Leap of Faith:

Din didn't know what to do now. For the most part, the Resol'nare that Sabine lived by was the same as the code he'd been taught from childhood; the Way of the Mandalore. The only real exception had to do with the helmet rule.

They'd both been raised to respect and wear their armour with pride. Both had been taught Mando'a and were expected to use it at all times when not in the company of outsiders who did not speak it. Both been taught to defend oneself and one's family and clan to their very last breath. To raise one's children as honourable Mandalorians. To do whatever is necessary to ensure the welfare of the clan, including taking paying jobs that one might not necessarily like. And finally, if ever called upon by the true leader of all Mandalorians, the one and only Mand'alor - to go to war or whatever else they needed - one was expected to heed the call with all haste and honour.

Despite all this, he still felt like they were worlds apart in their belief systems and he was having a hard time processing the fact this helmetless woman in front of him was every bit as much a Mando as he was, probably even more so, since she was heir to one of the ancient bloodlines and to the shabla Mand'alor herself.

"Sooooo, now what?" Sabine said, looking up at him with curiosity and sympathy in her big amber eyes. Eyes that I could happily spend forever looking into, he thought with dawning horror due to the fact that he might actually be starting to accept that helmets don't actually have to stay on. Not if it meant that he could actually gaze appreciatively at a face as beautiful as hers. To keep such perfection covered all the time would be a damn shame.

But… It's not The Way! his ingrained training screamed back at him.

Din glanced around at the dozens of equally curious and expectant faces also watching him and felt panic starting to set in. It was not an emotion he was used to. Nor one he liked very much as his chest tightened painfully and air suddenly seemed hard to come by. "I… I… I don't… Shab."

Every cell in his body wanted to bolt from the room, but his pride wouldn't let him make such a cowardly exit.

Fortunately, Sabine came to his rescue by grabbing his wrist with her free hand and pulling him towards the door, saying, "Come with me. We need to talk."

As much as he wanted to escape, even if it meant talking more to this confusing female, his recently honed dad instincts had him pulling back as he looked at his son. "But… Wompie. Where I go, he goes."

Tano smiled reassuringly as she hugged the child. "Don't worry. He'll be safe with me until Sabine brings you back. I understand this is hard for you, but you can trust me."

Despite just meeting the Togrutan, Din's instincts said he could. There was just something about Tano that all but screamed serene power and a lifetime of experience with more pain than one should have to bear, forging her into living beskar. He swallowed hard and then choked out, "Okay. I trust you."

She inclined her head slightly in a nod of respect. "Thank you."

With one final glance at Wompie, who had the cheek to actually wave goodbye at him with a wide grin splitting his tiny face, Din let himself be pulled out of the gym be the small Mando woman.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, she let him go and let him just be as he took several deep breaths to steady his racing heart. He counted the marble tiles on the floor as he did so, unwilling to meet her gaze, afraid of any critical judgement he might see.

After a minute or two, he finally worked up the courage to glance up and found her studiously inspecting the inner workings of her helmet, giving him the illusion of privacy as he worked out his own demons. "Thank you," he said softly in Mando'a. "I'm good now."

She glanced up and smiled sweetly before she plunked her colourful helmet on her head. That one action alone was enough to both make him mourn the loss of her emotion-filled expressions and set his teeth on edge because it went against a code that had been all but rammed into his brain for the last two decades. "Good," She replied in the same language. "Because I have something to show you."

He glanced at the gymnasium door, still reluctant to leave Wompie behind, but he'd just said he trusted Tano; he couldn't take that back now. "All right." As she started walking with a ground covering stride that belied her short stature and one his usual pace had no trouble keeping up with without any adjustments, his curiosity had him asking, "What is it?"

Her visor turned to look up at him. "Something that I think will help you with your dilemma."

Curiosity truly piqued now, he resigned himself to simply saying, "If you say so."

He was sure she was grinning at him when she said, "I do."

A strangely comfortable silence settled between them as they left the house and approached the silver, orange, and purple Kom'rk that he just now realized bore many similarities to her armour. She walked into the ship and he followed, gaze flitting everywhere as he took in the beautiful machine. He'd never been inside a Mandalorian made ship before, and he was in awe of the workmanship. Every line was beautiful in its efficient, arrow-like simplicity. Each feature on the inside was made with care and quality materials.

And the walls were covered in graffiti art.

"Your work?" he asked, gesturing to a picture of flying owl that matched the small one on her shoulder guard. She is definitely an artist. A skilled one, too.

Sabine glanced at the painting as they passed it by and nodded. "Yes. I get bored during long hyperspace flights. Unfortunately, the walls suffer for it."

His gaze landed on another picture, this one a stylistic cartoon of the green haired boy at a much younger age being tossed in the air by the laughing Lasat he'd yet to learn the name of. "I wouldn't say so. You're very good."

She looked at him again as they walked into the cockpit and she disconnected her small jetpack from her back. "Thank you. My art pays the bills, anyway," she said with a soft laugh and then settled into the pilot's chair after leaning the painted hardware against the back of it.

He huffed as she started flicking switches to start up the ship. "If that 'house' back there and all the people in it are any indication, you do more than pay the bills." You take care of your family.

