[A/N Okay, this is a very incomplete story. It's more of the overarching important moments of a story. I am incapable of actually making this into a full story, but if you like it and have questions I will be more than willing to add in as necessary to build it where it's lacking.

That said I probably have like fourish short chapters to post after this one. I have more ideas of where to take the fic after that, but nothing concrete.

Enjoy!]

Din followed the woman to the cockpit. She hadn't given him leave to explore the ship unsupervised, or even said anything to him since they'd left Motto, and he could feign ignorance of where the cargo hold would be. These kinds of freighters were usually pretty easy to navigate, though he'd never been on this specific model before.

It felt natural to fall into the copilot's seat and run diagnostics. A mindless task that he'd done countless times before, but the routine movements were enough to keep his mind off...everything. He noticed they had a moderate amount of fuel, but would need to refuel for a trip of any true distance. Several of her warning lights were taped over, a common indication of personal modification of a ship.

He would lie if she asked, but it startled him when she slapped his hand away from the hyperspace control. He only wanted to see where she'd plotted their course in the nav unit.

As the streaming lights and darkness of hyperspace filled the viewport she finally turned to face him, her expression as cold as stone.

"Alright, tour now. Debrief after you're situated," she said before leaving her seat and leading him out of the room. She pointed out where he could bunk, the galley, the off limits engine room and the cargo hold. He silently committed every detail he could to memory.

"This," she opened a large footlocker, "is where you can keep your equipment. That," she pointed to the back wall, "is off limits."

"I wasn't expecting an armory." It took a lot of his willpower to respect her instruction and not inspect the cache. It looked much like his own aboard the Razor Crest.

A pang, a breath, refocus. The Armorer.

"I'll explain our expected encounter in the galley," she said, instead of acknowledging his surprise. She was walking out and paused just outside the door. "Uh. What do you eat?"

"Anything is fine."

"Okay, yeah. But what do you eat?"

"Anything?" He was confused at her insistence on a more specific answer.

"So, you are…?"

Another moment of confusion before he realized her question. "Human. I am human."

She gave a nod before side-eyeing him and reentering the doorframe. "If you're really going to go after her you'll be on board for a few weeks. You got a name?"

"Most people just call me 'Mando.'" She waited. "But my name is Din Djarin. Should I just call you 'Captain.'" Her stone expression finally broke into a smirk.

"As much as I'd enjoy that, my name is Teena." She didn't offer any formal pleasantries or even a surname, but he was glad she at least left with a smile. The next weeks would be a little less hellish if she didn't hate him.

.

She sent an encrypted message, checked her terminal's received, and made two full portions. She was definitely hungry enough for her's and assumed Din could likely eat a whole himself. Though probably not in front of her. She had plenty to do around the ship that he could shut himself in the galley or his bunk to eat unbothered.

Her skin crawled as she recalled his adherence to the Watch. Or rather, what the Watch became. Bo Katan had once led Death Watch, which was a nasty bit of family history, but the Children of the Watch were worse.

No, that might not be true. She was just biased against them and it was easy to project her pain and hatred on them.

She considered the different factions, clans, and houses and her own upbringing. To be Mando'ad you must follow the code. There has been much infighting between the Mando'ade throughout history, but so few are left now. The Empire saw to that. Why would an entire faction pledge to kill their brothers?

She sighed and finished the last of her portion. It'd been 30 minutes and Din had yet to exit the hold. She groaned and stood to go fetch him. Apparently she was going to be playing babysitter for the next few weeks.

She found him reclined on the floor of the hold, propped against his footlocker. He appeared to be sleeping, but she couldn't be sure with the helmet. Taking a step gingerly through the doorway he startled and immediately grasped where his blaster pistol would have been at his hip. Finding empty air he was halfway to aiming his absent garrote at her when he stalled.

His defensive actions took less than a second, and he seemed to calm slightly when he realized where he was even though he remained unarmed. Teena didn't flinch or move as he went for the weapons that weren't there, but just studied him.

Somehow she was safe.

He'd disarmed himself per her instruction.

.

