven, they were locked in a lover’s embrace, their arms casting dancing shadows across the forest floor.

Shéa had never been here before. At least, not that she could recall.

She had visited many places in her lifetime, lived on them nonetheless. Naboo. Coruscant. Zeffo. Al’doleem. Tatooine… each one individually unique, what with Zeffo’s electromagnetic winds and Al’doleem’s wide and shallow rivers.

Chapter Text

The storm rolled in the next morning.

Shara told Shéa that they had been expecting it for months- the first summer storm, rolling across the treetops and shattering everything in its path. The storm came once a year, supposedly; always on time and never late, hanging in the sky like an omen of darkness. 

Had it not been for the stone structures in the colony, Shéa was certain that nothing would have survived the first few hours of the torrential downpour.

Screaming rain rattled the window pains, the droplets as big as blaster bolts as they pelted the glass and the wooden door. They pattered against the rooftop, and the wind howled like a wounded animal- carrying through the trees, which swayed and creaked violently under the strong gusts. It was as though Yavin had turned sour overnight, the warm humidity now replaced by a chill that emanated from the cool walls, and a crack of thunder rumbled through the forest.

When Shéa awoke, it was to a kindling fire in the hearth. 

“I should have mentioned it when you arrived yesterday,” Shara remarked as she blinked, bleary-eyed, her neck cricked from the awkward position she had been curled into.

She had spent the night on the Dameron’s couch, just like she had that first fateful visit, except she had hardly slept. All through the night, her mind had reeled. Reeled with regret… with anger. Not toward Din, though. No. She was angry at herself.

Why had she said those things? Why had she opened her mouth in the first place?

It all seemed so… so pathetic, now that she could look upon it in the morning light. As though the things she had said had made no sense… or maybe they had, but spitting them out in trails of anger had turned them rotten. I love you… I love him. Did she? Or was it her mind playing tricks on her, once more?

Even when Shéa had slept, though, it had been tainted by the same lucid dream she had experienced the night before. However, she could remember it much more clearly: a woman, a battle between Jedi and Sith on a planet she was certain was Alderaan, though in its ancient glory. It all seemed… unreal, but then she remembered she had learned of such a battle in her days at the Jedi Temple, even if her memory did not serve as any help.

She could remember trying to call out to the woman, waving her arms wildly in a bid to find out why she was there. But whenever she thought that maybe… just maybe… the woman saw her, it was ripped away, and she was sent spiraling into an endless pit of nothing. Voices echoed throughout the chasm, but they were not her own. 

A part of her could still hear the voices, dully calling out to her in the quiet.

Why? Why was she seeing these… these ancient, historic, events, and why now? Master Vos would have blamed it on the Force- her psychometry. But Shéa wasn’t so sure that her abilities held the full truth.

“It’s getting worse” Shara called from the kitchen, and Shéa sat up at once from where she had been dozing away on the couch. “I hope your ship will hold up in the weather”

“Hm… what?” she asked, groggy, her brain not quite being able to turn over the words as they filtered through one ear and out of the other. Shara only tusked, clasping a metal cup between her hands.

Shéa clambered to her feet and stretched, feeling her muscles pull as she lifted her arms above her head. The gash across her stomach was healing well now with the help of Shara’s mysterious cream, and the bleeding was no longer seeping through her bandages. Even some of the searing pain had subsided, allowing her to twist, shaking away the exhaustion that pulled at every fiber of her body.

“Your ship” repeated Shara, her brow knotted into a point just above her hooked nose. “I said I hope it is alright in the storm”

“Oh… right”

“What is going on with you?” asked the woman. Shéa ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. “Is this about last night? Look, he’s a man. Men forget things all the time, I’m sure he’ll be sulking over something else by now”

When Shara had opened the door to Shéa sobbing with grief the previous night, she had asked no questions, though Shéa was certain she did not need to. It had been obvious in the way she sniffled like a heartbroken teenager, even now, as she slinked to the kitchen with hunched shoulders and poured herself a glass of water.

Jostling her arm, Shara turned, her eyes following her as she leaned back against the counter. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay? I know I messed up”

Shara shook her head. “You didn’t mess up. You just… told him some things that maybe you didn’t want to. But there's nothing you can do now, the only thing you can do is go talk to him”

I can’t, Shéa thought. Knowing her luck, if she did attempt to find him, it would only be to discover he had left… and if he hadn’t already, he would be in the process of doing so. Besides, with the blistering storm shaking the ground, she did not particularly want to venture beyond the safe confines of the Dameron’s house.

Shéa looked back at Shara and took a large gulp of water. The woman was relentless.

“I… I fucked up” she whispered. “Is there really any coming back from telling someone I… essentially can’t live without them?”

Her words fell off her lips in a dark laugh. Shara only shrugged. 

“You never know, he may feel the same”

Now she was laughing with hysterics, setting the cup down on the counter and tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears.

“Oh, he made it blatantly obvious he feels anything but the fact. To him, we’re just friends… if even that, now”

“Echo,” Shara said firmly. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked down. “Don’t… don’t call me that. That- Echo isn’t my name”

Shara tilted her head, curious. “Your real name is Shéa, I know that”

Her head snapped up, and Shéa looked at Shara incredulously. How? 

“How did you-”

“Your Mandalorian accidentally told me last night, when I saw him as I was leaving your cabin. He’s not very good at secrets, is he?”

Despite her humiliation and irritation, the corners of her lips pulled upward happily. No, he isn’t, she thought to herself. 

Shara was quiet for a few moments, as was Shéa. An impending sense of guilt was beginning to crawl up her throat and- nervously- she took another sip of water.

“I’m…” she began, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry… sorry that I didn’t tell you”

She barked with laughter. “Why are you sorry, Shéa? You act like I haven't had my own secret identity… or two”

Taken aback, Shéa stared at her, startled. 

She had expected her to be angry… angry that she had come to their colony and taken everything without even asking- without even repaying the debt, all for her to lie about her own name? It was enough to make anyone boil with anger.

But Shara was simply… grinning, in a knowing way as though she too was not the person she said she was.

Her head inclined, Shéa squinted her eyes at the woman. “You’re not… angry?”

“Come on, did you really expect me to believe that your parents named you Echo?” she chuckled to herself, humming a small tune between breaths as she began to fold up a discarded piece of cloth that had been laid out on the kitchen counter. “Believe it or not, a lot of people have aliases. You’re talking to a former rebel, remember?”

“Right,” Shéa said, returning Shara’s smile with tight lips as waves of relief began to roll over her. 

At least she had Shara… maybe if Din left her… abandoned her here, Shara might take her in, just like Shabba had. She couldn’t picture returning to Tatooine… how disappointed would Shabba be if he found out she messed up her one chance because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut? He had always wanted her to fall in love, to care for somebody… just not like this.

Looking down, Shéa absently ran her hand across the now-fading bruising of her neck and sighed.

It still felt as though there was a heavyweight sitting upon her chest, pinning her down until she could do nothing but kick her legs and flail in panic. It was not cold, though, as she thought it might be; instead, it was a burning numbness, one that seemingly radiated from her heart in ripples across her entire body, fading into tingles in the tips of her fingers and toes. 

Was this what heartbreak felt like? The same kind that the women on Shabba’s age-old holo dramas had talked about… a feeling so potent and strong as sunshine that it felt as though she would simply drown if she did not keep kicking herself above the surface?

“Hey” beckoned Shara softly, placing a hand on Shéa’s shoulder. She looked up at the woman and blinked. “It’s gonna be okay… okay? No matter what, he’ll come back to you”

“There’s nothing to come back to, Shara. What we had-”

Suddenly, though, the door opened, and a sharp gust of wind rattled through the room. 

The chill was so shrill and sudden that it made the two women flinch, twisting to look up at the front door, which was now ajar as a bundle of dark fabric lumbered inside. At first, a spark of hope ignited within Shéa- was it Din? Come to whisk her off her feet and declare his undying love for her?

Silhouetted against the storm clouds and darkness outside, the figure turned from where they had shouldered open the door. Her heart sank when she realized it was not- in fact- Din, but a dark-haired man, with tanned skin and a familiar face.

“Early! The forecast said it wasn’t for another few days!” the man said gruffly as he kicked the door shut behind him, dumping a large, wet, bag beside it and shaking off his poncho, sprinkling droplets of rain around. “When I get a hold of Odell…”

Shara started forward, her demeanor… bouncy, almost, as though happiness had begun to bubble inside of her. 

“Always so brash” she teased, bouncing over to the man and helping him push the poncho off his shoulders.

He smiled, coy. “You know me, Shar”

She smiled affectionately and leaned up on her tiptoes, brushing a kiss across the stranger’s cheekbone. “Hello, love”

Was this her husband? It had to be, for she assumed Shara was not somebody to dish out affection so generously. It was evident, however, as the man stepped into the firelight, that even if he was not her husband, he was more than certain Poe’s father.

He shared the same striking features as the young boy; the same dark eyes and curly, dark, hair. Even the same bent nose, which too appeared to have been broken one too many times. 

As he looked up and across the room, his heavy brow jutted upward, stunned. His lips parted in confusion.

“You’re… not one of mine,” he said simply, staring at Shéa, who smiled nervously. “Shara… did you somehow raise an adult woman while I was gone for a week?”

Shara tusked as she hung up the poncho and picked up the wet bag, placing it on the round table in the center of the room.

“No, and if I had, would you be so surprised? Darling, this is Shéa. Shéa, this is my oaf of a husband, Kes. As you can already see, our son gets his smarts from me”

The woman folded her arms as Kes simply shook his head, striding across the room in two, long, steps. He came to a stop before Shéa and extended his hand, one which she took reluctantly. 

“You’re the one who came some months ago? You gotta tell me some of your stories, cause Poe hasn’t shut up about the one you told him since… something about wizards?” Kes asked, giving her hand one shake before releasing it.

She buried her hands in her pockets and nodded. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Sorry that I drank your tea too-”

“Don’t even get him started-” Shara began, but she was cut off by Kes’ sudden excitement. 

“Tea! You had some? How was it?”

Somewhere behind him, Shara sighed in annoyance. Perhaps she… shouldn't have mentioned tea. 

“Leave the girl alone, Kes. She didn’t come here to talk about tea leaves like you, you… weirdo”

Shara shouldered past him, poking her tongue out as she did so, and a dusting of a blush dappled his tanned cheeks. At that moment, Shéa could not help but feel a spike of envy.

“Sorry, Shéa. Well, I’m glad we finally met after all this time…” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes for a blink. “Have we met before?”

“You just said you’re glad to meet her!” Shara called back from the kitchen. Kes shrugged her off.

Shéa shook her head. She couldn't recall ever meeting this man- and if she had, she was certain she would have remembered. “I don’t believe so… unless you frequent cantinas on Tatooine a lot?”

“No, no, I’m sure,” he insisted. In an instant, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face Shara, who was standing watching them from the kitchen. Kes pointed at Shéa’s startled expression. “Do you think she looks like General Organa?”

His wife’s face contorted in shock and repulsion, and she waved her hand at him. “What? Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t look-”

But then Shara stopped, as though she too was realizing something. Shéa’s eyes only widened in confusion. Who the hell was General Organa? It had to be someone from their days in the rebellion, given the title. 

“Who…?”

“Holy… son of a mud scuffer you’re right” Shara gawped, rounding the counter and coming to a stop before Shéa. She cupped her face and began to pinch her cheeks and, annoyed, Shéa swatted her away. “That is so creepy”

“Hey” Shéa snapped, clicking her fingers in front of the woman’s face and slipping away from Kes. She darted away- just enough so that if they made to survey her face again, she could make a run for it. “Who is Organa?”

Shara laughed to herself, as though she were passing off Shéa's question as a joke. Kes shook his head, unconvinced, and began to tap his slender fingers against the patch of stubble on his chin.

“I’m serious, who the hell is General Organa?”

“You don’t know who Leia Organa is?” Shara asked, amused, and she moved to the bag she had dumped on the kitchen table to begin rifling through its contents. She pulled out an outdated-looking datapad and tapped the cracked screen with the knuckle of her forefinger. 

Shéa shook her head.

“You know… Princess Leia Organa? Of Alderaan? The Emperor blew up her home and then she went all… revenge on his sorry ass?”

She shook her head again, still just as dumbfounded. 

Kes pulled out a chair and sat at the table, stretching his arms above his head. “She basically led the rebellion after her father- you know, Bail Organa- died on Alderaan. Right beside all the other big shots… she mostly deals with the New Republic nowadays-”

At once, her brow shot up. Had he said Bail Organa? She knew him… he had been a senator, one she had seen in the senate back as a child. He appeared kind, waving at the Younglings as they were ushered past, right next to… next to Padme. 

Shéa wanted to say something… anything. But she was afraid if she did, she might give it all away.

She wanted to tell Shara what she was- who she was. Truly. She trusted the woman with her life, even though they had only met twice… It was something about her that made Shéa feel so safe. Maybe it was her motherly instincts or the fact she always seemed to be grinning cheekily ear-to-ear.

But a feeling twisted in her gut- what had Dina said? Her face was being shouted like red murder in the Bounty Guild. Shéa was afraid that, if she revealed all, and a Hunter came… she would not let this innocent family die because of her. 

“Oh” Shéa finally said. “We didn’t hear much of the rebellion out on Tatooine, only whispers here and there. When the Death Star blew up- the second one… it was like carnage. Not many dared to leave Mos Eisley, even now”

Kes perked up. “You hail from Tatooine? You don't look like one of those brutes-”

“Kes” Shéa warned, just as she had with Poe the previous day. Just like Poe, he smiled apologetically.

“I only mean you look a bit more… well-kept. If I had chanced a guess, I woulda said Hosnian Prime… or a rich girl from Corellia” 

Shéa chanced a laugh and took the seat across from Kes. “No. But I can hold my own, that much I learned from my life there. The sunsets aren’t too bad, either”

“This stupid… ugh!” Shara proclaimed suddenly, and both Shéa and Kes twisted to look at her.

She was tapping away furiously at the cracked datapad, as though hoping if she jabbed it hard enough, her finger would slide straight through the surface. Her brow was knitted tight in frustration, and in a last-ditch attempt to do… something to it, she threw it on the counter and folded her arms indignantly.

Turning, she glowered at Kes. “Could you not bring back something useful?” she asked in annoyance. “The stupid thing won't turn on!”

“Hey, it's not my fault it was a free for all. Honestly, Shéa, you would think the rebellion would clean up after themselves”

His wife approached the table and sat, so that the group was now assembled around it, staring at the bag of goods expectantly. Shéa glanced at Shara, who looked sour.

“Rebellion tech?” she asked, turning to look at Kes again. 

He nodded. “They left the lot when we evacuated to Hoth, nowadays though the stuff is broken and the files corrupt. We try to salvage what we can and sell it off-world… that’s if the stuff works”

Her fingers twitched and she sat up suddenly, reaching into the bag and pulling out another datapad. This one had a dusty screen, and when she wiped away the grime, it flicked with life.

“I can fix it, '' she announced to the couple, who perked upward. “I tinkered with a lot of tech back on Tatooine, and I have tools on the ship. Most of this stuff is outdated, so I probably have similar- or better- parts laying around somewhere... “

“You’re serious?” Shara asked, her jaw agape. “You can fix… all of it?”

It had been so long since she had played and tinkered and fiddled with electrical components that her fingers ached to wrap around her tools again; to lift circuit boards and solder them back together.

Enthusiastic, she nodded. “Sure, I can take a crack. It’s not like I have much else to do…”

Suddenly, Kes clapped her across the shoulder, and she bumped the edge of the table with her chest. She winced and looked at him. 

“Atta girl. Hey, maybe we should keep her… you never know, if there’s another war, we might need someone like her” he winked. 

Shara looked at him smarmily. “Another war? We blasted the Empire to the end of the Galaxy… they’d be idiots to try that again.”

The couple began to bicker- Shara, adamant that all oppression had been eradicated, and Kes, ever determined that he would fight again before his lifetime was over. But either way, Shéa did not care. In fact, she only watched them in amusement as she began to peel the back panel off the datapad she held.

It was refreshing, watching them. They fought as though they hated each other, yet in the smallest sentences, Kes would call her sweetheart… or honey… and Shara would all but crumble under his sweet remarks. 

A part of her longed for the thing they had- the family they had. She had never really thought about a family of her own, and when she had, it had been during a daze, or as she was dozing off. Having her own child, naming them… watching them grow up, and giving them the life she had never had; the life she had always wanted. One filled with no fear, no terror- only happiness that stretched out for eons. 

But whenever she thought of her own family, there was a space. A blurred-over face lingered in the background. Din. She supposed in a way that Din, the Child… even Bolt… had become her family. But there would always be that difference between them, no matter how much she did not want to admit it. 

Shéa would never have the family she dreamt of, or the home she dreamt of. She would never have the perfect, pure, life she had always envisioned as a little girl, and often, it made tears prick the corners of her eyes. 

All she had wanted growing up was to be normal. And sometimes… sometimes, she had even wished she had never been born at all; that the Galaxy would have been much better off without another failure of a Jedi wandering around aimlessly. It had been dark, swirls of clouds hanging over her head. 

Once, she had even thought it would have been easy to just end it there. To take her own lightsaber and plunge it through her heart, letting the Force reabsorb her body until it was nothing but flesh and particles. Stars, she had even tried it once. 

But then another feeling had taken over… hope. A need to survive, for whatever reason, she did not know. It was as though the Force had told her to just hang on a little longer, that soon… soon she would find something to keep living for. To keep fighting for. 

Sat at the table, she closed her eyes. And then there was a face. A face she did not recognize, a mixture of features from a million different faces she had seen in her lifetime. But they began to take shape into something that seemed… recognizable. 

If he could not be her reason to keep fighting… her reason to keep fighting to survive, then she would find another. And another. And another. Until all of her options ran out and she was nothing but a feeble old woman. She would find that reason and hold it so dear to her heart that it may as well have been her own child.

And she would never let go. 

*

The rest of the day rushed by in a blur, contrary to the winds that seemingly grew louder with each passing hour, and the rain that had grown so relentless that it had begun to trickle under the door. Shara and Kes had tried their best to stop its intrusion with old blankets and bags of dirt pulled up from the earth outside, but it had worked to no avail. 

By late afternoon the roof had begun to leak, and they had resorted to buckets dotted around the small downstairs rooms. 

Poe had come bounding through the door just as Kes was emptying an overly-full bucket into the kitchen basin, scattering mud across the damp floors and shaking his wet tassels of hair. According to Shara, the storm had not stopped him from all but running to school that morning, and he had come back just as energetic as when he had left.

“Poe” Shara sighed as he ran his fifth lap around the kitchen table, where Shéa still sat hunched over, tucking a Datacard back into its little slot. “Careful, please”

When Shéa looked up, Poe was lingering by her shoulder, his cheek smudged with dried mud. She curled a brow, and he swung his arms by his sides.

“Can I… help you?”

Kes had disappeared upstairs some hours ago, no doubt to sleep through the storm, and Shara was busy herself with cleaning the utensils used for dinner. She had cooked a healthy meal; one that made Shéa’s stomach growl just thinking about it. Platters of rich meat and vibrant steamed vegetables… oh, and rice, which had been so fluffy it was like eating a cloud. 

