Author's Note: The following chapter contains adult material such as: self-harm as well as struggles with mental health. Be advised.

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"Thank you for allowing us to come here," Din said awkwardly to his friend, Boba Fett. He wasn't really sure if he should have said 'us,' after all his bounty didn't ask to be here. Fett had offered a holding cell but Din refused, choosing a small room to let his bounty sleep in. He stood next to his friend at the doorway of the room, both of them watching the woman sleep off her head injury on the bed opposite to them.

"I think I understand why you didn't get a puck." Fett laughed. Din turned towards him, and beneath his helmet he had a quizzical expression. Fett just smiled, understanding Din without needing to see him. "She's pretty. The pretty ones are always harder to detain and then even harder to give away." Fett gave him a wink. Din looked back at the woman, seeing her differently this time. "Don't think the stun cuffs were necessary." Fett added.

Din pulled the saber out of his pocket and handed it to Boba, "Maybe not, but she came with this."

Boba Fett palmed the hilt of the lightsaber, after grasping it firmly, he ignited it. "Perhaps she just found it. Tatooine is known for its scavengers, hoarding treasures from across the galaxy."

"No," Din said quietly, "I watched her wield The Force."

Fett handed the saber back to Din. "Maybe she can help you master yours," he joked. He knew Fett was talking about the Darksaber.

"She's a sith," Din said firmly, "I have a bounty on her."

"We don't know that, and you yourself told me it wasn't a traditional bounty." Fett moved closer to the woman, a can of bakta spray in his hand. He moved her head around on the pillow, expelling a tired groan from her, but not waking her. He palpated the back of her head before spraying it with the healing aid. Then he sprayed at the base of her neck, where the blaster shot split and burned her skin. That would leave a scar. Then he pulled off her boots and pulled the silky sheets over her body, to make her more comfortable. He was faintly reminded of the beginnings of his journey with Fennec Shand and caring for her after she was left in the desert to die.

"I took the bounty to buy you some more muscle." Din explained.

Boba Fett turned to Din, "I appreciate the sentiment," then he turned back to the woman, "But I'm looking at more muscle right now." Din breathed in sharply, and held it, not releasing his breath.

"She can't be trusted," Din said, he really didn't like it when things didn't go as planned. He knew they were desperate for help, but entrusting a Sith to aid them? That was reckless.

"Let's wait for her to wake," Boba replied, "There's two sides to every story. I want to hear hers."

Din nodded but didn't exactly agree. He finally released his breath and he left the room.

/

The woman woke up some hours later, alone in an unfamiliar room. This wasn't the first or even the second time something like this happened to her. After about the 5th time, it loses all sense of thrill. She rolled around, then tried to lift her hands to the back of her head, her head hurt something awful. She immediately noticed the lack of movement in her arms, then the stun cuffs. It was always times like this when she heard her old Master's words in her head: Unworthy.

She kicked off the sheets, her legs were free and intact, and there's something to be said about that. She had all her clothes on, well, almost, she thought as she wiggled her bare toes. She'd gotten herself out of much worse situations before. She couldn't currently think of any, due to her throbbing headache, but she was certain she had.

She couldn't help but be optimistic about her situation. After all, she was a Sith. She had The Force, her training- however short cut it may have been- she had her lightsaber… she felt around either of her sides with her bound hands. Shit, she thought. So she had no weapon. New plan. Phase One: get her saber back, Phase Two: unleash all of hell (an ongoing phase), Phase Three: take a bath. Just because she currently lived in Tatooine didn't mean she needed to smell like it. Lived is a strong word. She didn't take any pride at all in being in Tatooine, however, it was a great place to blend in and be forgotten for a bit while she built herself back up. She missed the luxuries she once took for granted. Like bathing daily and maybe a droid or two to boss around. She practically itched for more than whatever the hell she had now, also an ongoing phase.

She took both her bonded hands behind her head and rubbed again. Then she pulled some of her damp hair in front of her face. Bleh, bakta. A very distinct and unfortunate smell. But this told a lot about her captor. Healing your victim before punishment, that's torture. She should know. She looked around the room at her fairly nice accommodations. Nicer than what she was used to recently, which was free room and board above her fighting den- at which she fought nightly. Fighting kept her mind off most things, kept anger inside her heart. Kept her strong. She had been fighting most of her life… It's almost nostalgic at this point. Pain means progress.

Why was she not in a prison cell? There was only one way to find out, pay her captors a visit. She rolled off the bed and onto her feet, noticing her boots were tucked neatly together at the end of the bed. She sunk one foot into a boot and stumbled over. Then she chastised herself, always in her Master's voice: Clumsy, unacceptable, weak.

She sat on the floor, breathing in and out. Then she slammed her cuffs on the floor, activating their shocking safeguard. She breathed in and out, breathing in the pain. When the pain stopped, she did it again. Throwing her fists onto the floor, causing a burning, stinging sensation to radiate up her wrists to her shoulders. She used the sensation to will the headache away and clear her vision. She stood up and tried again with more determination, pulling her boots on with her two bound hands.

Finally successful, she marched right up to the closed door, and reached her mind out and through the door using The Force, but saw no presence outside her door. No one. No guards. Interesting choice, she thought. She pushed a button on the side of the door, it opened. Another interesting choice. She wasn't locked in. They either weren't afraid of her or stupid. She really wished for the latter of the two. She remembered her captor, The Mandalorian. Grunting and cussing, she changed her opinion. It was the former, he wasn't afraid of her… not yet at least.

She tried reaching out with her mind to find him in particular but no luck. Her old Master would be so disappointed in her all over again, damaged goods, unteachable, powerless, this filled her with rage. She reached out again, but this time with a renewed sense of fury. Got you, she thought. But she felt that he wasn't alone. It had been a while since she'd faced an opponent at his level of expertise. But she had a plan. She needed him. So she left the room. She would survive another day. She always did.

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