For several moments, as you groggily flutter open your eyes, you can't remember where the kriff you are and what the kriff is happening. It takes Mando leaning over the side of the bed and ripping off your right pant leg for everything to slowly start coming back to you. Right. Blaster bolt to the thigh, Pakto trying to kill you, Vizsla flying you to safety, (you guess) passing out mid-flight. Maker, you really need to stop getting yourself into these situations. Almost dying on a regular basis is becoming exhausting.

Unexpectedly, an alcohol-soaked cloth is pressed against your bleeding wound and you yelp in pain.

"You could've warned me!" You sit up and smack Mando across the helmet. His head bobbles slightly from the impact before he raises his black visor to glower at you. Well, you imagine he is glowering at you.

Vizsla laughs deeply as he sorts through a med pack by your feet, "Fiery, even while bleeding out. I like it."

You scoff and lay back down on the pillow behind your head.

Wait a minute.

This isn't your pillow. This isn't even your bed. Oh kriffing hell, you're in the Mandalorian's bed. Heat rises all the way to the tops of your ears. Blast! Locking the door to the crew cabin really came back to bite you in the butt, didn't it? You must be really out of it to have taken so long to notice.

Vizsla holds up a shot of e-bacta over your face, letting you know he is about to inject it, and you scowl at the obviously illegal medicine. This stuff better not have psychedelic side effects, like Mando's last stash.

"You were wrong about her Mand'alor," he says as he touches the tip of the needle against your skin. "I know about her kind. She's no Jetti." The drugs are plunged into the muscle near your blaster wound, instantly alleviating some of the pain.

Without another word, Vizsla leaves the captain's quarters, apparently having nothing more to add to his accusation. You lift your head slightly to watch Mando's chest expand in a deep sigh. Tension suffocates the room and you wonder if he's bothered by Vizsla's assessment of you. Maybe the Tribe won't be very accepting of you after all. You bite your lip and return your eyes to the ceiling as he begins wrapping up your wound. By the Core, this is awkward. He hasn't said a word to you since you woke up. It'll be up to you to break the ice, as usual.

"I'm sorry you saw me burn those men to a crisp back there," you offer shyly after a minute.

"Why are you sorry? You had no choice."

"Aren't you upset? Isn't that why you chose to fly back a crate of metal over me?"

Mando secures your bandages with a tight knot, "I was stabbed in my shoulder, right between my chest plate and pauldron. I wasn't sure if I would be able to hold you safely. Otherwise, I would've."

"Oh. Well, I guess it was a good thing Vizsla was there to save me then," you joke as you struggle to your feet.

He protests you hobbling towards the sound of the lowering exit ramp, but you ignore him. There is no kriffing way you are just going to hang out in his bed, even if moving around is making you woozy. When you arrive in the common area, you find Vizsla tinkering with the hover sleigh from Tython.

"Thanks for helping me get my saber back, Vizsla."

He snaps his helmet up towards you and you shift uncomfortably under his steady gaze.

The big warrior struts forward to take the fabric of your cloak in his hands. Ever so slowly, he raises your hood over your head, "Anything for you, Dar'Jetti."

He gives you a playful 'until next time' touch under your chin and turns on his heel, leaving you swaying unsteadily on your feet.

Maker, you were not expecting that. Are those butterflies in your stomach?

You watch, stunned into silence, as Vizsla parades down the ramp, hover sleigh in tow. The sight of all the beskar leaving for the Tribe makes your eyes misty and your heart swells as you realize all your hard work is finally about to be made worthwhile. The enchanting moment is ruined when Mando shuts the hatch on Vizsla as he is offering a goodbye from outside, cutting off the blue Mandalorian's words mid-sentence. You narrow your eyes at his blatantly rude act and put a hand on your hip.

"Was that really necessary?" You demand as soon as the door is completely sealed.

Mando faces you and growls, "We have to leave, we don't have time for him to get you all worked up."

"Worked up? Are you karking kidding me? The only shabuir who seems to get me worked up is you, you besom."

"He shouldn't be flirting with you."

You cross your arms, "Why's that?"

"Because you are a Jedi," he replies testily as his leather gloves creak with the opening and closing of his fists. "Anyway, I need coordinates. Crimson Dawn will be on our tail soon."

Part of you wants to keep arguing, but you know he is right. Sticking around Cato Neimoidia isn't wise.

"You're taking me to my homeworld," you say as you limp towards the cockpit.

After a few steps, you look over your shoulder to give Mando a mischievous smirk, "And Mandalorian, I'm no ordinary Jedi, nor am I blind to the stupid rivalry between you bucket-heads. Maybe if you had given me a cute nickname in Mando'a, I would like you more."

The words hit the bullseye. Mando coughs and squares his shoulder stubbornly, but you can sense his shock at your daring remark. Nobody ever calls out the Mandalorian. Nobody except you.


27 hours later

A honey-colored meadow stretches for thousands of klicks in every direction as you survey the surface of Dantooine. You glance up towards the twin moons barely visible in the hazy blue sky and listen as the faint whoosh of wind passes through the tall blades of grass around you. A pang of melancholy hits you when the weeds tickle your ankles.

"I remember playing in these very fields right before I was taken to train under my Master."

Mando follows your line of sight to the moons, "Maybe one day you can tell me about him."

You look at him thoughtfully and nod. Maybe one day. Maybe one day very soon. If you are to face Bo-Katan again, Mando will need to learn about everything from your past. Everything.

