"I heard you in the desert."
Rowan's hair spread out over a sweat-stained pillow, dampened strands forming an illusion of being underwater. The woman's voice was almost non-existent as it passed chapped lips. With her aurous eyes shut, Rowan could only hope her companion was still in the room.
A pause.
"My speeder?"
Despite her exhaustion, the woman managed a smile. "No; your voice. You were speaking Tusken. In my head." Her lashes managed to flutter open toward the ceiling. "Describing you to them saved my life."
Din's voice was full of regret. "How'd you explain who I was?"
"That was the hard part." Each word burned her throat. "How could I describe this… incredible person with my level of Tusken?" The room warmed with her compliment. "It was only when I looked up that I found the perfect comparison."
The Mandalorian sat in silence, unsure of her meaning.
"The stars." Rowan's mind flooded over, sparkles of the night sky whizzing through her imagination. "They knew who you were in an instant." Gathering up her strength, she finally turned to him. "It sounds like I made it up, doesn't it?"
The sight of her darkened eyes and bandaged limbs seemed to flip the world upside down. If Din didn't distract himself with other thoughts, he would get angry. More angry than he already was, which would only get them into a deeper mess.
"I'll teach you the word for 'silver'." The softness of his voice echoed hers. "In the morning."
Rowan couldn't help but laugh, the rattling of her stomach causing her to groan in pain. Din leaned forward to offer comfort but froze when he realized there was nothing he could do. "Let's hope I never have to use it again," she whispered.
"We missed our meeting with the client's partner." Din's voice grew grave. "They probably have someone looking for us now. I'll message them from another planet and say that we had a fuel leak. If they demand to see you-"
"They should see me now. They'd probably be pleased." Rowan's limp smile paired unevenly with her words. "We can face reality in the morning, but for now I'd just like to dream a bit longer."
Din had been in her position more times than he could recall. Now, more than ever, he was thankful for the beskar lining his body. Saving him from lifelong scars. Rowan was right; the best thing to do was rest. Yet as the Mandalorian stood to leave, a pitiful gasp halted his tracks.
"You're going?"
Stars. He would have given anything to hear that hushed question again. The way hurt had lingered in her tone, alongside the gentle brush of her outstretched fingers. Closer, yet still too far.
Din let his eyes meet her when his hands couldn't. "You want me to stay."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Rowan breathed. "I-I know you must be tired and-"
"No." Din resettled back into the chair opposite. He would have released a sigh of happiness were it not so obvious. "I think it's… better. That I'm with you."
Whether he meant the words in regard to pleasure or safety, Rowan wasn't sure. But she could daydream on it later. Oppositely, Grogu had been the only being Din had ever felt any kind of separation anxiety toward, but Rowan Typhe was quickly joining the list.
"When I was a kid, my parents were ruthless about training." Rowan let her eyes shut. "They taught me blocking moves. Arde, Iosal, Colm, Dolt. Arde - high. Iosal - low. Colm - middle. Dolt - parry." A beat. "I've never heard those words anywhere else. But when I think of them, it's like music. Hypnosis when I want to sleep. Like a drunken cantina band that keeps forgetting their next song." She sucked in a sharp breath. "Even after a life in Mos Espa, their closest friends knew so little about my parents. It was like we had appeared from thin air. Like my entire life was some… bad mystery novel whose author died in the middle of the third installment. Were my parents just travelers sitting with the possibility of fortune? Did they make up a language just for us… forgive the reference, 'clan' of three?" Finally, she turned to face her companion. "I want answers. And you're helping me get them."
Din was thankful for that, too.
"None of the past matters anymore," Rowan reassured. "Between you and me, I mean. The bounty. The blaster wound." She gestured to his shoulder, where the two had first come into contact. "I can trust you and vice versa; I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Questions immediately popped into the Mandalorian's mind.
Why'd you let me touch you on Vashka?
What did you tell Peli that had her staring through my helmet?
If you trust me, will you stay with me?
Din looked away. Maybe there were questions Rowan Typhe wouldn't answer.
Of course, it couldn't be the same with Din Djarin. He couldn't tell her his name or show her his face. All he could do was offer his knowledge of the galaxy. He could barely even offer knowledge of Mandalorian fighting techniques, as Marius had gotten to that first. Knowing that Rowan might one day get the answers she desperately sought, and that it would mark the end of their time together, physically pained him to admit.
"I'm going to prepare the ship." He stood abruptly, wanting anything in his head other than the thought of her leaving. "Try and get some rest."
Rowan accepted his leave with a silent nod of her head. What could she do? Ask him to stay twice?
