Chapter 39

-apology-

A/N Alright, resolution. I hope I do this part and their relationships justice. Keep in mind this will have at least 60 chapters so no one panic.

Migs had been uncharacteristically quiet from the moment Omera and Cara had gotten to the clinic. When she'd pressed him, he had been recalcitrant and insistent that he would be fine if they left him on the ship for the duration of their stay. Of course neither Omera nor Cara had heard a word of that and after they ate, shoved crutches under his arms and directed him through the city.

Halfway down the tunnel, groaning around the throbbing in his knee, he had finally given in and told Omera what had happened with Asta. He had done so with as little emotion as possible but Omera could tell that he'd been hurt, even if he still thought he didn't deserve to be. She understood—sharing that part of their lives as they had. If Din had reacted the way Asta had almost a year ago when she'd told him about it she would have been hurt too. Asta and Migs were not as intimate as she and Din had been then but it was still painful to relive.

It certainly explained the younger woman's attitude towards her earlier that day. Hopefully Din had talked to her. They didn't need internal division now, especially over something like that. Besides, if Asta couldn't get past this, it would make things very uncomfortable when they traveled together.

Asta had come to find her almost as soon as they had deposited Migs in the apartment he shared with Paz. When she approached her, Cara had crossed her arms and given her an intimidating, questioning glare.

"If I leave, are you going to try and hurt each other?"

Omera arched a brow at Asta and she shook her head. "We'll be ok, Cara."

With a smirk Cara left them alone, muttering something about finding Din as she went. Turning back to the other woman, Omera smiled.

"Asta. Would you walk with me back to my apartment?"

She nodded and fell into step beside her. "Migs told me what happened. He was really hurt I think, not that he'll ever admit it."

When she glanced over at her, Asta was frowning miserably at the ground. "I know. Kriff, I could tell couldn't I? I was so shocked and upset myself but I could see the look on his face. Dammit, I've probably ruined that forever."

Omera sighed sadly. It was entirely likely that Migs wouldn't want anything to do with her anymore. At least for a while. Once when they'd been in the academy, they'd had a fight over something stupid and he hadn't spoken to her for days. "Was there a reason you sought me out?"

Working her jaw for a moment, Asta stopped walking and turned to face her. "Yes. I am sorry for the way I acted to you earlier. It was disrespectful, and unwarranted. I was shocked, confused and… honestly more than a little angry. But Djarin explained things to me. I don't have any right to be upset with you."

She inclined her head deeply and apologized again. "I hope you can forgive me, Omera."

Omera pursed her lips and smiled, placing a hand on Asta's shoulder. "You don't owe me an apology, Asta. I understand." Her head snapped up and her green eyes searched Omera's. "He told me about the purge. It was after I'd already gotten out but I saw my share of awful things. I'm sure it was extremely traumatic for you. You lost both of your parents and you were so young. Din's buir was killed too."

Looking frustrated with herself, Asta nodded and sighed. "He told me."

Omera smiled sadly and continued. "Are you going to be ok?"

Blinking rapidly, she nodded again and tried to smile. "I really am sorry, Omera. Do you think I should go and talk to Migs?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Omera shook her head. "No, not yet. Give him a little time, but not too much. And, it might help him understand why you reacted the way you did if you mention your parents if that's something you would be comfortable with."

After she'd apologized, unnecessarily, again and had gone off to her own apartment, Omera sighed heavily and rubbed at her lower back. Suddenly another, stronger set of hands gently pushed hers away and began rubbing soothing circles along all the right places. Tipping her head back against a familiar broad chest, Omera laughed softly.

"I see you've had a chance to talk to Cara."

He nosed her hair away and started trailing kisses up her neck, humming his response as he went.

"Asta spoke to me, I'm sure you saw. Did you tell her to do that?"

"No. But I'm glad she did."

Omera nodded. "I like her. I hope she and Migs can get along again."

"Me too. I did tell her to talk to him. I'm assuming he'll go with us when we leave, at least for a while. I don't want to deal with that kind of tension." When he sighed, it tickled her neck and she smiled.

"Oh, if they can get past this I think you'll still have to deal with tension, love. Just maybe a different kind."

Pulling back to look at her face, he scoffed. "You're joking?"

She laughed and turned to face him. "I don't know. She's very pretty and he isn't bad looking. It certainly seemed like it could be something to me whenever I went to check on them." Shrugging, she smirked at the face he was making. "I could be wrong though. Besides, who knows if he'll feel the same after today. He might push her away now that he feels guilty about his past again." Resting her cheek against his breastplate, she sighed. "I'm exhausted, Din."

Huffing a laugh and no doubt glad for the subject change, Din ran a hand down her back. "What a coincidence, so am I."

"Take me to bed then."

Kissing her temple, he urged her toward their apartment and did just that.

DO

He would have stayed in the apartment if it had been up to him. Unfortunately now that he was in the covert instead of four miles away in town, people seemed to think he needed constant company. Mera insisted he get exercise every day now that he had his crutches and brace. She and Cara came by in the mornings so that Cara could terrorize him at Mera's direction. They said it was therapy for his knee and that it was important. Migs did not agree.

Mera had told him the first morning that she had spoken to Asta. Not sure why he should care, he hadn't said anything in reply. As he sulked, Mera had apparently been reminded of an embarrassing story from their academy years that she'd laughingly told Cara as the smirking shock trooper helped him with his knee.

And he didn't care about Asta. Not really. If she wanted to talk to him, it made no difference. It wouldn't change who he was or who he'd been or who she was. Migs definitely did not look for her every time someone drug him out of his room. If he noticed that she wasn't usually around well, he was just an observant guy.

The few times he did see her she very clearly wanted to talk to him. Not sure if he was ready for that yet, he always made himself unavailable. Even if it meant pretending to be extremely interested in whatever Winta might be jabbering on about.

