Goes rogue post-chapter 12. Cara-centric, for the most part.

The next time he stops on Nevarro – for information this time, supposedly, though even Din realises that it's a flimsy excuse – Cara feels— different.

Not that, he corrects quickly, he has a general feeling for his friend's state of mind, except for the fact that at this point he really kind of does. On a normal day, she's an energetic, hectic presence in any room she enters; steady in her chaos, at least. It always makes him feel a sort of fondness that few things ever evoke and realising that it's not there when he sees her again is strangely disheartening.

She's subdued today. Still a woman of action, given that she'd invited him in, offered the kid a snack and seated them both in her small living room before he'd even managed to sense that something had clearly unsettled her, but it's as if the impact of it is dampened. She's quieter, the silences between his questions and her responses stretching into something fragile and painful that he has no real clue how to handle.

He's intensely grateful for the distraction when he hears the kid squeal in something between delight and confusion and runs into the room with something at his back, small and furry and a dirty shade of brown. Din has to do a double take before he can ask, tentatively, "Is that—have you got a lava meerkat as a pet?"

"He followed me home," Cara shrugs, her hand tightening around the glass of unidentified clear liquid she's clearly trying to restrain herself from drowning. She clicks her tongue and the animal races to her, leaving the kid and his omelette in peace. "Leave the guests alone, Chyth." She pats it absentmindedly once it climbs up her back and presses itself against her cheek, a small smile breaking through her morose expression. "Greedy little fucker."

"That's an interesting name."

It sounds foreign in a way that none of the places she's mentioned from her past do and it's all the more surprising when she lifts one shoulder in obviously acted out nonchalance and says, "It was what my twin brother was called. Suppose Carasynthia was enough to drain my parents of all of their creativity."

"You're a twin?" You never said, he almost continues, but manages to stop the remark just in time – come to think of it, she had never really said much at all about herself.

"I used to be." She does finish the entirety of her drink in one go this time and slams the cup down on the table between them. She's not even all the way across the claustrophobically small room, but she feels a thousand light years away. "'M not much of anyone now."

"I always assumed—" Had he? He'd never asked, preferring instead to hope that she would be as honest about herself as she always is about everything else and say if something on Nevarro had gone wrong while he'd been gone. It doesn't seem so – everyone here is safe, thriving under her and Greef's guidance. It's an entirely new world when compared to the one he'd known for so long. Even if he hadn't started feeling this way months ago, he might have fallen a little in love with her because of the care she had put in everything. "You have a place here. You're the Marshall. You're definitely not no one."

"There's that," Cara concedes and just now that she'd started fidgeting with it does he notice the small badge thrown on the table, nestled among the rest of the heap of haphazardly tossed items on it. It's clearly new, shiny and polished, and the logo on it is unmistakable. She carries the same one on her face with so much pride, after all. "It's a nice change of pace," she says, fingers curling around the lump of metal like it's a lifeline. "Being needed."

It's a safe enough statement, but nausea curls low in Din's stomach regardless. "Did the New Republic contact you?"

"You could say that." Her smile is still brittle, but it's something. It scares him more than he's willing to admit. "Not in the way I expected; they think they could use a pair of eyes here in the Outer Rim and apparently I was the perfect fit. Quite a soldier, he called me."

"I'm sure you were." He's still feeling just as helpless as he had when he had first entered her home today. It's a suffocating sensation, but he can't help but say something. "You're more of a one woman army than a soldier these days, though."

She's a warrior, really. It would be a small distinction to most, he supposes, but not to him. She's not supposed to be anybody's pawn anymore now that she'd fought her way out of that.

"I am." Her dark eyes pierce through him and it's haunting. It still will be days after he leaves this planet, Din is sure. "But what if I don't have to be that anymore?"

There's always me, he wants to say – only one invitation among the tens and hundreds he'd practiced over the months: Come with me. There's always some more space on board if it's for you. Come with me, stay with me, let me help. He wants to voice it all so much that it hurts.