When she was certain the Mandalorian was far from her room, Rowan turned off the bedside table lamp. She was unsure of the reason but Rowan was suddenly aware of her body in ways she had not been for years. It went beyond the pain of the crash. It was now magnified with how close the Mandalorian had sat by her bedside. The orange huge of the lamp had reflected off his armor in the same way it had off her eyes.
Had he thought anything of it?
Did she look… pitiful?
Or, Rowan wondered, could I look beautiful to him?
Rowan let her hands lie flat against her fluttering stomach. The smoothness came in conflict with the taut muscles beneath. Like the dance of a Vashka rainfall, her fingertips trickled from her hips to her upper ribcage. The sensation of fingers being kind to their own body made Rowan shudder.
She stopped just below her chest wrappings. Her body - strong, weak, healthy, unhealthy, and at times sensual. For most of her life, she had been a vessel used for two purposes: labor and fighting. Now, with wounds literally cutting deep, Rowan wanted to protect the only vessel she had.
Pushing her initial hesitation aside, Rowan let her fingers slip beneath the wrappings. The dance continued up to the crevices of her collarbones, a metaphor of Tatooine dunes inherently built over her own body. In the past, she had hated the way her bones popped from her shoulder blades. Looking in a mirror had been a last resort. Now, Rowan found herself thankful for those sharp bones. Thankful to the shoulders that helped her arms wield a beskar staff. Thankful to the stomach that had kept her stable. Thankful to the feet that had kept her grounded - even when her mind was running wild.
Instinctively, thoughts of another body overtook her.
The Mandalorian.
Now that he had pushed the question of his appearance on her, an hour didn't pass without that silver, unwelcome presence in her mind. There was something about his build - the way he would take his time walking. Not too young, yet not too old. She also dwelled on his hands, of which a faint recollection came to mind. Had it been a dream? When Rowan opened her eyes moments ago, the Mandalorian's hands were gloved.
What she would give up to feel those hands on her.
Fire in her cheeks, Rowan turned to face the wall. Who was she kidding? He was a Mandalorian. If there was any chance of that happening, she would have to be of his Creed.
Or something temporary.
Rowan didn't want to be temporary.
Shutting her eyes only brought the thought on more. The way his chest plate had lifted with shaky breaths four days ago in the square. The way his hand trembled - only slightly - when she let him touch her on Vashka.
What could have followed if she had closed the gap?
He would smell like everything she'd ever craved. She wanted to feel the sound of his name against her lips. Her hands fit perfectly into the cheeks of his helmet. Darkness would encompass them - the only way to feel safe in a galaxy that kept its eyes on you. His gloved fingers would caress her neck, dripping down her spine to awaken the nerves that warned of pleasure…
Rowan opened her eyes.
"Dark farrick," she cursed.
She liked the way his breath hitched when he was nervous.
She liked it when he moved away if she ever drew near.
She liked the times that he didn't.
She liked him. A good man disguised as a rough one; a person who would lead by blind trust with next to nothing to gain. The only question was this: what value was she to him apart from a set price? By turning her in, the duo would both get what they wanted. Flirtations along the way would amount to nothing, and they would separate with little more than unbelievable stories to tell future generations.
Wanting to think on it no longer, Rowan shoved the pillow over her head. The distant music of a cantina became a muted hum as a BD droid's quick feet puttered deeper into the confines of Peli's shed.
—
The next morning, Peli was up before the pair of them. She had heard the Mandalorian sneak into the ship in the middle of the night, but he seemed to have slept in Rowan's original bed. Finding the ship empty, Peli began the final steps of repair. Thankfully, the Mandalorian had opened his mind to the thought of droids sharing in the work, pushing the progress along nicely.
There was one area Peli was hesitant to allow droids access to: the control panel. She took it upon herself to see that everything was working fine.
The mechanic didn't mean to open the unanswered transmission beeping away on the dashboard.
Her finger had just… slipped.
When Peli heard the rough voice - laced with the all-too-familiar tone of the Empire - she felt her stomach drop deeper than a Saarlac pit. The message was short, but not sweet. In fact, by the third time, it sounded almost bitter.
Slamming the transmission off, Peli gathered her sharpest supplies before marching to the Mandalorian. Thankfully, it seemed that he had already woken to the sound of her boots against his ship floor.
"Mind coming over here for a second?"
The wrench in her hand did not look welcoming.
"What is it?"
Peli pointed to the windshield. "Just checking out your control board. Making sure everything was operating smoothly."
"And?"
"Well, let's just say you had a little message come through." Her eyes narrowed into slits. Din immediately knew: a message from the client. A message about Rowan. "See where I'm goin' with this, hunk of junk?"
