The next morning, Din was up early and helping Peli with repairs. He assumed Rowan was still sleeping, as he hadn't heard her moving through their shared wall the entire evening. He was thankful to be so close to her, out of fear for her safety, although it twisted something in his gut to admit it.

What if someone saw her?

What if someone took her while she was asleep?

The constant worries drumming in his mind made for a restless night. But for Din, the only way to cure restlessness was through work.

"So, I've gotta ask." Peli broke the prolonged silence as the pair rolled out from underneath a speeder. "What's so special about this girl? You're making your way across the galaxy with a new companion because you lost the little, green guy?"

"You'd be surprised if you saw how well Rowan fights." Peli was clearly surprised to have gotten an answer. "She's one of the best distance fighters I've seen."

"You're not joking," Peli gasped. "I never would have guessed with the way she gets all… sweaty when you ask about something personal. A tough girl with a nervous exterior; I like her."

"Something personal?"

"We talked about some stuff at the cantina last night." Peli shrugged, hoping the Mandalorian would get the hint. She was a matchmaker among other trades, of course. "Just girl stuff."

"Girl stuff," Din repeated flatly.

Peli might have dropped another clue had it not been for the sound of heavy boots crunching through sand. The pair turned to spot Rowan, her frown no doubt thanks to the words dropping from Peli's lips.

"Apparently 'girl stuff' isn't only for girls anymore," she quipped.

Rowan was fully dressed with the same headscarf secured from the night before. Din found himself missing her smile, but forced himself to break the silence before the realization got to his head.

"You're already up?"

"I was up before the suns," Rowan confessed. "Couldn't sleep."

"Too busy thinking about... stuff?" Peli leaned in for a dramatic pause.

Even without her full facial expression, Rowan's annoyance was evident. "No. Your 'bed' was uncomfortable."

"Sorry about that," Peli raised her hands innocently. "I'm a mechanic, not a homemaker."

"We should go into town if you're already awake." The Mandalorian mumbled as he crossed toward Rowan. Considering her swift disappearance at the cantina the evening before, he wasn't sure she would agree.

"Sure," Rowan sighed. "Have some breakfast first."

Pulling a satchel from behind her back, Rowan offered the others fruit that had clearly been taken from Vashka. Peli didn't hesitate as her eyes flooded with admiration. Before Rowan could even explain what it was, Peli was digging in and muttering comments about how expensive it was to import fruit from other planets with the New Republic laws. Through her mumbling, Rowan moved closer to the Mandalorian.

"What's going on in town?" Her voice was strictly business.

"Tax evaders, mostly. We can split up and finish before mid-day."

"I think we should stick together."

"I work better alone."

Rowan pointed to his Mudhorn signet. "That's not what I see."

Din glanced down at the reminder of his clan. A clan of one now, but Rowan didn't know that. Why did he hesitate to tell her? He almost felt like she was a part of it - the Mudhorn clan - although a formal invitation has never been extended.

Perhaps one day.

"Alright," Din sighed. "We can work together. Let's discuss who leads and who spots."

As Rowan reached behind his back to snatch the beskar spear, the sudden contact of their hips against one another nearly caused her to fumble. When she pulled away, Din hardly noticed the weapon as the sensation of their bodies against one another rippled through his body like a dose of some foreign drug.

Was she teasing him?

"I'll be using this, if you don't mind." The Mandlorian was silent as Rowan's eyes seemed to flash with an heir of mischievousness.

Din was left standing at the gate, alone, until Peli considered it an invitation to his side. "She's fire, that one." Peli proceeded to shove half of the fruit into her mouth, chewing away like a Bantha. "I'd keep an eye on her if I were you."

Without any acknowledgement of her warning, Din trailed off behind Rowan with slightly heavier footsteps than before. They worked in near silence; the first three arrests were carried out by Rowan, who simply charmed her way inside of the tax evader's home. Din knew his presence was best kept outside, listening as muffled cries followed the clang of his beskar spear. It was difficult not to smirk each time Rowan drug out an unconscious body.

Eventually, it was the Mandalorian who took over. Rowan couldn't deny her own amusement watching him take down petty criminals with such alarming speed, it was as if he weren't human.

Was he human?

And while their 'good' deeds were marked by a pretty payment, Rowan couldn't stop the gnawing feeling crawling into her throat from the pit of her stomach. As the suns reached their midday peak, Rowan turned to her companion.

"Do you ever feel bad about not asking why they evaded their taxes?"

Din turned only slightly. "It's not my job to ask questions."

"What about me?" Rowan dug the staff into the sand as they reached the edge of town. "You thought I was a criminal until you decided to listen."

"I always listened." There was hesitation in his voice. "I just didn't trust what you said."

"Isn't that two sides of the same credit?"

Although Din could only see Rowans' golden eyes, there was something different boiling beneath her covered surface. She was quiet that day - a trait he could rarely pin to her. Rowan was a practical talker who sought validation through words. It no doubt came from a life of crime in Mos Espa; words were often what kept people alive when weapons weren't an option. And now, it was like the evening at the cantina had sucked out her entire vocabulary. Although Din himself wasn't a huge talker, he had to admit that he missed her ramblings.