If anything, Shéa was exhausted, yet she was determined to finish her work for the evening. It was the least she could do in return for her board, however, Poe seemed as lively as ever, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are you good at fixing stuff?” he asked, cocking his head as though he was not watching her fix something at that very moment.

Shéa set the datapad down on the small stack she had assembled beside her and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “I don’t know. Are you a little womp rat?”

He grinned and poked his tongue out. Shéa mimicked the action, and he shoved her gently. 

“Hey!” she protested playfully, standing suddenly and seizing his shoulders. “Don’t you know it's rude to push a lady?”

He cackled with laughter. “You’re not a lady!” he goaded, trying to wriggle free. “You’re a… a…”

“What’s wrong, Loth-cat got your tongue?” 

Poe yelled challengingly and jumped out of her arms, but she could only shake her head. He really did look like Kes… Shara, too. It was a terrifyingly accurate resemblance.

“You… wanna help me?”

At once, Poe’s face lit up, and he pulled a wooden chair closer to her. It scraped across the floor of the dining room, and as he clambered up atop it, Shèa handed him one of the last few broken datapads out of Kes’ bag. 

Shara bustled past, pulling a poncho over her head as Shèa began to peel away the back of the datapad to reveal the circuits within. She did not look up until the older woman had pulled the door open, letting a strong gust of wind blow through the room. 

“I’m just going to check the generator, make sure it hasn’t got any fried wires. Poe-” she called sternly. “Behave”

The young boy was silent for a few moments, then: “I will” he sang, though he only sounded half sincere. 

A smile cracked Shara’s face as she turned, stepping out into the cold and brisk night. When the door closed after her, Poe twisted back to Shèa, his eyes alight with mischief. 

“Okay” Shèa hummed, pointing to a wire. “See that little dongle? Pull it out”

He grinned at the word dongle, which Shèa had expected. Stars, she even chuckled to herself- what was she, eleven?

Nevertheless, Poe did as she had asked, reaching in carefully and giving a green-colored wire a firm tug. It popped out, the frayed copper ends glinting in the lamplight. When Shèa nodded encouragingly, he pulled again, and it came free completely. 

Poe pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it to the light. “What does this one do?” he asked. 

“That one connects the power supply to the motherboard”

“Motherboard?” he echoed. 

Shèa held her hand out, and Poe passed her the wire. When she tossed it over her shoulder, he gasped aloud. 

“Don't worry” she laughed, reaching into the small pile of wires assembled beside her and plucking out another one. “We’re gonna replace it”

Shèa had not dared venture to the Crest to get her tools, but thankfully, Kes had some laying around. An old soldering iron, some wires he had no use for… it wasn’t much, but it was good enough to get the tech working for a small while; just long enough for the family to sell it on and make some cash.

As Shèa picked up the soldering iron, Poe leaned forward, eager. 

“Where did you learn all this stuff?” he asked as she began to work away, her back hunched so she could get a better look. “Like… fixing stuff?”

“There wasn’t much to do back home, and not much money, so I picked up a few odd jobs. Fixing stuff for scavengers who wanted better deals from the merchants” Shèa shrugged, as though it were nothing. 

It had been her life for almost twenty years, and yet it seemed like a completely different lifetime as she spoke about it. Had it only been months ago since she left? It felt longer.

“On Tatooine?” Poe pressed. She nodded. “My dad said Tatooine is full of bad guys”

“Yeah, I suppose it is. But I’ve lived in other places, remember?”

The wire sizzled as thick, gloopy, metallic liquid fizzed against the copper. Small wisps of smoke rose between them, but Poe had lost interest. 

“My mom won’t let us move. Yavin is boring- I wanna go where the Republic is! I’m gonna be their best pilot when I’m grown-up” 

“I’m not sure, I quite like it here compared to Coruscant… less people” she grinned. 

Poe frowned, resting his head in his hand. “I wish we could go to Coruscant… what’s it like?”

More fizzing, and she shook her hand, biting down on the place where she had nicked her fingertip with the point of the solderer. It seared with pain, much like her stomach had earlier- which, by now, was nothing but a long pink scar. 

Another to add to her fastly growing collection, she mused.

“It’s…” Dark? Depressing? Filled with the screams of despair of her friends… family… loved ones. “Different”

“Is that where you were born? On Coruscant?”

Shèa pressed her lips into a thin line. She could tell Poe, right? He was a kid, and if anything, he would’ve forgotten by the next morning. It was fine- besides, what connection could anyone make? There were lots of people from Naboo… it was a big planet. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Naboo-” a thought pricked her mind, a memory. “That reminds me… do you still have my necklace?”

Poe’s eyes glossed over, as though to remembering the golden chain she had pushed into his hand when she had last departed. It had been a fleeting memory for her too- one she had all but forgotten in the turbulence of the last few months. But thinking of Naboo… speaking about it, it had jarred her. 

That necklace… she had felt a connection to her past life. Maybe it was one she may feel again. 

Jumping to his feet, he darted to a side table, where he yanked open a drawer and began sifting through. 

She would not have been surprised if he lost it, but after a few moments of digging through its contents, he pulled his arm out and slammed it shut. Turning on his foot, he jogged back over and thrust his arm out, palm open. And there, resting upon his skin, was the gold jewel. 

It was just as she had remembered it; the little heirloom she had taken from the shopkeeper all the way back on Praadost II. Simple, plain, beautiful. Beautiful. Back then, she hated the word. But now it did not seem so bad. 

“I kept it safe for when you came back- I knew you would”

He turned his hand over, and Shèa caught it, letting it pool in the crease of her palm. When she closed her fist around it, she felt… she felt nothing. 

No immense crushing feeling. No memories, no emotion, no echoes. There was nothing. It was just a necklace, and her brow creased. 

Why could she not feel anything? 

“Are you okay?” Poe asked, noticing her face, and her eyes flicked up to his. “You look sick”

A tight smile broke out across her face and she shook her head, pushing the necklace back into his hands. Was it her? Was something wrong? 

All she knew was that she couldn’t hold it… it felt… It felt wrong. 

“I want you to keep it,” she said. 

“Forever?” he asked in awe.

Shèa nodded. “Yes, forever. I have no use for a necklace… maybe someday, you can give it to somebody you care about”

Poe grinned, clutching the necklace in both hands, but then frowned suddenly. His head jerked up to look at her. “But what about you?”

Her head tilted. “What about me?”

“What will you give to somebody you care about if you don’t have this?”

My lightsaber. It wasn’t even a lingering question, the thought rushing into her head so suddenly that she was stunned. My… lightsaber . Her lips parted, as though she wanted to spit it out, but she could not. 

What else was better fitting to gift somebody, except the one thing that made her. The one thing that- without- she would have died a long time ago. It was the purest display of love. A display she had never given, nor known. 

“Well… I could give them something else”

“Like?” he persisted, staring at her with wide eyes. 

Shèa pursed her lips. “Like… like a book”

At once, the young boy guffawed with laughter, causing the corners of her lips to pull upward. He tilted his head back, and his face scrunched up, freckles painted like constellations across his cheeks and the bridge of his hooked nose. 

“Hey” Shèa huffed, folding her arms as she leaned back. “What’re you laughing at? Books are incredibly grown up- not that you would know”

“Books are boring, nobody likes books” he protested, dangling the golden chain between them. “But necklaces are cool! And ships… and.. and leather jackets! That’s right, I’ll give somebody I care about a leather jacket. That way they’ll look awesome” 

She inclined her head “Super cool… Does that mean I can have my necklace back then?”

“No! I’m still gonna keep this… I- I like it” Poe admitted shyly. 

Shèa didn’t want the necklace back, not really. But watching and seeing Poe laugh filled her with something so pure that she could not help but tease him idly, just as… just as Shabba had with her. As he still did, even when she left. 

A sudden thought struck her then; why had she talked about Shabba as if he merely did not exist anymore? Why had she thought of him that way, just as she did with Master Vos? It was… strange, strange because he was safe, no doubt singing drunkenly in a Cantina back on Tatooine like he usually was. 

A voice silenced her thoughts then, calling out across the room as the door opened and swung shut loudly. 

“You better not be winding up her gears, Poe Dameron” Shara said sternly, though there was a lilt of playfulness to her voice. 

“I’m not” Poe harrumphed. He folded his arms and slumped back, his legs kicking absently. “She was the one winding my gears” 

“Watch it, or I’ll take you back to Tatooine with me and feed you to Jabba the Hutt”

A squeal of laughter poked out of Poe’s lips as she lunged forward playfully, but he was already up, dashing around the table.

Shèa pursued Poe; when he dodged right, she veered left, cutting him off. When he slipped back to the left, she rounded, reaching an arm out. But stars was he fast. Had it not been for the gleaming of his eyes, she was certain he could camouflage himself in the leaves that hung on the trees that arched high above the village, swinging precariously in the vicious storm. Completely silent and light on his feet.

However, and perhaps due to her… abilities, Poe was not fast enough. 

As he made to crawl under the table, scampering away from her, Shèa clamped her hand around his skinny ankles and gave a firm pull. In a whirl, he came sliding out, and she hauled him up by the belt of his pants, throwing him over her shoulder. 

“No!” he protested, his tone deep and mocking as Shèa began to turn this way and that, Poe’s legs kicking out and landing with heavy thuds against her chest.

“Now, which way… I bet you’ll be good scraps for Jabba’s Rancor!”

Poe laughed aloud, and when she finally set him down firmly on the wooden floor, he punched her softly. Her brow knitted, and she placed her hands on her hips, huffing. 

The young boy’s bottom lip jutted out, and curls of dark hair fell over his eyes. “Jabba the Hutt doesn’t have a Rancor,” he said, then: “Does he?”

“No… but Bib Fortuna does” 

“Leave her alone, Poe. Now, go get ready for bed, I need to ask Shéa to run an errand for me” Shara said as she strolled toward them, ruffling her son's hair. “Go on, kiddo. I’ll be up soon to bath you”

“But mom-” he began to whine, though he shut up when Shara shot him a look. Reluctantly, and with an audible groan, he turned and began to climb the rickety staircase up toward the second floor. “Night, Shéa”

She could not help but grin as she watched him go. “Night, Poe”

When he had disappeared, Shara walked toward the door she had emerged from only minutes before, where a series of ponchos and coats had been hung on the wall beside the wood. Here, she pulled one down off the hook and held it out to her.

Was she being kicked out?

“You know, I do respond to words” Shéa joked half-heartedly as she took the poncho, confused.

Shara rolled her eyes. “Hey, look, your meal is indebted '' she said with a wink. “The hut you were in last night doesn’t hold up too well in the storms- damp and all that. Do you mind going over and kindling the fire to warm the place up? Kes’ll kill me if the place falls down… it’s his pride and joy, and the storm only got worse while I was out there. I couldn’t tell my ups from my downs”

Oh, thank the stars. She had been almost panicked that she had done something to offend Shara, or even worse, the woman had grown sick of her.

Shrugging the poncho over her head she nodded and pulled the hood up.

She knew by now that Mando would not stay in a place so unfamiliar, let alone by himself. He would be tucked into the ship with the Kid, no doubt, and… Bolt. Oh, he would more than likely be angry that she left him with Bolt for over a day.

But it didn’t matter; at least, not right then it didn’t. She would go to the shack, light the fire, and leave, letting the wooden hut warm up by itself. 

“Here,” Shara said, handing her a flashlight. “It’s dark out there”

“I’ll be back soon”

Wrapping her hand around the door handle, she turned and pulled. At once, a sharp gust of wind slid through the small crack, blowing the door open. 

Shéa was met by the sheets of rain pounding the small colony, casting a shade of darkness that was illuminated only by blurry specs of light from the windows of the other houses. Along the jagged stone pavements, large puddles had formed, murky brown in color and splashing as droplets pounded the surface. As she turned her head to look up, she saw that the sky was blanketed in thick, dark, clouds, and the moon had slid behind them and vanished.

Surprisingly, though, the rain was not cold and instead was warm against the skin of her open palm as she extended an arm out and let a few droplets pool in her hand. 

With a deep breath, she pulled the hood farther over her face and stepped out into the storm. The door swung shut behind her immediately. 

As Shéa set out into the blustery night, she soon realized the severity of the harsh winds rushing through the tall trees. It almost blew her off her feet as she hopped across the elevated stone path, narrowly dodging landing in a puddle. Every so often, she staggered into a fence or the wall of a hut, but she could only push on, blindly shining the flashlight ahead of her, though it only illuminated a few feet in front of her.

The rain was too thick, thicker than she had ever seen before. When was the last time she had been in a storm this terrible? She couldn’t remember. The soles of her boots were soaked through, and with each step, her feet squelched in the watery confines. Thankfully, the hood of her poncho seemed to offer some protection from the pelting rain, and as she leaped over a small stream that appeared into the pathway she was thankful to finally shine her light on the wooden door of the small hut. 

The windows were dark inside, the light still distinguished from the night before, and as she nudged it open with a solid kick, it burst open to an empty quiet. Shéa could not be more glad, and she closed the door over behind her.

“Gross” she grumbled to herself as she slipped her boots off, emptying the contents onto the floor as she curled her soggy feet. 

The loud ambiance of the rain had dulled now and was nothing but a pitter-patter on the roof. Swinging her arm out, she fumbled for the light switch for a few moments, before finally flicking it down and-

“Hello”

Had it not been for her bare feet, Shéa was certain she would have run back into the rain right then. As the room was bathed in warm, yellow, light, her eyes focused on the figure hunched over on the couch- previously sat in total darkness- and placed a hand over the rapid beating of her heart.

“What the shit, Din?!” Shéa proclaimed, her eyes narrowing at him. 

He was slouched on the couch, one arm lying along the back, while the other rested on his knee. He had stretched himself wide in a way she had only seen him do when he was attempting to be intimidating, and when she pulled the hood down, he inclined his head.

“What the hell are you doing?” she pressed, stepping forward, her breathing still heavy. He had almost sent her scattering. “You can’t just… sit in the dark like that and scare somebody”

He sat up and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I was waiting for you” 

“In the dark? Like some kind of… psychopath?”

Din said nothing, only looked away. Shaking her head, Shéa stepped to the hearth some feet before him and knelt. 

He peered at her. “What’re you doing?” When she did not reply, he shifted. “I said what are you doing?”

Her fingers fumbled with a small box of matches, and when she finally managed to pick up one of the small pieces of wood, she struck it against the side and watched it engulf itself in flames. As the flames licked the damp air, she tossed it into the pile of logs in the hearth and watched them erupt into a blaze.

The firelight washed over the room in warmth, one that radiated through her cold and damp skin. When she rose again, so did Din, and he trailed behind her as she returned to the door, preparing to leave. 

“Where are you going?” he asked again, insistent, and he caught the crook of her elbow. 

A pang rushed through her, from the point of her elbow up to her arm until it drove itself between her ribs and straight through her heart. Shéa stopped, her body tensing as she looked down at her feet.

They remained like that for some moments, until- 

“Why are you still here?” she asked him quietly. 

He released her then and took a step back. For a fleeting moment, she wondered where the Child was, but then heard soft snoring from the bedroom, and realized he must have never left. He had stayed… all this time? 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re still here” she repeated, twisting to look back up at him. Raindrops still rolled off the shoulders of her poncho, and as she lifted her chin to look at him, she noticed his fingers itch out of the corner of her eye, as though he wanted to reach forward and rip it from her slender frame. “Why are you still here?” 

Din sucked in a deep breath, and when he breathed it out, he shuddered. 

“Why would I ever leave?”

Her lips pressed together tightly, and she pushed past him, striding further into the room. She was calm… calm despite the thundering in her chest, and her skin still burnt red from where he had seized her arm. Raising her fingers to the latch around her neck, she slid the poncho off and laid it across the back of the couch.

When Shéa turned to face him, he was still stood by the door, and she folded her arms. He breathed deeply again and looked down. 

“Those things you said last night…” he began after a while, kicking his foot against the wooden floorboards absently. “Did you… did you mean them?”

A rush of rain pounded the roof then, and the entire house creaked under the crushing weight of the wind. A crack of thunder ripped through the thin window panes, and outside, lightning illuminated the sky.

Shéa let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t usually tell people that I love them every day, so yes, I suppose I did”

He looked up at her but did not move. 

“Good, judge me,” she said, bitter tears pricking her eyes. Stars, why was she crying? Why was she even speaking? Every moment spent in front of him… near him… was like the wound was only growing deeper and wider. “Take apart every single thing I have said to you, strip me of everything I have done. Then know, for certain, that I meant everything I said”

She stepped toward him and stabbed at her chest. Her voice trembled as she continued.

“I get that you were hurt, Din. I get that you lost your parents, your family, everything. I get it more than anybody else ever could. But that doesn't… that doesn't mean… how could you let that stop you from caring about everyone around you? Like we’re all nothing- like we mean nothing”

“Not everyone” he echoed. His visor tilted and stared straight through her. “Not you”

Her breath hitched in her chest, and she took a step back, as though the realization had just hit her hard. Now he was the one stepping forward, his fists flexing in frustration.

“I can’t…” he bit out, shaking his head. “I can’t… I don't want to ever know the pain of losing you. Not again”

What was he talking about?

“Again?” she mirrored, her shoulders slumping in confusion. “I don't understand, Din-”

“On Nevarro” he hissed. “I thought I lost you. And it was like… a… a piece of me was torn out and beaten until I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to kill them all- every last stormtrooper, every last… Moff, but even then it wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough”

Staring at him still, Shéa watched as he stepped close. Now, he loomed above her, his face mere inches from hers. 

She could hear the rattling of his breath even beneath the modulator. 

“I didn’t kill Gideon for the kid. I will protect the Child without ever spilling a drop of blood- but you… I killed him for you. Because of you. To make him… feel that pain”

Had her tears been gleaming, she was sure they would shimmer. They spilled over her eyes, even though she was not sure what he was saying completely. Like her ears had been covered, and his words were just a jumble of muffled shouts. 

Shéa’s lips parted. “You… you said you couldn’t give me the answer I wanted”

“Because I didn’t want you to love me back!” 

She flinched away at the sudden volume of his voice, and at once, his hand reached out. Each word was pained, she could feel it in the way his hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling her back. He hadn't meant to... He hadn’t meant any of it. 

“I was scared that… if you loved me back” he shivered, pulling her hands up to cup either side of his helmet. He held them there for a moment, his head tilting down, and she could tell his eyes had slipped shut. “I wouldn’t be able to let you go”

Her eyes could do nothing but desperately search the blank slate of his helmet; the metallic chrome, reflecting every angle of her face that was visible in the mixture of fire and lamplight. His visor… as dark as ever, and yet she yearned to see what he saw. 

“I don’t want you to be scared,” she told him feebly, her fingers trembling. shaking, curling until her fingernails bit crescent-moon shapes into the soft flesh of her wet palms. 

At that, Din straightened and cleared his throat. “The Armourer of my Clan told me as a Foundling often that…” he began, and one of his hands came up, gently stroking shafts of hair from her eyes and behind her ear. “Chaabar macler mhi veman, bal Kelir ba’slanar.”

His hand trailed down the crown of her head to the back of her neck, where his fingers danced and tiptoed across wet skin. 

