Breathing even wasn't easy knowing full well she was walking straight into a trap.
Knowing the dangers and realizing there was no other way, Eden soldiered on, shouldering her way through the crowds at the docks, passing the entrance to the refugee sector unseen and unnoticed, weaving her way through the dilapidated marketplace and onward. She fell into hurried step with the other passersby, keen on keeping her hood drawn but not too far down her face so as to seem that she was purposefully hiding her identity (even though she was), keen on keeping pace with the others lest she seemed lost or fell prey to pickpockets. She suspected she'd need the credits tucked into her boot once she entered the cantina, unless Visquis' twisted lounge requested something dirtier than money as payment, and she needed her entire arsenal to handle whatever thugs lay beyond the Jekk'Jekk Tarr's dark refuge, she'd need -
Fear gripped her once she realized she was being followed, careful not to give herself away, to appear as unsuspecting as possible while still managing to keep a close eye. A figure swathed in brown followed, close on her heels, but a few steps behind enough to disappear into the crowd once she turned her head enough to afford what she hoped appeared to be a casual glance. She kept up her pace and continued - she was close to the spaceport docks, if she could just duck through the barrier and get inside…
Just as she turned a corner, her body lunged side-ward, suddenly veering right when she meant to turn left. A hand held her elbow in a vice grip, though careful enough not to startle her as it changed her course, bringing her face-to-face with-
"Atton?" she breathed, still careful to keep her head covered, careful to keep her voice down, eyes shifting side to side in search of anyone vaguely resembling a bounty hunter, or even a stereotypical version of one, "What in the hell?! I was-"
"I fucked up," Atton admitted before she could finish, lowering his hood. Eden realized he was donning what appeared to be Mical's travelling cloak, still as pressed and pristine as it had been since bringing the man along from Dantooine - the thing even still smelled like fresh grass and damp earth. But instead of asking about what he was doing here or why he was wearing Mical's robe, Eden gaped at him, open-mouthed and speechless.
"I fucked up." Atton repeated, avoiding her gaze but seeking it out still, looking away before he could register her reaction, as if afraid to.
"You-?" Eden started, about to repeat his own words, "I-"
Then she realized. The reality of their last conversation slammed into her as his eyes finally settled on her, setting the near-dumb level of confidence she was planning to carry into the Jekk'Jekk Tarr completely askew. It wasn't how she wanted to leave things, especially not with Atton, but the only way to mend whatever had happened between them and their heated conversation about Atton's past, Eden's shared sins and the Mandalorian Wars was time - something neither of them had.
"I didn't tell you," Atton began, easing his gaze onto hers, his hazel eyes locking with her green, "I should have, but I didn't."
Eden didn't say a word, she just watched him. Watched as a world of words formed on his lips before he opened his mouth only to close it before saying anything, watched as he chose his words carefully before speaking again, uncertain of where this was going or what it was he really meant to say.
"I don't regret it, any of it, as I'm sure you don't either," he continued, somewhat unsurely but with an unhinged sense of confidence even Atton seemed surprised by, "But as much as we all wish things had gone differently, they didn't. What I do regret is not telling you sooner. I regret you not hearing it from me."
"But I did hear it from you," she said, her voice quieter than she'd intended, suddenly aware of just how close they were standing now, "You chose to tell me."
"I wasn't the one who brought it up," Atton shook his head, "I should have been the one. You should have known."
"Atton, I'm not walking into this to prove a point to you or to anyone. If this is your way of convincing me, I-"
"Oh, I'm not trying to convince you of anything," he said, his voice low, eyes darting for a moment to make sure they were in adequate cover before continuing, before his eyes fully met hers and this time refused to look away. "You're going to do whatever it is you're going to do. I'm not here to stop you, I just-"
His next words were drowned out by whatever uncertainty Atton was still unwilling to voice, but in lieu of words he reached for his belt and unlatched a small pouch, reaching for one of her free hands with his own, his fingers lingering on her wrist as he did so, pressing the parcel into her grasp.
"Just…" Atton swallowed before meeting her eyes again, his expression set, "Just take this, will you?"
Eden's gaze flicked between Atton's eyes, somehow simultaneously bright grey and a dark mossy hazel in the haze of the alley and the neon lights beyond. His expression did not falter, his resolve steeling in her silence. She looked down as she accepted the pouch, unlatching the flap to get a glimpse of what was inside.
"It's not that I don't trust you, even though this plan is downright… well, stupid," he explained, his words tumbling out of his mouth almost faster than he could think them, "But I sure as hell don't trust anyone else, so just… please. Take it."
Inside was a set of high-grade medpacs - a satchel Eden recalled Atton pilfering from the Harbinger with wide eyes before finally escaping the hell hole that was Peragus, coveting them as if he'd never owned anything as valuable, at least nothing he'd gamble away that wasn't a ship or a glass of juma - along with an antidote kit, and a few vials of what looked to be stims, expensive ones.
"Atton, I can't take this," she said, her posture slumping slightly as she attempted to push the satchel back into Atton's hands but he only gently nudged it back into her own.
"You can, and you will. Please."
It was the most earnest Eden had ever seen him, but the fire that had been in his eyes when they had spoken of his past, what he'd done and why he did it, was still there, but tempered now, his attention only intent on her.
"I'm not going to say I didn't mean what I said back there," he continued, his voice almost husky now as he spoke softly yet with purpose, trying to remain hidden but still be heard, "But know that I mean it when I say that I-"
He paused, watching her for a reaction, and Eden realized she'd held her breath, her face a blank slate as she processed every minutae of emotion that crossed Atton's face, which was more than he'd offered in their entire time together, his mask finally slipping, enough for Eden to know that it was a mask and there was another Atton underneath - and he was letting her see it, slowly. He wanted her to see it.
"I care about you," he near-whispered now, one hand nudging the satchel into her grip, his other hand covering hers, and Eden could have sworn his thumb circled the back of her wrist for a moment before finally letting go. "Now, don't go and get yourself killed or something."
He cracked a smile that fast turned into a smirk, color rising to his face quicker than he could don Mical's hood again to hide it.
"You know I'll make it out of there alive," Eden said, nodding in thanks, not quite sure what to say other than in jest, "You realize I'd kill for the opportunity to make fun of you for borrowing an outfit from Mical."
Atton let out a breathy laugh, careful of their cover still but unable to hide his amusement, to hide the relief that now colored his face.
"Hey, brown's just my color, I guess," he shrugged, walking backwards now out of the alley and into the bustling crowd again, though Eden could feel a tug of reluctance in each of his steps, because she felt it, too. "Just take care of yourself, okay?"
Eden nodded, smiling slightly. Her face grew warm and a maw of uncertainty and nervousness took root at the pit of her stomach as she watched Atton leave, at least relieved that he'd come, if not to stop her but to say he was sorry, to say that he… cared.
I care about you.
The words echoed in her mind as she watched him disappear, dissolving until he was just another silhouette in the crowd, wondering just how many times she'd yearned to hear those words from anyone, and wondering why it scared her so much when she finally did.
Notes:
This was done for a prompt over on tumblr under my username renegade-skywalker. Part of me always wanted Atton's medpac scene on Nar Shaddaa to mirror Rick giving Evie the stolen toolkit in The Mummy and in my heart that's still my head canon (flustered gift-giving, a soft non-proclamation of true feelings, trying to act cool but failing miserably, etc.) but here's another take on it that I've been messing around with for a while…