I am so sorry, I thought I'd published this…on the plus side, I do have pre-written chapters for this one, my brain is just made of mush
"Well, Din, the bar is ours"
How long had it been since he'd heard Mando'a? He sat silently, ignoring the part of himself that wished he could show her the sorrow on his face, the guilt at what he'd said all those years ago.
"I need to apologise" he replied, keeping to their shared, secret language.
"If you're doing it because of the sob story, don't"
"I-" he started, but she cut him off, the words erupting from her mouth like a storm. Fierce, barely restrained.
"I said it to myself for so long, longer than you can imagine. The word you spat at me that day was no worse than what I called myself every day since, still do now. I broke the creed.." She started to pace, and he noticed the slight limp, the delicate way she held her left foot. The bend of her ankle in the soft fur lined boots. It wasn't normal, and she looked at it as she stopped speaking, correcting it. Standing firm and almost carefully as she turned to face him, listening to his words.
"I met more"
Her voice cracked, words forgotten through the shock. "What?"
"More of our kind. Some kind of royalty. A queen"
He said the word our as almost a peace offering. She collapsed into a chair at the side of the bar, fingers tracing the glass around her armour reverently. He could see from the look on her face that she wondered if she could be considered part of that 'our' anymore, given the abandonment of her creed. He saw her almost swallow the question, the sadness in her expressive face turning to determination as she tore her gaze from the bescar to the man who stood before her.
"What was she like?"
"Everything you would expect, and nothing you'd think. Strong, a fighter"
Wren smiled, sadly. "A Queen...Ruler of what, what is left of our people to rule?"
Din stood, and walked towards her, Hesitated, silver bescar gleaming in the light of the fire as he raised an arm to rest on her shoulder. The warmth made it glow gold as it dropped back to his side.
"I regret what I said, Wren"
She went quiet before tucking herself behind the bar again, pouring a short glass of something stronger than before. "We're done dancing around it then. I've told you, it's fine. You were right. I am a traitor"
"I should never have called you it though. I was just so shocked, to…"
She knocked the drink back, hissing through her teeth at the burn. "So you don't disagree with what you said then? You just regret saying it"
"I do"
"Disagree with what you said, or just regret saying it aloud?
"Both...The Mandalorians that I met didn't wear helmets"
She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Din? Were they imposters?"
He shook his head, chewing on the inside of his lip as Bo-Katan's words filled his head, as they had done so regularly since she'd said them. He hated worrying, and had gone most of his life with his only concern being not dying, until now. Until he had to escort The Child back to some unknown people, until he was chased by his entire previous workmates, and the Imperials. Until his ship repeatedly ended up damaged to the point he nearly fell from the sky on a semi-regular basis.
Until he had to face the very real possibility the proud people he'd been raised by were possibly a cult, splintering from the Mandalorian people out of a hatred for their burgeoning pacifism. Honour through combat, he'd always been told. Had always believed. Knowing his people could have had peace though, could have grown in number without having to lean towards orphans and foundlings. He told her as much, seeing his own sorrow and confusion reflected back at him on her expressive, unfiltered face.
He knew he'd be the same, if he wasn't in his mask. Decades of knowing no one could see your face definitely led to having no need to control it.
"So I didn't betray my creed?"
"No, you did"
He wouldn't lie, and refused to. But he did regret the lack of softness as her face crumpled. How long had he been around the kid, and he still couldn't manage softness. "But...you're still one of us, still a Mandalorian. They would probably want to recruit you if you wanted to. Wanted to...rejoin our people. They would need someone with your skills"
She considered his words. "I can't. I'd want to, obviously. To help our people grow, and not live in fear, but...I had to stop. And I've built a life here, friendships, a home"
"You deserve happiness"
She smiled at his simple words, rounding the bar to lean against it, so close.
"You could have one too, you know. A home -a quiet one. If you wanted to"
"I promised to take the child to his people"
"After that then. I looked you up, after you left. You're in danger everywhere, Din. You could stay here…" she moved towards him, resting a hand on his cold, armor clad forearm. "Build a life"
He paused, silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. She waited though, remembering the long pauses from their youth. "I'll think about it" he finally responded, and she gave him a soft smile in thanks.
"Now, I'm going to try and get some shut eye. I'll see you in the morning, Din"
—
"I thought you were going to sleep?"
Wren yawned, looking up from the panel she'd been working on. She had intended to sleep, truly, but was too awake. Too full of energy from the day she'd had. A busy morning restocking the kitchen. A child, missing. The entire town looking for them, before they were found playing in the forbidden mudflats. An old friend…an old infatuation, turning up out of the blue and apologising, of all things.