Sitting on your knees, you reverently place your lightsaber on the ground before you and eagerly motion for the Mandalorian to sit across from you. Something feels right about having him here for the cleanse. It is almost as if the Force has been willing for the two of you to be here, together, all along.

"Give me your hand."

He tilts his helmet quizzically at your command. You understand his hesitance, the last time he was in this position everything fell apart between the two of you. A beat passes before he joins you on the ground and holds out his gloved hand for you. You give him an encouraging smile and lace your fingers through his as you begin connecting the two of you into the Cosmic Force...


Din Djarin POV:

Brilliant white light erupts around Din as joyful laughter fills the air.

A young modulated female voice breaks through the giggles, "Don't ever lose your shereshoy, vod!"

This experience is very different from the Force vision on Jedha. Everything is dreamlike, spiritual in nature. Instead of detailed scenes playing out before him, Din can only glimpse fuzzy flashes of people, places, and sensations.

An image of you and him sitting together on Slave II, the taste of shig on his tongue, the sound of beskar clanking together in his head, a flicker of a violet-colored Mandalorian helmet, a boat gliding along a beautiful blue ocean, and the scent of tiingilar burning his nose.

Your presence is all around him like a hot syrup drizzling against every millimeter of his cool skin. "I am a Dark Jedi. I am a sentinel of serenity, a peacekeeper of passion," he hears you whisper into his ear.

Din sees himself raising the Darksaber over his head in front of a crowd of Mandalorians. You are amongst the crowd, beaming up at him proudly. He smiles underneath his helmet at the way your eyes sparkle with happiness.

"Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger." A man and a woman's voice echo in Din's head as he begins to feel himself return to the physical realm. He gives your hand a squeeze and a burst of energy buzzes around him. The closest word he can think of to describe the feeling is "manda"; the collective soul or heaven, the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body, and spirit. Or maybe, it's another feeling, an even deeper one. One he has only ever felt for his parents and his Foundling. A word he can't even admit to himself.

You let go of his hand and he shuts his eyes in disappointment. Dank Farrik he doesn't want you to take him away from such a peaceful place. He doesn't want you to let go of him at all. Not when being here with you feels so right.

When he reluctantly reopens his eyes, he sees delicate white lights dancing around the two of you, just like the ones he saw the first day you were on his ship.

Kandosii'la!


Your POV:

The Lightside radiates out of your saber in confirmation of the completion of the task. Many years have passed since you've seen the kyber crystal in its original form and after so long, you are not sure what to expect. Clutching the hilt with sweaty hands, you nervously rise to your feet. Breathing out a short puff of air, you switch on the blade. Immediately, a delightful purr pleases your ears and you grin in content. An even more captivating result of the cleanse is the exquisite bronze color the blade has returned to. Copper, one of the most unique colors for kyber, is absolutely perfect for you and your place in the Force.

Mando stands up to admire the weapon, humming in appreciation when you twirl the weapon fluidly.

You step back into a fighting stance, "Want to help me test my new and improved lightsaber?"

A low laugh rumbles out of the Mandalorian as he unclips the Darksaber and ignites the blade, "You know An'ee, now that you fixed it, you might want to call it by its proper name; kad'au."

You chuckle at him and go to strike first in a series of precise movements meant to gauge his ability. His style is unpredictable for someone his size. You are impressed with how well he holds his own, even when you tap into the Force to gain the upper hand. One day, when you're both recovered from your current injuries, you want to really challenge him to a duel.

As the two of you start to grow tired of the sparring match, you get a cheeky idea. Feigning a pain in your leg, you bend over in fake agony and start wailing obnoxiously. Without a second thought, Mando hurries towards you, saber disengaged and completely off guard. As soon as he is within reach, you straighten up and slam into him, shoving him down into the dirt easily.

"Never show mercy, Mandalorian," you put your boot on his chest and smugly point your saber to his throat.

He laughs and lays his head back in defeat, "Okay, one point for you."

"If my leg was better, it would be a hundred points for me," you clip your saber onto your belt and hold out your hand towards him.

Right away, you frown when he refuses to release your wrist as he steadies himself on his feet. With no forewarning, he gives you a firm tug, pulling you into his chest to wrap both arms tightly around your waist. Goosebumps erupt all over your arms as you are suddenly trapped impossibly close to him. In a moment of panic, you push your hands onto his biceps and arch your back in a desperate attempt to create distance. Maker! This is too much! He presses you harder into his armor, countering your squirming, and he digs his fingers into your hips. The uncharacteristic sensuality of his touch causes you to freeze in his embrace. You feel him leaning into you, coming closer and closer until he is a breath away from pressing his helmet against your forehead. Swept up in the moment, you allow yourself to slowly move your own face a hair of an inch closer and-

Poof! He's gone in an instant.

"So, a few thousand points for me then?" Mando holds up your knife a few steps away and waves it tauntingly in the air.

"Did you just pickpocket me?" You screech in disbelief and grab for the knife.

He lifts the blade above his head, out of your reach, and rasps, "Don't get all worked up on me now!"

Karking hell.

The Mandalorian really just tricked you into thinking he was going to give you a kov'nyn so he could steal your knife.


Notes:

Mando'a Translations:

Dar'Jetti - literally no longer a Jedi

Shabuir - jerk (extreme insult)

Besom - someone with no manners

Shersheroy - a lust for life

Vod- sister, brother, comrade

Shig - Mandalorian beverage

Tiingilar - spicy Mandalorian stew

An'ee - nickname for someone who is all bite

Kad'au - literally laser sword (alternative word for lightsaber)

Kov'nyn - Keldabe kiss