Operative and Mandalorian lay together, entwined and absorbed in a rare barm of intimacy-for both. Senn shared stories of her rather more daring and below board exploits with Cara during the early days of the rebellion. Her induction into the deep cover operative division. Her time with the Grin. She skirted around much of this last bit, but Din was deeply intrigued to learn of their underlying presence at all, as more than just a glamorous rumor. Although the organization didn't turn out to be the menacing, shadowy puppet master of the war everyone imagined, they certainly had figured out how to profit from it.
When Senn's energy began to fade, Din offered up some of his own history-ever wishing to deepen their connection. He told her of his foundling roots. His training. His revelations about the Children of the Watch and the exposure and relocation of his covert clan. She was surprisingly patient. Just happy to listen. None of the questions he usually received from strangers passed over her face as he spoke. Finally, he told her of Grogu.
"You must miss him," Senn finally offered.
"Yes,"
"But you promised to see him again."
"Yes."
"You will,"
Din looked up from the small hand he was stroking in his own.
"Because you promised. I get the feeling you've never broken a promise."
A sad smile twitched up over the Mandalorian's lips and into his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her slowly, deeply. Gratitude and tenderness spurring his heart. Senn returned the kiss happily, sensing his sober mood shift between gentle grief and the buzzing, terrifying excitement of true connection. His thoughts suddenly paused and he shifted on his side as he withdrew from their kiss and placed a hand under Senn's chin.
"How do you know Mando'a?" he asked. Senn smiled.
"You're going to laugh at me," she sighed. Din smiled. "I don't really know it. It was really more of a guess. I studied ancient Taung while I was with the academy before the war. It was that or Gunganese." she smiled, a little embarrassed.
"It was a good guess," Din said, stroking her bottom lip with one thumb.
Hours passed in this way. Their conversation floating in and out of the daze they shared, living in bursts between their deep breaths, deep kisses, and soft voices under the inky black sea of space, easy and peaceful.
It wasn't until the proximity alarm sounded out steadily over the consol that Senn realized she had dozed off. Quickly rubbing sleep from her eyes, she rose onto her hip. The Mandalorian was gone, but his heavy cape was draped over her-smelling of warmed leather, blaster residue, and...him. Senn smiled and gathered herself. She dressed quickly, pulled on her boots, and ran her hands through her messy bob of wavy, dark hair.
She rose and stretched just as she heard the heavy sounds of Din's steps ascending the ladder-his armour fully fitted once more.
"How far now?" she asked as he reached the top of the ladder.
"Half hour or so. How's your back?" His modulated voice gently pried.
"Much better. I don't think I'll need another dose,"
"Good,"
"So where is this place Belmund's goons supposedly squat?" she asked, squaring herself as she always did before slipping into her work posture.
"Agamar. The guild has a good presence there, so we should be able to get some quick intel. If Belmund has been there, they'll know." Din explained quickly as he retook control of the ship from the autopilot system.
"If Belmund put the word out...how many of them will be hunting me?" Senn asked hesitantly. She couldn't bear the thought of remaining on the ship again. "I can't stay here and wait again."
"I think you're right," Din began. Senn was pleasantly surprised. "I think it'll be safer if we stick together, but we'll have to hide your eyes somehow."
Senn nodded.
"I've spent my fair share of missions pretending to have my sight. All we need are some coloured contact lenses."
Din smiled beneath the helmet. Senn continued to surprise and impress him.
They landed and locked down the ship closer to town to avoid suspicion. The Mandalorian returned in less than an hour with the supplies Senn had requested-some fresh clothes and a few options for masking her pale eyes.
"Again, colours really aren't my strong suit," Senn smiled, feeling at the small boxes. She had already changed into the muted grey and brown tunic, trousers, boots, and poncho Din had brought her. The Mandalorian finished adjusting another blaster onto his belt and turned to help her.
"Use these," he placed one of the boxes into her palm. "They're the closest to your own colour."
Senn suddenly stopped and looked up into his visor.
"You can still see some colour?" she breathed, her brows knitting together. Din paused for a moment, wondering if he's said something wrong.
"...Yes. The very edges of your irises are green," he offered. "Like...moss."