“A meh gar duumir bic, bic Kelir epar gar oyayc. Vaabir ner leic bic gotal’ur gar tal’galar”

Shéa’s eyes creased as she squinted at him. He had taught her some phrases in Mando’a, but the way the words rolled off his tongue… so affluent, so elegant and rich… it was as though they were like music to her ears. So, she could do nothing but shake her head, not comprehending as both of his large hands came to cup either side of her face and tilt her chin upward. 

“I don’t…”

Din tilted his head. “Fear makes us real, and will leave.” he translated. “But, if you allow it, it will eat you alive. Do not let it make you bleed” 

Had his clan’s armorer really told him that? It did sound like something a Mandalorian would say… but still…

“I don’t want you to let fear warp your perception of who I am,” she told him, shrugging Din away and taking a large step backward. She touched her lips as if to measure her next words wisely. “I’m not a good person, I killed Dina”

Din reached for her, desperate. “Because you were angry”

Shéa shook her head, as if only just realizing. “Because I wanted to, and for a moment I enjoyed it. I… I never should’ve told you those things I did, even if I meant them. You should fear me because I’m not somebody who deserves to be cared about. Least of all by you”

He seemed taken back, his arms hanging complacent by his side, unable to be stirred to action. Did he believe her? He had to. 

“Don’t say that” He pleaded, stepping toward her again, and this time he caught her. “Don’t do that to yourself”

Shéa’s breath came shallow, and outside, there was another crack of thunder. “Why?” she managed to press out.

Din sighed. “Because that’s not you. That’s not who you are”

The thunder was growing louder, more persistent, so loud and roaring it was as though it were splitting the very sky in two and ripping the entire Galaxy open. Crack, and then a flash of light. Another crack and she was certain she heard the heavy crescendo of a nearby tree splitting and falling limp to the forest floor. 

“Then who am I?”

Before he could utter another word there, there was a noise- like a fuse imploding on itself, and the entire shack was submerged into darkness, spare the pitiful glow from the already dying embers of the fire. Then, mere moments later, more implosions- tiny and distant, as though someone had taken a plug and ripped it out so suddenly and violently that it came almost as a surprise, which had done. 

It did not take long for her mind to recall what had happened; thunder had struck, and the entirety of the small colony had been cut off from its power source. 

Outside of the shack, the hum of generators fell silent on the wailing storm. 

“The power’s gone,” Shéa said after a few beats, ripping herself away from Din’s intensely blank stare and toward the window.

The curtains had been pulled back, and as she gazed out into the depths of the darkness that encircled the shack they stood in, a part of her could not help but feel relief. Relief at the interruption. Relief that his answer had been interrupted, even though her heart clawed to know. 

Whatever it was, it would not be true. 

Where motes of blurry lights had been when she first stepped out into the starry night was now only trees- trees, shaking and rattling, creaking under the sheer force of the storm as it raced across the planet’s surface. A discarded wagon lay to waste below a tree, splintered and broken, turned over by the winds. 

Behind her, Shéa heard rustling movement, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she heard a familiar thunk. It was the sound a metal crate made when dropped on a sand-packed floor, a sound she knew all too well from her days unloading speeders and hauling stock into the supply room back on Tatooine. Then, it had been one she heard every day; even more so on the Razor Crest, where metal crates would slide and hit the walls of the hull with the turbulent streams of Hyperspace. 

Yet this was… different, and accompanied by the sound of two strong strides forward, and a firm hand wrapping around her wrist, pulling her away from the window and deeper into the room. 

A breath left her lips as she hit something hard- Din’s chest, she realized, as her hands came up to steady herself and she swayed. But he had her, and he would not let go, his hands gripping her waist and holding her there.

When Shéa looked up, it was to see nothing but darkness. A blur where his face, his familiar Beskar helmet, should have been, but except there was nothing. The moonlight did not reach the confines here, and by now, the firelight had died out. 

His breathing was ragged, and his breath… so warm and real, mingling with hers as he gulped audibly. It was as though she could reach out and touch his adam’s apple as he did the swallowing motion, and she could… and she did. 

A gasp of realization left the back of her throat as Shéa’s fingertips skimmed the rugged skin of his neck, tracing from the point of his chin downward. She had felt it before, of course, only a few days before, but… but… it was different. As though there was no wall, and she was just staring at him.

Because she was. Din was right there before her, and now, the only separation was the blanket of darkness that swaddled them like newborn babes. 

“Din” His name fell dead on her lips, a statement rather than a question. 

“You want my forgiveness?” he asked, quiet. “You have it, okay? You’re forgiven for whatever bad things you think you have done. I forgive you”

Shéa pressed her eyes tight together, her face scrunching up in anguish as he pressed his bare and warm forehead against hers. 

“You’re a good person, and I… ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ” 

For the single, most fleeting moment, she was sure she understood those words, even if they were in a dialect she had no chance of understanding- at least not yet. They rolled off his tongue, curling in her ears in such a pleasant way that she felt her cheeks heat, and for the first time in a long while she was too stunned to move, let alone speak.

So, Shéa did the only thing she could think to do, even if it went against every one of her moral judgments, something she had never even thought- though dreamt thoroughly- of doing, leaving it being her first time doing so.

She kissed him. She kissed Din. 

Firm, yet soft; her lips sealing over his, and her eyes slipping shut for just a few blinks so that she might savor the taste that lingered on his breath, a twang of… whiskey, was it? It was too hard to tell with her head swimming like she, too, were drunk on delirium. 

Her hands found no solace and dangled idly by her side, yet as she remained there, pressing up on her tiptoes, he did not move. Or budge. Or breathe. He just… stood there, stoically silent. 

When after a few more beats he still did not move, Shéa pulled away, and a sudden feeling of embarrassment washed over her like a lapping wave. Oh no.

“I…” she began, trying to force the words out of her throat, which had suddenly gone so dry. “I am… so sorry, oh maker” 

In an instant Shéa was untangling herself from him, taking shaky steps back and covering her face with her hands. Shit. Fuck. What had she done? Why did she do that? What kind of… of idiot just kisses someone.

“Din, I’m so sorry” Shéa repeated, speaking to no one in particular, and only facing the darkness in the direction she assumed he stood in. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m just gonna-”

BANG. BANG.

Two loud steps rattled the room, and for the second time that evening, she felt herself being forward. Hands gripped her face, cupping it, and as she stumbled forward she hit heard metal, and then-

And then he was kissing her back. Except for this time, Din was insistent on making sure he moved, his hands slinking down to her waist and holding Shéa tight against his body, lest she escape. 

The way Din kissed her was without warning, without permission. Maybe he hadn’t even decided to do it but was just because he couldn’t have done anything else. It was rough and vivacious, as though he needed the breath Shéa was holding; like it belonged to him, and he was fighting desperately to get it back. 

Each breath he released was mingled with words, words drunk on the euphoria buzzing in both their heads. 

“Gar’re” he rasped, and then a kiss. “Mesh’la” another kiss. “Bid mesh’la”

Those were words she knew. The very first words he taught her, against his own better judgment after she begged. 

“Why?” Din asked, turning himself in his seat to stare her down. When he leaned back, she shrugged. “Out of all of the words in the Mando’a dictionary-”

“Maybe I’ll meet a Twi’lek one day and use my Mando’a charm to woo her into running away with me” Shéa retorted, jostling the Child in her lap, who cooed happily. “Come on, please?” 

He sighed and rested his head back, rolling his shoulders. “Mesh’la... Bid mesh’la. You’re beautiful” 

“You’re beautiful” Din sighed against her lips when he finally, painstakingly, pulled away from her, one of his hands fisting a handful of her hair as Shéa tilted her head to stare up at the hazy outline of him. “You’re just…”

Shéa pressed her lips together, her eyelids half-open. 

“Din…”

He pressed himself against her, his forehead clammy against her own. “Do you even know…?” he was crushing her now, guiding her mouth to his, a beacon in the darkness that he could so easily navigate. “Do you even know what it’s like around you? I can’t… think, or breathe.” 

His wandering mouth was insistent now, pushing so forcefully that Shéa found herself taking an absent step back, stumbling blindly. 

“You’re all I think about” he rasped. “Every night… every… morning when I wake up, all I see is you, and I can’t think” 

Shéa’s foot stumbled, but this time, Din did not let her escape. Instead, he firmly wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up, up above him, so that her head angled downward and now she was the only clinging onto him for dear life, the points of her thumbs feeling each brush of his lashes as they fluttered against warm cheeks. 

But as soon as she was up she was down, and with an awkward bounce, she felt soft fur tickling her back through the damp material of her shirt- the rug of the floor, she realized, as she lay back and exhaled heavily. She was on the floor, and Din was above her, settling himself between her parted legs, his hands holding himself as he lay lightly on her, careful not to crush her. 

She could do nothing but laugh. It was light, airy, her head thrown back as the short locks of her jaggedly cut hair fanned out around her head.

Above her, Din made a noise, and cupped her chin, directing her face back toward where he should have been. 

“What?” he asked quietly, angling her head away so he could begin to pepper kisses along her jaw, trailing down her neck and over the bump of her shoulder, peeling her shirt collar back to let them trace the outline of her collarbone. “Why are you laughing?”

Shéa closed her eyes, and for a few seconds, basked in the thrill feeling that shot through her skin from each wet kiss against her skin. It felt… nice.

“I’ve-” she laughed again and found herself covering her mouth. “I’ve never… done this before”

At once, Din pulled away, and she could all but feel his penetrating stare. “You’ve never…”

Shéa shook her head and bit down on her lip. “I told you and Cara, remember? Back when we were going to Arvala… I never really…” but then she was laughing again, her chest rising and falling jovially. 

“I didn’t think you were being serious”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she pressed delicately. 

He made a sound as if opening her mouth but then decided against saying what he had thought of. When he did speak, it was measured… calculated. “I just thought that anyone would be crazy not to try”

A smile pulled at the corners of her lips, and she reached up, waving disorientated until she found his neck so that she could wrap her arms around it and pull him back down toward her. She brushed her lips against his, teasing, her breath fanning across his face. 

“They tried, I just… I never wanted to. Until now” 

And every word that dripped from her lips was true. There had been opportunities- so many opportunities, and yet each time she felt herself gravitating toward those fateful words of yes, there was something that stopped her. A mild thought in the back of her mind, ticking away; you’re not ready, it would say, and she would accept that. 

But now… after waiting so long, she had been afraid it would be there, as present as ever. Except it wasn’t, and her mind was clear. Void of any worry, of anything that had disturbed her in the days leading up to that very moment. 

“So you… Do you want to? With me?” he asked again, his lips hovering inches from hers.

Shéa nodded, affirmative. “I do” she breathed. 

“You’re sure-”

Din was halfway through his sentence before Shéa had pressed her lips against his again, silencing him, and flipping them over so that she could settle in his lap. He must have finally gotten the answer he was looking for, as his hands found homage on her hips, and he held her there firmly.

As she sat up, he chased her, pushing himself up on one palm while the other slid up and under the hem of her shirt, rising against her skin and burning a hot pathway against her torso. Her hands joined his, and slowly, Shéa began to pluck off the leather confines of his gloves, shuddering when the rough calluses of his palms brushed against her sides. 

Then, Din began to strip himself of his armor, wrestling the pauldrons and gauntlets from the flight suit he adorned beneath, throwing them into a dark corner where they clanked and rolled around. Each impact made her jump, and she could only grin when their lips met halfway, her own hands making work at wrestling his chest piece from his body. 

When they were finally able to pry it from his body he tossed it, but not without causing the floor to shudder, and Shéa to press herself firmly against him.

“The Kid” she whispered with a laugh, brushing loose hair out of her eyes, though it did nothing to help her see any better in the darkness. “He’ll wake up”

Din shook his head. “He ate double his body weight before you came back, trust me, he’s out”

She bit down on her lip, and the tip of her nose nuzzled his. “You’re sure?”

“Yes”

“Okay” she whispered, and then they were consumed by silence once more, neither moving nor flinching.

Slowly, gently, delicately, Din’s fingers crawled up the tops of her thighs to the hem of her shirt, fisting the fabric in his hands as he began to pull it up and over her head. Cold air danced across Shéa’s skin, an eruption of goose pimples spreading across her entire body as outside the storm raged on. But here, together, they were immune from it all. The violence. The terror. The anger that the clouds above unleashed on the world below.

Fabric bumped her chin, and as Din tugged the last remnants of cloth into his hand, she could not help but exhale calmy. 

She was safe. 

“Tell me to stop” Din mouthed against her skin as wandering lips traveled up her sternum.

Her eyes slipped shut and she gulped, lips parting as she shivered. “Do you want me to?”

A single bare hand tiptoed up her back, pads of large fingers tracing the long etch of scarring along her spine. He nestled his head in the valley of her chest.

“No”

“Then don’t ask” she smiled, and not it was her turn to pull off his top before.

Shéa did not know why her fingers trembled as they hooked under the hem of his flight-suit-shirt, her knuckles brushing his sides and enticing a small noise from his mouth. It was guttural and low, encouraging if anything, and as she slowly inched it, he wriggled his arms to help her. 

Sure, she had undressed him before, right after he had been stabbed and she was trying not to let him bleed out in her arms. But now he wasn’t bleeding, and the gauze she had taped to his side was gone, instead replaced by what felt like a newly raised bump of scarring. 

As she pushed the sleeves from his shoulders, he pulled her closer, and Shéa found her ankles interlocking behind his back, her bare chest pressed firmly against his. 

Warmth radiated from his body, the muscles in his biceps rippling with each elongated kiss shared between their lips. It wasn’t a game, or a fight, or a battle for who could seemingly force the other into submission. No, it was… it was an exchange.  Not rough or domination, but so, so, gentle, as though he were afraid she might splinter and break if he squeezed her too tight. 

But Shéa did not care if he squeezed her too tight, or when he rolled her onto her back once more that the rug scraped at her back, tickling her sides until she was grinning vibrantly against his mouth. She didn’t care when he popped open the button of her pants and slid them down her feet, leaving soft sentiments up her thighs, or when the rough stubble of his cheek brushed against the jagged white lines that sliced across her thighs and underbelly from where she had grown too quickly for her body to accommodate. 

The dips in her hips made a perfect home for his thumbs, and the features she had once been so afraid of, so… ashamed by in her youth, now didn’t seem so scary anymore. Because she was beautiful. He found her beautiful, he made her feel beautiful for the very first time. 

And not for that she had the flattest of torsos or the skinniest of arms, where instead of fat or soft tissue, muscle from years of swinging and deflecting heavy had sculped away her body. Her skin was splotched, and darkness hugged her eyes, yet his words breathed awe and astonishment as though she were an angel descending from the storm clouds above them. 

He touched her like she was made from the most tender marble; marble that had been broken and pieced back together over and over again until it bled and stained the world around it red. Misshaped and jagged around the edges, but under his expert hands, she became smooth. Imperfections turned to perfection, and Shéa became the most beautiful piece of craft she had ever seen. 

“I meant it” Shéa mumbled as he rasped in her ear, a heavy breath tickling her lobe. “I meant all of it” 

He paused for a single moment, his lips just behind her ear, and then-

“I really am in love with you… like, a lot. And every day that I don’t… admit to it, it’s like a little part of me dies”

A deep… wanting. A deep longing. Those were the only feelings that consumed her body, fizzled in her head, making everything seem so blurry and… strange.

Hot breaths mingled, and she found herself making noises she never thought she would. Gasps. Sighs. Moans. 

Din’s and Shéa’s voices mingled; hers, light and shocked, and his, so deep and gravelly it sounded like sandpaper dragging across wood. But he never hurt her, not once. Each move, each touch, he asked her- can I? May I? Tell me. Strings of appraisal whispered into his ear with each long drag as his body consumed her, Shéa’s hands grabbing fistfuls of the fur rug beneath her as her back arched away from the ground. 

It was everything she had hoped it to be, and yet more than she could have ever imagined; and as the rain pounded down on the little shack, Shéa became entrapped in their own little world- a bubble just for her and Din.

All she could think about was that he loved her. He did, even if he did not say it aloud, or in a language she understood. But she knew. Deep down. She knew it in the way he kissed and sucked and peppered her skin with affection. Even more so, he trusted her, and for Din, that meant more than love ever could. 

But it eventually came to an end, their breaths hitching together, her own voice whining against the back of her throat as she threw her head back and gulped down the crisp night air, Din’s head buried into her neck. 

Sharp bursts of joy unraveled from her body, her toes curling and fingernails dragging down his back, engraving deep red drawings into tough skin. Her mouth felt dry, her body exhausted, every muscle aching as it wound down, relaxing from where it had been so pent up in the thrill of what he was doing to her. 

And when they had both expended themselves, chests heaving, bodies covered in a layer of sweat, and one another’s skin decorated with deep blossoming marks, their fingers interlocked, and Shéa felt herself curl into Din’s body. 

To her, life could not have been more perfect than in that moment.

Chapter Text

The days following the Jedi Purge on Coruscant were chaos. 

It was as though each life-form on the planet had been submerged into a perplexed state of fear and panic, not knowing what to believe. Whispers shrouded the darkness, whispers of: could the Jedi have done this? Too, I always knew the Jedi were evil! Every being on the surface of the planet rushed to and fro, not daring to look in the eyes of the Jedi’s murderers.

Squads of Clones roamed the streets, shouldering open doors of anybody who was suspected of being- or reported- a force user, only to drag them into the street, line them up against the wall, and rip their bodies full of blaster bolts. And there was nothing anybody could do but watch. Watch as innocent people were murdered- those who were not even Jedi, or force-sensitive, but just people. Normal people, reported by neighbors because of a simple disliking, their lifeless bodies being dragged down streets, a symbol to all. 

The Empire is strong, Chancellor Palpatine reminded them all. And not just Coruscant; the entire Galaxy.

His face had been mantled on every street corner, every holo-net, and billboard in sight. 

“Look how the former Jedi Master Mace Windu has deformed me-” his curdling voice would beckon over the heads of passers-by, his eyes sunken and skin hanging from his skull. “For wanting to protect our Republic. Our Empire”  

His voice sent a chill through Shéa… one that crawled up her spine and tickled her skin, and every time she dared look up at the holonets and into his eyes, it was as though he knew she was there. His beady eyes staring right through, his iris shrouded in evil, as though she could see the very darkness that tainted him stirring deep within the endless pits of his pupils. 

It was on day four that they began to burn the bodies of the dead.

Shéa had counted the days ever since she had wriggled out of the ventilation of the system of the Temple, and though her body was still bruised and arm still aching from where she had landed on the hard concrete, she had not let it stop her from running as far as she could from the place she once called home. But when her lungs had seemingly exhausted themselves, and her legs were so heavy it felt as though they were made of lead, she had slumped over in an alleyway and just cried.

She couldn’t understand why. Why would Chancellor Palpatine do this? He was kind… he had been kind. He had been a fragment of her home, of the little she remembered of Naboo; family dinners when he would visit and compliment the flowers in her hair that Ryoo had put there, and tell her that he imagined she would do great things in her life. And now he was… and now he had killed them all. Her people and her family and… Master Windu would never try to kill the Chancellor, would he? 

It didn’t matter anymore, it couldn’t. Because now she was alone, roaming the dark streets of Coruscant, her hood pulled so far over her face that she was certain she just looked like another homeless child. Dirty, scratched, and out of place. Someone who did not belong, but as long as they bothered no one else, they could go about their life. 