Din glanced over to Rowan's sealed door. She was likely still asleep, but he feared that Peli's voice would put an end to that.
"Rowan?"
"Oh, it wasn't about Rowan. It was about a bounty that you failed to deliver." Peli squared her shoulders. "Unless of course, that is Mos Espa, which would then make you the dirty liar your Creed would be disappointed to call their own. That wasn't something I ever took Mandalorians for, but then again, what would a lousy mechanic know?"
Din wasn't sure how much information to divulge. "What do you want to know?"
"Is she or isn't she?"
"She was."
Peli stuck the wrench toward his throat, the only part of him she may have been able to stab. Din didn't flinch; he knew he deserved the aggression. "That's a nice girl you've got. A great girl. And judging by the things Rowan told me, she trusts you. You're not doing right by her if this is all gonna end with her head on a spike. Turning her in for credits? Is it really worth your pride?"
Din leaned into the wrench. "I'm not turning her in. I'm helping her."
"Don't break her heart, Mando."
"Her heart?"
Peli sighed, clearly exasperated. "Am I standing next to a Gungan here or are you really that clueless? Don't ask me why she cares about you; she just does. I haven't seen a stomach that twisted up since my Gonk was hit with a 14 T-21 blaster." Peli rolled her hands around her mane of hair. "You're like some invasive species in that woman's head. She doesn't know whether to welcome or kill you."
"... Invasive species?"
"Is this a course in Galactic Basic?" Peli threw her hands up. "Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"
Din knew what Peli was saying. It was just the act of processing it that came slowly. "Rowan and I are in this together. We couldn't risk the client finding out that she wasn't chained up in my ship. Once we meet them, we're going to get answers as to why she's so valuable. Rowan has no idea why she's being looked for; her own childhood has just as many answers."
"Funny. The most I've ever heard you talk." The two exchanged a knowing glance. "Just watch her back. You don't need to worry about yours. She seems to already have it."
As if on cue, Rowan descended from her room. Squinting against the suns, the younger mechanic seemed stronger after a full night of rest. Both Peli and Din were thankful for her presence as their conversation was turning their faces hotter than a Mos Pelgo sunburn.
"What are we talking about?" Rowan stretched toward the blue sky. "And do we still have any of that fruit left?"
"On the ship," Din explained. "We need to go."
"Heard about your little plan," Peli winked. "Hope you get the answers you're looking for."
Rowan was shocked into a mumble. How did that conversation come about? "T-thank you? I really do hope our paths cross again. Maybe next time we can try Centran Sabacc."
"Or we can play on a team," Peli shrugged. "Sand girls have to stick together."
Although Mos Espa, and Tatooine in general, had always been a source of contention for Rowan, she found herself warming at the association. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say that we're grateful for your kindness."
Peli jerked a thumb at Mando, who was already moving gear inside the ship. "You'll have to speak for him since he won't say anything himself."
Rowan couldn't resist a smile. "I hope those repulsor coils come in handy for your business. I put some features on them that allow them to be taken out of a ship and put in exchange for a locking system. The gravity manipulation can be modified if the buyer just makes sure to see that the electrons on the ground are stable enough for the radioactivity. The asking price should be around 4,500 credits but with my modifications, you could easily ask for 5,500."
Din's stomach dropped as he listened in.
"Aren't repulsorlift coils a common export of Bakura?"
Both women turned to the Mandalorian, any expression lost behind his dark visor. As far as Peli knew, the question was harmless. A mere inquiry. Rowan, on the other hand, felt a knot grow in her stomach.
Another connection to Bakura?
Peli jumped in. "That's what I've heard, although I've never been to Wild Space. Nasty stuff going on there these days."
"What do you mean?" Rowan quickly glanced at the Mandalorian, the same question on both their minds.
"I've been hearing stuff about space pirates. There's no law and order out there. No rules to keep anything in place except your friends and your word. I'm no fan of the Republic myself, but I'm certainly glad to be with them more than out there."
Each time information came their way, the clock seemed to tick faster. Din ushered Rowan into the ship as their thoughts moved in sync. After passing on more brief farewells, the unlikely partners found themselves once again leaving the Tatooine atmosphere.
"Do you think anyone's tracking us?" Rowan muttered, eyes fixated on a faint cloud in the distance.
"Peli didn't leave the shop when I was out looking for you. If anyone snuck a tracker on board, it'd be her. But I'd say this is our last chance not to raise their suspicions." Din absent-mindedly made his way through the power switches until they were ascending into hyperspace. Rowan made sure to latch herself in this time, the impact becoming more familiar with each flight.
As the stars entered their vision, Rowan broke the temporary silence. "I never got to thank you."
"For what?"
