A/N:Hi friends! I've been writing this story as ideas come, and I've found that it's just not always chronological. I decided that I don't want to make you wait for things to fall along the timeline before I can publish. That being said, pretty much all of the out of order posts will be memories or past events that shaped the main characters. I'll always post the year each chapter takes place at the beginning, and will do my best to tie everything together so it still feels cohesive despite the time jumps.

A memory after the job that changed Cye's life forever.

32 BBY

Bright light glowed through Cye's closed eyelids. Pain flared in her side as she tried to sit up and she gasped, covering her side protectively. The shock of discomfort opened her eyes and for a moment she panicked. She didn't recognize the cramped room she was in or the bed she'd been sleeping on, or even the clothes she was wearing.

She remembered stumbling into her brother's arms, holding a deep gash up her side together with her bare hands as she dragged him back to Roz where she laid dying. She had a vague recollection of an explosion. There were no restraints, no medical equipment, nothing to suggest she was being held against her will. The small room itself was sparsely furnished, just a bed and a few drawers built into the far wall. The scent of spiced caf wafted into the room and she exhaled with relief. Wherever Cye was, she was safe.

Old springs creaked as she rolled to sit on the edge of the thin mattress. She lifted her shirt slowly, noting how stiff her shoulders were. Cye must have been suspended in a bacta tank for a while. An angry, jagged pink line ran from the bottom of her breast to her waist and wrapped around to her back. The flesh was knitted back together and healed over well enough, though it would definitely leave a permanent scar despite the bacta.

She stood carefully, holding the wall to make sure her legs stayed underneath her as she searched for the source of the caf. The rest of the place was as small and plain as the bedroom. Another thin mattress served as both a bed and a couch. A side table was upended and pushed against the exit. The control panel cover by the side of the door was removed and manually jammed. A narrow cooktop stood in the corner with an old ceramic percolator and a stack of cheap flimsi cups.

Before she could cross the room to pour herself some caf there was a click behind her followed by the grating of metal on metal. Cye jumped, taking a defensive stance and protecting her side as Jango walked out of the 'fresher.

"Fierfek, Ori'vod," she said with a forced sigh. Her smile was half-formed when she noticed her brother's injuries. Lines that hadn't been there before cut across his forehead and cheek. "What happened to your face?"

"'Morning to you too, sunshine," he replied with a smirk. "How'd you sleep?"

"Deflecting? Okay," Cye rolled her eyes, but Jango ignored the jibe and walked past her in the cramped space and straight for the caf. "Solid, I guess. How long was I out?"

He focused intently on the cup as he poured. "Three days in a bacta tank. Two here." He met her wide eyes with an apologetic wince.

"Shab," she gasped as she gripped the wall. "It was just a cut."

"It was shrapnel, remember? That cut went deep," he said as he shook his head. "Sliced through your ribs, nicked your lung, and nearly cut your liver and kidney in half. The suit was the only thing that kept everything inside and in place. It was a close one, ika'vod."

She swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing back over the scar through her shirt. She couldn't believe the damage was that bad. It hadn't felt that bad when it happened. She'd tried to shield Rozatta from Montross. Guilt for the Toydarian's death and for her own absence crawled up the back of her neck and she lowered her head.

"I'm sorry, Jango," she said quietly. "I failed Roz. I slowed us down."

"Cye'ika," he chided as he set his cup down and turned her to face him.

"Montross is still out there," Cye continued to berate herself. "He could already have found the target. Five days is a lifetime in a hunt. You know that."

Jango dug his fingers into her shoulder, shaking her to get her attention. "Ika'vod. It's over. Montross is dead and so is Vosa. We did it. We won." The already confined space closed in around them. She held onto his arm to keep her balance. He kept her grounded with his eyes, forcing her to focus on him as she tried to steady her breathing and her pounding heart.

"How?" She finally managed in an airy whisper.

"Maybe you should sit down." Jango's mouth twitched, flashing a smirk before leading her to the makeshift couch. "This will take a bit."

He poured a second cup of caf, handing it to her before sitting next to her with his. Cye stared at the cup warming her hands, trying to make sense of her situation. She rested her elbows on her knees, cup cradled between them, failing to keep a neutral expression as her eyes welled with tears.

"You're sure he's dead?" Her voice cracked and she sucked in a rattling breath.

"Yes."

She turned her head towards her brother, letting the tears spill down her cheeks. "Did he suffer?"

"Not quite as much as Vizsla," he admitted, "but the hut'uun didn't die a warrior's death."