Senn just nodded after a moment, lost in thought. She glanced down at the box in her hand, as if suddenly seeing it sitting there. She then seemed to regain herself and quickly applied the small glass lenses to her eyes.
"Are they in place?" she asked. Din looked up from calibrating another blaster and nearly jumped. She looked straight at him. The lenses did their job perfectly. It was unnerving.
"Perfect," he said. It was eerie, but also difficult to look away. His heart pulled on selfish strings inside him as he tilted his head to examine Senn's face as she could've been. Had it not been for the Grin.
The city streets bustled in the midst of the cold morning. Hot foods from dozens of market stalls steamed their faces as a cacophony of crowded voices barked and bartered over goods and gossip.
"How do we find your fellows?" Senn murmured from beneath the hood of the poncho.
"They'll find us." he answered steadily. "Common. There's a cantina on the other side of the market. I'm sure there's someone there I can make contact with, and we'll grab something for you to eat."
Senn nodded.
The cantina buzzed with voices, even this early. But Senn heard a gradual silence blanket the establishment momentarily as the Mandalorian made his way down the steps. The barkeep approached the two nervously.
"Anything I can get for you sir? Miss?" he managed.
"Whatever you've got that's hot and fresh for me," Senn answered steadily. "Nothing for my companion." She made sure to rest her gaze exactly where the stout man's eyes should be.
When her stew arrived, Senn was sure to keep her eyes on the food as she ate, "watching" her spoon as she lifted each bite to her mouth. Pride swelled in Din's chest and he smiled beneath his helmet as he watched her show. She knew exactly what she was doing and knew they were being watched.
"Looking for work?" A tall, lanky man with a carefully sculpted red goatee sidled up to their table and flashed the Guild crest on his belt.
"Information," the Mandalorian answered shortly. "I'm looking for Belmund."
The man scoffed.
"And I'm looking to stay alive until I retire," he finished, turning to leave.
Din placed a neat pile of credits on the table, clinking heavily. The man paused at the heavy metallic sound.
"Give me something I can work with and there's more for you,"
The man turned and considered the Mandalorian's words for a moment. He looked at Senn, who continued to scoop at the watery stew.
"And this one?" he leered. "Your whore or your ward?"
"Hired help," Din replied evenly.
"Your whore, then," the man jeered. The man was testing him. The Mandalorian opened his mouth to reply with a short quip about wasting their time, but Senn was already moving.
Din had barely blinked before Senn stood, grabbed the man by his duraweave collar, twisted one of his arms behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the table. The operative leaned over him, bracing his legs with her own, and spoke calmly into the man's ear.
"My employer has more patience than I do when it comes to poor manners. But today can still be a very good day for you."
The man choked out a grunt of pain and struggled to breathe beneath her clever hold. Din tried not to let his surprise show in his posture.
"You get to keep your life and walk away with some credits for sharing. If you don't feel like doing that, you get neither."
The cantina had fallen silent again.
"Storehouses," the man struggled out against the resin tabletop. "If he's in town, he'd be at the storehouses."
"Thank you," Senn said calmly as she released him. The man slid from the table onto the floor as he struggled to catch his breath and compose himself. The pile of credits had scattered, fanned out across the table. When he righted himself, the man sneered and grabbed at them.
"Remember what I said about manners," Senn growled as she continued to eat her stew.
"...Thank you," the man muttered bitterly before turning and storming out the side exit, tail between his legs. The cantina seemed to return to its normal level of disquiet and chatter.
Din flushed. He wanted to take her right there on the table, but he was well aware they had a job to do. Senn finished her stew and paid the barkeep.
"Aren't operatives supposed to be subtle?" Din asked as they made their way back through town to the great repository buildings in the industrial district as per the directions of a t'bac salesman. Senn couldn't tell if he was teasing or if he disapproved of her display at the cantina.
"Not when they're trying to send a message," she replied from beneath her hood. "It's also hard to be subtle next to a Mandalorian."
"Fair enough," he returned.
Senn's heart lifted a little.
They reached the 'storehouses' as they were. Cheap Imperial installations now abandoned and rundown. Perfect for smuggling, although not subtle at all. The street crime in this city was obviously quite well respected-well, feared. Din described the layout to Senn under his breath as best he could as they approached. The pair stood out in the landscape like a bantha in a bathhouse.