He doesn't.

~.~

The Jedi Temple, when Din finally manages to fight his way inside through the thick curtain of local fauna, is swarming with soldiers.

He still doesn't understand why the meeting with the woman Bo-Katan had directed him towards had gone so disastrously wrong, but it had and until he can have another go at it, he had been left to his own devices along with the kid once again. It had meant a lot more research on things he doesn't even begin to understand, but apparently, this pace is supposed to offer some guidance even to the most Force-impaired. If it comes to that, he had rationalised, I'll have to just let the kid's instincts lead us both to some answers.

Only someone had beat him to that particular treasure hunt, it seems, because it's crammed full of people in uniform from head to toe, searching over rocks and bridges and all kinds of caves formations and climbing up the damp walls with surprising determination for people who have no business here at all.

It's barely even a temple at all. It's a damn cave full of old Jedi artefacts and, allegedly, it had been out of use for at least thirty years if not much more. Even when the Jedi had still been around, the chances of this Maker-forgotten planet being the centre of their attention had likely not been high. Irrational as it is, the sight only makes his growing frustration spike further. What could the New Republic possibly want with a place like this?

Before he can decide whether to hide for the time being or wait it out in the Crest outside, he feels a presence behind him, quickly followed by a hand pulling him back and another wrapping around the front of his helmet, a voice hissing in his ear low and furious enough to be nearly unrecognisable – nearly. "Don't make a sound if you want to live."

"Do you realise how helmets work?" The soldier feels too familiar for words, but it can't possibly be her. He hasn't gone back to Nevarro in months, but surely she wouldn't hide an upgrade – or downgrade, perhaps – like this.

There's a split second of embarrassed silence before the small hand over where his mouth should be falls back by the woman's side and when she speaks again, still in a whisper but much calmer, the familiar cadence of her voice makes his heart sink. "Shut the hell up, Mando." The hand holding a weapon of some kind pressed against his chest tugs him further back towards the entrance and this time, he complies soundlessly. "Where's the kid?"

"In his pram a few feet behind us. Asleep," he clarifies. Her grip relaxes somewhat, but not enough for him to turn around. "You gonna shoot me, Marshall Dune?"

"Plenty of people here would. We almost caught Ren and his gang at it this time, so it's on sight for anyone with a helmet they can't identify."

"Ren?"

"Dark side users, ransacked this place two days ago, long story." As soon as they're outside, Cara lets go and Din whips around to face her, only to be met with an impenetrable visor. It only covers half of her face, but there's no mistaking her for anyone else – the whips of jet black hair sneaking out of it on one side and the all too familiar curl to her full lips could only belong to one person. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for any bit of Jedi history I can find," he admits and follows without question when she starts to lead him towards the small tent city right outside the hill that houses the cave. Cara ducks into one towards the back and he pushes the floating pram in front of him before going after her, zipping the entrance behind them. "Dark side users?"

"Yeah, the dark side of the Force. That matters, apparently. They're petty thieves at best, but they do kill people whenever they inconvenience them, so it was always going to be investigated eventually. It's what I'm here for." She chucks the helmet off and he can finally look her in the eye. It's a mistake – he's lost as soon as he does, if only because she looks beyond lost, too. Her body is covered in more metal than he's ever seen her in before, but she feels more vulnerable than he's ever seen her. "It's a peaceful world, this one. They deserve better than to be wrapped up in the remnants of the war that Force users started to begin with. I'm staying here until the only one left on the other side inevitably shows up in a week or two so that I can personally tell him to get fucked." She grins and it's a thrilling sight, even if it looks just a bit more vacant than it had been the last time he'd seen her on Nevarro. "You can wait too, if you want. The kid can't really get any better help than what the last Jedi can offer."