Cye sucked in a breath through her snotty nose. She pushed the air out through her throat in a cough as it threatened to close up. She bobbed her head and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing out the last of her tears. With the back of her thumb she swept them from her cheeks. As she gulped in another breath she met Jango's patient gaze. His eyes were rimmed red and tearful, but he smiled through it.

"Good," Cye said at last, forcing a smile for the elation she wished she felt instead of the empty ache of a void that never truly healed. A sense of closure, sure. But closure would never bring her father back. "Good." She brought the caf to her lips, unsure of what to do or say next. "Did he do that to your face, ori'vod?" she mumbled before sipping from the cup. It was black and the spice bitter, but better than nothing.

It was a surprise to see Jango shake his head. "There's a lot that happened, ika'vod." He paused, his expression transforming from caring to stern hesitance in an instant. He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily, focusing himself before meeting Cye's concerned frown. "I don't know how much you remember about the explosion."

"Not much."

He hummed his acknowledgement as he nodded. "You managed to bring me to Rozatta before you collapsed. She was still alive, thanks to you." Jango put his weighty hand on her knee and squeezed. "If you hadn't been there to help her, she wouldn't have been able to tell us where Vosa was. I managed to get you out of there, but the station exploded before I could go back for her."

"I'm sorr-"

Jango's raised hand halted the apology on her tongue. "Wer'cuy. She was a good friend, but you are aliit," he said in a firm tone, his face absent of any guilt or remorse. "I would do it the same again. Every time." Cye nodded, his resolve strengthening her own. She would have done the same had the tables been turned, regardless of how guilty she'd have felt afterward. "Roz found out the Bando Gora had a base on Bogden's Kohlma moon. I reached out to Tev, she helped me find a medic on Shili willing to help you without asking questions."

"You talked to Tevrin?" Cye asked, not bothering to hold back her surprise.

"You're more important than the differences we have with each other," he said through clenched teeth before rolling his eyes. "And she happens to agree with me. So yes, I talked to her to save your sorry shebs."

Cye tried not to laugh, but couldn't keep the amusement from her eyes. "You should talk to her more often. She really brings out another side of you."

"Not. Relevant."

"Okay, okay," Cye relented, holding onto the idea that maybe her brother would stop being an idiot with Tevrin. "You dropped me off with a Togruta nurse and a bacta tank and went to the Kohlma moon. I'm following so far."

Jango watched her for a moment, waiting for Cye to say something else. She raised her eyebrows, silently goading him to continue. "I found the citadel on Kohlma. Montross was there waiting for me." The moment of brevity ended immediately as he said the name of their father's murderer. "I don't think he expected Jango Fett to be healed up after your last encounter. He sure wasn't."

"Damn right he wasn't," Cye spat. "That shabuir mocked us over our father's death. And Galidraan."

"I took out Montross and let the Bando Gora tear him to pieces, like the lions did to Vizsla. Then I went into the citadel."

Jango knocked back his whole cup of caf like a shot and stood, going for more. Pictures of a pleading, cowed Montross poked at her imagination. She wished she'd been there to see it herself. Or better yet, be the one who took his last breath. She hoped that they gave him a torturous, excruciating death. He deserved every ounce of pain that came to him.

"You wanted to know about my face," Jango said, interrupting her reverie. His brow dipped low, shadowing his eyes. The frown on his face wasn't the normal stern visage but reflective, almost shameful.

"What's wrong?" His shoulders tensed. The muscles of his jaw worked fervently under his skin as if he were arguing with himself. His silence bothered her more than anything else he'd said to that point. "Jan'ika," she pleaded, "talk to me."

"That Jedi witch. Vosa." He forced the words from him like he was exorcising a demon. "She caught me. Trapped me. Did her best to torture me."

"Ori'vod," Cye gasped. She set her unfinished caf on the floor and rose, at his side in a stride. She tucked her arms under his and around his back, pulling him to her chest, pressing her chin on his shoulder. She pushed through his knee jerk reaction to close himself off, not allowing him to keep his pain to himself. He deflated, his head leaning against hers as he hooked his arms around her shoulders.

"I'm okay, ika'vod," he whispered. "I've been through worse. We've been through worse." Cye nodded against his shoulder, but didn't let him go. "The only difference is she didn't need to lay a finger on me to do it." He slowly separated himself from her and she let him go. His eyes carried the helplessness they used to when it was just them alone after the slavers were finished with their fun . "If it weren't for Zam, there'd be a lot more lines on my face." He spoke in the soft calming tone he used when Cye was out for blood. "And everywhere else for that matter. Vosa was thorough."

"Demagolka."

"It's over now," he said again, "she was no match for me on an even field."

"You killed her?"