"Sounds like a great opportunity for an ambush," Senn spoke between her teeth.
"Yes," Din confirmed. "I'm not picking up any heat signatures, though." he murmured.
They two approached the giant warehouse, hands hovering over their blasters. The door on the side was unlocked, even swinging open a little.
"I don't like that at all," The Mandalorian muttered.
"I don't sense anyone here," Senn strained as they carefully stepped inside. "It's as if...wait." the operative stopped dead in her tracks. Din turned, tense with her words.
"What's wrong?"
"There's someone in the vault. Scared. Waiting for us. It feels like…," Senn suddenly bolted for the dimly lit box, no bigger than a tin shed, as it sat installed sloppily into the corner of the warehouse. It, too, was unlocked. Senn threw the door open and trained her blaster on the interior.
"Wait! Careful!" Din hissed. Senn was already stepping back in awe, lowering her weapon.
"Reika?" Senn whispered.
Din also aimed his blaster on whomever was in the tiny room. Senn looked as if she were about to cry.
A Zabrak woman, beaten and bruised, stood shaking violently in the doorway of the vault. She was shorter than Senn and looked up at her with dread. Tear lines streaked and stained her cheeks and her hands were blue with cold. She held, not a blaster, but a simple hand communicator. The woman shook her head barely, but feverishly as Senn tried to approach her. Din grabbed Senn's arm, stopping her from stepping closer.
"Reika! What happened to you? Where's Belmund?" Senn tried.
The woman's face could only seem to melt with mounting despair and she continued to shake her head as much as she dared. The communicator suddenly crackled into life, its keeper nearly dropping it as she startled from the noise.
"Senn, my dear. We should really talk about what happened. You remember Reika, don't you?" the communicator echoed. The Zabrak woman held out the device miserably, pressing down the output button.
"Belmund," Senn spat. "Where are you?"
"I wish I could tell you, but I have a feeling that would create more headaches for me." the voice returned. "I just wanted to clear the air a little."
"How's that?" Senn growled between her teeth. Reika closed her eyes, trying to stave off more tears as her legs shook beneath her.
"Though our original plan for the cargo had to be altered, I still can't have someone like you out there knowing as much as you do about our business."
Senn's eyes widened. Din stepped closer to Senn and placed a hand against her middle, backing her further away from the terrified Zabrak woman.
"No! Belmund wait! You don't have to do this! I'll-,"
"We're well past that, my dear. Goodbye."
The communicator went silent.
Din instantly began dragging his companion further away from the vault. Senn struggled against him just enough to remain in the woman's view.
"Reika, look at me! It's going to be okay!" she cried out desperately. "Reika!"
"Sennisab," Reika blubbered out. "Senn!" she screamed.
Din was practically hoisting Senn up over her shoulder now as a muffled beep sounded from the Zabrak woman.
A low blast ripped both operative and Mandalorian from their feet, tossing them across the warehouse floor. Din grunted at the hard impact. The aftershock filled his head with cotton for a few shaky moments. Deaf and dumb, he could see only Senn's legs stumbling and staggering unsteadily back over to the vault, which smoldered with a clammy, thick smoke and an acrid smell.
The operative stood, mute and drenched in Zabrak blood as she took in the scene with her reliable senses. By the time Din gathered himself and half-stood, Senn had sunk to her knees in a puddle of what was left of the Zabrak woman.
The Mandalorian shook his head to clear it, and struggled to his feet.
"Senn," he spoke urgently as he darted to her side. "We have to go."
Senn just nodded her head slowly. Din kept urging her as he retrieved his blaster.
"Now! That blast will have drawn a lot of attention," he tired. Senn could still only seem to nod as Reika's blood poured from her chin and hair. She was in shock.
"Shit," he spat. "Common."
With that, the Mandalorian grabbed his companion under her arms and hoisted her weight onto his hip. He threw one of her arms around his neck and walked toward the door. Tucking her own blaster behind his belt, he threw his cape over her to hide some of the mess from prying eyes as they burst from the warehouse. She walked with him, though limp and awkward. She stared straight ahead and kept nodding slightly as he drove them onward toward the ship.
City dwellers were already gathering to gawk and investigate the blast and the smoke. Din moved them as quickly as he could back toward the ship. He didn't see any Imp colours or uniforms, but the possibility of other factions being drawn out of the cracks worried him even more.