"For rescuing me."
"You did the same for me on Nevarro." He released a short sigh through his modulator. "I'm just sorry I wasn't faster."
"No," Rowan said strongly. "You could have gone after the client any time during our little adventure together, but you always made sure I was right there with you. That deserves all the gratitude I can give."
Feeling her eyes burning through his beskar, Din kept his focus on the switchboard. If he looked at her… if he dared to meet that haunting stare, he was sure every latch and bolt on his body would come undone.
"There's somewhere I need to go."
Rowan felt her shoulders slump. "Oh?"
"I left something back on Carlac. It will only be a pitstop."
Rowan glanced at the navigation. She hadn't even noticed the snow planet's appearance on the screen. "And after that?"
"I need to send a transmission from somewhere safe. There are people I trust on Corvus."
A new planet? Although they were getting closer to their ultimate battle with the client, Rowan couldn't help but feel a twinge of energy every time he mentioned further space exploration.
"Once we get the location of the new meeting point, we'll be one stop away from the client." Din's voice grew soft until Rowan knew he would say no more.
Their conversation was limited for the rest of the journey. Carlac was not a long trip, and Rowan was busy readjusting her sketches of Vashka plants to dig any further into the Mandalorian's mind. Din, on the other hand, rather enjoyed watching her scribble. Not wanting to waste paper, she managed to fit tiny letters into every space she could find. Her pen flicked like the twitching tail of a scurrier as she recalled the luscious petals and wilted stems of Vashka.
Feeling his eyes on her work, Rowan explained that she'd always felt a strong connection to the natural world. Being surrounded by the forests and waterfalls had felt like new air swimming through her body.
As the gunship began to draw closer to Carlac, Din let his composure slip to look at her. It was obvious that he was staring, but a part of him no longer cared. A slight line creased her forehead where she had once squinted against the blazing suns of her adopted planet. Her cheeks were hollow, making her eyes appear larger than they already were. Her hair was still covered in sand - it always seemed to be - while the thickness of it never truly sat comfortably behind her ears.
Rowan was a thesis all her own, and Din found a repetition to her actions. Every few minutes or so, she would reach in a desperate attempt to keep those unruly locks in place. Once they stuck, it was only a short while before the process began again. It was almost addictive to watch - her simple presence was like a medicine to cure boredom and loneliness.
"Are those flashing lights supposed to mean something?"
It was Rowan who pointed to the navigation first, pulling Din from his transfixion.
They were just coming up on Carlac's atmosphere. If he didn't switch to sub-light, they would have burnt to a crisp. Luckily, Rowan had been a better pilot than him and gave the warning in the nick of time. As the ship jolted backward, Rowan's hand instinctively flew out to his wrist.
"Are you okay?" Din turned to her with concern. "Your wounds?"
It felt odd touching him in such a relaxed way. As if they weren't being hunted. "You healed them well," she chuckled. "I'm sure they won't reopen."
"I don't know about that. You barely let me heal them," Din smirked.
They were getting closer to the white floor of the planet, clearing in the woods the same place as before.
Rowan playfully scoffed. "You were burning my skin. How else was I supposed to react?"
The smiles were still plastered on their faces as the ship met the ground with a soft thud. It was different when the floor was covered in snow - the white sheet acted as a blanket for impact.
"What are we here for again?"
"Just something I left behind," he said curtly. "Wait here."
Rowan did as she was told. He cut through the same patch of trees where they had seen the Fathier-like creature, only to reemerge a few minutes later. This time, he carried something on his hip. The black box was sealed tightly, its contents well preserved.
As he slipped back into the cockpit, he refused to meet her curious gaze. As if it hadn't mattered at all.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
Her curiosity was too large for the gunship to contain. If he didn't want her to ask, he should have been flying an Imperial Star Destroyer.
"What was that?"
An image of the Darksaber choked the Mandalorians' mind. Darker than night, framed with a white flame that had brought thousands to their knees before him.
"Something from a friend."
"A friend on Carlac?" Rowan knew he was lying. "Is this friend a… Wampa?"
"Funny," he said curtly.
Rowan knew when to end it. The Mandalorian was busy setting a course for Corvus. And yet, why did she have a sinking feeling that the item was more important than he was letting on?
They sailed most of the way to Corvus without speaking. Rowan was falling in and out of sleep with her head threatening to fall face-first into the gun controls. Din was often reaching out to tilt it backward, her gentle groans the only sign that she was still partially conscious. He felt bad for waking her up as they finally descended into the green thickets of Corvus, but Rowan seemed thankful for it.
"I'm so hungry I could eat sixteen gornt skewers right now."