She'd been hurt, so hurt, the last time he'd walked through those doors. Now he seemed more cautious, softer. As if the child had changed him somehow, buffed out those sharp edges.
His bescar shone in the light of her headtorch.
She hated how much the magnificent armour made her chest flutter.
He's always managed to do that though. The armor though, that was the stuff of stories, of daydreams. And for a culture where people's faces are a mystery...armour starts to matter quite a bit. He was stood in the doorway, entirely filling it. Lit only by the soft lights of the night setting and the harsh glare of Wren's mechanic head torch, he looked every inch the warrior she knew him to be. Strong, capable. Broad.
"I couldn't sleep"
"You never could when there was something to fix"
His words were soft, gentle.
"You remember that?" Wren asked, leaning on the heavy, open door of the wiring compartment and quickly pulling the head torch off, fixing her hair back to normality.
"I remember it all"
He was awkward, loitering, looming, and Wren knew within herself that it's all he'd ever do. The same as when they were younger, when she'd tried to flirt and impress him until they were separated. She was torn, did she stand up and walk over, run her hands over that bescar and tell him she wanted him…or leave it. Acknowledge that she was a traitor to her kind, that she was still hurt by the anger in his tone as he'd spat Aruetii across her Cantina. Traitor, in their adopted tongue.
She turned off the light on her headpiece, and held out an arm, letting his firm grip wrap with practiced ease around her forearm and pull her up.
"The ships in a bad way"
She wanted to kick herself. In the 'to seduce or not seduce" conundrum, ship repairs fell firmly into the second camp. Maybe it was for the best though. Regardless of her own feelings in either regard, he didn't give any signs that the advances would be welcomed, and she knew it was the lack of sleep talking, the madness that came with it. Just hours before she'd been reliving the hurt of their last encounter, but here, in the creaking hull of a beautiful antique, all she could see was the young man she'd desperately wanted to form a clan with.
"Has been for a long time. Not been able to pick up much work since picking up the kid. I tend to trade work for repairs when credits are tight"
"Stutting stars, Din. Well no more of that, okay. For Kriffs sake, I'm a mechanic - if you ever need repairs or a hot meal, just come dock. Half your wiring is backwards and the other half's barely holding it together. The mechanics told me earlier that they pulled 4 squid from the ship and you've got more dents than most teens get acne"
She looked at him, watching him flop into the pilots chair, and finally, mercifully, start to laugh.
"What?"
"You, you've not changed at all! You used to lecture me endlessly when we were teenagers. Telling me to stop dropping my hip and to clean my weapons more; lecturing the others on sparring and their learning"
"And you were the only one who ever listened! …I hope you'll do the same now"
"All I ever wanted was to impress you" he muttered, "of course I did what you asked"
Wren stared at him, at the incomprehensible line of his helmet. And then, at the tense lay of his shoulders. His hands, in a mock picture of relaxation, his legs, spread but not relaxed. To the untrained eye, he was calm, chill. But to a mandalorian, taught to tell someone's whole being from their body language, their voice…this was a tense man.
He'd revealed something very personal, and obviously hadn't meant to. Perhaps she wasn't the only one feeling nostalgic in the night lamps.
"You wanted to impress me?"
"Of course, you were one of the best fighters I'd ever seen"
She scoffed, leaning against the console in front of him. "And now I'm not allowed to fight at all. What a great use of my memory that training was"
"I told you, bet Bo-Katan would take you, if you wanted"
Wren rubbed her eyes, fatigue starting to grate. "It's not a matter of want, Din…" she paused, pulling her gloves off, followed by her jumper, in only her leggings, boots and a loose vest, she leaned forward offering her arm. "Take off your gloves"
He did so, slowly though, cautiously.
"Feel my arm"
"…It's soft" he offered, obviously confused.
"Softer than it should be. My skin tears and bruises easily, and scars something wicked. Now, feel my shoulder"
He slid his hand up her arm, hand never leaving the contact of her skin as he did so. She relaxed her shoulders, and pressed his fingers against the bone of her shoulder. "Feel that"
"The gap?"
She gave a mmhmm of agreement. "That's my joint socket. If I fall, or I'm grabbed, or my gun recoils too hard, that's it - arm dislocated. And all my other joints are the same. Years of fighting and damage have ruined them. Ruined me"
He observed her silently. She could see the tense fist, the whiteness of his usually dark knuckles. Anger - but over what?
"You're not ruined"
Ah, that's why. She wasn't sure if he was replaying his words and it was self-directed anger, or at her self deprication, but sighed nonetheless.