It's a peaceful world. There's a suspicious shine to her eyes; pieces of obsidian cracking under the pressure of the dam breaking right behind them. It's a low blow, but, "Your world was peaceful, too. Did attacking the supernatural head on get them anywhere?"

"Nothing got us anywhere. The Empire blew it all to pieces before anyone realised that adequate protection was needed." She looks away, as if suddenly aware that he'd learnt to read her sometime ago. "When the New Republic officers came to question us after the explosion back on Navarro, one of them spoke to me about it. I was angry at him for bringing it up then – it was always easier to pretend I've forgotten. Suffering meant I'm letting them win. But they won either way, didn't they? Might as well use all that anger for something useful."

This is what's bothering him, Din realises suddenly – the anger. She'd had plenty of it before, from the looks of it, but it feels far more destructive now that she's got all the resources of the New Republic at her side and the usual chaos that reigns around her has firepower to back it up. "And bringing whole squadrons to the Outer Rim to organise blockades in squabbles between Force users is what's best for a peaceful, forgotten world like this one, is it?" He presses on when Cara stays quiet. She might as well have put the helmet back on again, given how indecipherable her face has become. "The New Republic won. I know it's not enough, but it's all there is; you should know that better than anyone. You fought the war, Cara—"

"I did," she says, too bright and too choked up and, suddenly, far too much for him to bear. "And the war won."

~.~

He does his very best to stay away after that. Greef is still safe company so Nevarro is far game when shelter and rest are sometimes needed, but Cara is too far up the food chain for him to be able to afford to seek her out purposefully. Purposefully being the key word – despite his best intentions, Din does tend to frequent the same parts of the Outer Rim that might qualify for the dubious care of the New Republic and inevitably, they run into each other again.

"I want to believe that this gives her purpose," Greef had said the last time they'd met, when Din had finally buckled down and asked after her. "She has a place here whenever she wants to come back – if she does want to come back – but there are plenty of people she has to bring back information to now. Last I heard from her, she wants to be an officer for her squadron. I'm sure she'll make it." When he doesn't respond, the man shrugs helplessly. "I hope it makes her happy. I'm afraid it'll take fixing the entire Galaxy before she realises that bringing about freedom and order isn't going to bring anyone back from the dead. Can't help but wonder what gave her that idea in the first place."

"I have my thoughts on that." When the New Republic officers came to question us after the explosion back on Navarro, one of them spoke to me about it. Of course they had. Spite and anger and sorrow are the best recruitment tools any army had ever had. "Do you know where she might be?"

Greef gives him a look that feels too close to pity for comfort. "She can't help you now. Whatever it is that she does is too high-profile for her to be able to keep anything in the dark. It's dangerous for the kid, and for you on top of that."

He's already shaking his head by the time the warning is over. "She wouldn't put any of us in danger and you know it. I don't care who she's fighting for, she's better than that."

"She might not have a choice. You can't let your trust cloud your judgement about this." Greef draws in a deep breath, as if he's bracing for the inevitable, and Din finds himself withdrawing towards the door, both physically and within himself. "Mando, I hate to ask this – I really do – but are you—"

"I'll call when I find her," he says with enough firmness to disguise the mild tremor in his voice. "Which planet, Greef?"

All that follows is a sigh of resignation – the same one that Din has been getting used to recently, especially where their mutual friend is concerned. "Mon Cala," he says at last. It sounds just a little like defeat. "Keep me updated, all right?"

"You know it."

Each time, it feels like more of a lie than it had the last.

~.~

Mon Cala is a beautiful place – watery and calm and filled with the most breathtaking scenery Din has ever seen – and Cara fits in it better than he's seen her anywhere else. When he finally tracks her down, he finds her asleep on a hammock clumsily tied between two trees, one hand shielding her face from the sun while the other thumbs through something that looks like a military report.

"Fancy seeing you here," he offers tentatively. The kid squirms in his arms, trying to reach out for her, and Din places him next to her on her makeshift bed, allowing himself a smile as he hears the excited babble of his incomprehensible retellings of their journey so far. Cara grins back and scratches him behind his fuzzy green ears, nodding along dutifully.