Din Djarin wasn't silent because his heart was frigid. The silence grew from anxiety. Discomfort. He might have even described himself as 'shy'. The Mandalorian had been raised in a close-knit, yet private, community where the tribe knew little of each other's personal life aside from their names. He had no parents to guide him on social etiquette, the verbal expression of feelings, and most importantly… casual conversation.

Maybe Rowan was bored of him. Maybe she knew she could find the client on her own. Sure, she couldn't fly… but she knew how to fight her way onto a ship.

She didn't need a Mandalorian at her side, and maybe she was starting to realize that.

There was one way to find out - one way to check her reactions.

"What do you think I look like?"

Only her eyes could demonstrate her shock at the question, but it was enough. She was nervous like him.

"Kind," Rowan finally breathed.

"Kind?"

"And afraid."

He had expected a different answer: wrinkles, black hair, dark skin… something along those lines. Instead, she had skipped any superficial features in an attempt to see his personality. She thought he was kind? That wasn't something a Mandalorian often heard. Afraid? That was something a Mandalorian never heard.

He would have been offended if it weren't so true.

Din Djarin was often afraid. Afraid when he had taken off his helmet. Afraid of Ashoka Tano, the first Jedi he had knowingly met. Afraid of the e-web cannons that had destroyed his adopted planet and nearly killed him on Nevarro.

Afraid of never seeing Rowan again once this was all over.

"You missed one," Din sighed. "I can also be paranoid."

He could hardly believe the confession falling like butter from his lips.

"And a wise-ass," Rowan clicked her tongue.

"I've made too many mistakes for anyone to trust me."

Rowan could sense that it was his first time to speak so honestly. Like a sudden shot to her chest, she felt an invisible force ache to pull her closer to him. To have their bodies against one another and to feel the cool touch of his beskar against her warm skin.

To melt into him the way Vashka rainfall had melted into her open palms.

Din waited for her to mock him. She did nothing of the sort. She just gave him that look which he both loathed and longed for. The stare where she saw right through him.

"Brown eyes," she muttered. Something about saying it felt intoxicating, even if she was wrong. "I think you have brown eyes."

Din's head was spinning at the breathlessness in her voice. He wanted her. Stars, he suddenly wanted her so bad that it hurt. Knowing that he might make a foolish decision to reach out to her, he clasped his fists at his side. Squeezing tightly, it took every fiber of his being to look away from her.

"Peli must be waiting."

Rowan could hear the raspiness in his voice even though his that she had some kind of hold over him made Rowan feel drunk with power, but she still struggled to admit what kind of hold it was.

Only he could admit that.

Saying nothing, Rowan simply passed him. She made sure to brush against his arm, the sudden contact causing Din to shut his eyes. He wanted to look back at her. To run after her. He wanted to press her body to the wall of an alley where nobody could see them; to feel the shape of her and how it fit against his own frame. Their height was not so dissimilar - their lips could match up and their breath intertwined.

They were lost pieces of two different puzzles, but ones he was certain would fit.

He had never felt like this - not with the countless women he'd charmed across the galaxy. In the sense of keeping a companion, he hadn't even felt this way about Grogu. Having Grogu at his side would be a blessing she could never forget. Having Rowan at his side was like breathing air; he wasn't sure how long he could go without it.

Feeling a fire inside the pit of his stomach, Din physically reached to hold his gut. It had been so long since his blood pulsed like this; he blamed it on the suns. Surely the heat of the planet made one's urges warmer too.

By the time Rowan had reached Peli's shop, she had managed to stabilize her heart. There was no denying that the Mandalorian - she wished she could call him by his name - had been curious about her feelings toward her. There was tension so thick, it could be cut with a saber. She didn't want it to be only tension; she wanted to explore it. Knowing that it was to end when they found and killed the client made her feel sick. If she was honest with him now - if she had gone to him at that moment - she would have regretted it later. Knowing she was just a page in his biography was worse than not exploring her feelings at all.

Right?

Just as Rowan was about to turn back, she felt something sharp against her rib. She froze, the ring barrel of a blaster unmistakable.

"Here's what we're going to do." The voice was gruff. Unfamiliar. "You're going to turn around and put on these cuffs. Then we're going to walk to the edge of Mos Eisley and you're going to keep that pretty mouth shut the entire time."

Rowan pushed back into the barrel. "Says who?"

"Haven't forgotten me already, have you?" Rowan couldn't pinpoint it. "Do as I say and we'll have no problems."

"How'd you find me?"

"Silver beskar sure is hard to hide."

Rowan spun around, her brows dropped to a serious expression. She had guessed it was the Klatoonian who had attacked Mando's gunship the first time they had left Tatooine. Eyes plastered on his red skin and sharp horns, Rowan wasn't surprised to see that her guess had been right. "You want the armor?" Rowan chuckled. "I don't have it anymore."

