The pair stared at one another in the darkness of the ship. Rowan's eyes were not as bright as they had been, but something was nevertheless stirring behind them. Something - someone - was awakening from within.

"I'm going to ask you this only once." Rowan had never heard Din's tone quite so serious. "Whatever you say… whatever you feel, just tell me." He paused. "Does Bakura mean anything to you?"

It was nothing but simple letters on a navigation screen. That was all Bakura was: not particularly noteworthy. A well-respected hub of Wild Space. Even some people from their own galaxy had resettled there in search of a better life. And yet, the unmistakable feeling that it was so much more taunted Rowan like a music box with a never-ceasing key.

"Yes." Rowan closed her eyes to conceal any vulnerable emotions making their debut. "But what it means to me… I can't explain."

"That's all that matters."

The Mandalorian punched in the navigation codes without further discussion, but Rowan's mind was overflowing with questions.

Who would they talk to once they arrived?

What if they broke Bakura law without knowing it?

What if the client was watching them at every turn?

In the end, none of it mattered. Rowan knew the only way to get answers was to look for their paired question. She could hide in a haven of Mandalorians on Vashka and pour over books recalling lost legends, or she could go and chase them herself.

But of course, Rowan wasn't alone. She had a Mandalorian at her side.

"You didn't take the beskar," she mumbled once they were finally in hyperspace. "I hope that we can find it later. Maybe we can-"

"Rowan." There was slight annoyance in Din's huff. "I'm not worried about beskar right now."

I'm worried about you.

"You're saying that you don't want to run away with me and steal 60 bars of beskar?" The creaking of Rowan's chair leaning back harmonized with her high-pitched chuckle. "We could become space pirates: outlaws fighting for the justice of Mandalore."

"The idea of a little girl who doesn't understand how the world works."

"The comeback of a bitter, sad, old man."

Their bickering had a new edge to it: desire. Din wanted nothing more than to tuck that irritatingly loose curl behind Rowan's ear, but where it would end was dangerous for him - for the pair of them - and they had bigger issues.

Dank farrick.

Resisting her was impossible.

Desire was merely a starting point.

Din let his gloved fingers loosely drape over the woman's knee. The affectionate gesture - a simple curve of his hand - had the power to rewrite history. Rowan imagined she could feel his warmth against her skin, but it was nothing more than a fantasy. Such an idea had been left behind at their Tatooine fireside. A gentle knot in Rowan's stomach tightened the longer Din's fingers framed her knee. With it came the question: for who had he taken off his helmet?

"You protect your honor." Rowan sat forward, forcing Din's hand to move unwillingly up her thigh. She stifled the fire in her veins to embers. "You wouldn't lie if another Mandalorian asked about your helmet."

He could almost smell her from behind his helmet: sand and honey.

"It's not-"

"It's not breaking code… if I didn't see?"

"No." A pause. "It's not the first time."

Din should have guessed that Rowan's mind would go straight to foul play. Even in the darkness, the Mandalorian could spot the reddening of her cheeks. They were now nearly equal in hue to his maroon hyperdrive button. Before she could turn her back, Din clamped down on both sides of the chair to lock her into his apologetic gaze.

"It wasn't for a woman."

"A gentleman, perhaps?"

"It was for the Foundling."

Rowan pursed her lips. "The baby?"

"Yes. Grogu."

"Grogu," she recalled. The thought rolled over in her mind. "You must have really loved him."

Din nodded. "I… miss him." It hurt to confess it.

"If you miss him, why isn't he here?"

Rowan's words echoed three times in the Mandalorian's head before he could make any sense of them. It was easy, wasn't it? If he missed Grogu… if he wanted to raise Grogu as his own… why wasn't he here?

"He had somewhere else to be." Din's helmet turned slightly with an aura of shame. "Somewhere better than here. Traveling with me is dangerous for a kid and-"

"You would have been his father," Rowan interjected with sharpened words and an equally pointed raise of her dark brow. "It wouldn't have been as dangerous." In a moment one might describe as either vulnerability or boldness, she brought her fingers to the Mandalorian's hollowed cheeks. "You clearly do everything you can for the ones you love."

"Rowan…"

Din could see the softness in her amber eyes, her curves. As he swallowed her into his vision, his own inherent fierceness morphed into a gentleness that so few had - and would - ever see.

I'd do anything for you.

Saying those words would thrust Din into the most dangerous battle of his life: a war with himself. Was it possible for love to break a perfect killing tool? Din was nearing forty and had never been in love. In fact, he could hardly recall if he'd ever even said that minacious, four-letter word aloud.

Before he could mutter a pitiful reply, Rowan's heels were back up on the control panel. Din was, however, getting better at spotting the grief in her dimples. "Bakura." Her smile struggled to reach her eyes. "Can you believe it? Just a few weeks ago, I had never been off Tatooine. Now I'm making my way into Wild Space."

On some level, it truly was exciting. And on another level? It was terrifying - a doorway slightly unhinged but without any prior knowledge as to who had kicked it in. Rowan may not have only been to Wild Space before: she may be from there. And as Din reached for Rowan's tepid gaze in the darkness of their cockpit, he knew she was thinking the same.