"Likewise." The planet is far more water than it is anything else, so the air is stuffy and damp, but she's still in full armour, just like Din himself. It's an officer's uniform now, softer and less restrictive – still nothing close to what he's used to seeing her in, but he's getting used to this too, slowly. The only thing she's kept seems to be the intricately braided hair, now with even more threads woven through it, as if it's a symbol of status. The sight of it is oddly comforting. "You were looking for me?"

"I was." He leans against the nearest tree once she hops off of her hammock and onto the ground next to him, curious eyes trained on him. She does seem more relaxed, at least; her gestures easier, as if she's not weighed down by her own thoughts as much as she had been any of the other times he'd met her recently. "Did you ever end up meeting that Jedi you spoke of?"

"Not really. Didn't have the patience to wait him out." That does sound like his Cara, Din thinks with a smile, and then hastily pushes the thought away. Nothing about her – about this – belongs to him. "But I met one of his potential students. I suppose that's why you're here."

"No." It's impossible to lie to her. "You just— seemed to know a lot more about the whole Force situation than I did when we met back in that cave. Thought you might have some leads that I've missed." At this point, he's past the hope of ever finding the kid's kind, but the next best thing is getting him trained, at least. Recently, his powers had become a lot more difficult to ignore. "But I did see the holo, if that's what you mean. Of you and the princess?"

"Oh, yes." Cara pats the medal sewn into the chest of her uniform, signifying her higher rank within the New Republic, and her expression grows almost ecstatic. "It was— nice. It felt good to speak to someone. I only saw her in holos when I was a child – of course, she was also a child back then – but she's the first survivor I've met all those years. I'm glad I got to speak with her. But you don't care about that." He cares about every little bit of herself that she's willing to share, but Din doesn't say that and tries to relish her temporary apparent peace for what it is instead. "Her son has the same powers as our little guy here. She and Skywalker are close, so the poor kid is promised to the Temple already, once he actually creates a school. Reaching out to him through her – or going to him, if she's to be believed about his current locations – is probably our best bet."

"Our?" He doesn't want to sound bitter, but it sneaks in anyway, uninvited – she had left him behind so easily and for so long. He had done the same, of course – back when he'd left Nevarro for the second time without as much as a goodbye – but it feels different, given their motives. Either that, or he really is bitter. It's an unpleasant thought, but not too far-fetched.

"Of course. I'll help you." She's still so, so guarded despite the pinch of her usual erratic enthusiasm and it brings the worst kind of unease out of him, but the hand she holds out – the one he meets halfway in a gesture that usually, for them, serves as a goodbye – is an invitation that he feels powerless against. "Do you trust me?"

She'd never had to ask before. He never wants her to feel that such a need again. Greef's warning rings out in his mind for all of a moment, but it vanishes like dust in the wind an instant later. "You know I do."

Even if the promises of answers – and more time by her side – hadn't been enough, the anxious smile that follows would have sealed the deal. "Let's go, then. You can leave the Crest here for a while; my X-Wing will draw less attention. We've set up camp here for the night, but our next stop is Malachor V and I might just have the thing for you there..."

~.~

Cara's miserable starfighter of a ship is far too cramped for them all and she's an atrocious pilot, but Din isn't going to be the one to point it out – it seems to bring her too much joy to not be unsettling, considering that they're headed for one of the least stable worlds he had ever seen.

Malachor V had played a part in Mandalorian history many years ago – too many for Din to be familiar with any of the details – and Cara just nods when he brings it up as they dodge yet another burst of lightning by a hair's breadth. "Yes, it was a fine world once. Now it's a hot mess. Not sure if it was your people's fault or the Sith, but either way," she shrugs as much as it's possible in the limited space they have, "it is what it is. We'll have to be careful in case there are any storm beasts left."