He shrugged, his shoulders nearly twice the size of Rowan's head. "That is a shame, but it's not the end of the are unpaid customers you left behind in Mos Espa who will be so happy to see you."

"I'll go with you," Rowan whispered sharply. She did as instructed and wrapped the cuffs around her wrists. "Under one condition. You stay away from the Mandalorian and his ship."

"Worried about your friend?"

"Worried about you," Rowan laughed sarcastically. "He'd tear you in half without so much as a second thought."

Annoyed by her insult, the Klatoonian tugged on the chain connected to her cuffs. Leading her through town, Rowan tried to make eye contact with some of the stall merchants, but they had no interest what they believed to be a slave. Knowing there was little she could do without the Mandalorian or Peli, the best choice was to simply play along.

She was thrown into the back of a speeder, facing outward to that familiar sea of sand. After a few moments, she did her best to shout over the sound of passing wind. "Mind telling me where we're going?"

"To your former employers."

The Hutt syndicate. Fantastic. Then she would really become a slave.

She glanced down at the beskar staff resting on the floor across from her. There was no way to grab it with her hands tied, but the Klatoonian was too daft to rope her feet. If she were to push it over to her side, surely he would notice.

She had to be more clever.

Looking at the landscape speeding around her, Rowan spotted a group of rocks up ahead. Surely, he had seen them as well. But if she were to exclaim that they were too close - if she were to catch him off guard - he might pivot, causing the end of the staff to turn closer in her direction.

It was the only way.

As they drew nearer to the rocks, Rowan raised her voice.

"Turn to the left!"

Her dramatic cry caused the captor to jump, jerking the speeder to the left, and with it the tip of the spear. Amidst the commotion, she was able to trap the end of the spear with her toes, pulling it beneath her feet.

The Klatoonian howled in anger. "If you shout like that one more time, I'll tape those chapped lips of yours shut!"

Rowan said nothing. She had gotten what she needed. As they made their way through the upcoming valley, Rowan used the darkness to her benefit. She managed to push the spear beneath her thighs and up toward the back of her seat. With as much force as she could muster, she was able to shove the tip of the spear into the link on her wrist. The slice of her skin was immediate, and she did her best to not cry out against the pain. The sound of the cuffs unclasping was her only solace as the familiar warmth of blood began to drip like jewels toward her fingertips.

The sound of the cuffs breaking seemed to capture the attention of the Klatoonian despite the rumble of the speeder. He craned his neck around to check on his captive, but Rowan remained too shift. She was able to drive the spear into his thick neck, watching the blood spurt out like lava on Mustafar.

Blinded by a sudden shade of red, Rowan fumbled to get to the wheel in time. The speeder drove nose-first into a canyon rock, sending the speeder and everything inside of it flipping over into the sand. Judging by the long, deep cuts that ran along her bare arms, Rowan knew that she had flown far past the speeder. As she stumbled to stand up, the billow of sand bubbling around her, the glint of her beskar steel became apparent.

As she tried to take a step forward, a sharp pain shot through her leg. Crying out in pain, she let herself tumble to the ground. Looking down at her knee, she could see the skin ripped through to reveal the bone beneath. Suppressing a cry, Rowan tried to gather the strength her parents had so often willed upon her.

Rowan debated waiting for the Mandalorian. It wasn't as if she could walk the same distance they had traveled. She had nothing on her - no flares, no blasters… nothing to offer a sign. Sitting with her legs spread open in the dirt, Rowan let herself close her eyes. There was nothing she could focus on beside the pain. The only thing she could do was meditate, attempting to blend the sting into her subconscious. Breathing in and out slowly, she let herself take a moment to bask in the silence.

The Mandalorian will find me.

Unless he thinks I've run away.

Rowan had little time to dwell on the thought as a cry from the end of the cavern sliced through her worries.

"Shit." Rowan fumbled to stand. "Shit. Shit. Shit." The cries were getting louder, the presence of the Tuskens at the opposite end now unmistakable. Knowing that walking was futile with her injured knee, Rowan dissolved into the dusty floor.

The Tusken elder wasted no time to drag her to his feet. His spear was pointed directly under her chin, paying no regard to the shouts of pain she released as sand buried itself into her open wound.

What did she have to offer?

The Tuskens could provide an answer. The beskar staff - now clenched tightly in the hands of an excited Tusken soldier. Rowan knew little of their language and culture, but she sensed that they were more than impressed: they recognized it.

Using the little Tusken she had, she shouted out to them. "Please - wait!"

The sound of their own tongue caused the Tuskens to freeze in wonder. Using the monetary pause to her advantage, Rowan began to sign. "Please," she repeated in the guttural tongue. "Friend. Mandalorian."

The Tuskens exchanged a glance that seemed to lace all of the pieces together. Although she had expected to be drugged and treated as a slave, she was surprised to find that her body was flung over the soft fur of a Bantha. Not a welcome gesture, but not one she was ungrateful for.

Knowing what came next was futile. The only she Rowan knew, as she slipped out of consciousness, was that only the Mandalorian could save her now.