As they planted their ship in the remnants of a forest across a small city gate, Rowan had one foot out the door before Din had even turned off the landing controls.
"Fascinating." Her voice floated up from the open door.
Rowan spoke of the Corvus sky. Was it gray, green, or brown? It was a child's painting of all three. Despite the menacing feeling it offered, Rowan felt safe. Didn't the Mandalorian have friends here?
The question was answered by his confident march to the city gates.
As they passed through, Rowan couldn't help but notice that most of the village seemed to be inside for the evening. The few humans who did line the streets, however, seemed comfortable enough. Many of them reached for a wave or pat of the Mandalorian's shoulder. A few children even attempted to cling onto his armor, offering affectionate cries of 'Mando!'. With nothing more than a warm laugh, Din sent them back toward their homes.
"You're pretty popular here." Rowan couldn't hide her smile "What'd you do? Free their village?"
"Yes," he said flatly. "I also spent some time here after my last bounty."
Rowan glanced ahead at a fortress door inside the city, its wooden gate permanently sealed. The mark of the Empire had once decorated it, but red paint and aggressive sword marks saw an end to that.
"I thought you were joking," Rowan muttered.
"It wasn't just me. I had help." Din said nothing more. He would let her imagination run wild with thoughts of his noble deeds.
Din led Rowan to a small hut not far from the main road. With a simple hob, he was able to open the mechanic door. Clearly, he still owned the place.
Had he hoped to come back here? Settle down and start a new life?
Rowan might have asked, but she was distracted by the interior. It was a dimly lit room with a single bed, wooden bath, and table for two. Knowing that the pair of them couldn't both sleep there, Rowan's stomach suddenly twisted at the thought of spending an evening alone.
"Not going to run off and get the client, are you?"
Din met her eyes slowly. "You don't trust me?" There was clearly lingering tension as Rowan struggled to reply. Din diffused the air with a twist of the faucet. "Your wounds still need to heal. You should bathe and get some rest."
For water to run so easily - so freely - was still a wonder for her.
"I want to visit a water planet one day," Rowan breathed. "An entire planet full of it."
"I'm sure you will," Din spoke as he turned to leave.
"I'd need a pilot."
"Maybe you should train."
"Who'd be my teacher?"
Now the Mandalorian was fully turned, surprised to see her eyes sharpened like a cat.
Something was different.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
The Mandalorian's question hung between them.
"After you take some rest," Din clarified. "There are people at the cantina I should catch up with. You can meet me there when you're ready."
Ah, Rowan thought gloomily. He has business and feels bad leaving his pet behind.
"Okay," Rowan said simply, trying to catch the loose butterflies in her stomach. "I'll see you there later."
The Mandalorian left without further acknowledgement of his invitation. Grumbling under her breath about his emotional stuntedness, Rowan removed her clothes in a flurry to sink into the warm water. She used to stay that way for hours on Tatooine, enjoying the water until she looked as dried up as a Toydarian. She was lucky if she could bathe more than once a week, and the thought of a daily bath was almost intoxicating.
When Rowan was finally washed, she noticed fresh clothes in a set of drawers nearby. A thick, black sweater with a high neck and an equally strong belt made from a rough fabric wrapped around her waist, keeping the loose bottoms in place. Her boots were laced up similarly to her hair in yet another desperate attempt to keep her waves from her face. It was key when one had an enemy after them to be able to see from all sides. Although it was useful, Rowan couldn't help but feel an instant chill on her neck.
Maybe just this once.
Taking her fingers through her hair, she let it fall back to its natural position. It was the first time she had let herself dress carelessly on their journey. Would he scold her for it?
Rowan crossed through the quiet town until she spotted the cantina in its center. The facial scanner let her in, logging her appearance to later add up her bill.
It wasn't difficult to spot the Mandalorian on the far side of the bar, but his task wasn't as easy. With her hair down and body decked in warm clothing, Rowan looked almost cozy. At peace. Her cheeks had even begun to turn a shade of pink against the nearby fireplace.
"Guest of honor," a shorter man laughed as she joined them. "Mando has been telling me all about you."
A playful glance met his visor. "And what's he been saying?"
"That you are an excellent fighter."
Rowan shrugged with modesty. "I can hold my own."
"Still needs some work with a blade," the Mandalorian interjected.
"I should find a better teacher, then."
The local was clearly enjoying the pair's banter. Passing a mug to Rowan, the man explained that he had jumped the gun somewhat by ordering her a local favorite. "I heard you're a fan of bitters, so I suspect this will be to your liking."
Rowan took a sip of the powerful drink, its nectar-like thickness a shock to her system. It was sharp yet sweet like a wake-up call to her senses. "This is amazing," Rowan breathed. "What do you call this?"