"Comfortable?" she asked with another crooked smile on her face.

He just grunted in response.

"I did show you where you can bunk if now isn't a good time to debrief in your cycle."

"You said the Beskar stays in the hold," he shrugged.

The smirk fell off her face and she stared at him for a beat before breaking into giggles that slowly crescendoed into full belly laughter. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her infectious cackling. He could hear the echoes of her glee as she made her way up the hall and back down to bring in a standard portable portion.

After a few focused breaths she finally managed to tell him to eat and come up to the cockpit when he was done.

He didn't respond, but she had to realize he didn't plan on removing his Beskar. He would leave his weapons out of respect though, keeping only the Darksaber. This was the second time he'd disarmed himself for her and it felt wrong.

It didn't take him long to finish eating, so he ventured out into the ship. She was in the cockpit, like she'd said, comparing her navicomputer to a holopad. He waited silently in the doorway.

He smiled when she startled at the sight of him in the doorway. Her stony expression was back, but he could consider that payback for the hand slap during takeoff.

"Weapons?" she asked as she bit her lip.

"I have only one weapon on me."

"I'm not trying to make you break your Creed, it's just...easier for me when I can pretend I'm not working with a Mandalorian."

He stayed silent. Din didn't want to consider his status as a Mandalorian. Conflicted feelings had clouded his mind since the moment he put on the Trooper helmet only a short week ago. His decisions since then only cemented his dread and need to find the Armorer. She would know what to do. She was someone he could hand his Beskar over to when she declared him dar'manda.

It occurred to him that there was likely a reason Teena did not wish to work with his kind, but he chose to let that subject be unless she felt like sharing.

Teena sighed before continuing. "You don't need to stay in the hold, and I apologize now for any unpleasantness you might experience from me."

"Because we've gotten along so well so far."

She snorted and dropped into her pilot's chair, indicating for him to take the copilot's chair.

"I've accelerated the timeline with my contact at an imperial academy," she informed him.

"Academy?"

"Yeah, this one went under the radar when the New Republic was organizing. I've been getting all sorts of info from my kid on the inside. I told him what you need. I was planning on pulling him out on the next update anyway, so you'll be my muscle if he wants to pitch a fit."

"Explain."

"Well," she started, "like I said, we've been getting a lot from him. He is very much a 'greater good' thinker. So, he might think it's best if he stays. But he's been in for a while and I don't want him getting transferred without my knowledge or discovered as a mole."

"Understood. What have you been doing with the information?" he wondered. Obviously the academy was still running.

"Sell to underworld contacts or concerned individuals. Things like prison records are often very personal and valuable," she grinned at him and he grunted at the jab. "If we get word of a big op planned out we sell to the New Republic like the nice bystanders we are."

"Dangerous way to make a living," he said. She just shrugged.

"Also, he won't trust you."

"Because you don't work with Mandos?"

"You're quick on the uptake, Djarin," she smiled. At her use of his surname he remembered she'd never given him a proper name.

"You got a name to go with Teena?" he asked.

"Nope. Those ties were severed long ago."

"What ties?" She scowled at his question.

"Severed ones."

"You abandoned your family?" He didn't mean to actually ask, he was just astonished. He wasn't so blind as to not realize such things happened in the galaxy, but family was important and he was going to be stuck with this woman for a while so it seemed like she was someone he should try to relate to.

"No. They were killed. Burnt, actually when Father kept fighting after the whistling birds didn't put him down and Mother broke the grappling line they had on her." The atmosphere became really heavy as she seethed.

She didn't work with Mandalorians.

.

She didn't mean to share that much, but this is what happens when she gets emotional. Even her Aunt Bo hadn't been allowed on her ship if she was in her Beskar.

"I'm sorry."

She could barely hear his soft, modulated voice through the pounding in her ears. Taking focused breaths she stared out the viewport until she had her emotions under control again. He seemed to think it was best to take his leave.

Locking the cockpit door behind him she pulled up the trapdoor to the hidden compartment and placed her hands on two of the helmets that stared up at her. After so many years the thought of her lost parents shouldn't hurt her so much anymore.