But the bodies… before the bodies, things had seemed easy. She had a plan. 

Shéa just needed to find a ship, a refugee ship, and sneak onto it. 

She had no credits, no way of paying for food or clothes or water, and the little she had eaten had come from dumpsters outside of bars and cantinas that she was hopeful was not guarded by the Clones. When she slept, which was not much, it was curled under boxes, or stuffed into a doorway, her body curling in on itself and her face buried into her knees to mask the muffled sobs that wracked her little body. 

When she awoke on that fourth day though to the potent smell of burning flesh her body had curdled, and she found herself retching the little remnants of food in her stomach into a puddle in the floor. 

It wafted through the streets. A mixture of metal and meat, causing her eyes to sting with tears and her chest to constrict so tightly she could not breathe.

They were burning bodies… the bodies of her friends, the other Younglings who hadn’t lived… who she had let die. And suddenly the lightsaber stuffed inside of her robes- the ones she had fished out of a box, which was too long and getting trapped under her feet as she shuffled along- felt that much heavier. 

Shéa could do nothing else but burden that guilt, even as she stumbled into the street, which was packed with a flowing crowd. Clone guards were positioned momentarily, guns holstered against their hips as the slits of their visors surveyed the crowd, searching for any Jedi who may have slipped under their guise.

Searching for her. 

But she could not let them find her, Shéa was determined. All she had to do was slowly make her way toward the nearest spaceport, cradling what she suspected to be a broken arm, and then she would be free. Free to go… anywhere. But where?

Could she go home, go to Naboo? Oh, how she longed to see her mother and father and sisters again. Every waking moment she saw their faces, and wondered if they thought she was dead… how old would little Pooja be now? She was only a baby when she left, but her smile had been enough to light up any room on a blustery day.

And Mama… always so beautiful, and yet her face was slowly beginning to disappear from the back of her mind. Every night she cried for her, hoping that she would materialize beside her and cradle her comfortingly in her arms, just like she had when she was sick as a baby. 

But she could not go back to Naboo, because then the bad people would find her. She was… she was lost. 

Her eyes turned toward the darkened sky, and overhead, she saw the colossal underbelly of a Republic Star Destroyer. However, where it had once been alight with activity, it was now silent… At the beginning of the transformation, she heard a nearby Mon Calamari whisper. 

“They’re sending them all to the scrapper, ready for these new Imperial Class Destroyers… I even hear that they’re sending the Jedi Fighters too- you know, to be turned into the new TIE fighters the Emperor spoke about on the holonet last night”

TIE fighters… Imperial Class Destroyers… new weapons for a new age, and yet Shéa found it difficult to imagine that the Clone Wars had ended only days ago.

It was as though she had been thrust into another timeline, and every corner she looked around, an odd feeling filled her stomach. As though she did not belong anywhere, as though Coruscant had been- and still was- her home. Like she was an Imposter, and everybody was eyeing her suspiciously. 

Somewhere, over the heads of the crowd, a voice began to call: “Inaugration ceremony straight ahead- orderly line, please!”

A clone stepped into a gap in the crowd, and Shéa found herself pressed between bodies, her head buried in the ever-moving sea. The Inauguration Ceremony… how could she forget?

“Proceed toward the Imperial Palace in an orderly fashion, please!”

The Jedi Temple is what he meant. Except Palpatine had wasted no time in turning it into the Imperial Palace, his home, his… base of operations, built on the dead bodies of her people. 

Shéa tried desperately to break free of the crowd, but they were already carrying her onto the main concourse, and closer toward the place she had escaped from. Toward the Palace. 

She was too small. Too small to fight, too small to escape, too small to do anything but stumble aimlessly, her shoulders bumping arms and legs and hips as she moved along blindly.

The only thing Shéa could do was look up at the sky, a technicolor of grey and black ships flying overhead in a blanket of oppression, a warning to all below that the Empire was strong. That if anybody were to step out of line, they would be met swiftly… harshly. 

So Shéa cradled her arm to her chest and ducked her head down, flowing with the ebb of people around her, and tried to quell the thundering of her heart. 

Where the gardens surrounding the Temple had been was now nothing but an endless crowd, stretching as far as the eye could see, separated only by several podiums on which stood guards, and where towering golden statues had been placed was now nothing. The steps of the temple were vacant, except for a large pile… a mound, she realized, of cloth and fabric and…

Static filled the air, and from speakers, the noise began to radiate through the air. The Imperial anthem.

Around her, people perked up, and as she was shunted into the stilled crowd, a line of Clone troopers filled the space at the back of the crowd, herding them together. 

The crowd fell silent as a triumphant orchestra began to belt the high and low notes of the Empire’s new song, a glorified chorus of what Emperor Palpatine wanted his Empire to be. Prosperous. Triumphant. Absolute. An overbearing force that nobody would challenge, with the absence of hope that manifested in the form of Jedi.

The song protruded for some moments before concluding with a clash, and when it did, Shéa strained on her tiptoes to see between the gaps of people and ahead to a dark group now assembling on the steps leading up to the Palace. 

A man stepped forward and tapped a microphone that had been sat up before the pile on the grand staircase. It was Mas Amedda… the former Vice-Chair, and Palpatine’s right-hand-man. 

He was a tall, blue, Twi’lek, adorned in only the finest silk. Shéa had met him once, on a trip to the Senate, though she had not favored him in the way he eyed the Younglings smarmily. 

He cleared his throat, and in a silky voice, began: “Welcome, all, to the age of a New Empire”

The crowd erupted into cheers as, accordingly, banners fell and rolled down the side of the Temple, embellished in a deep red and the black illustration of the Empire’s new Crest: a circular picture, depicting a sort of star. The man stood proud and wide and threw his arms out. 

“Yes, yes… all thanks to our ever brave Emperor Palpatine, who once again, has stood in the face of adversity and delivered us hope. Hope that we shall prevail… hope that the Jedi ripped from us throughout the Clone Wars… tricking us, manipulating us!”

Jeering rang in her ears as he curled his lip in a sneer. Shéa shrunk further in on herself and squinted her eyes to see better. 

“I welcome you all to stand here today for our Inauguration as we rectify this Temple into a Palace; a Palace for our troops and officials, a Palace for all people to step foot in, no matter who they may be” cheering. “Who do not need to be a Jedi, or a traitor, to feel special”

The cheering grew in size until it was screaming in her ears, and as hands punched the air, the Moff stepped forward and gestured to the pile below him. He nodded to a Clone beside him, and from behind a wall, he dragged a flailing form- a person- out into the light, and forced them to their knees.

Mas Amedda banged the golden staff he held on the steps, and the crowd fell quiet. 

“See here, a Jedi, who believes he is better than everyone… who believes he can escape death!”

No. What was he doing… was he going to-

“Kill him!” Amedda commanded, and a single blaster shot rang out over the open space. 

It was as though Shéa could feel his life- his Force- ripple out over the heads of the crowds, dissipating into the motes and particles of the very air around them as he returned to his maker. His soul, a gentle ember, flickering out like he meant… nothing. She did not know her fellow Jedi’s name, but she did not need to. 

They were bound together by the Force, and that made them family.

Where he had been trembling and knelt on the platform he went rigid and then slumped over, and two Clone troopers came bustling over to drag his lifeless body and add it to the mountain of fallen warriors. 

“Long live the Empire!” The Vice-Chair whooped, and all around her, people turned their faces to the sky to see the starfighters gliding amongst the clouds. But Shéa could not, her eyes trained on her fallen brethren, and the flaming torch being carried toward them.

Her eyes widened, her throat constricted, and hot, angry, tears brimmed her waterline. 

How could they… how could the people the Jedi swore their lives to protect just turn their backs against them? What had they done? What had the Younglings done- innocent lives taken because of a religion, a way of life, they had no choice in choosing. The Jedi had fought for the people around her, and yet in their darkest hour, they turned their backs upon them as if all of that sacrifice, all of that bloodshed and death meant nothing to them. 

Instead of grieving, they celebrated. Instead of anger, they were happy.

And there she stood, amongst them all, watching as beacons of fire were tossed upon the bodies of those Jedi who had not yet learned the art of becoming one with the force, those whose bodies should have each had their own beautiful, unique, funeral. To be cremated amongst the stars.

As the first torch fell and engulfed the mountain of bodies in flames, more did so, and all around the Jedi Temple pyres were ignited, illuminating the sky with thick plumes of smoke as the Force escaped their vessels. 

No. She would not let this happen to her friends, she couldn’t. 

Anger and spite and hatred surged through her veins, adrenaline-pumping her body, and she found herself pushing forward through the crowd… toward the Temple, toward Amedda. 

She was going to kill him. And when she had, she would kill the rest. For Justice. For Katooni, for Petro, for Ganodi, and all of her other friends who she had watched being mercilessly murdered by someone they had always been taught to trust. Murderers. They were all murderers. 

Shéa shoved and pushed people aside, her eyes set on nothing else but Amedda and his stupid, big, blue, head, and the infantry of troopers that separated him from the rest of the pulsating crowd, who by now were jeering and singing renditions of the Empire’s new anthem. 

Her teeth bared. Her blood pumped. And just as she was some twenty feet from the edge of the crowd, something- no, someone seized her and pulled her flush to their body. 

At first, she struggled. She kicked and fought and thrashed in the arms of her captor, throwing her head back as she bit out angry, sharp tears that dribbled down her face and mixed with the dirt and sweat that clung to her skin from days on the run. But then, defeat set in. Hopelessness. Despair, and she fell limp, her feet slipping on the ground. 

“I-I can’t” she begged, pressing the palms of her heels to her eyes. “I can’t”

“It is over now,” a gentle voice said… a familiar voice. When she looked up, she was greeted by the warm eyes of not a foe, or a trooper, but a friend. “You’re okay… you’re safe now, Shéa”

Knelt before her, her friend- her Master- set two hands on her shoulders and forced a smile onto his face. Quinlan Vos had never been one to look so… disheveled, and yet he tried to stay strong, to stay stoic. 

“They’re dead” she whispered as the crowd around her cheered, oblivious of what was happening amongst them. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save them. It’s all my fault” 

Master Vos seemed to gulp and then nod. “The strength of your spirit is strong, and I do not doubt you tried your best. But Coruscant is no place for you now, my child.” he looked up then- up to the burning bodies, to the people around him. “It is no place for any of us, not anymore”

He held his hand to her, but when she did not move, he did not force her to her feet. Instead, he simply scooped her up, and let Shéa wrap her arms around his neck, and her legs draped over his hips. 

As she sat there, huddled up, the exhaustion of fighting to survive dragged at her limbs, but she knew Master Vos was right. Coruscant wasn’t her home. Not anymore. 

He turned then and began to recede into the crowd, yet as Shéa’s face pressed into his shoulder, she could not help but chance one last glimpse of her home… of her childhood. In flames and smeared with innocent blood. 

When she closed her eyes, she imagined a better life and hoped she would never wake up. 

*

“I don’t get it”

It was the early hours of the morning. The storm that had wrecked the planet of Yavin-4 had ended some hours ago, around when she had eventually managed to drift off to sleep, and the once howling winds had been replaced now by the soft chirping of birds on fallen branches outside. 

The tiniest slither of sunlight had crept into the room, and it danced across the uneven floorboards, illuminating the shack in a golden glow that seemed to radiate upward from the floor. Tiptoeing across the bare skin of her back, it warmed her; burned her in the most sensual way, the company of a strong hand on her lower back pressing her further into a state of pure drowsiness.

They had both been laid there some time; awake, but not speaking. Shéa, her head resting on Din’s chest, while one of his hands splayed across her back, holding her close, while the other was outstretched, his palm turned upward so that she could trace idly patterns across the deep lines with her fingertip.

However, he had slipped his helmet back on to spare the embarrassment of an accidental glimpse, but Shéa did not mind. If she strained her ears hard enough, she was certain she could still hear his unfiltered voice beneath the modulator. 

When he spoke finally, his voice was scratchy, grating against his throat from prolonged silence: “Don’t get what?”

“Why I’m still here. Still alive” She said simply and with a small, abrupt, laugh. “I mean, I should have died… a lot, and a long time ago. But I always somehow escaped it… I guess I just don’t understand how. Or why”

Din did not move, but turned his head slightly, watching the way her finger moved over the rough skin of his palm. She supposed he found it soothing… comforting, a reminder that she was there, curled up beneath the blanket he had pulled over them both to make the uncomfortable floor somewhat more comfortable. 

“Maybe… you’re just meant to live,” he said finally, his words soft, as though he had taken the time to carefully shape the edges so that they would not stab her. “Or maybe you’re meant to do something nobody else can”

Shéa shifted her head to rest in the crook of his arm, blinking slowly as she stared at the curve of his helmet, and her warped reflection within. She did not recognize herself; she did not recognize the plump lips or the tangled short curls that hung around her ears like rags. 

Her brow jutted up and she stared at him. “Like what? What is the amazing thing I’m destined to live for?”

Seemingly, Din pondered the thought. “To realize that you’re a good person?”

An abrupt, playful, laugh escaped her. “Shut up” she chuckled. 

Din’s hand slid up her back and came to cup her neck, pulling her face close to his until her forehead was pressed against his squarely. And then he remained silent, her eyes gazing up into his visor, wide. 

“I’ve killed people,” he said finally, clearing his throat. “Lots of people, more than you have or will. But you still look at me… like that. You still let me touch you. Feel you. Look at you.”

Shéa’s lips parted, and her brow furrowed as she shuffled closer to him, burrowing her body beneath the thin blankets. “The people you killed,” she told him. “They weren’t good”

“Neither was Dina”

A single moment and they were silent, staring at one another. Was he… could he be right? 

Din was a criminal. A crime lord, running an underground Empire out of the heart of Coruscant. With thugs and enforcers, somebody who kidnapped people and sent others out as murderers. Most of all, she had a lightsaber. 

But she was a person. With a heart and a family, even if she did not know of or speak to them. Blood pumped through her veins and the Force flowed through her. And maybe, deep down, she might have been a good person… she could have been if Shéa had not killed her. 

“As a Jedi… attachment is forbidden, that’s why they took me away from my family as a little girl. Love inspires fear, and fear inspires hatred and anger. That is how many of the Sith were born… they let the fear and anger of that love drive them” she whispered, biting down on her lip. “My Master, he… he told me once that he had loved someone, but eventually, she caused such a hatred inside of him that he… he lost his way, for a little while”

Din continued to stare at her, but then, he raised a hand and brushed the hair from her eyes. “The dark side… you talk of it so much, but I don’t understand… how can the Force become dark?”

“It can’t, but it can be channeled. The Jedi were those who devoted their lives to the Light- serving others and rejecting the urge to serve only themselves and nobody else. But the dark side… that is where the Sith were born, the ancient enemy of the Jedi who only served the shadows, which fed off their passion and anger and hatred. Those who could not conquer it and reject it became imbalanced, and they… they indulged. The darkness offers ease without hardship”

His thumb rubbed her temple, a comfort as her lip trembled. Shéa did not like to speak of the Sith; knowing what the Emperor had done, what Master Skywalker had done to her friends… the Younglings had been told the Sith were gone, but how wrong her Masters had been. As a child, collecting her Kyber crystal, the challenge she faced had reminded her of the ghost stories some of the elders told; yellow fangs and bloodshot eyes, reaching for them.

It was a picture she had never expected to see manifested.

“So, what you’re saying is… you killed Dina because of me?”

“I killed Dina because I was angry. Angry that she had hurt you, angry from my fear that I would lose you” Shéa said, insistent. “It wasn’t a fear I had felt since I lost Master Vos and killed the Inquisitor who murdered him”

Din made a noise, and his hand fell between them, as though her skin had turned hot and she had burnt him.

“I-” he choked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done this-”

He made to pull away, to retract, and suddenly Shéa wished she had never said anything. At once she seized his hand and pulled him so that their warm bodies were flush against one another.

“But my Master told me that we can feel and empathize and love… that it is the will of the Force. Because without love, hope cannot exist” 

Din propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at her, tilting his head as he absently stroked the hollow of her cheek.

“I don’t want to be the reason you let your fear consume you” he croaked out. 

Shéa looked up at him and forced a smile. “You won’t be, I just… I need to let go, of everything, I think. I… I need to resume my training”

He jerked back, surprised by the statement. “Your Jedi training? But I thought you wouldn’t train the Child because… because of the darkness”

“I’m tired of hiding. If I have any hope of learning to let go, I have to continue my training… just, without a Master, and without any idea of what exactly I’m meant to do”

He exhaled with a breath of laughter, his head bowing as he shook it out. 

Shéa had thought about resuming her training before, but without Master Vos, it had seemed futile. What was the point? She had been alone on Tatooine, and it wasn’t as though she could have asked Shabba for help… in fact, she was certain he would have rebuked at the idea. So, she had simply carried on, as though her life did not revolve around the Force, and was just that of an ordinary person.

But no matter how much she prayed to be normal, it would never come, and Shéa supposed she would have to accept that now more than ever. She couldn’t let herself fall deeper into the pit that was beginning to wider beneath her, because if she did, she would fall through with no way of climbing back out again.

She would lose all that which she was afraid to… she would lose Din, and the Child, and Shabba, and every other person she had ever cared for or loved. Most of all, she would lose herself. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice quieter… softer. Encouraging and comforting but not at all overbearing.

She nodded. “I have to. You don’t… I understand if you go. It’s dangerous, this path, and if you take the Child to protect him… I’ll understand-”

“Don’t” he snapped, and Din pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I’m here, whatever you need” 

“Din”

“Whatever” he repeated. “You need. You have me, always and forever. So let me help”

Shéa stared at him, thinking it over. It wasn’t as though she could say no… because even if she did, he would not accept it. She knew him too well to think otherwise. 

“We have each other” 

Her hands reached up, and as she cupped his face, a sense of familiarity washed over her. 

It wasn’t that she had fallen in love with him that first day on Tatooine when he had so rudely disturbed the strange-little-world she had constructed for herself. No, she had found him insufferable. Yet the moment he had stepped into the cantina, that same sense of familiarity had lapped at her in strong, overpowering, waves. As if something inside of her, the Force perhaps, had said “Him. It’s going to be him”, and she had gone with it without question. After all, who was she to question the will of the Force? 

She stared up at him, and just as he was about to say something- his breath hitching in the back of his throat- there was a familiar coo, and their heads snapped to the side. At once, Din pulled the thin blankets over them, hiding all except their heads.

From around the corner of the couch poked two, large, floppy ears, and even larger eyes.

The Child stared at them, his mouth opening and closing, and he reached one of his little hands out. 

“How did you get down?” Din asked, an air of surprise in his voice as he lay atop Shéa, trying not to rest too much of his weight atop her, but doing so nonetheless. “Did you jump?”

“Did he see my boobs?” Shéa could only ask, and he turned his head to look at her. “What? I was just making sure”

Din could only sigh as, slowly, he withdrew one arm from the confined cocoon he had created around them both. He waved it, pointing back the way the Child had come, and the little monster whipped his head around. 

“Go… go back that way. Yes, that way- no, not over here” 

A grin had illuminated the Child’s face, and in many short steps, he had toddled toward Din and Shéa, making grabbing motions as if he too wanted to join in in their blanket fort. However, Din seemed frustrated.