"Not if I'm careful. Keep my head down, run my bar, help out around here. But I have no idea which fight will be my last"
"Neither does anyone"
"If your next fight is your last it'll be because of the other guys dumb luck, or sheer skill. Not because your foot decided that it wanted a cheeky day off mid-fight. But I don't mind, I'm happy"
"You sure?"
He sounded so genuine, so steadfast, and she chuckled to herself.
"Take the armour off, Din"
He didn't move, and she nudged a leg plate with her booted foot. "Come on, take it off - I've got 2 jobs for you and you can't be all armoured up for them. Keep the helmet on, and your boots if you want - fuckin' freezing without them"
He moved slowly, carefully placing the metal pieces upon the lesser-used chair at the back. She watched him, silently, until the last piece was finally removed, leaving him in his thick undersuit. He was still big, but more man than Mandalorian now. Less reminiscent of the guilt, the world she'd left behind.
'What do you need me to do?"
My wrists aren't strong enough, I need you to tighten some pieces I've plumbed in inside this cupboard" - wren started, gesturing to the large plumbing shaft behind them - and completely loosen the large handle under that one"
"And the reason for taking off my armour?"
She smiled, feeling nervous; and then feeling ridiculous for feeling nervous. "I'd like a warm hug from an old friend… without any metal"
His modulator didn't quite manage to muffle his laugh, the deep sound of it rumbling through his chest into hers as he stepped forwards, taking the smaller woman into his arms. He smelt like metal polish and warmth- human, tired and alive. She could feel his heartbeat and the calluses of his bare hands as they pressed tight against her spine.
"I was so scared I'd lost you" She finally whispered, after minutes of closeness. "That the man I'd missed for so many years hated me, and all for something I had no control over"
"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the idea of seeing your face, but… I'll try"
"Thank you. I don't want to lose you, and don't want you to feel revulsion every time you come by"
He made no move to release her. "It's going to take time, but that's not the problem"
"I broke the creed, and I know you'll need to make peace with that"
"I have. You were injured- I nearly died once rather than let a droid remove my helmet"
She pulled back and slapped him on the arm. "Headstrong idiot! At least mine was human. The rules are ridiculous but droids surely don't count. I don't understand though, if you're not revolted, and you've made your peace with the creed…what's the issue with me?"
He stayed silent, loosening his grip slightly and raising the sharp line of his helmet base from the top of her skull. "It's too much"
She knew she should let go but simply couldn't.
"In what way?"
"Even…bonded family didn't always see each other"
She scoffed, pulling back to look up at his helmet. "You think every bonded couple kept the helmets on? That there was no kissing or naughty glimpses?"
He didn't answer, and she shook her head. "Honestly, you always were naive. And steadfast. It was no surprise that they sent you on the most important jobs when we were finally released from the compound"
"It was a surprise to me. Always assumed it would be you"
Wren laughed. "Not with this body. Nah, they kept me close - small jobs, til they had to start sending me out to do more"
His modulator crackled as he spoke, the sound killing the silence that followed her words.
"They knew?"
She laughed, the sound deep and without humour. "Yep" the p popped from between her lips, and she leaned back against the panel opposite his chair. "Those one to one training sessions I had to go to? Physiotherapy. No heavy missions, no excessive weapons, lots of flexibility and strength training and no marriage"
His reply came in a rush. The nodding as she listed the methods quickly stopping - becoming an expressionless stare through the bescar. "What are you talking about?"
"They'd seen it before, though didn't have a name for it. Passed from parent to child - and in a society that breeds warriors…well"
"They prohibited you from forming a clan alliance?"
"I'm gonna need another drink to talk about this one"
He hesitated before leaning under his chair.
"Fine, but no touching the wires after - don't want you electrocuting yourself"
The liquid was clear, and burned the edge of her awkwardness on the way down.
"Where was I? Oh. Yeah. Found out on the day I tried to petition for one"
"They told you no?"
"They told me I could choose from those who were unable to have children, but that I wasn't allowed to jeopardise future generations of our people by "breeding"
"That's ridiculous" he breathed, the sound louder through the helmet.
"I was heartbroken. Luckily he was sent out almost immediately afterwards so I just focused on work - always stuff to fix"
He looked at her for a moment, raising his hand as if to speak and then letting it drop.
"I won't tell who"
He shrugged. "Wasn't going to ask"
"Course you weren't. If they could see us now. A maskless betrayer and a single dad, trying to survive our ruined culture…To not breeding"
"I'm not toasting to that"
"Fine, I'll toast myself and my lacking sex life and you can go tighten that bolt I pointed out earlier"
He shook his head, plucking the bottle from her hands as he walked past. "You're too sober to toast to that, too"