"Calodan Cider," he explained. "You can only find it on Corvus. After I retired from flying, making this has become something of my specialty."
"This is Jonaar Rockseal," Din explained. "Former mercenary turned pilot, turned alcoholic."
Rowan's brows shot up. Did the Mandalorian just make a joke? Judging by Jonaar's laughter, he had clearly seen her companion jest before. Rowan realized in that moment how little she actually knew about the man sitting across from her.
The three exchanged simple conversations over the course of a couple rounds. Rowan could feel her vision getting shaky alongside the sound of quick, hallikset strums. Although the Mandalorian was the quietest of the trio, Rowan continued to roll her head in his general direction every time there was a momentary pause. However, someone across the room seemed to capture the Mandalorian's attention as well. Rowan watched the Mandalorian's gaze break away - and for the first time - look past her.
"I'll be right back," he mumbled before leaving.
Taking the opportunity, Rowan moved across from Jonaar. "It's really strange seeing him have friends. I don't mean that to be rude; he just seems to have built a deeper connection with the people here."
Jonaar jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That guy's cold to the touch, but softer than a Wookie."
Peli's words echoed in Rowan's head: Softer than Bantha meat.
Rowan followed Jonaar's thumb to the Mandalorian, who was now in conversation with someone unexpected: the bartender. She was a tall, slender woman with sweeping blonde hair. Her smile and laughter could be seen but not heard. When Rowan thought about it, it made sense that the Mandalorian would go out of his way to have a conversation with her.
But why did it hurt?
"So, you're from Tatooine." Jonaar's voice cut through the rising tension. "Been there a couple of times when I worked for the Republic. Some of the best people I know are from Tatooine. Andsome of the worst people I know are from Tatooine."
"You don't have to convince me," Rowan chuckled, pulling her eyes away from the bar scene. "It's true that I grew up on Tatooine, but I was born elsewhere. That's what the Mandalorian is helping me figure out."
"Any idea where?"
"Bakura keeps coming up, but I wouldn't be from Wild Space."
"No?" Jonaar leaned in. "Why not?"
"Well, because…" Rowan's stomach sank. "I don't know. I'm just a sand girl from Tatooine."
"But, you're not."
"People from Wild Space are… dangerous."
"Dangerous people from Wild Space are dangerous," Jonaar corrected. "People are people, no matter what planet they're from. I was stationed on Bakura during the wars."
Rowan's eyes grew double in size. "Can you tell me about it?"
"It's an interesting planet. Not unlike many of our own. Half water, half land. People there are skeptical of droids; you can't take any into the planet and if you do, they'll be restrained until you leave. People are good enough with machinery there; aside from speed, there's really no reason anyone would need droids with the way the people of Bakura work."
"I've heard they're famous for their repulsor coils," Rowan mumbled, already seeing too many similarities.
"They can repair those babies faster than you can finish that drink. But the planet has a lot of attention from unwanted eyes."
"Why?"
"It's a commercial hub only because of colonization. Before that, when the planet belonged solely to the Kurtzen, they boasted fierce warriors. Now the humanoids and Kurtzen live in peace, but they feel like their land was stolen. Rightfully so. The legends of warriors have almost all died out; Kurtzen are as docile as Porgs. But, there are some who believe in a prophecy: a great King will lead the Bakura to their glory days, reclaiming the planet and establishing a new Empire under Kurtzen traditions."
Rowan felt her entire body break out into a sweat. None of it was familiar, but when he described the Kurtzen, it was as if Rowan could see them. Bumpy heads with long creases, pointed ears, flowing clothes, and orange eyes. Rowan caught her reflection in the yellow hue of her drink.
Eyes like her own.
Feeling unsafe, Rowan suddenly looked up in a desperate search for the Mandalorian. The bartender was now leaning over the counter, a slender finger square in the middle of his chestplate. The bartender leaned even closer to the Mandalorian, over the increasingly faster string phrases, to whisper something in his ear. Her hand was cupped over her mouth to hide her words, and Rowan could only imagine what she was suggesting. Staring at her own hands, tinted from years of grease, Rowan was only taken from her thoughts when a key was placed in her palm.
"What's this?" She glanced between the key and Jonaar.
"I know that look."
"What look?"
Closing her fingers around the key, Jonaar offered another smile. "Unlike a lot of married people, I actually love my wife."
Rowan knew what he was implying. He understood, but chose to say little. It was a different reaction from Peli, but it made Rowan wonder just how obviously she was now wearing her heart on her sleeve.
"There's a firing range past the edge of the inner fortress," Jonaar mumbled. "Take all the time you need."