Making sure the Kid did not see, Shéa reached her hand out from beneath the blanket, and picked up her sweater from beside them where she had discarded it the night before. Pulling it back under the covers, she began to awkwardly pull it over her head, and Din proved as a sort of exoskeleton for which the covers could drape over him, giving her enough room to maneuver.

Finally, after a few, painstakingly long minutes, she managed to pull it around her hips.

“I’ve got it, get dressed,” she said, before slowly, carefully, sliding out from beneath him and scooping the Child up in her arms. 

As she walked back into the bedroom the Child had wandered from and sat down on the soft mattress, she heard the rustling of Din’s armor; Beskar clanking as he slowly began to get dressed, much thanks to her occupying the Kid’s interest. 

“You know” she began to tell him as she turned to the window, pulling her legs beneath herself as she cradled the Kid in her arms. “You’re lucky he hasn’t frozen you in carbonite. I mean, if it was any other guy, he would’ve hated that you interrupted him getting some-”

“Shéa” a distant voice called in warning, and she could not help but grin. 

She rolled her eyes playfully and laid back, balancing the Child on her stomach. “I mean a man and his you-know-what is not something to interfere with-”

“Okay, give him here” 

Craning her head, she peered around the child and to Din, who was now standing in the doorway with his arms folded. His armor had returned to its usual place adorning his body, and as she snickered, he only took a step forward, reaching out and plucking the Child off of her. 

Sitting up, Shéa stretched her bare legs out and watched as he set the Child on his hip like a mother might, and could not help but grin wider, chewing down on the inside of her cheek to not make it so obvious. 

“Don’t worry, I was joking” she sighed, jumping to her feet. But then she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a hand against his chest, whispering lowly so that the Child would not hear- “I know you’re not the possessive type” 

His head jerked to stare at her incredulously, but she was already walking away, pulling on the rest of her clothes and slipping back into her boots, which had dried out from the night before. He stood still in the doorway, his arms hanging by his sides, as he called:

“Not possessive how?” when she said nothing and opened the door, her face ridden with amusement, he asked again. “Not possessive how?”

But she was already gone, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft bang. 

*

It was evident by noon that the previous night’s storm had left little damage on the village of Obitelj, spare a few fallen trees and the occasional bucket of water being tossed out of open doorways. Had it not been for those very fallen trees, Shéa would not have expected there to have been a storm in the first place.

The ground had dried up fast in the glaring sun, which danced across the open town square as children darted around. By the schoolhouse- a long building crafted from stone and wood with a patchwork straw roof- a group of boys had struck up a game, Poe included, and we're kicking a leather ball between themselves.

“Hoverball” Shara had said as the two women approached, Poe’s mother carrying a basket of dirty clothes, and Shéa hauling a heavy bucket of water alongside her. “We don’t have an actual hover ball, so the kids made a pretend one… lucky they are that old man Odello gave it back to them, you know after they smashed his window”

Hoverball. She remembered well. It had been a game she and the other Younglings had played in their boredom at the Temple when there were no Masters to shepherd them, and nobody was paying them much attention. She hadn’t been any good, and never scored a goal, but it had been fun… and chaos. 

“They have no Hoverball?” Shéa asked as they sat down on the edge of the square. 

The only subsequent result of the storm had been that, following the power cut, the water flow had not yet returned to what it had been, much to the village’s dismay, and at that moment many of the men were out trying to see if they could find a solution. As such, many people had assembled in the square with dirty washing and had opted to rinse the dirt out in the pool of water sunken into the ground.

The air was humid, and overhead, birds cawed. It was a perfect day. 

“They did,” Shara told her as she wrung dirty water out of a blue shirt, blowing the hair out of her eyes. “But it broke a couple of months ago, apparently somebody kicked it too hard… chance a guess at who”

As the words left her mouth, there was a triumphant yell, and they both turned to see Poe sliding along the grass. Shara exhaled heavily, and as they returned their attention to the task at hand, Shéa had to reach out suddenly to stop the Child beside her from launching himself into the swirling water below.

Despite Din’s playful banter, he had- reluctantly- left the Child with her while he returned to the Razor Crest to assess whether it had held up in the storm’s barrage. Given that he had been gone for some time, though, she assumed it must have needed something, and he no doubt had the expert help of the little droid, Bolt, who had spent the night aboard. 

However, when Shéa had joined Shara that morning, she had been met with an all-knowing look, though she had said nothing… that is until Shéa set the Child in her lap and sighed.

“So” Shara began, rubbing a stain out of a pair of pants. “You didn’t come back last night”

“No”

“You get lost?” 

Silence, and then: “No…” Shéa answered, reluctant. 

Shara smirked to herself, her shoulders jerking with laughter. “I see… was it good?”

“Oh, maker” Shéa mumbled, and she pressed her hands to her face, trying desperately to dispel some of the redness inevitably crawling up her neck. 

Grinning wide, Poe’s mother bumped her shoulder. “Come on, you disappear all night, and then come back this morning looking like a kid on Life Day… I know that look. You got some”

Shéa’s mouth opened, aghast. “I did not… get some”

“Well, you got something, that's for sure” 

All that Shéa could do was grimace; grimace as Shara dissolved into laughter, shaking her head as she rubbed her brow with the back of her hand. She didn’t mind the teasing, though… no, it was nice to think about something else, if only for a short while. Something other than the unbearable, crushing, weight of the Galaxy around her. 

The Child took notice of the laughter and looked up, cooing with his cheeky grin. 

Reaching down, Shéa brushed his wrinkled-little head affectionately. 

“You look good together, you and the Mandalorian. Odd… but good. Like a family” Shara mused as she returned to her work, and across the town square, yells of protest arose as the opposing team in the children’s game scored. “Even with the addition of your little… friend”

“The Kid is… something”

Picking him up, Shéa pulled the Child into her lap, and let him snuggle there in the bend of her knees. Shara cast a sideways glance at the two of them, curious. 

“Does he have no name?” the woman asked, and she began to fold away some of the damp clothing into a woven basket beside her. 

Shéa shook her head. “We’re just… caring for him. The Mandalorian has a quest to return him to his own kind, but first, he must find a convent of other Mandalorians to help him. We were on Coruscant before we came here, but…”

“But?”

She shrugged and sighed. “Nothing. We’re sort of at a dead-end”

Shara hummed at this, her forehead creasing as though she were deep in thought. For a moment, she looked over her shoulder to Poe, who was kicking up flecks of mud and grass and scattering them about. 

Finally, after enough deliberation, she set the woven basket behind her and dusted her wet hands off on her pant leg. 

“During the war, the Rebellion would use outside contacts… yes, there’s one in a system close to here. Gor Koresh. He’s a slimy Abyssin, and not to be trusted, but he may offer some information as to where your companion can find others of his kind.” Shara explained, and her eyes were sincere… insistent, as though she truly wanted to help in any way she could. 

Shara had done so much for Shéa, Din, and the Child too, yet she had nothing to offer in return other than her indebted thanks. 

Pursing her lips, she made a mental note that if she were to come across a hover ball in her travels, she would bring it back for Poe and the other children. It was the least she could do for Obitelj, after all. 

“Thank you, Shara,” Shéa whispered, and she reached out, taking the other woman’s hand and giving it a soft squeeze. 

Shara’s skin was soft, and when she squeezed back, it was hard and forceful. “I see it in your eyes. Hope. Maybe Kes is right- someday, when there's another war to fight, another enemy trying to oppress… I hope to see you there fighting with us”

“I’ll be there,” Shéa said, confident. “I promise”

And she would be, she was certain of it. Even if she was beaten and bloody, because Shéa had seen what the Empire was capable of, even now, when there was no more Emperor, no more Imperial Starfleet. If she could go back in time and tell the person she was, the person she had been, not to be afraid… she would have been there alongside Shara and killed Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader herself. 

In front of her, Shara nodded firmly and turned to look across the courtyard, only to see a short figure approaching them. 

It was not anybody she had ever seen nor met before; a small girl, actually, with wiry brown hair and deep-set eyes that appeared annoyed in appearance. Her lips were pulled downward, and as she marched over, she folded her arms and sat down on the edge of the pool with a huff. 

Beside her, an astromech trundled along and whirred indignantly. 

“Hello, Hallie” Shara greeted the young girl with a tight-lipped smirk, wiggling her eyebrows to Shéa, who looked on in confusion. “You look happy this morning”

The girl, Hallie, swung her head around, her bottom lip jutted out in a definitive pout. Her arms crossed, she blew a tuft of hair out of her eyes and scrunched up her nose. 

“Hello, Missus Bey” she grumbled, though her voice did not sound so elated. 

Shéa and Shara exchanged a look, before returning their eyes to the small girl. 

“Is… everything okay?” Shara asked delicately. Beside her, the girl’s astromech- whose pink lacquer paint had been chipped away from years of wear- tooted. 

Hallie rolled her dark eyes. “No. My brothers won’t let me play Hoverball with them and the others” 

“Now, why would they not let you play Hoverball?” Shara asked, a tone of shock lacing her words as she began to scrub at more of the clothes in the second basket she had brought along with them that morning. “I thought you were very good at Hoverball”

“I am” Hallie protested. “But they said I’m too small, and if I get hurt, I’ll cry. Which is wrong because I never cry”

Shéa tilted her head and shifted slightly, the Child in her arms staring at the girl’s pink astromech in wonder. He reached a handout, and the droid seemed to take notice of this, whirring in distaste. 

At once, Hallie took notice of Shéa, and her eyes narrowed. “Are you Poe’s… Wizard friend?”

“Wizard?” Shéa repeated. “I don’t think I’m a Wizard… but I am a friend. I’m Shéa” 

Extending her hand out, Shéa offered it to the young girl, who took it with an air of skepticism, but shook it rigidly nonetheless. 

“I’m Hallie, and my idiot brothers are friends with Poe” Hallie informed her before jerking a thumb over her shoulder and pointing out four, tall figures.

They were boys Shéa had seen Poe interact with before, each with a head of dark hair and equally tanned skin. Two of them were almost identical in appearance and were cackling with laughter as they kicked the leather ball between them, keeping it out of reach of the others in their game. 

As Shéa watched, another came sliding in and managed to maneuver the ball out from one of the boys’ hold and into the makeshift goal posts that had been constructed out of two stacks of rocks. Cheers echoed through the small crowd, and they clapped one another on the backs. 

“You have four brothers?” Shéa asked, her voice airy with amazement. “I bet that’s a job to keep them all in check”

A small grin began to poke at Hallie’s cheeks, and she shrugged as if to downplay her skill. 

“They’re big oafs. Bellamy is the oldest… and then the two tall ones are twins, Cayde and Lance. The shorter one is Tobias, but he’s only a year older than me, so I boss him around a lot” she told Shéa in a matter-of-fact tone. “They don’t like it when I play because I always win, and then they go and cry to my mom because I rub it in their faces”

The astromech twittered as if in confirmation, and Shéa gave a small laugh.

“This is QT-KT” Hallie continued, setting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. She seemed happier now, her face alight with excitement. “But I call her Qutee, cause she likes me better than my brothers. Someday, we’re gonna fly an X-Wing together, and be the best pilots in the Galaxy!” 

Behind Shéa, Shara chuckled and gave Hallie a thumbs up. “That you are”

“Well, I think you’ll have some competition… my friend the Mandalorian and this little green monster are pretty good pilots too” Shéa teased, and Hallie looked down to the Child in her lap.

At once, Hallie gasped, awwing and cooing as she reached forward and poked the Child’s pudgy cheek. At first, the Kid seemed unsure, but once she showed him the little threaded bracelet around her wrist, he seemed to ease up. Awkwardly, he pushed himself to his feet and toddled toward her.

Hallie smiled and giggled when he tried to begin to chew on the strands that dangled from her wrist. 

“He’s so cute” she sighed. “Can I keep him?”

“I don’t think your mom could handle another little terror in your house, Arrell. Here, why don’t you go tell the boys to let you join in, and if they don’t, Shéa here will go get her big, scary, Mandalorian friend to make them let you play” 

The little girl turned to look up at Shéa and Shara. “You can do that?” she asked in a quiet voice, as though afraid her brothers might hear of her devious plan. 

“I mean… I could. He’s very scary”

Hallie chuckled. “Wizard” 

“Go on, now.” Shara encouraged, and determined, Hallie, nodded.

Jumping to her feet, she handed the Child back to Shéa and beckoned Qutee the droid to follow before bounding back off the square to the small gaggle of children. There was silence for a few moments as she proclaimed something, thought the words did not carry. Instead, Shéa could only watch her raise her arms wide in anticipation.

Her brothers, Poe, and some of the other children looked between themselves, not looking to be taking her too seriously; that is until she slammed her foot against the ground, and caused a few of them to jump. 

A few of them seemed to concede, however, and within minutes Hallie was running amongst them, dribbling the leather ball between her feet and letting it soar between the goalposts with a triumphant yell. She punched the sky, and when she spun around, she gave Shéa and Shara a thumbs up. 

“She’s a character,” Shéa remarked, pulling the Child back into her arm, where he let out a defeated little yawn and rested his head back. Trust him to be the one tired, it wasn’t as though he had slept most of the night… “She… reminds me of myself when I was her age”

Shara hummed in reply, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Her brothers think so too… Poe has a little crush on her”

Shéa’s face lit up and she could not help but laugh aloud. “Really? Well, looks like he’s got his hands full” 

“Oh yeah, she’s a handful. But as you said, she reminds me of myself too.”

Pursing her lips, Shéa stood up and offered a hand to Shara. “Well, if that’s anything to go off, Poe’s screwed”

Shara took her hand gladly and stood. “Trust me, he’s more than screwed” 

*

“Point your light there… no, focus, right there. Yes, into the compartment… not in my eyes”

The Razor Crest was dark when Shéa finally returned, the inside of the hull cool against the mid-afternoon heat that simmered in Yavin’s humid atmosphere. Her footsteps echoed on the ramp, and as she ventured upward, the distant recesses of a voice echoed off the metal walls. 

A faint smell of burning metal tingled her nose, and as she set the Child down on the floor, she could not help but grimace at the smell. 

“Disgusting” she mumbled to herself, stepping over boxes and tools that had come loose in the vicious shaking of the previous night’s storm, and as she passed her workbench, she noticed that her box of tools had emptied its contents over the floor.

Bending, she began to gather them, only to hear a thud from somewhere in the cockpit, followed by a string of swearing. 

“Dank… Farrik” Din hissed. Bolt trilled. “No, it is not fixed. It is now more broken- no, it’s not my fault, that’s yours” 

Grasping the rungs of the ladder leading to the cockpit, Shéa hoisted herself up, letting the lower half of her body dangle as she folded her arms over on the small hallway and resting her chin atop them. Gazing through the open door to the cockpit, she raised her eyebrows, watching the scene unfold before her.

Din was laid on his back, his usual seat pushed out of the way so that he could reach up under the flight console and fiddle with the wires beneath. Perched on his chest, Bolt too was peering up, his mechanical eye functioning as a flashlight as his head bobbed back and forth, the light swinging across the wall and underneath the console.

Smiling to herself, she cleared her throat. “Hey”

Din sat up suddenly, knocking his head on the corner of the console and jerking as the Beskar clang echoed throughout the ship. On his chest, Bolt swiveled and jumped up happily, his two legs pitter-pattering on Din’s chest piece before he jumped down.

Rubbing his forehead, Din shuffled out from beneath the console, and slowly began to pull himself up. “Hey” he sighed. 

Letting out a snort of laughter, Shéa climbed the rest of the way up and into the cockpit, holding out a hand for him for support. Thankful, he took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet, swaying on the spot as he stumbled slightly.

As Din continued to rub his head, Shéa reached up, and gently let her hand caress the hollow of his Beskar cheek. Her brow pulled up, and Din could only bow his head. 

“I see the ship held up well in the storm” she mused after a few moments of silence, letting her arm fall and hang by her side. “What’s wrong with the console?”

Shéa dodged around Din, and he turned to watch as she ducked and crawled beneath the console, twisting to look up. Beneath, it was a mess of wires where the paneling had been pulled away. Some were loose, and others had frayed ends where they had not been wired correctly. As she reached inside, Bolt joined her and angled his light upward so that she could navigate the bundled mess. 

“The compressor on the ignition line must have been water damaged in the storm. Without it, the Hyperdrive won’t make safe jumps, so I’ve been trying to bypass it” he told her, crouching down beside her. Bolt chirped, and Din sighed. “Bolt was trying to help, but apparently, he doesn’t like me enough to keep the light still”

At Din’s words, Bolt whipped his head around and stomped his little foot, but the Mandalorian simply shrugged him off. 

“Where’s the Kid?” Din asked.

“Downstairs” Shéa managed to grit out, straining to reach higher into the console panel. “Almost got it…”

Poking her tongue between her teeth, she arched her back and grabbed hold of something small- minuscule, even, wrapped up by weaves of wires. Grasping it between her thumb and forefinger, she gave a tug, and the wires sizzled and sparked as it came free. 

At once, the ship gave a blink, and something on the panel above her head beeped to indicate something had happened. Leaning over, Din examined it. 

“It’s back online… what did you do?” he asked as Shéa slid out, still on her back.

Staring up, she held the small component out to him. “I took the compressor out,” she said proudly. “Problem solved” 

Din simply stared at her, and after a few moments of waiting for him to help her up, she huffed and pulled herself up, tossing the compressor onto his seat and folding her arms. He watched her as she did so, saying nothing, until:

“You took the compressor out?” he asked, incredulous. 

“That’s what I said” she shrugged. 

“But-” he exhaled. “But that’ll put too much stress on the Hyperdrive” 

Shéa tilted her head. “Not if we don’t make a big jump” she argued.

Pressing his hands to his forehead, his shoulders rose and fell in exasperation. “You’re impossible- what if we blow up?”

“Then… it’ll have been a fun adventure. Calm down, Din” Shéa said in a soft voice, and she placed a hand on his chest. “We can replace it when we get to where we’re going” 

He looked up at her then, placing his hands on his hips. “You know something?”

Smiling to herself, Shéa took her hand back and wandered to the cockpit door, beginning to descend back down and into the Hull. Din followed her blindly, landing with a heavy thud and watching as she began to push some of the fallen boxes back up against the wall.

“Shéa” he called, and she turned. “What do you know?”

“Shara told me of someone who may know where some Mandalorians are. An informant of the Rebellion used during the war, called Gor Karesh. He’s slimy, apparently, but…” 

He stepped toward her and picked the Child up off the floor, who was halfway into a box of rations, his little feet kicking out from beneath his cloth sack. 

“But it’s something. Where?”

“Paetov, it’s a few systems over from here. We’ll be there by morning if we leave now” she replied, leaning back against her workstation. 

Din simply nodded and sucked in a breath. He stepped forward again and then closed the distance, positioning himself between her legs. Still holding the Child, he grasped her shoulder with his free hand and brought their foreheads together gently until they touched.

Her eyes closed, but she was certain he was staring at her. 

“Affectionate” she noted, her eyes fluttering open again. 

“This is a Kov’nyn, a… Keldabe kiss” 

The corners of her mouth curled upward in a smile, and she pulled away slightly. “A forehead kiss?”