Finally, the ship came into view as the pair lurched forward.
"Common, Senn. Work with me." the Mandalorian huffed as he half carried her up the ramp. He let her slide down onto the floor before clamoring up the ladder to the bridge. He'd preprogrammed their next flight sequence and coordinates just in case they encountered trouble.
As soon as they were moving, he slid back down the ladder to help his companion. She appeared very calm and unharmed, but her head still bobbed aimlessly. She binked too frequently, and between her tranquil state and the thick coat of Zabrak blood covering her, he couldn't tell if she had been hurt.
Approaching her slowly, he tried to ease her back into the space. He crouched and tilted her chin.
"Senn. Are you hurt?"
After a moment, she shook her head.
"Can you lift your arms for me?" he asked gently.
She nodded again, but didn't move.
The Mandalorian sighed and wrapped his arms around her, lifted, and hauled her toward the refresher.
It took him longer than he'd have liked to peel away her blood-sodden clothing, tossing it in the disposal as he went. Her skin was stained as well. He didn't bother removing his armour or his own clothing as he gently nudged her, one foot at a time, into the shower stall.
Din once more wrapped his arms around her as he turned on the water. It was freezing, but that was perfect. He braced himself and her limbs.
Senn gasped forcefully as the water hit her back and head. She instantly began gulping air and choking on the smell in her hair. Her legs went limp and the Mandalorian caught her weight as her head rolled.
"Senn...Senn. It's okay. Breathe. You're okay. Breathe...Quick in, slow out," Din soothed in a low voice. The operative shook violently as she fought her way through the panic attack. A good sign, Din thought.
"Good girl. You'll catch your breath soon. Quick in, slow out." he repeated. Senn clung to his arm now as she fought her body's natural response.
Din slowly began to lower her to the shower floor. Moving to his knees, he sat behind her, supporting her weight, and continued to talk her through the burst of adrenaline. He caught himself drifting in and out of Mando'a as she began to catch her breath, her body becoming even more limp as the attack passed. He removed his sopping wet gloves and began gently rinsing the blood and tissue from her hair. The dark colour swirled over her skin in thick rivels and around the drain, melting quietly away along with her shock.
He shifted and eased her weight against the cold wall. Reaching up, Din turned the dial to a slightly warmer temperature before he turned his attention back to Senn.
She still gazed stupidly into nothing, but her expression was despondent with grief now. Another good sign. The Mandalorian checked her over for injuries once the water had washed away most of the blood. Aside from the tender scars on her back and a few new scrapes and bruises where she'd landed after the blast, she was fine.
Din collapsed against the adjacent wall and took a few deep breaths. His hands moved to his helmet, pulling the heavy bucket up and off his head in favour of the clean water. The fact that Senn still wore the green contact lenses as he set his helmet down on the shower floor was even more disturbing, but he fought through it.
Grunting, he pushed himself back onto his knees and sat on his heels in front of Senn. She squeezed her eyes shut with a painful look of regret, hung her head, and began to convulse with silent sobs.
Din continued to work silently. He rubbed her hands, one at a time, concentrating on her fingernails to work away the stains. He tilted her head, tenderly wiping away the remaining blood in her hairline, behind her ears, in her brows, even her delicate eyelashes.
He was too heartbroken, as he watched her process, to enjoy any part of the fact that this incredible woman was so naked and vulnerable before him. Instead, he concentrated on the task before him. He eventually applied some of his lye soap to her skin. Slowly, she let her own hands join in the work. Her features slowly became more composed and resigned as she moved to wash herself.
Din decided it was time to let her take over. He stood, still watching her, as he removed the remainder of his armour and his own clothes, tossing them out of the small box one piece at a time. He rinsed his body as well, running to soap quickly over himself before turning his attention back to Senn.
He knelt, gently took Senn's hands in his, and placed them flat against the sides of his face. Modeling deep breaths, he pressed his forehead to hers.
"Do you want to stay in here for a while?" he asked her softly.
Senn shook her head after a moment.
"No. I'm okay," she whispered, finally responding to his touch and leaning into him.
"C'mon," Din urged tenderly as he withdrew, turned off the water, helped Senn up out of the refresher, and into an oversized blanket.