"Thank you." It was all she managed to squeeze out.
"Don't worry about Din," Jonaar mumbled. "If he asks where you are, I'll tell him you were feeling lousy and went home early."
Everything around them - including the glint of beskar from the bar - came to a silent, haunting halt.
"What did you just say?"
"I said I'll tell Din that you went back to your hut. Don't worry about-"
Again.
"Who's Din?"
An uncomfortable silence passed. Not knowing what to say, both of them chose silence in favor of the wrong thing. Jonaar was clearly bouncing between an explanation and another sip of his booze, his mustached mouth hanging open in confusion. Finally, he took the bait as Rowan's eyes continued to dance between him and the Mandalorian.
"So, I'm putting some pieces of the puzzle together and I'm going to assume that Mandalorians only share their name with allies." Jonaar's words were slow and calculated. "I think he trusts you, but if you two haven't fought in battle side-by-side, he might be holding off on sharing that information. It seems like Mandalorian code at work."
Jonaar was probably right. And it was true that the duo hadn't fought side-by-side, although they'd fought on behalf of one another. Too stunned to speak, and too full of alcohol to properly digest the sound of his name, Rowan simply sat in silence.
His name was louder than the drum of the music.
Din.
Din.
Din.
"Thank you," Rowan shouted abruptly, clenching the keys more tightly from inside her pocket. "I'll bring you the keys in the morning. I think it'd be a good idea to clear my head."
Jonaar hardly had time to send her off. The Mandalorian didn't seem to note her swift absence either. By the time Rowan had reached the fighting grounds, she realized she had been half running, half sprinting to get there. Or to get away.
The knowledge of his name took up every corner of her brain. Knowing it felt like a crime. Like the best secret she had ever heard. Rowan vowed not to slip up and say it. If Din - what was his last name? - wanted to share it, that time would be sacred. That time would be respected. She would act surprised when it happened.
"I can do that," she mumbled to herself. "He's just 'Mando', right? And after this mission is over, none of it will matter. I won't have to say his name ever again: Mando or otherwise."
Nodding in agreement, Rowan let all thoughts slip away. They were replaced by a full grip: a double-sided javelin.
The alcohol quickly washed away from Rowan's memory as her focus shifted to attack mode. It was no different than her days on Tatooine. Every time she was stressed, she would call her father for a few rounds. And then Marius. She was thankful to Jonaar for offering her the chance.
Rowan imagined the first dummies as bladesmen. Her attack was swift and rough, nearly ripping the hay figure into two. The next saw her pointed spear gash through its throat. Extending her arm backward, Rowan was able to pierce the abdomen of her final target.
Too simple.
Planting her javelin firmly in the dirt, Rowan flung her body sideways until the dummy's neck was pinned between her thighs. Twisting sideways, she managed to 'break the doll's neck without so much a strain in her back.
At least that was more entertaining.
The sound of her own breath stuffed her ears. All thoughts of weariness were gone, and Rowan knew she could have done this for hours. This was what made her feel alive - a simple stick and all of the glory and protection it could offer.
"Getting ready for a fight?"
It took only a moment for the tip of her weapon to find the Mandalorian's chin. Rowan's spatial awareness was developed well enough to not strike him, but even Din flinched at the discomfort of her accuracy.
"Never sneak up on a woman with a spear." Rowan raised a dark brow. "Especially one who knows how to use it."
"Let's see how well you do against a Mandalorian."
Rowan's eyes narrowed. "No more bartenders to flirt with?"
"Is that why you left?" Expecting silence, Rowan was shocked by the taunting reply. "You didn't want to see me talk to another woman?"
The accusation was just that: an accusation. Annoyed with his bluntness, and even more with his accuracy, Rowan brought the javelin to her side. "Alright, Mando. Let's figure this out. You versus me - your weapon of choice."
"All of them."
Rowan sucked in a sharp breath. "I was trying to make it easier for you."
"There are no rooftops here for you to hide on."
Rowan smirked. "That was when I was wearing Mandalorian armor: a handicap."
Din may have been offended by her words had it not been for the strength with which she uttered them. Her confidence was raw and she moved like a predator on its prey. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in the heat of her.
Din stepped back.
"Your move."
Din crouched as her javelin barely missed the tip of his head. She hadn't wasted a second. Lifting his blaster, he managed to take a few shots near her head despite her blocking each one with a circular swing of the spear. Before the Mandalorian could change positions, Rowan had knocked the weapon from his hand using the sharp end of her weapon. As he went to reach for the blaster, the tip buried itself into the earth between his fingers.
"Leave it," she hissed.
"Not a problem," he said, breathless. "There's more where that came from."