He nodded, affirmative, but said nothing, as though suddenly embarrassed, and a sense of guilt washed over her. Maybe she shouldn’t have laughed, except she had not accepted it. She knew little of Mandalorian culture, of what they were accustomed to… but this was sweet. Deeply, movingly, sweet. 

“I like that” she whispered, the words carrying through the little space between them, and his visor shifted to look into her eyes. “I like it a lot” 

“Thank you,” he said, quiet. “For finding the… informant. We can… stay a little while. Here, I mean, that’s if… that’s if you like” 

Shéa pressed her lips together and made a sort of grimace. He leaned back, looking at her. 

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“I… sort of, maybe, told some kids that if they didn’t let this little girl play with them you’d, well, be scary” Shéa admitted. “In my defense, it was Shara’s idea” 

Beneath his modulator, he let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll run some pre-flight checks, you…”

Grinning, she slipped out under his arm. “I’ll go say goodbye, don’t worry. C’mon, Bolt”

*

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” Shara asked, packing the final few cardboard boxes into a large canvas.

Sighing, Shéa nodded and pulled the woman away from the kitchen table. 

“Yes,” she pleaded. “Now, please, stop. If you give us any more, we may as well become a traveling med-center”

Shara smiled coyly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Right, sorry” 

When Shéa had told Shara that she and Din would be leaving that night, the older woman had been less than enthusiastic. Shéa did not know if it was because she enjoyed the company, or perhaps the passive conversation, but either way, the feeling was likewise. 

It was nice to talk about something other than Mandalorians and the Child and the Force for a short while, no matter how much she loved Din or the little green munchkin. But to be able to talk about… normal person things; like how annoying it was to use recyclable water to wash her hair, and how it made her feel so dry and sticky. It was something to laugh about. 

Shara had been more than happy though to share some of their medical supplies, however, telling Shéa that if she were to ever find herself impaled again, she only need to sprinkle some of Shara’s mystery ointment on the area and it should heal up in a few days. More than that, though, the older woman had trailed away from medical supplies, and by sundown, had loaded a pack with everything Shéa could imagine and more: rations, extra tools that Kes had no use for, some bedding and- much to her liking- clothes that fit Shéa, so she would no longer have to live out of oversized pant drawers or hand-me-downs from Din.

“You’ve done more than I asked, Shara” Shéa sighed as she hoisted the pack onto her shoulder, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Me and Mando are more grateful than you could imagine”

Shara shrugged her shoulders as if to cast it aside, though Shéa could see the gratitude swimming in her eyes. 

“Hey, as long as I see you in the next rebellion, we’ll call it even, hey?”

Shéa’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll see me before then, I promise. If you need me… whenever, wherever, I’ll be there. Your people have done so much for me, it’s the least I can do”

Understanding, Shara nodded, and she forced a smile to her lips. 

“Be safe out there, okay? And keep your Mandalorian safe, too… he may act strong, but were all people, no matter how many walls we put up to shield ourselves from the truth”

For a few moments, the two stared at one another, until-

“Oh, son of a mudscuffer” Shara huffed, and she pulled Shéa into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around her shoulders. 

Shéa smiled into Shara’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she let a feeling of warmth wash over her. There was a tug in her naval as if to say stay, but she knew she could not. She had a job to do, and a promise to Din, but maybe someday she and Din could return and make a life for themselves… a life here.

But that was someday. 

“Stay safe” Shara repeated, though it was more toward herself than Shéa. “Keep them both safe”

She nodded. “I will” 

Pulling away, Shara cupped Shéa’s face and inhaled deeply. She must have been thankful, though, because, at that moment, Poe came bounding down the staircase, waving something in his hand wildly. 

“Wait!” he gasped as he skidded to a stop, wobbling on his feet. Reaching out, Shéa rested a hand on his shoulder and steadied the young boy. “Don’t go yet”

The short strands of her hair tickled her ears as she tilted her head, kneeling so that she could be his height. Of course, Shéa had expected him to have some sort of protest… but she would be back, she knew it. 

“I’ll come back to see you, I promise,” Shéa said with a smile, patting his shoulder encouragingly. 

But Poe only shook his head. “No, I got you a present”

Her eyes narrowed, and an amused smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

“A present?” Shéa repeated, surprised. He had gotten her… a gift. “You didn’t have to do that, you and your mom and dad have done more than enough-”

His lips pursed, Poe held out the hand in which he concealed something, and offered it toward her. Unfurling his fingers, he revealed something thin and black, though a piece of white tape had been stuck across it.

He dropped the item into her hand, and she scrunched up her face. 

“A data card?” Shéa asked.

Poe nodded proudly. “And not just any data card” he continued, pointing to the piece of jagged tape. Scrawled across the surface in black ink letters, read:

“Poe Dameron’s Super Awesome Mixtape”

Another nod and Poe placed his hands on his hips as Shéa looked up at him.

“That is so much cooler than a book” he pointed out. “It’s for you… to keep. So you remember to come back”

Shéa’s face softened, and she felt… she felt like she could cry. He had thought of her, and even though she couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to music, she didn’t care. For Poe, she would listen every waking hour.

Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden, and Shéa felt herself blinking away tears. 

“Thank you, Poe,” Shéa said fiercely, sincerely. “I love it”

He beamed at her. “I knew you would, it has tons of cool songs. My dad helped me make it”

“Well, tell your dad thank you too, I mean… I really love it” 

She gave a small laugh, and when she looked up, it was to see Shara smiling at her. 

“Go” Shara mused, pulling Poe toward her and ruffling his hair. “Before he starts to cry like he did last time”

Poe’s face was one of astonishment, and he batted his mother’s hands away as Shéa pulled the bag Shara had given her over her shoulder, stepping to the door. 

“I didn’t cry!” 

“Mhm, sure thing, short-sprout” Shara teased. “Go on, go see her off then If you’re not gonna cry”

For a moment, Poe hesitated, his face scrunched up as he debated it- but then he was skipping over, grabbing Shéa’s hand and pulling her out of the door before she even had a chance to wave goodbye to Shara.

He pulled her through the town square, waving and beckoning to his friends, a skip in his step as he swung their arms between them. Shéa said nothing, only watched in amusement as he babbled away, making obscene gestures with his hands.

“You’re gonna love my mixtape, I know it, and when you come back I can give you even more music… so you have to come back” he pointed out, turning to look up at her.

Shéa nodded. “Maybe I’ll give you some music suggestions, you know, from my travels”

At this Poe laughed aloud, and they passed under the village’s entrance. 

“No way, I know all the best musicians… like Max Rebo, and… and Star Waver”

She pursed her lips and pulled him to a stop, a sneaky smile overtaking her face. Poe’s arm snagged, and he looked back at her. 

“I saw Max Rebo play once,” she said with a shrug.

At once, Poe’s eyes shot open wide, and his mouth fell agape. 

“Really? Really? What was it like? What was he like? Was it totally awesome and amazing and cool?!” he asked in a rush, shaking her arm in excitement.

Chuckling, she peeled his hands from around her arm and held them in her own. 

“Yes, he was totally awesome and amazing and very, very, cool” she hummed. “Tell you what, if I see him again, I’ll get him to autograph this Datacard for you” 

Poe smiled shyly. “Really?”

“Really” she nodded. 

Standing straight, Shéa looked out toward the Razor Crest, which was still parked in the cover of the tall trees. The ramp was open, and from what she could see, the inside of the hull was tidier now; no longer were there boxes scattered about, and instead, they had been stacked neatly against the walls. 

It was shadowy inside, and from them, Din emerged. He leaned against the doorframe of the ramp and crossed his ankles over, inclining his head as if to ask are you coming? 

Shéa turned her attention back to Poe and released his hands.

“Behave for your mom for me, okay? And I promise you’ll get that autograph”

He nodded in affirmation. “I promise to behave for mom…”

Shéa raised her eyebrows, and he cleared his throat.

“I promise to try and behave for mom” 

Grinning, Shéa rolled her eyes and patted his cheek in the way Shabba would have hers. Shabba. She would tell him all about Poe when she saw him, he would be able to get him that Max Rebo autograph. 

“May we meet again, Poe Dameron” Shéa said, giving her head a small bow.

He repeated the action, and as she turned, he called out:

“May the Force be with you!” 

Shéa faltered in her step for a moment, shock stunning her body. How did he… but when she turned to look back at him, he was waving so enthusiastically, so happily, that it eased her. 

Forcing a smile onto her lips, she shrugged. 

“As with you” 

And then she was walking toward the Razor Crest, bag slung over one arm, and Poe’s data card clutched in her hand. 

As she approached the ramp, Din pushed himself off the doorway and took a step forward, holding his arm out so that he could shoulder some of the weight of the bag. Shéa happily passed it over, rolling her shoulder as it twanged with an ache.

For a moment, she made to look back at Poe, but he was gone. A frown pulled at her lips.

May the Force be with you. That was a saying she had not heard in a long time, a farewell she had often exchanged with many people; Masters, Clones, even the other Younglings. May the Force be with you! Her classmates had yelled as she embarked on her journey to find her own Kyber Crystal.

“Is… everything okay?” Din asked, and she jumped, looking up. “What’s that?” 

He pointed to her hand, which was still clutching Poe’s present tightly.

“A gift” Shéa replied, showing him the data card. 

Din said nothing, only nodded, and folded his arms as he looked out across the village. He thought to himself for a few moments before speaking, tapping his foot against the hollow metal of the hull.

When he spoke, his voice was reassuring; convincing, almost. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“Why would I stay without you?” 

She looked up at him, and he inclined his head. “Because you like it here”

Now it was Shéa’s turn to tilt her head, and she stared up at him. The corners of her eyes creased as she clutched the data card tight to her chest.

“And what about you?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “What about me?” he repeated, pushing off the wall and looming above her.

“Do you like it here?” 

For a second, he jolted, as though too stunned that she had asked such a thing. As though the question itself had offended him. However, he did not recoil and shook his shoulders out as he stood taller.

With stiff shoulders, he gave a firm nod. “I do” 

Neither one of them said anything, but Shéa was certain that Din understood. No matter how much she liked Yavin-4, or how much she cared for the little boy Poe, she could not stay; at least not now. Not with her promise to him to protect the Child until such a time came that they found another Jedi. Another Jedi.

He gave a small jerk of his head and turned then, retreating into the ship and beginning his ascent up toward the cockpit. For a final moment, Shéa looked out across the village of Obitelj, and when she did, her face lit up. 

From the place where the children had been playing hover ball earlier in the day came running a group. Poe was leading, bounding across flagged cobblestones and the dirty pathways, waving his arms wildly. Behind him, his friends followed- the little girl, Hallie, bouncing on an older boy’s shoulders.

As the ramp began to rise, her last look was of them lined against the white picket fences, jumping up and down, and screaming. 

Chapter Text

Paetov was as slimy a planet as Shara Bey had proclaimed, which was saying a lot, given that Shéa had been to and seen many slimy planets. 

It was not the usual kind of slimy planet, however, that she was so used to. No, Paetov was different; different in that it seemed to sit in a permanent stupor of darkness. The only light that emanated from its murky surface seemed to come from a smattering of towns and cities, each blinking with bio-luminescent lights that patterned the planet’s surface like oddly shaped constellations. Even the several moons orbiting the planet’s hemisphere seemed just as depressed- each dark and swimming with ice, their reflection nothing but a dullness that radiated pathetically in the aura of space. 

The inhabitants of Paetov were no better.

There were no children here, Shéa noted, and the high-rise buildings which winked with red signals seemed to be made entirely of scrapped metal; a metal that looked like it had come directly from the swelling depths of the planet Bracca, where the Scrapping Guild still chipped away at old cruisers- both Imperial and Republic. Although Shéa had never seen Bracca, she suspected it looked much like Paetov… a wasteland for the unwanted, home to the forgotten. 

However, despite the planet’s eerie silence, it seemed to have quite the vicious bloodlust for the remnants of the Empire. Along those same rusted metal walls, paint had been strewn across the surfaces. A technicolour of distasteful propaganda, depicting stormtroopers with large red crosses thrown across their faces. If it was any indication, she suspected it was what inspired the vicious flair for entertainment the planet’s civilisation seemed to adopt. 

It was such entertainment Shéa found herself enticed by, and such entertainment that filled the small fighting ring she was now sat in.

The smell of sweat was potent. 

It leaked from the walls and sizzled under her nose, tickling her nostrils which flared at each metal clang that fizzled through the air as two contenders- each a Gamorrean with sickly green skin- circled one another, snorting and whining in protest. They were not large for their kind, but small and stout, the muscle so usually built into their kind’s legs having been piled onto their shoulders and the upper quadrants of their torsos. 

The crowd cheered and jeered with each slam of the Gamorrean’s broad axes, which seemed to chime like bells as they collided with one another. Each second that passed incited an ever-growing excitement from the onlookers, and from the dark corner that Shéa occupied, they heeded her no attention. 

Despite this, the Gamorreans and their quarrel were not her main focus. No, in fact, her gaze was trained on the very front row, where two men were engrossed in deep conversation. 

“You know this is no place for a child” rasped the being on the left; an Abyssin, with skin as green as that of the Gamorreans on the centre stage, and greying hair slicked back against his square skull.

He sat proudly, perched on the bench, his hands folded over his round stomach as he registered the man seated beside him with a simple jerk of his head. When he inclined his head, his companion did not return the look but instead stared at the fight taking place before him.

“Wherever I go, he goes,” replied the man. 

The Abyssin chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”

The Gamorreans slammed their axes against one another’s, and a loud clang shuddered through the room and rang in Shéa’s ears.

“I have been quested to bring him to his kind. If I can locate other Mandalorians, they can help guide me. I’m told you know where to find them”

Again, the Abyssin leaned toward him. “It’s uncouth to talk business immediately. Just enjoy the entertainment”

In a sudden movement, one of the Gamorreans slammed the blade of his axe into his opponent’s torso and sent him tumbling to the floor with a loud bang. The crowd roared, stunned by the sudden move, but clapped and hollered all the same. To them, it did not matter who won- only who came out, covered in the most blood. 

The being seated beside the metal man- the one with the Child- clicked his tongue in distaste. 

“Bah! My Gamorrean’s not doing well-” he paused and raised his fist, shaking it in earnest. “Kill him!” he bellowed. “Finish him!”

The Gamorrean looming above the other raised his axe, and in one fell swoop, brought it down- but it missed, as his opponent rolled out from underneath him and staggered to his feet. At once, the crowd seemed revered. 

“Do you gamble, Mando?”

The Mandalorian considered him “Not when it can be avoided”

This time, when the Abyssin laughed, it was almost mocking. “Well, I’ll bet you the information you seek that this Gamorrean’s gonna die within the next minute and a half… and all you have to put up in exchange is your shiny Beskar armour” 

Shéa’s fingertips crawled up the side of her face and, slowly, she lowered the hood that dangled over her eyes like a skin of a shadow. 

Clad in that shiny Beskar armour, the Mandalorian turned his head sharply to stare at the broker. 

“I’m prepared to pay you for the information,” he said. “I’m not leaving my fate up to chance” 

It seemed as though the positions of the Gamorreans had changed now. 

The one that had been on the floor, splayed on his back and so near to defeat was now advancing upon his opponent,  his axe brandished in his fist which shook with determination. Against the pale floor of the ring, the other Gamorrean looked petrified. 

But Shéa was no longer paying attention to the fight before her, or the crowd, or anything else for that matter. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and her hands curled into the fabric of her pants.

“Nor am I” 

Gor Koresh’s lip curled into a sneer as, with his words, he raised a concealed blaster that had been tucked into his white-fabric jacket and raised it, pointing it at the Gamorrean about to take his final swing. When he pulled the trigger, a red blaster bolt soared through the air and found solace in the brute’s chest. 

The axe in his hand fell, and his limp body hit the floor with a thud. 

As the crowd erupted into a panicked frenzy and ran from the arena, three figures rose around the Mandalorian- goons, clad in black, their blasters raised too and pointed at his Beskar helmet. The Child beside him looked on, wide-eyed, but with a steely calm demeanour, the Mandalorian simply looked at Koresh. 

Still sneering, the Abyssin hummed. 

“Thank you for coming to me. Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians in your hidden hives to harvest your precious shiny shells” he chuckled then and jabbed the barrel of his blaster under the Mandalorian’s chin. “Beskar’s value continues to rise. I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now, or I will peel it off your corpse” 

The Mandalorian said nothing for a few moments, and instead, held Koresh’s gaze firm. Then, releasing a breath, his lips mouthed beneath the helmet.

Shéa reached into the depths of her robe and felt the long, slick barrel of that which was concealed within. 

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are, and I’ll walk out of here without killing you” 

The Abyssin snorted indignantly. “I thought you said you weren’t the gambler” 

Beside the Mandalorian, the small Child made a frantic noise, and leant forward, pressing the button to conceal himself firmly within his metal crib. When he had disappeared from sight, Shéa rose to her feet- steady and silent- and withdrew the weapon held firmly to her side. 

She brought it into her arms and pressed the butt of the weapon flush against her shoulder, using the other arm to hold it steady in her sights. It was heavy- heavier than any lightsaber or blaster, but with that weight, it carried a punch.

Her finger ghosted the trigger, skin dancing over the cool metal curve. 

“I’m not,” the Mandalorian said coolly. “But she is”

Shéa pulled the trigger. The Scout Rifle kicked against her shoulder. A shot rang out.

Thirty feet away, the goon positioned behind Koresh jerked as a heavy blaster bolt seared through his chest, and with buckled knees, he collapsed to the floor. Still sat in his position, Mando flicked his wrist, and the whistling of tiny Beskar needles rang in the air as they littered the men standing around him. 

At once, chaos erupted. 

Din leapt to his feet and spun, slamming his foot behind and into the Child’s crib, sending it careening out of harm’s way. When he straightened, the Gamorrean that had been on the centre stage ran and leapt, jumping over the ropes in an attempt to flatten the metal man, but to no avail.

Sidestepping, he avoided the Gamorrean’s large attack, and Shéa climbed down from the stands, discarding the scout rifle that had been so unceremoniously given to her not twenty minutes before. 

However, as soon as Din had avoided the first attack, the second one commenced. Behind him, one of Koresh’s goons grabbed him around the middle and lifted Din off his feet.

Shéa’s first thought was to help, but then… well, did he really need her? He was perfectly capable of handling a few lousy goons on his own, and if anything, Shéa would only get in his way.

“Hey, bitch” a voice snapped, interrupting her own chain of thought, and she turned her head. “You’re gonna regret that”

Her brow jutted upward, knotted together in amusement. “Am I? That’s news to me”

“Yeah, you’re gonna pay” leered a man, who was no taller than she, with broken teeth and spiked hair that was ruffled and frizzed in the humidity of the arena. “Ain’t no place for you here”

She sighed heavily and twisted her body then. “If you want to fight, shut your mouth and let’s get on with it”

The man- presumably another one of Koresh’s lackeys- let out an honorific yell and charged forward, swinging out with his feet in a wide arc as he stepped toward her. Alas, he was slow; stumbling over his own two feet as he struck out, and Shéa simply leaned backwards and allowed for his curled fist to swing before her face, narrowly avoiding her jaw.