She glanced at him again and laughed again. "That's true. My real paintings are now on display in several galleries around the galaxy." She shrugged as if it was no big deal. "But they still don't bring in half what my father's paintings do. Just one of his paintings would feed the entire clan for a year if they ever got that desperate. But right now, his credits are being used to fund Bo's campaign against the remnants of the Empire and her quest to retake Mandalore for our people."

Din knew that Mandalore had fallen in the Great Purge, but he hadn't known that other's of his kind were trying to get their planet back. It certainly isn't something Vizsla mentioned, that's for sure. And if anyone would have known, it would have been him. He was supposed to have been born on the planet to an influential clan, after all. "That is a worthy cause, cursed as the planet may be. At least we would have our pride back. I would be interested in assisting with this now that my quest to return Wompie to others of his kind has been fulfilled."

Sabine shot him another look before directing the Kom'rk into the air. "That's what I was hoping you'd say. There aren't enough of us left. I'm actually here at the moment to talk with Ahsoka about asking for the Ghost Order's help with the upcoming final battle we feel is coming soon. I just haven't had the chance yet, and now she's going to be distracted by Wompie for a bit, so we might as well take the time to work some things out."

He didn't ask what those things could be, because he already had a good idea of what they were; namely, his reluctance to acknowledge that The Way wasn't the only way.

That strangely easy silence took over again. He wondered why it didn't feel awkward as he watched the clouds zip by below them as they flew around what felt like half the planet at impressive speeds. Speeds his ancient Razor Crest could never hope to attain. He was more than a little jealous and itching take over piloting the large starfighter himself.

Sabine was an enigma to him, what with her helmet removing and colour-filled ways. And yet, she felt familiar too. She walked like a warrior. He knew from some brief observations that she also fought like a warrior. She even had the temper of a warrior. In short, she felt like a Mandalorian. Just… a little different.

And there was something else about her that drew him, beyond her beauty and intelligence and skills. It took him a few minutes of musing to figure it out, but he grinned to himself when he did. She reminds me of Vizla's riddur! She has the same air of quiet leadership that you don't notice so much until you suddenly find yourself doing her bidding. Vizsla was the acknowledged founder of the Tribe, but we all knew that our talented armourer was the real voice of command in our covert.

Any male who chose to say the vows with Sabine would undoubtedly also end up as the second in command in their household.

And possibly of our entire people, if she actually is the chosen heir of the Mand'alor.

Taking advantage of the 360 degree HUD in his helmet, he studied the woman beside him without appearing to do so. Her slender curves were most pleasing to look at, no question. And the memory of her dark amber eyes would stick with him for a long time to come. Maybe that wouldn't be the worst fate to befall a man. The rewards would certainly make it with it.

Just imagining the sweet privilege of running his hands and mouth over her bare skin had his temperature rising. Among other things.

He shifted slightly in his chair and forced himself to concentrate on the clouds again before things actually did get awkward. This happened to coincide with Sabine sending her ship down through the clouds and back towards the ground, which made it easier to turn his attention to other things.

They were flying towards a huge range of the strangely shaped cone mountains that were unique to this world as far as he knew. He'd seen another, smaller range on his approach to the Capital City spaceport, as well as some random ones that had scattered themselves wherever they pleased in the grassy landscape. Din found them amusing in their completely useless appearance. They weren't even particularly picturesque, at least not compared to some of the majestic mountain ranges he's seen on either planets. Most of these lumps barely qualify as an actual mountain, I bet.

Sabine flew to nearly the edge of the range before she descended to almost ground level. He had no idea where she was going if it wasn't to run directly into a cone mountain – causing him more than a moment of alarm - when suddenly the landscape he was looking at parted and slid open to reveal a hangar as big as a Star Destroyer. "Cloaking technology?" he almost squeaked in surprise. "You managed to cloak a hangar big enough to house…" He paused as he took in the vast array of ships parked within; Mandalorian, Imperial, Corellian, and even a few of Mon Calamari and Nubian design. "A whole shabla fleet?!"

"I did," she said smugly as she found a parking space amongst a group of other Kom'rks, parking beside one painted in silver and gold.

His jaw dropped. "Wait, you, as in… you?"

Sabine's shoulders shook gently with laughter as she powered down her ship. "Yes, as in… me. Painting is my passion, but I also have an engineering degree in experimental technology. And a few other degrees in other fields," she added almost absently as she swung her chair around to face him.

Whether she was a true Mandalorian or not, his respect for this woman flew up several notches. And his desire to have her for his own. If I find out she's already chosen a riddur, I think I might cry. "Osik," he breathed reverently. She's a shabla genius, isn't she.

Tearing his gaze off her, wishing she'd take her helmet off and cursing himself for it, he focused on the hangar. Or more accurately, the people wandering around in it, some with purpose, and others just strolling as they talked to each other.

Aside from a few in coveralls who had to be mechanics, nearly everyone was wearing Mandalorian armour. And only about half of them actually had their helmets on. The rest were carrying them tucked under their arm as Sabine had earlier. The sight of even more proof that he'd been raised by a Tribe with their own agenda that didn't match the rest was nearly heartbreaking.

And freeing.

I… I can really take my helmet off and not lose who I am.

"Where are we?" he asked in a voice that had to work to make it past the lump in his throat.

Sabine rose and put a hand on his shoulder as she looked out through the transparisteel as well. "This is the Mandalorian Resistance, Din. And for most of us, our home until we take our planets back."