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he exhaled. "No," he said at last. Before Cye could press further he continued. "But I was ready to. I watched her die. Tyranus killed her. Using the Force."

"Wait." Everything he'd told her swirled into confusion once again. "Tyranus killed her. Using the Force," she said in monotone shock.

"Yes." Jango reached out instinctively, gripping her shoulder.

"The same Tyranus who put out the bounty."

"Yes."

It was hard for her eyes to focus, so she clenched them shut instead. "That bastard put us through all this, knowing exactly where to find her, and could have easily broken her neck with the snap of a 'fekking finger?" Her voice wavered, her anger rising. "Rozatta is dead! You went through what we swore would never happen to us again and he could have simply walked into her lair and killed her himself?"

"Cye, I get it. I was angry too. But it was never about the target, or even the bounty."

"Then what was it about, Jango?!" The control she normally kept over her rage boiled over as her emotions ran hot. Sadness, helplessness, shock, and fury swirled as each new piece of information Jango told her stacked on the last.

"It was a test."

"A test?" Cye's furrowed brow rose in surprise for a flashing moment before her expression darkened. "What the hell was he trying to test? What prize did we win? Our lives?" Her voice grew louder as she lashed out, hitting the cooktop with her white knuckled fist, knocking the flimsi cups to the floor. "He set up that job and pitted us against other bounty hunters for his amusement. And for what?"

"We still got the credits for the job, but he's offering something more. Tyranus wants to meet in person at his estate on Taloraan to discuss terms. And you're not coming."

"What do you mean I'm not coming?" Cye's mind was racing, trying to keep up with the rapid twists in their conversation. Her frown intensified as she clenched her jaw. "Of course I'm going to be there! Tyranus is a Jedi. He's dangerous, and it's probably a trap."

"Was a jedi," Jango corrected as he drank his spiced caf.

"Semantics. It doesn't change anything."

"Tyranus has no idea you exist, ika'vod," Jango said with measured calm. "We have that edge and if you come we lose it. He expects me." He touched his fingers to his chest for emphasis. "And he wants to use me to create an army to destroy the Jedi."

Cye shook her head and took a step back. "What?"

"That's what he wants," Jango repeated. "That's what the whole thing was about. Finding the prime candidate to be the genetic template for a clone army. We're going to take out the entire Jedi order. Not just the ones who destroyed our lives. All of them."

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of anger behind her eyes. "I hope you realize how crazy that sounds." Jango gave a short laugh and sat back down on the mattress. Cye followed suit, picking up her caf from the floor. "I feel like I've woken up from a coma, Ori'vod. I missed so much. I don't understand how any of that's possible."

"There's a planet in the far outer rim, close to the Rishi Maze," Jango explained. "It's called Kamino, and the beings that live there are cloners. The best, apparently. Tyranus wants me to give them my genetic code so they can create the perfect soldiers."

Cye rested her elbow on her knee and cradled her forehead in her palm. It was a confusing proposition, and she didn't want to respond without wrapping her head around it. The thought of thousands of men who looked like her brother caused her to shudder. But at the same time, thousands of Mandalorian warriors taking out the Jedi once and for all was incredibly appealing.

"Have you given your answer yet?"

"Not yet," her brother replied. "I wasn't going to until I had the chance to talk to you about it."

"I don't think he'll wait forever."

Jango shook his head, "No, but we still have time." They sat together in silence, drinking from their flimsi cups, each lost in thought of both their future and their legacy. It seemed too good to be true, or at the very least there had to be a catch, some fine print or hidden clause. They were dealing with a Jedi after all. And if he'd left the Order, then Tyranus would be even more dangerous and unpredictable.

"I can see the wheels turning, Cye'ika," Jango said at last. "Tell me your thoughts. This is one hell of a problem to sort through."

His knowing smirk creased the new lines on his face, making them stand out even more. It would take some getting used to. It wasn't right for him to suffer at the hands of the Jedi a second time. Would Tyranus try a third?

"It sounds too good to be true. This man Tyranus, if that's really his name, knows enough about Mandalorians to know they hate the Jedi." Jango nodded silently as Cye continued. "I don't think he's just using the history between Mando'ade and Jetiise. I think he knows we, you , have a clear vendetta against them. He'll use it to his advantage to manipulate you to get what he wants."

"And there are a lot of questions I have," Cye added. "The biggest one being how will these cloned soldiers actually defeat the Jedi? How many are they going to make? Are they going to be people, or some aberration, or worse? What will you have to sacrifice to make them? Who's going to train them? Where are they going to get the materials to kit all these soldiers and their supply chain? I'm not sure if they thought this through, ori'vod."