When his own body tilted with the momentum at which he swung, she kicked her foot out, allowing it to strike into his groin with a painful thud. 

The lackey grimaced and bent forward, clutching his precious jewels, as she stepped forward and rested her hands on his shoulders- almost reassuring. But it was not. Instead, she scrunched her face up as she lifted her knee and slammed it into his face with a sickening crunch. 

The wet feeling of warm blood seeped through her pant leg, and when she released the man, he crumpled to the floor in a heap. 

Turning, Shéa exhaled, only to see Din staring at her, his shoulders rising and falling in exasperation. When he spoke, his voice was strained with exhaustion, and he bent down to pick up his blaster from where it had been discarded on the floor.

“Thanks for the help,” he remarked as he stepped toward her, the Child’s crib bobbing closely behind him. 

“No need to sound so sarcastic, I was occupied,” she told him with a gesture toward the man curled on the floor, unconscious. 

When Din pushed past her, she turned on her heel and followed, quickening her step to keep up with him.

“And you couldn’t have shot one of them sooner?”

Her brow furrowed as they stepped out into the Paetov night, the wind brash and cold.

“Yes,” she shrugged. “But I was having so much fun watching the little testosterone-off you and Koresh were having”

He inclined his head to consider her, and just as he did, she took note of the Abyssin now hobbling down the street in a frantic panic. Din seemed to notice this too as, extending his gauntlet, a long tether jumped out and wrapped itself around Koresh’s ankles.

It halted him in his step, and with a firm tug, he hit the floor with a smack as Din began to slowly reel him in.

“I’m- glad you were amused” he grunted in between breaths as, slowly, he pulled the Abyssin further toward him. When he was closer, he took the other end of the tether and tossed it over a lamp-post, before hoisting Koresh into the air and allowing him to dangle there helplessly. “But maybe next time you could help?”

“You had it under control,” Shéa smiled. “I had total faith-”

“All right!” Gor Koresh protested suddenly as he swung precariously from the lamp post, swinging his arms out as though that might help him find the floor once more. “Stop, stop! I’ll tell you where he is… but you must give me your word that you won’t kill me” 

Shéa and Din stared at the Abyssin. 

“I promise that you will not die by my hand,” he told him. “But I can’t say the same for her. Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

Koresh eyed Shéa with his single eye, narrowing it in scrutiny, but she could only stare back with folded arms and a face full of amusement. When she said nothing of the matter, he turned his attention back to Din, his arms hanging below his head. 

He groaned and swung back and forth. “Tatooine” 

“What?” Din snapped, cocking his head incredulously. 

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine,” insisted Koresh. 

Shéa stepped forward then, and stooped down, leaning on her knees as she came close to the Abyssin’s face. “You lie,” she declared.

“I have spent much time on Tatooine,” Din said. “I never saw a Mandalorian there.” 

Koresh continued to look between the two of them- what reason would he have to lie? Well, many… but to lie in such a situation as he was in now… a Mandalorian on Tatooine? Shéa had lived there for many years, surely she or Shabba would have heard of such a fable. 

“My information is good, I tell you” he pleaded. “The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gotra” 

Din continued to consider Koresh, and as he did so, he took a step back, almost… acceptingly?

“Tatooine it is, then” he declared.

Shéa spun to face him. “He’s lying. I have never heard of such a place as… as Mos Pelgo. It doesn’t exist” 

He stared at her, his face blank… again. “If he is, we’ll find out soon enough. Either way, he’s a dead man”

At once, Koresh’s face widened in fear. “Wait!” he cried as Din began to retreat up the alley. “Wait, Mando! You can’t leave me like this!” 

Shéa took a step after him but was uncertain. She supposed he was right; Koresh had no reason to lie, but still… there was something off. Something wrong. Yet Tatooine, her home…

Still conflicted, Shéa followed Din. Gor Koresh continued to yell. 

“Cut me down!” he begged. 

Din slowed and turned, unsheathing his blaster with a small laugh. “That wasn’t part of the deal”

Aiming, a blaster bolt fired through the alley, and the light above Koresh’s head extinguished with a shower of sparks. 

The street became engulfed in darkness, the void filled only by animalistic growling, and Koresh’s bloody screams. 

*

“Are you angry with me?”

The silence of Hyperspace was deafening. More so, the silence between both Din and Shéa was… excruciating. Unsettling. It irked her in a way she did not wish it to irk her, and yet as she sat in the pilot’s seat, her feet resting on the centre console, she could not help a bubble of spite roll around inside her chest.

No, she was not angry. Or perhaps she was, she wasn’t too sure.

Sure, Shéa was a little ticked off that Din had completely disregarded her opinion, and yet… no, she would hold her ground. A Mandalorian on Tatooine? It was impossible. The people of Tatooine talked, a lot. Travellers and mercenaries and bounty hunters with mouths too big for their own good.

Had there ever been a Mandalorian on Tatooine she would have heard it, surely. And if not, she would have at least heard of this so-called Mos Pelgo. 

Yet when she replied to Din, her jaw was clenched and her voice dry. 

“No,” she said simply, and then- “I am not angry”

Behind her, she heard his heavy footfall as he took two steps closer. On the centre console before her, Bolt hopped around, admiring the streaks of Hyperspace as they slid by the curves of the Razor Crest. 

“You’re not angry?” he repeated from somewhere behind her, and Shéa could not help but huff. 

“Yes, that is what I-”

A sudden yelp left her mouth as, at once, the chair in which she sat spun. Within moments she found herself under his scrutinous glare, his hands on either side of the seat as he leaned close to her face, his mere inches from hers. 

Shéa brought her knees to her chest and narrowed her eyes, shrinking under his gaze. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” he told her in a matter-of-fact tone, which earned a laugh from her as she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m just simply… irritated” she began, averting her eyes. “That you didn’t believe me” 

Din reached out and hooked his finger under her chin, directing her face back to look up at him. When she did, she could feel the smug grin on his face. 

“I believed you,” he said quietly. “I can show you how much if you like-”

Her lips parted and, with one of her feet, she took it and planted it firmly against his chest, pushing him away. When she spoke, it was with her teeth biting into the inside of her cheek, reluctant. 

“I’m not having sex with you in front of a droid” Shéa told him as he took two staggering steps backwards, and as he did, she stood up and ducked under his arm. 

For a moment, Din seemed taken aback. When he managed to compose himself, though, he twisted and caught her wrist, pulling Shéa’s back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around her.

As he did this, his fingertips snaked under the hem of her shirt, tickling the bareness of her naval. 

Shéa sucked in a breath. His chest vibrated with a chuckle. 

“We could always turn him off” he pointed out, tucking his chin into the crook of her neck. “I looked. He has a power button-”

“Din-”

He shuddered then and wrapped his other arm around her, squeezing her tight. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you” he whispered in her ear. 

“That’s understandable. We do share the same twenty square feet of living space”

“Shèa” he sighed, and her name slipping off his tongue was like music to her ears.

She closed her eyes and drank it in; the feeling of warmth radiating from him, the tightness of his grasp. They had talked little about the night during the storm, yet what had happened between them spoke volumes. The fleeting glances, the closeness he now frequently tried to hold between them. 

He was chasing her, and shamelessly so. 

Shèa’s tongue poked out between her lips and she turned in his grasp, looking up at him, wide-eyed. 

“You can please yourself,” she said simply after a moment’s deliberation, and then she was slithering out of his grasp, leaving his hands hanging aimlessly by his sides. “But I’m going to shower”

He lingered briefly before calling. “Alone?”

She paused at the foot of the steps leading down into the hull and pulled her face around the door to consider him for a moment. He looked… awkward standing there. Alone. With no real aim, simply just kicking his foot against the ground expectantly. 

There hadn’t been much time to talk about… them. At least, there hadn’t been since they left Yavin-4. Obviously, they had talked, but somehow, they had always skirted around the big, giant, unbearably large Bantha in the room- what were they?

Her mind couldn’t even begin to guess what they were. Friends? Partners? Boyfriend and- nope, absolutely not. The words boyfriend and girlfriend just made her cringe inwardly… what was she, sixteen? 

Partner was a nice sentiment, and yet… she had never had a partner before. Or somebody who was completely- wholly and truthfully- loyal to her, and nobody else. She supposed Din felt the same, and yet with each passing day that lacked any kind of confirmation, she could feel herself pushing him away.

But why?

It was as though she were afraid he might get hurt. Worse, that she would be the one to hurt him. To get him killed, maybe.

And yet she found herself loving and longing for him evermore, so much so that any feelings of guilt warping her mind were stamped out; nothing more than a few flimsy, kindling, embers of a fire ticking away, waiting to ignite itself in a blaze of fury. 

Shèa loved him. And he loved her, he had said so himself. 

So, instead of giving in to the aggressive turmoil that pulled at every nerve in her head, she pushed it away. It was nothing more than pessimistic worry. They were safe. More importantly, she was safe. 

I am safe , she told herself as she extended a hand out toward him, her gaze soft. 

Nobody can hurt me , she repeated as he stepped forward and took it, his hold tight around her fingers. 

As Shèa began to lead him down to the fresher, she kept repeating those words to herself.

I am safe. We are safe. Nobody can hurt us… nobody can hurt him. 

Her own mantra, and yet as the ship rattled and the Child cooed, fast asleep in his little bed, the guilt was overwhelmingly loud. 

*

Tatooine had never looked so… different. 

How long had it been since Shèa had wandered its desolate sands? Months… perhaps a year? No, certainly not a year- Life Day had not yet passed… or, she was sure it hadn’t. It wasn’t as though she had been counting the days off. 

Or maybe she had… in her head, that was. Still, it was not how she remembered it to be. 

The planet seemed to glow luminescent against the dark backdrop of space as the Razor Crest shuddered, dropping out of Hyperspace with a somewhat violent thrust forward. It sent Shèa stumbling in her step, pressed further into the plexiglass of the ship’s cockpit, like a Child fighting for the best view at the theatre. 

It felt reminiscent of her first voyage to the planet, all the way back when she had been a little older than fifteen. Young, yet still grieving Master Vos. Afraid and alone. 

But she wasn’t alone now, and she had not been for a long time. 

Beside her, she pulled her attention to the Child and gave him a bittersweet smile. Soon… soon he would be with his own kind. Jedi, or other little green… beings, she wasn’t too sure. If there was a Mandalorian here- on Tatooine- then she was one step closer to maybe not being so alone in a Galaxy yearning to kill her. 

As the Razor Crest careened closer toward the planet, and Din squeezed past her to seat himself, Shèa could not help but feel a giddy excitement rising in her chest. 

“Sit down before you fall over,” Din told her pointedly, no doubt having seen her stumbling around, and seized her arm. “Sit. Tatooine isn’t going anywhere”

Though she listened, planting herself in the seat which she found herself occupying more and more often, her knee bobbed up and down. Her excitement could not help it. 

“Sorry, I’m just…”

“Excited?” he finished for her, casting a look over his shoulder. “I can tell”

A sheepish smile split across Shèa’s face, and she wriggled forward, before slyly standing. As she crept toward him, she wrapped her arms around the back of his chair and nestled her chin on his shoulder.

Din jerked in surprise at the sudden show of affection but soon relaxed. Beneath the helmet, he exhaled heavily. 

One thing Shèa had learned about him in the few days that had passed since Yavin and that night was that he revelled in touch. It was his love language- being able to feel the skin on skin contact, or in their case, skin on Beskar. The slightest, or strongest, feeling of pressure was something she found him relaxing into; whether it be from the press of a hand, or the squeezing confines of a hug. Much like the one she had ensnared him in at that moment. 

Her brow pulled up, and she pressed her temple to his. 

In the reflection that Tatooine’s blank canvas surface provided in the window, his slit-eyed visor met her eyes. 

“Thank you,” she said to his reflection.

He cocked his head. “For what?” he asked as he steered the Razor Crest, causing the nose to dip down. 

“For bringing me back here” 

A small gruff sound and the ship rattled toward the dusty planet. “We were coming regardless”

The same smile that had split across her face continued to dust her lips as she withdrew her arms and returned to her seat, nodding knowingly. “I know” was all she said. “I know”

*

Shèa wondered what Shabba’s reaction would be to seeing her again. Obviously, she had promised to come back, and she had always intended on doing so… perhaps it was just later- or sooner- than she had expected.

As the Razor Crest rattled down toward the surface of the planet, she could not help but let her thoughts drift to a scenario where she appeared in the Cantina and stunned him into silence. Or perhaps she would creep up on him… he always did hate when she did that. 

He also hated surprises, something she often found herself having to remember that little detail during the driest seasons of Tatooine when his birthday would roll around. Shèa always tried her best to do something nice for him each year, although her best attempts- including a party in the cantina and her hiring a lady of the night- had all gone horribly wrong. Then again, the lady of the night had been the idea of a regular patron- a sour old man with a filthy mind. Even if Shabba had not enjoyed the sight of a naked woman on his bed, it had made him laugh.  

There was one birthday of his, though, that she could remember well. It had been several years after she had arrived on Tatooine, and not long after she had become of legal age. 

A week or so before the day, a merchant had come through; a wrinkled old woman, selling small trinkets of her travellers. Craft pieces made from the bones of dead animals, necklaces and bracelets woven from the feathers of Bonegnawer’s- birds so majestic that if someone was to see one, they were called a liar. But one thing had drawn her eye, and she had thrust her small fortune of credits into the woman’s arms without question.

A journal. Bound with the thick, leather, skin of a dewback and pages so thick they crinkled with each turn. 

When Shèa had presented him with it, she was certain she had seen a tear ghosting the inner corner of his eye. He had always liked to draw… things, people, places. It was one of the few things she found truly intriguing about him.

Shèa was certain that if he had left Tatooine, he would have graced the finest galleries and palaces in the Galaxy. 

Blue skies and twin suns streaked by the Crest as they flew low to the ground, the rocky and mountainous terrain passing by in a blur as they soared over the dune sea. Ahead, the ever-growing buildings came ever closer and began to take the shape of a familiar setting.

Mos Eisley. 

The town was still sat in the same deep valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides, which were carved by the sand drifts of aeons past. Twinkling, the dome-shaped sandstone roofs of the collection of buildings reflected the blinding sunlight, seemingly twinkling under the glaring sky. 

It was just as she remembered it to be. Comforting, in a sort of… strange way. 

Soon, the rounded rooftops were beneath them. Bolt hopped up in front of Din, reaching for a better view.

It was then that Shèa realised that Tatooine was probably one of the first few planets he had seen since leaving Coruscant- besides Yavin, of course. She would be sure to introduce him to the gaggle of droids that took up occupancy in Mos Eisley… perhaps he could even make some metal friends. 

From the comms, a crackly voice echoed in the cockpit.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, please be aware we are tracking you,” said the operator. “Please make your way over to bay three-five, over”

Din shifted in his seat- did he recognise that number? Shèa couldn’t say she did… or maybe she did, but just could not recall it. 

He reached up and flicked a switch. 

“Copy that. Locked in for three-five”

The speed of the Crest slowed as, gently, Din pulled back. As they did, the ship shifted, and then they were suddenly descending down. Down into a hangar which looked so eerily familiar-

Then Shèa realised. This was the hangar bay she had come to when… when Din had commissioned her work. When he had hired her. How could she forget? 

As the Razor Crest landed with a heavy clunk, the dust that had been disturbed on the floor of the hangar settled, and down below, peeking out from behind an old generator, she saw-

“Good to see that Peli is still here,” Din said aloud, his words twisted with an air of amusement as he released the controls of the ship. 

He stood and turned, plucking the Child from where he sat on the other seat in the cockpit. Din hugged the kid to his side before tilting his head to look down at her.

“Are you coming?” he asked. 

Shèa nodded. “Yeah… yeah, just give me a few minutes”

Though he said nothing more, Din jerked his head in acknowledgement. When he had retreated down to the hull, she sucked in a breath and looked to Bolt.

“Nervous?” she asked the BD-unit, who swivelled to face her. When he twittered, it was as if to say you wish . “Yeah, me neither”

Shèa stood then and held a hand out, allowing the droid to clamber up her arm and come to settle on her shoulder. When he did, he nuzzled her cheek and grinned. 

“Good,” Shèa said, brushing her finger over his square-shaped head. “Because there's someone I want you to meet, come on”

Following Din’s footsteps, Shèa dropped down into the hull, though she lingered before exiting the ship. Her footfall stopped by the cabinet where she had so unceremoniously thrown her lightsaber following her confrontation with Dina, too ashamed to even look at it. 

She exhaled. 

Shabba deserves to know, she told herself. He deserves it more than anybody else. All those years of hiding, and now that she was free and safe… it would be okay. He would understand. He had to understand. 

To take her lightsaber or not to, though… well, that was the question.

On her shoulder, Bolt chirped, inquisitive. Outside, she could hear Peli and Din’s muted chatter. 

“What do you think?” though her question was directed to Bolt, it felt open to interpretation. “I mean, we are on Tatooine” 

Take it , a voice in her head told her. Show him . 

A hand reached out, but she hesitated.

Take them both . 

Of course. Shèa had almost forgotten about the other lightsaber; the one that Dina had somehow acquired amidst the chaos of the Jedi Purge. Maybe if she showed him- yes, he would understand better. He had to.

Sucking in a breath, Shèa reached inside and wafted her hand around until her fingers skimmed two long barrels of silver metal. 

When she had seized them, she tucked them away into the waistband of her pants and nodded to herself. This was it. This was her home, and yet that nervous excitement was fizzling into something else…

One foot forward, and then another, and then Shèa was outside, stood beneath the twin suns, and breathing in the homely and familiar smell of dried wood and even drier earth. 

Stood by the generator still, Peli looked up from her conversation with Din, and her lip seemed to waver in… shock? Was that shock?

“E… Echo” Peli said, stunned. “What are you-”

Shèa jogged down the ramp. “Sorry, I don’t have time to speak, I’ve gotta go catch Shabba-”

Peli waved a hand out. “Echo, wait-”

But Echo- Shèa- did not listen. Instead, she made a beeline for the hangar door and jumped up the staircase two at a time. Behind her, Peli’s receding protests echoed, but they were nothing more than ambient noise.

In that moment, the only thing reeling through her head was Shabba. She had to see him.

Soon, Shèa was back amongst the streets she had grown up in.

Winding and twisting, they stretched on for an eternity. Buildings covered in drapes and tapestries lined the way, and as though she too were a droid, she jogged along the familiar pathways, Bolt bouncing on her shoulder all the while. And soon she was running.

Sprinting just as she had as a young girl, running from stormtroopers on the evenings where she had drank slightly too much and maybe- or perhaps not- told them to go float themselves. Darting between buildings and sliding past people… it was as though she had never really left.

The part of herself that had been hidden for such a long time was now at the forefront, and between the streets and the people and the droids and the speeders, she could feel the Force. The ebb and the flow as it pulsated around every living thing, drawing her closer and closer to the cantina…

And then she was skidding around the corner and whizzing past the piked helmets that decorated the street, skidding on dusty sand as she stumbled into the cantina and-

It took a few moments for Shèa to collect herself, and when she did, she had to falter in her step to avoid tumbling down the few steps that led down and into the pit of the bar. 