"I'd sure hope so."
Using his own spear, Din matched her stance. In an unexpected move, Rowan tossed her own weapon to the side.
"What are you doing?" Din mumbled.
Rowan lifted her chin, uttering a single syllable.
"Come."
Her tone was enough to make him dive forward. Although he was taking caution, Din knew it wasn't necessary. Rowan was able to dodge every hit and jab, understanding his spear on a level deeper than he understood even as its wielder.
As Din aimed for her legs, she was able to tumble backwards, letting the point fall through the open space. Using the opportunity to her advantage, Rowan wrapped her legs around the beskar staff. The Mandalorian lost all control over the weapon as it sliced through the air between them. Before it touched the ground, Rowan was back on her feet with the staff securely in her grip. Taking her time, she eventually landed the point against the Mandalorian's chest, who looked on in a state of breathlessness.
"Rowan, that was-"
"Just give up now." The moonlit hue of her eyes taunted him, daring him to speak again.
Din could have sworn she was almost bored of him. Could he blame her? Rowan had never fought with such agility before - her acrobatics and spear skills a match unlike any other.
When she turned to make her way out of the training grounds, Din used her doubt to his advantage. Tossing his whipcord, he managed to lock Rowan into an unbreakable hold as her feet slipped against the stone floor.
She looked almost angry.
He liked it.
"Let go of me."
Din pulled her closer. "You said to bring out my best."
As Rowan strained against the grip through gritted teeth, another tug sent her stumbling forward. "I told you to let me go."
"Or?"
"Or-"
Another tug.
"I'll-"
Another. Their bodies were only inches away now.
"You'll what?" Each of his syllables was mocking.
Rowan had been annoyed about the bartender - that he had left her with a stranger as if the invitation were nothing more than a courtesy. But did he really owe her anything more than that?
"You don't want to know," she growled.
"I do." Din's voice dripped like honey. "I do want to know."
Rowan's heaving chest was far more noticeable than his. Beneath his own layers, the sound of Din's pounding heart was almost inescapable. Din may have been grateful to the beskar for hiding his nerves, but Rowan had sharp eyes. She could see that they matched her own.
"You didn't let me buy you a drink," Din's voice was soft. With a final pull, he closed the gap.
The duo struggled to compose their breathing against such closeness. It almost hurt that Rowan couldn't reach out and touch him - run her hands over the metal plates he wore with such honor - to remind him that he, too, was human. To remind him that he had desire no matter how much he kept it buried. The bartender had clearly cracked his frozen exterior, and Rowan began to wonder how much strength the Mandalorian had left to resist temptation.
She would give into his game with a newfound feeling of bravery - like the mythosaur his people had once controlled.
She leaned in, her chest now pressed against his own.
"You seemed distracted back there," Rowan muttered through pink lips only inches away from his visor.
Din couldn't remember the last time he felt this alive. "Were you jealous?"
"Let go of me and you might just find out."
If she were to ask him to do anything, right then and there, he would have done it. Every fiber of his being wished there was no beskar keeping them apart. And when he released the whipcord only to have her move away from him, the Mandalorian felt the distance like a sheet of pure ice.
Without uttering a single world, Rowan left the square. Din could do nothing but stand in place as she trickled from his vision.
She's not getting off that easily.
Rowan was already halfway through the empty streets when she felt a pull on her arm. Spinning without a choice, Rowan couldn't hide her shock as she came face-to-face with the Mandalorian once again. She almost spat out his name in a state of confusion, but quickly held her tongue.
"Looking for round two?" She teased.
"Why are you upset if you don't care?"
Rowan made a weak attempt to defend her honor. "Don't act as if you know me."
Taking a step forward, Din did his best to refrain from entirely sealing the gap between them. If there was some space, even the smallest amount, the two were always in a battle to see who would falter first. "I'm not acting." His eyes danced down to her collarbone. "Why are you breathing so heavily?"
Rowan cracked an irritated smile, bemused by his confidence. "Don't act as if you know women."
"I'm still a man."
The Mandalorian tilted her chin upwards with the edge of his finger. For a brief moment, she felt his thumb run over his lip. Any sign of fighting back - any sign of strength - immediately disappeared as Rowan leaned into the sensual action.
His head tilted. "Or were you beginning to doubt that too?"
Too.
Rowan released an audible gasp as she stepped away for the final time. Her once steadfast eyes now refused to meet his gaze.
Din simultaneously adored and despite her reaction. How could she be so close, yet so distant?
Saying nothing, Rowan slipped quietly into her hut. The metal door sealed with an automatic thud, an audible reminder that Din was now entirely alone.
Not that he minded; he was standing a bit taller than before.