"Maybe you can help them with that," he chuckled.

Cye huffed, waving away his suggestion. "There's no amount of credits he can pay me to solve the impossible task of wrangling thousands of Jangos." Her brother nearly snorted his caf, but she was focused on sifting through what they were offered and recognizing potential flaws. "What level of culpability do we have if we say yes? Thousands, maybe millions of lives being brought into existence. Should we care what happens to them? Are we responsible for what happens to them? How far are we really willing to go for vengeance?"

"I was hoping we'd skip the philosophy and get straight to how we keep the upper hand," Jango said. He smiled tightly as she glared at his interruption, and kept whatever other comments he had to himself.

"We need to answer these questions too, Jan'ika," Cye replied with a stern frown. "I don't want to be blindsided by a guilty conscience over saying yes five years from now. And I'm sure you don't want that either."

Jango pressed his lips together and pinched his brow in annoyance. The new lines in his face deepened as he took her words to heart, even if he didn't like them. Cye paused her thought process, keeping tabs on where to go next depending on what they decided in this dingy, cramped room.

His eyes flamed with a decade of hatred. The current of ever present glacial wrath crested as he balled his fist. "Those self-righteous, di'kutla hut'uune murdered our aliit and sent us to a fate worse than death without a thought. I was satisfied with vengeance, to kill the ones at Galidraan. But if we can stop them from doing the same thing they did to us to others-" her brother paused and looked at her with a deep frown. "I will do whatever it takes, Cye'ika. Whatever it takes."

Cye nodded, matching his frown with one of her own. She stared at her boots, trying to decide if that was a good enough answer. She was as secure in her hatred for the Jedi as her brother, she had no doubt of that.

"Gar serim, ori'vod." Her anger had always been hot and reactive where his was cold and reflective. Her eyes narrowed as she met Jango's gaze. "Once the Jedi are gone, what happens to them? What will we do? What legacy do we leave behind? Whatever clones that survive?"

Her brother opened his mouth to answer and closed it a moment later, pressing his lips into a frown. He blinked quickly as he did when her questions blindside him. He snorted softly and took a sip of caf then looked at her with a smirk.

"Roz always wanted us to have something more. I don't think a day went by where she didn't tell me to find a nice girl and settle down, get out of the business ," Jango said as he mimicked Roz's voice.

Cye rewarded him with a bark of laughter. "Skies, she loved to play matchmaker, didn't she? She was so upset when I told her not to expect any babies from me. Like a mother wanting grandchildren to dote on, she was." Cye sighed heavily, grief sneaking its way into her chest again.

Memories of quiet, tearful conversations filled the silence as it lingered on. Jango as a young man cradling Cye as they came to grips with her lost autonomy. At sixteen the choice to ever have children was taken from her. Their slavers didn't want her having any of their bastards and it was cheaper for them to sterilize her and be done with it.

The weight of Jango's arm fell across her shoulders, a protective and comfortable buffer to further unbidden and unwanted memories. He squeezed her arm and pulled her close so that he could rest his head against hers.

"Cye?" Jango let his unfinished question linger then suddenly straightened. His honey brown eyes were wide with a sudden epiphany.

"What ori'vod?" It made her nervous when he got excited. "Spit it out."

"We'll take one of the clones and raise him ourselves," he said quickly. "Make him just a normal boy, unaltered by whatever they plan to do with the others. No tampering. He will be Jaster's legacy, and ours."

Cye was about to tell him he'd finally lost it, that the Jedi witch Vosa had cracked his sanity. She wanted to tell him that it was a terrible idea, but she just- couldn't. It was a good idea. For people like them, it was probably the best option they had.

So Cye nodded instead.

"Okay," she said at last. Jango's face exploded in a wide, boyish grin even with his new scars and Cye couldn't help but respond with her own enthusiastic smile. It was a rare sight to behold. His happiness lifted her heart and cleared the threatening grief for the time being. "But you're changing diapers."

Her brother bellowed with laughter and Cye chuckled along with him. Years of weight seemed to lift from them as they basked in their accomplishment, bantering like they did when they were younger and relatively care free. They'd finally avenged their father's death, they'd avenged themselves, and they were going to secure their legacy and take out Mandalore's greatest enemies.

Jango was right, they had won.

Mando'a Translations:

Ori'vod - big brother, older brother (term of endearment)

Shab - Fuck

'ika - diminutive suffix written as 'ika - also added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form

aliit - family

shabuir - motherfucker

Demagolka - someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche

di'kutla - useless, stupid, worthless

hut'uun(e) - coward(s) (worst possible insult)

Gar serim - You're right.