He rather hopes the last part had been a joke, but as usual, it's impossible to tell with Cara – the teasing lilt to her voice makes nearly anything sound like one. "The Sith," he echoes, frowning as his hold on the kid tightens even further. "Weren't we looking for Jedi?"

"The Sith are extinct, aren't they?" He doesn't know, so he lets her steamroll over him. "Either way, even if they aren't, Luke Skywalker should supposedly be here. The princess's son had a dream about this place and he came to investigate and—listen, I don't know. I don't understand any of this any better than you do. I barely even believed in it before the kid tried it on me when he thought I was attacking you."

The memory of that still makes him shiver. "That's exactly what this is about. I feel like he'd be able to control it better if he could understand the difference between right and wrong, but how could I know when he will? I might die of old age before he matures to the point of a human child."

"And that's where Skywalker comes in." Cara abandons the visor to stare at the ground approaching under them through one of the side windows, uncertainly lowering them towards the temperamental planet's surface. "From what I gathered from her stories, he might have known a specimen from the same species. Also a Jedi, I think, but I don't have access to any of their history from before the Empire's time and it would be—"

They land harshly, the whole pilot's cabin lurching dangerously forward, and when the ship is stable enough for Din to be able to look his companion in the face again, that smile is back – the one that scares him and fills him with a nostalgic kind of warmth at the same time. "—Easier with someone who knows where to find out more about them," Cara finishes as she wrestles the door open and squirms out of the uncomfortable heap they'd ended up with. Din stretches out his aching legs and hauls the kid along to follow her outside, nodding along sympathetically to his squawk at the foul, electricity-charged air that must pass for breathable here.

Cara shivers, drawing the flimsy jacket of her uniform tighter around her body as a gust of wind rolls over them, another thunder rumbling in the distance. She lingers for a moment and then points towards a structure nearby – ancient, but still standing, with a ghostly blue light shimmering through the cracks. Din is far from a specialist, but if this is where the distinction between the dark and the light side is made, he can feel it in his bones. This is nothing like the Jedi's cave had been.

"You think Luke Skywalker's in there?"

"Worth a shot," Cara says, already walking towards the seemingly endless staircase that leads towards something that might have once been a palace. "He tries to find as much as he can about the Jedi Order before it fell, the princess said. It's mostly wandering around ruins and talking to ghosts, but that's to be expected.

Wandering around ruins and talking to ghosts. It sounds awfully familiar and it only makes sense that her previous irritation with the Jedi had melted into reluctant understanding. The kid makes a sleepy, questioning noise when they approach the first gates – cracked open and left to hinge on one giant, rusting nail from one side – and his eyes open wide at the sight that follows, arms stretching out towards the abyss that stretches in front of them. For once, Din doesn't have an answer for him. He had definitely felt clueless before, but he'd had a plan, at least. He doesn't now – he just has her and his trust, and no matter what Greef says, it's enough. He has to stomp down on another memory in the process. Mando, I hate to ask this— are you—

Yes, he would have said, if he'd been anywhere near brave enough. He trusts her because of all the times when teaming up had worked in their favour and he trusts her as a warrior – would have trusted her a leader, had he been one of her soldiers, but in the end, that's not quite what it's about. Yes.

"Mando," Cara calls out from the main entrance way up above him, the light behind her pulsing almost imperceptibly as if it can feel them coming closer. "You coming?"

She'd done what he'd wanted, really – she'd left her ghosts behind for the time being, only to immediately throw herself into the next mad rush of a mission with an uncertain end, clutching at threads of clues and control to keep herself afloat. It's difficult to be a one woman army with something on a scale like this, because Greef had been right about something else, too – her chase had definitely taken her higher up the food chain. He might already be in too far to be able to sneak back out unscathed, so, naturally, "I'm coming. Come on, kid."

Cara pushes the wide doors of the temple open with a deafening creak and Din follows her into the unknown.