Din watched the rubble collapse on top of Cara and felt all the breath leave his lungs.
Their quick stop on Nevarro had gone well; Greef and Cara were thorough in scouring the area for Imps and were starting to build an impressive community around their familiar cantina. In the rebuilding process, Greef had spared no expense; Din couldn't find his bloodstain when he looked for it on the floor.
When Din had stepped into the new hub and his eyes landed on Cara, his helmet got hot again. The foundling squealed his appreciation and reached for her, as if he would pull her towards him like he had pushed away the flames that should have killed them.
She didn't smirk when she saw them; she smiled. The dots on her cheeks came back; Din decided they were his favorite part of her.
"Took you long enough." She teased as she picked up the foundling, petting his ears. "Where did you come from, the opposite side of the galaxy?"
"Felt like it."
And it had. Once he had turned the Razor Crest towards Nevarro, Din had been antsy.
He left the foundling with her so he could run a few errands.
Din dropped into the coven to see the Armorer; with the focus of a well-sighted weapon she continued reclaiming the humiliated helmets, breastplates, and gauntlets of their family for reuse. Her focus and company gave him comfort; the idea of new foundlings stirred up a desire to see Mandalore again. Unfortunately, she did not know of any Mandalorians on Coruscant.
She looked at his helmet for him; they followed the exact protocol, where she left the room, he took it off, set it at her table, made his exit, then she returned. Nothing was wrong with it; her handiwork never faltered.
When he left, he had the distinct impression she was laughing at him, like she knew something he didn't.
Greef was temperamental at Cara's departure but had little say in the matter; after all, she was the one who had chosen to stay in the first place. He didn't know of any friendly faces on Coruscant either.
As they left the planet, Din at the helm, Cara to his left and the child to his right, something in the Razor Crest felt more complete than before. He didn't even mind the feeling of being crowded; instead, mundane chores around the ship suddenly felt more satisfying. Cleaning their weapons, even when they worked in silence, felt reverent. When the child started pointing and chattering, clearly expecting to be taught how to dismantle and reassemble the firearms, Cara joined Din in explaining the different parts and what they did. When they trained together, Din found himself hyper aware of the foundling, promising it that they were friends and weren't actually hurting each other.
In an unexpected switch, Din managed to nearly pin Cara- and then the child picked him up and moved him off of her.
Cara laughed, her dotted cheeks rosy and Din's helmet hot again.
Din wanted to wrestle with her again, and immediately smothered the train of thought. They didn't attempt combat practice again.
He had been right about Coruscant; from the moment they set foot on the planet he felt crawling eyes watching them. Cara's presence was a blessing and a curse; he was grateful she had his back, but he found himself on high alert, wishing he could keep an eye on her as well as the foundling. He kept the pram close but closed; it seemed too much of a risk to let others see the child. They were less noticeable when it was just two fighters wandering through the once-glorious city, and the same crowds that held crawling eyes protected them under a veil of inconspicuousness.
The remains of the Jedi Temple gave them little information; it had been too long, and too many others had ransacked the palace for trophies to take home. They wandered the towering, cobwebbed halls but could make little out from the bulleted murals.
The little one was oddly quiet, and didn't want to be in his pram. He opened and closed his three-fingered hands until Din picked him up and cradled him against his chest, as if he could shield the foundling from the lonely halls.
Din wondered if he felt something there that the humans could not.
His helmet picked up heat signatures, and a mute movement towards his holster told Cara to draw her weapons. She responded with a nod towards the closest exit.
They hadn't realized guests were above them as well.
They were used to getting out of tight places; they were used to ducking for cover and running. They were also good at it. The rubble that they had picked through earlier suddenly became easy cover, some of it feet high and other piles blocking nearby doorways. A hail of bullets down a hallway split them apart, with Din on one side of the passageway and Cara on the other; an open doorway was on her side. She was crouched against a mountain of rubble; it hid the doorway from the view of their followers.
Din glanced at her to strategize how they were going to disappear; these bounty hunters were inexperienced, he could tell. Would it be easier to take them out, or leave them be? Cara probably wouldn't mind either way-
She was having fun.
She seemed to have realized the same thing as him, that they were dealing with inexperienced rogues who had banded together and didn't have a clue who they were up against.
She was smiling, the dots on her cheeks rosy and flushed from the adrenaline rush of fighting.
"Fly out of here, shiny boy." She laughed, jerking her head up towards a window high above them. It's placement inside a tower meant the shower of bullets around them wouldn't be able to reach him; it was an easy way out. "I'll meet you on the west wing in ten minutes."
Tempting, but-
The foundling glanced up at him, mouth wide open, as if the option was outrageous to him.
In that moment, a poorly-aimed grenade landed on the other side of the mountain shielding Cara-
An portion immediately shifted loose from it's position at the top of the pile-
And the moment the rubble came down, burying Cara, Din realized that he couldn't leave the Jedi Temple without her.