After a week in the underground village, his lordship the mighty Mand'alor had insisted he join them while he trained his kid. For, 'exercise and social interaction' at Mera's request. Paz, ever the faithful servant had hauled him up and helped him onto his crutches.

Winta had been full of energy and talked his ear off as usual until they'd reached their destination and Din had gotten her focused. It was diverting at least. Migs wasn't sure what he thought about their tradition of training their children, but Winta seemed to relish it. He thought it might have been because she adored Din so much and clearly wanted to grow up to be exactly like him. Then again, Mera had always enjoyed combat training too.

He wondered how much longer they'd be here. Apparently there was a new group to join them here while he had been laid up. Omera had said that it had caused them to change their plans. This massive underground city would be their home until they were ready to go to Chandrila of all places. Din and a few others would leave whenever Bo-Katan found new groups of Mandalorians and they would come here if they wanted. Well, he didn't have anywhere else to be so he figured he would stay.

After a while, Paz sat beside him. Migs had been letting his eyes wonder, watching the other people in this section of ruins. There were other children training with who he assumed were their parents, other adults in and out of armor hanging about to watch like he was. Suddenly his eye caught on red beskar and he realized it was Asta and she was making her way towards them.

Sighing, he turned back to watching Winta attempt to get past Din's guard with her knife and watched intently. Beside him, Paz frowned.

"If I had a woman that attractive trying to apologize to me, I wouldn't look so pissed off. Actually, I can think of several ways she could make it up to you."

He scowled up at the much larger man. "Don't be fucking disgusting, Paz. Just because my knee's like this doesn't mean I can't still aim a blaster. Besides, she has nothing to apologize for."

Laughing far too loudly, he patted him condescendingly on the shoulder and stood.

"Din, I'm going to visit the Armorer. She said she would have my beskar finished today so I think I'll spend the rest of the day painting it blue again."

Din nodded and was about to turn back to Winta when he caught sight of Asta out of the corner of his eye. Glancing back to Migs briefly, he smirked before urging Winta a little farther away so they were out of earshot.

Jerk.

He still kept his eyes trained on the pair of them as he heard her approach. She stopped a few feet beside him and shifted her weight back and forth for several long moments before she finally spoke.

"Hey, Migs."

Not looking at her, he sighed again. Whatever she had to say to him, it was obviously important enough to be so persistent. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least hear her out. "Hey, Asta."

"Can I sit?"

He thought about saying something snarky or hurtful but instead he just nodded. Din had heavily implied that he would be extremely irritated to have to put up with their awkward tension on the ship when they left and that he wouldn't think twice about leaving them both behind. As lovely as it was here he was looking forward to traveling somewhere with windows. Besides… he hated the tension too.

She sat on the low stone bench beside him and for a while, just watched Din and Winta. "I'm sorry Migs, for how I reacted last week. I was only thinking about my own experiences and I wasn't thinking about what you were actually trying to say or how you might feel."

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, she was watching him carefully but she looked earnest. "It's fine, Asta. You're not the only person to rightfully hate me for what I was and you certainly don't owe me an apology."

She hung her head. "I don't hate you Migs. I was just… when I realized Din was married to an ex Imperial soldier I wasn't thinking about Omera and how much he loves her and obviously doesn't care about her past. All I could see was the Mand'alor with a stormtrooper. And then I thought about the purge and my buirs and the rest of our clan and I couldn't hear what you were saying."

Buir. That was one of the few words in their language he'd picked up since they'd been here. Curious, he finally looked at her. "What happened to them? Your... buirs?"

She chewed on her lip and frowned down at her lap. "We lived on Concord Dawn and after the Empire finished obliterating Mandalore they spread out through the system and hunted the rest of our people down. My uncle came from Mandalore half a day ahead of the Empire and some of our clan was saved but it took time to convince people to flee rather than fight. I left with him but not until after my parents had been killed. We barely escaped."

That explained her reaction then. "The Empire killed a lot of people's parents." His voice grew thick at a memory. "A lot of kids too."

"Ya…" Nodding in Din's direction, she sighed. "He reminded me that we are Mandalorians and if anyone has a right to complain about genocide and horrifying violence it probably isn't us. Not that it was ok, what happened to us but… I am proud to be a Mandalorian despite our history. You and Omera, you're not proud of the things you were a part of and you aren't responsible for what happened to us. Djarin says that you've both made up for your pasts, as far as we're concerned."

Migs scoffed. He didn't think he would ever truly make up for his crimes, but at least he hadn't been a part of the attacks on Mandalore. "But what do you think?"

She shrugged. "I think he's right." Meeting his heavy gaze at last, one side of her mouth turned up and there wasn't a trace of the disgust or fear in her wide green eyes like there had been before. "I am sorry, Migs. I hope we can be… friends again."

Captivated by the shape of her lips as she smiled at him, he thought about what she said. Migs understood her reaction. How could he not? He may not have been on Mandalore or Concord Dawn, but he did have plenty of innocent blood on his hands. But she wasn't going to hold that against him. She wanted to be his friend anyway.

But what did he want? He still wasn't sure he deserved to be her friend again. Or for that matter, if he allowed himself to open up to her again, just her friend. Either way it was probably a bad idea. Her absolution, unwarranted though it may be, wouldn't change their shared histories. He decided at the very least to end the uncomfortable tension.

Sighing, he looked back to her eyes. "I don't know if we should be friends, Asta, but you're… we're ok." She looked a bit crestfallen but nodded her acceptance. Feeling a bit bad for that, he looked back at Din. "I guess that means I should stop avoiding you. It will be pretty cramped on Din's ship when we leave after all."

When he smirked down at her, she smiled a little and his heart felt a little bit lighter for the first time in days.