It was just as empty as it had been when she left, spare the droid rhythmically polishing worn glasses, and the single figure sidled up against the bar. The lights hung low, swinging precariously, and as her feet moved, the sound seemed to stretch out.

Shèa’s eyes scanned the cantina. 

“Shabba?” she called hesitantly. 

The figure who had been sidled up against the bar jerked suddenly, jumping to attention. It was a woman; thin and gangly, with a bob of red hair that matched the shade of her lips. 

The woman stood to attention, brushing scarlet hair out of her pale and gaunt face. When she blinked, it was in surprise.

When Shèa blinked, it was with recognition. 

“Echo,” said the woman, taking a step closer. “What are you- what are you doing here?”

“Misty” Shèa said begrudgingly. How could she have forgotten about Shabba’s not-so-nice fancy woman? Of course, she was here. “Fancy seeing you here”

As Shèa approached, Misty’s brow quirked indignantly. “I could say the same, considering last I heard, you were prancing around being a fugitive”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…

“Well, you know me” Shèa gritted out. “Ever the criminal”

A crude smile curled her painted lips, and her eyes flicked to stare at Bolt. 

“I’m here to see Shabba. Where is he?”

Misty’s face fell at once, as though in stunned realisation. Her crystal blue eyes found Shèa’s, who looked at her, confused at the sudden shift in personality. 

“Sh-Shabba?” Misty reiterated, standing straight once more. She cleared her throat. “You’re here to see… Shabba?”

Shèa laughed but nodded. “Yes, Shabba. You know… the big guy who owns this place”

The woman opened and closed her mouth, but said nothing. 

“Misty, where is he?” Shèa pressed. “I’m not here to play games, I just want to see him”

Finally, Misty seemed to gather herself, and her fingers interlinked nervous. Moving over one another, rubbing away nervously as she looked down at her feet. 

“Echo, I thought you… I thought you had heard… that you weren’t coming back because you heard” Misty insisted, and her eyes flitted up, nervous. “Shabba…”

Shèa straightened and blinked, any ounce of faked amusement gone now.

“Spit it out, Misty”

“He-”

“Where is he?” 

Her words came flat, gritted out between a clenched jaw. Misty sucked in a breath, and when their eyes met, she did not need to speak. Because she knew… she knew because she had seen that look a million times over; in the eyes of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters… children and friends alike. 

“ He’ s dead ”

Chapter Text

Sore feet flew over sand, pounding the floor like the beat of a heavy drum. The twin suns shone bright, heat shimmering the surface of the dusty planet in a haze that made the horizon bob and sway. Heat simmered, yet it felt as though a sudden downpour had attacked the air, turning it icy and cold; harsh wind slapping wet cheeks until they were beaten red. Dusty waves resonated from the carved path, and overhead, clouds rolled- idle, totally unaware of the torment unravelling below them.

Shèa’s chest was screaming to stop. To stop running. To stop fighting. To just… stop. But she couldn’t.

With every moment that passed, she only pressed further onward, and the small mound that sat perched on the horizon began to steadily grow larger until it took the shape of a house. It was the only structure for miles, and yet as she stumbled frantically through the desert, it was the last place she wanted to see.

One single thought raced through her mind. A word: no.

No. No, no, no, no… no.

It was a plea. Incoherent and strangled, swirling with the salty tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. Yet she just kept running. 

And running. Sprinting. Gasping. Sobbing. Retching. 

She didn’t want to believe it, but Misty’s eyes swam with horror as realisation dawned. Shèa didn’t know.

Her feet seared, aching from hitting the harsh ground, and she burned with fire as her arms pumped at her sides.

“What?” she managed to choke out. She took a step backwards. “What did you say?”

Misty’s face was pale and slack, and she straightened. “He’s… he’s dead, Echo”

The house was in view now. So close that she could make out the details; the single generator propped against the side, old boxes of speeder parts that she had never had the time to disassemble. 

“No” her voice came rough, coiled with disbelief. “Why would you say that? Why would you lie… tell me where he is, Misty!”

The woman jerked with fright and her eyes flitted across Shèa’s face. “He’s dead” she insisted. 

Shèa’s shoulder slammed into the door, and she had to prop herself up to stop from collapsing against the hardened surface. Her hand sought the door handle, but it rattled and refused to open. 

Her heart constricted and her face screwed up. In moments, it had slammed open, and she stalked inside. 

It was not as she had left it. The room was dark and strewn with things that did not- nor ever had- belonged to her. Books, men’s clothes, an old navcomp that had been partially stripped down, the motherboard hanging out precariously. Boxes littered the room, filled to the brim with belongings, and on the small wooden table by the window, half a portion worth of rations lay rotting on the silver metal; as though somebody had simply gotten up and walked out, without so much as a care to clean up after themselves. 

But Shèa knew. She knew the clothes and had seen the books what felt like a lifetime ago. Blindly, she stumbled forward and picked up a vest jacket that had been discarded over one of the chairs tucked under the table.

Molten brown in colour, it was soft to the touch as she squeezed it between her fingers, and held a sense of familiarity in the way it balled itself into her closed fist. It reminded her of being sixteen years old and coming home, overly drunk and barely able to walk in a straight line. She had almost thrown up in a potted plant, but he had guided her to the bathroom and held her hair back to prevent any unsavoury happenings, silent as he listened to her mewled cries for forgiveness. 

His silence had been a warm comfort, as though he understood why. Why she, a teenage girl, was drinking to help soften the painful blow she felt to her heart every time she opened her eyes in the morning. 

Slowly, Shèa brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled deeply. Her nostrils flared, and she breathed in the scent- musty and dark, like burnt firewood on a chilly solstice night. 

“You’re lying!” Shèa bellowed, throwing an accusing finger toward Misty. “Tell me-” 

Behind her, the door to the cantina whizzed open, and heavy footsteps approached. But she ignored them; her eyes squinted, narrowing to glare at the woman before her with a wicked fire burning in the pit of her heart, thumping faster and harder with each second that ticked by. 

“Echo, “Misty said, and her voice tremble. She held her cracked palms up in defence. “I’m not… I’m not lying. It was the sand people- he was at your house, going through things, and they… they ambushed him”

Shèa pressed her eyes together. Her face contorted.

Suddenly, she threw the jacket- along with the contents of the table- off the wooden surface, sending everything crashing to the floor in a scattered mess. 

A scream tore itself from her throat. Full of pain and anguish and every single ounce of despair that had been bottled up inside of her from the moment she was born and placed into her mother’s arms. A lifetime of grief that she had harboured. Grief that had slowly been eating away at her, stripping her of who she was. Who she had been.

Her voice dragged against her throat like nails across a chalkboard, ricocheting in the small hut as it mingled with the humid desert air. It was a sound that bellowed from deep within- primal in its pitch in a way that she felt in her very gut. Something so painfully animalistic, wailing as she craned her head back.

When she caught a breath, it was disorientated, and she panted out strings of words that made no sense when put together.

Shabba. No. Not Shabba. Not her Shabba. Not Shabba, with his warm skin and warmer smile, and his bald head and deep jovial voice. It couldn’t be her Shabba… she needed him. Needed… she needed him. 

As her shaky hands gripped Shabba’s jacket to her chest, images flashed through her mind.

‘Look at these noodle arms’ Shabba snickered as Echo’s nose scrunched, and she rolled her eyes as he jabbed her in the side. ‘You have no hope of hitting your target if you’re all gooey armed’ 

Echo straightened and shifted to look at him. Silhouetted against the light of dusk, he seemed somewhat bigger; his shadow cast across the floor in a giant way and shading the contours of his wideset jaw. 

‘I’ll make you gooey armed in a minute.’ 

He shrugged. ‘I’m only trying to help you. Now go on… shoot’ 

Lifting her arm, Echo squared her stance and tilted her head as she aimed at the line of glass bottles he had set up against the far wall of the small courtyard. When her finger curled around the trigger, a shot rang out that made her arm jerk upward at the kickback, and she almost toppled over as the cool metal slid from her hand.

The blaster bolt ricocheted off the wall behind the bottles, a metre from any of her desired targets, and scorched a black mark into the sandstone. 

Echo’s shoulders fell. Shabba stepped closer and clapped a hand over her back, ‘Nice going, Buckethead’ 

Shèa’s body keeled, as though to give in to the overwhelming pain that lapped at her, and her spine curved in on itself as she sobbed into the dry floor.

The warmth bit into her skin like needles, and she screamed and cried until the taste of blood was all she knew. She clawed at the dirt beneath her with bare fingernails, as if to try and drag out the memories trapped within… as if they were all she had last in the vastness of an empty Universe.  

Somewhere behind her, there was a rustling as someone yanked the door open, followed by laboured breathing and the scuff of footsteps as they slid to a stop. The someone stepped into the hut and sucked in a long draw of breath. 

“Shèa” Din said softly. “You shouldn’t be here” 

Her throat hitched on a breath and she hiccuped, her entire body shuddering as she clung to the floor, the nail beds of her fingers and knuckles stained a crimson red. 

“Go” she wheezed. “Just go” 

Din stepped forward and his footsteps echoed. When he reached out to touch her shoulder, a futile attempt to coerce her into standing, she shoved him away. 

“I said go!” she screamed and clambered to her feet, shoving him. “Go!” 

As she fought him, her fingers and palms smeared red across the shiny surface of Beskar that protected his chest. He tried to grab her wrists, to halt her attack, but her voice was scratchy and painful, her face blooming red and stained with vacant tears that slid down her face and dripped off the point of her chin. 

He stumbled and caught her wrist. “Shèa, stop” 

“I am done! Do you hear me?!” 

Din inclined his head, and he released her at once. “You don’t mean that… you’re upset” 

Breaths escaped her chest rapidly, and she tried to push past him. It was then that he realised she was not speaking to him.

A gloved hand reached out to try and snatch her arm, but she was feisty. Fighting and kicking, struggling against him as though they were strangers. 

“I am done!” she declared in a strained voice, one that was high-pitched and broken. “I am done! I have lost everything- you have taken everything from me!” 

You have taken everything from me. She was not speaking to Din, he knew that. She wasn’t even speaking to the Child, whose crib loitered just beyond the threshold of the door, or Bolt, who hopped beside the kid, whirring nervously. No, she could never speak of them as though they were her enemy. 

The thing she spoke of… could she even call it a thing? Once upon a time, Shèa had ogled the force. Believed it to be the most otherworldly power in the known Galaxy. But now… now, it had gone too far. 

The Force was meant to be good. It was meant to be a god, one capable of stopping death and bringing people back from it. It had bestowed her with a gift she had never asked for, but at what cost? The cost of her loved ones? The cost of the death of others? 

If that was all the Force had left to offer to her, then she did not want it. Nobody had ever told her it would be easy, but they had not told her she would lose everything left she had to stand for. 

Tears streamed freely from her eyes, and she struggled to… to just scream her lungs at the sky. 

Shèa had lost some of her momentum now, and in the absence of her willpower, Din had managed to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight to his chest. He wrestled against her, but eventually, they both ended up on the floor. Her back pressed to his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, urging her face into the safe confines of his chest. 

“I’m done- I’m… I’m done” 

He made a hushing noise. A sob wracked her body. 

“He’s gone” was all she could whisper, and her fingers throbbed in pain. “Sh… Shabba. He’s… Shabba’s gone” 

A small noise of disbelief and he pulled her closer. “I know”

How? How did he know, he didn’t… he didn’t know Shabba. Not like Shèa did. Not in the… the almost paternal way in which they had bonded over the years. Yes, that was it. He was like… he had been like a father to her. The only father figure she had ever had besides Master Vos, and now he too was dead in an unmarked grave. 

Shèa was a curse. A death sentence. Spelt out in plain, bold, writing, as if to say; meet me, and you will die. It did not matter how many days or weeks, months or years it took… everyone she had ever loved or cared for… either died, or left.

A part of her supposed death was something much more manageable than the idea of being abandoned. 

Her limbs stiffened and she felt paralyzed. Rooted to the spot as symphonies or words and noises tumbled out of her mouth, her hands clutching to Din’s forearm as though it were the very lifeline of her existence. 

She didn’t know what to do. To think. She couldn’t… she couldn’t breathe. As if somebody had taken her heart in their first and was slowly crushing it until it crumbled to dust. She couldn’t… She couldn’t…

There was a hushing noise above her, and she choked on the very air around her. 

“I c-can’t” Shèa gasped as the pair reared once more, manifesting itself this time in an anguished groan. “I can’t… he was my- my family- I- I loved him… I can’t… I can’t do this again. Not again”

Words became between the dribble of tears, and as her body began to grow numb, the tightness that enveloped her only grew stronger. Arms that crushed her into his chest, radiating comfort and warmth that she had once found to be her safe haven.

Now, it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. From wrenching her lightsaber from her side and plunging it into the coldness of her stomach. 

Shèa supposed Din had never seen her this way. Had never seen her so… so indisposed. Pathetic. Angry.

He had not seen her on Coruscant- he had been too unconscious to do so. He had not seen the wild fury that enveloped her, hatred and spite burning at the very tips of her fingertips. The overwhelming feeling that had consumed every fibre of her being… so dark, so twisted, and yet so… so… real. 

Perhaps if he had seen it he would not be here now, holding what was left of her sanity inside of her body like a broken glass filled with water. At any moment, she would splinter and shatter and send the millions of pieces of herself scattering out across the Galaxy, never to be found again. 

Shèa had made him a promise, though. To be better, to do better. That she would train and forge herself a new pathway; one that steered away from the dark and basked her in only the light. 

I’m here for you. Whatever you need. That is what he had told her, and while he seemed to be holding it true, Shèa could already feel herself beginning to slip. 

Then, another phrase pricked her mind. May we meet again. That was what she had told Shabba- and he had insisted they would meet again, that she would come back and they would reunite. 

That morning, she had expected to find him in the cantina, no doubt mixing up a storm with little to no customers, or perhaps banging a wrench over the head of a droid. Not… not to find him here, in an unmarked grave as though he were nothing. As though he meant nothing. 

Her body reared with another wrack of sobs, and something pulsated through her veins, manifesting itself with an electric charge that sent a wave of something cascading outwards and rattling the hut. The windows in their frames broke apart, littering the floor with pointed shards, and a collection of bowls toppled off the countertop of the small kitchen.

Above them, the lightbulb that swung and flickered with life burst, showering them in sparks. 

The eruption burrowed out of her body as though it was a conduit, and paired itself with a scream of anguish that was muffled by the fabric of Din’s cowl. 

“It’s okay” he whispered into her hair as he kicked aimlessly at the floor, her entire body trembling. He only clutched her tighter as the hut shook. “You don’t have to… you don’t have to do this anymore if you don’t want to. I won’t make you”

Her hands reached out and she curled her fingers into his gauntlet, squeezing her eyes shut tighter until all she could see were stars smattering the darkness of her eyelids. It was like dragging words off a rough piece of wood; each one mangled and scuffed.

“I n-need him… I need him. He was… he was my family. P-Please, I… I need him back” 

The hut began to tremble harder, and soon the ground was shaking beneath him. 

Din whistled into her hair and rocked them both back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here… I’m here. I’ve got you” 

“I should have been here” she choked and convulsed. “I should have… have been here… If I was here- I… I could have… protect-protected him” 

One gloved hand moved away, and he fumbled behind her back. The next moment, though, he was sliding a warm hand up and under her shirt, his fingertips dancing along the length of her spine in a soothing way until they came to rest just below the base of her neck. 

The warmth. The heat and comfort and safety that he radiated… it did something. It anchored her to a point of control and drew her back, and the hut stopped shaking- and things stopped trembling- and her body curled in on itself as he curled his fingers into the hair on the nape of her neck. 

“Don’t put that on yourself” he murmured into her ear, his tone sincere and earnest, yet… sad. Not afraid, as he should have been, but sad. “This… this isn’t your fault”

Shèa shook her head and tried to suppress the sob building in her throat. “This- everything, all of it… this is all because of me-” 

“I understand… I understand how-”

“No!” she barked, and suddenly she was trying to rip herself away, staggering to her feet and gripping a nearby wall for stability. 

He followed her movements, standing, reaching a hand out to quell any anger that still lurked within. Had she… she had made the hut shake, hadn’t she? She had done that, and now he was… was trying to stop that from happening again. 

“You will never understand!” she leered. “And I am sick of people telling me that it gets better because it never does. People are dead because of me. People are dead because I was too… too much of a coward to do something to protect them. My friends, my Master, Kuiil, Shabba… that burden rests on my shoulders. Not yours. Not anybody else’s. Mine”

Din jerked away, as though hesitant, fearful that in the heat of her words she might strike him. It was good that he did because for a moment, she thought she actually might.

It wasn’t hatred for him, though. She could never hate him. 

He shook his head and reached for her. “You don’t have to carry this alone”

Her lips puckered. “I never should have left, I… If I had stayed, instead of- of running off on some stupid adventure, none of this would have happened. If I had just stayed here, like I was supposed to, my friend… my family would still be alive” 

Din considered her, and the Beskar of his armour glinted in the reflection of the sparking bulb above his head. “You couldn’t have stopped his death no more than you could have stopped the suns from setting” 

It was not meant to be harsh, but comforting. Plain and simple, hanging in the static air between them which fizzled with months of building frustration that now oozed out of every crack and crevice in the walls that Shèa had hastened to build to protect herself from the overwhelming darkness that lurked somewhere deep inside of her. 

For the slightest moment, she recalled something one of her teachers had told her as a girl. Something the Council used to tell the Younglings when they struggled to see the bigger picture… never give up hope, no matter how dark things may seem. 

How futile that sounded now. 

Maybe it would be easier for her to let the darkness take over. To just… see what would happen. Would it aid her? Propel her forward? Or would it claim her own life until she was an empty shell?

Shèa closed her eyes and willed the lump in her throat to dissipate. Fight it… she had to fight it. But the ease without hardship… it felt so- so tempting. 

Her body jerked as, suddenly, two warm- human- hands cupped her face, and Din stroked her cheekbones with the pads of his rough thumbs. Shèa peeled her eyes open to stare up at him. 

“It should have been me” she squeezed out weakly. “Why not me?” 

Din shook his head. “Don’t say that” 

Tightly, her fingers curled into the metal of his gauntlets, and she squeezed. “I… me. It should have… me. It should have been me, it should have been, it should have-” 

For a moment, she paused. Din couldn’t stay here. He had to… he had to go. He had to go, and get as far away as possible from her before she… before he… 

“You have to go” Shèa stammered, and she began to shake her head insistently. “You have to… you have to get away from me” 

His grip on her cheeks tightened, and he forced her to look up, yanking her face to his and pressing the cool metal of his helmet against her forehead. The action was rough and harsh, and a small jolt of pain resounded through her skull at the small thump of contact. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here” he gritted out. 

“Please” she begged, her eyes welling with more sparks of tears. “I wouldn’t- I can’t forgive… I can’t forgive myself if you die, too” 

Din’s hands faltered and fell to her shoulders. “I’m not going to die, Shèa” 

“You will. You’ll die, and it’ll be because of- because of me” 

The tears spilt and replaced the damp stains on her cheeks, carving rivers through the thick layer of dirt and grime that had settled on her skin. Din hastened to brush them away, his fingertips tickling her eyelashes as he swiped each fresh bead of sadness from her skin as though he were her protector. He was her protector, in a way.