Din and Rowan had been quiet since entering the Bakura atmosphere. The planet's massive build of blue, green, and white drowned every corner of their vision. A towering city welcomed them with a circular layout: a face with no features. Was everything in Bakura to be a mystery?

Major streets and boulevards were speckled with frames of creatures both familiar and little-known as massive, blue-white facades became stiffened blouses to shield the city.

Din had to read the city's name several times over just to get it through his - quite literally - thick skull.

Salis D'aar.

The weary ship puttered and groaned as it landed on concrete pads, but Rowan knew quickly that their rough arrival was not what stirred up her stomach. Instead, a landing team composed mostly of human faces was to blame. Their faces held no warmth with the grand entrance of a pre-Empire gunship into a port of Wild Space.

Din's voice cracked against the weight of prolonged silence. "Let's get this over with."

Shooting up like a reed, Rowan clutched onto her partner's forearm. "What if we're wrong?"

"About what?"

The space between them disintegrated as Rowan inched closer. Din tried not to read it as affection, although he was certain she could hear the invisible chain pull him backward in restraint.

""What if the envoy on Tatooine was just a set-up?" She asked. "What if this was a trick to try and bring us here? To get us into enemy hands?" Din could spot the slight ferality in her eyes. "Flying into this part of Wild Space feels too easy, too-"

Din's fingers smoothed their way up her neck without warning. As his thumb brushed over Rowan's bottom lip - perfectly pink from the fretful blood rushing to her face - he could sense her breath halt.

"We'll deal with it."

Silence set in between them. Din led the way out first, keeping his head slightly turned to check on his partner's disposition. Although Rowan's eyes were darting about like a frantic desert mouse, there was a level of excitement to their new destination. He smiled from beneath his mask, enjoying each chance he got to see her curiosity set ablaze.

If only the pleasantries had lasted longer. Din and Rowan were instead greeted with blasters - familiar, yet foreign - with their noses as the target.

"Your ship isn't from this galaxy, pilot." The voice belonged to a lean, ivory-skinned guard. "Not to mention that your ship isn't listed as a trading vessel."

Rowan had to stop herself from staring at his handsome features, which propelled her to paint the suspected Mandalorian's portrait on the canvas in her mind.

"We're not here for trade," Din stated simply. "We're here to visit friends."

Hesitation was the defining word among them all. Blasters were lowered, but the guards nevertheless exchanged silent glances full of meaning. Friends between galaxies were not common. There was very little that the two galaxies knew about one another other than war, slavery, and trade. After all, what made the galaxy expand?

So who exactly were these people?

Luckily, the Mandalorian's beskar was a quick replacement in the conversation.

"Unnecessary technology is forbidden on Bakura." The captain's lip curled into a snarl. "In fact, it's illegal. Surely your friends would have told you that." Double remained in his eyes. "I suggest you climb back into your ship and return from whatever dessert you came from."

Rowan wondered how he had known such a fact but then saw for herself that sand was blowing everywhere off of their ship. No wonder the guards were annoyed - it was likely the guards left to clean up after.

But Rowan couldn't go back.

Not anymore.

Rowan could sense a whisper calling her to the heart of Bakura. It was everywhere - invisible, humming, and desperate. She could almost hear a chorus of voices calling out her name - a name that was both hers and another's - to bless the land with the softness of her bare footsteps.

Rowan had no choice but to offer up the truth; the land was guiding her.

"I think this is my home." Rowan's mutter was nearly quiet enough to go unnoticed. "I think I was born here, but… but my childhood is a long-lost memory." The way Rowan's voice broke had Din forcing himself not to reach for her hand. "I don't have any records of my parents… no idea of my hometown, but I just… I can feel it."

Was her confession insane or profound? No offered opinion was swift enough, however, as an unfamiliar voice broke out from the far end of the landing strip.

"Leave them with me."

It was the voice of a man: miraculously deep and soft all at once. Leaning against the exit, he seemed to be one with the shadows. The paleness of his skin seemed to melt into the tan, crackled clay of the wall behind him as well as the sunset-hues of his loose garments. Kicking his raised boot heel from the wall to saunter forward, every delicate rock of his arms was personified silk. Rowan couldn't help but notice her beating heart screech to an uncomfortable halt as he stepped into the light.

The man wasn't much taller than Din, but he also wasn't entirely human. His head was smoothed over without a single follicle of hair. In its place was a ridged skull defined clearly by three sections. The middle was the highest, but not so distracting that one might stop to take note of it. What did stand out were raised bumps sprinkled across his forearms matching the overall pale shade of his skin.

As for the clothing, it was loose, as if for slumber. They blew in the moderate breeze of a Bakura spring, and Rowan couldn't help but notice the toned muscles that occasionally slipped out from his sleeves.

So, he's a fighter, too.

Across the man's waist was an animal-hide belt bearing a single stick. It was no longer than a pinky and swung in the wind as it dangled from a loosening, orange string. Whatever story it held seemed important to keep it at the hip.

Rowan couldn't have guessed how long she had been staring. Thankfully, the man's smile was warm and welcoming, as if encouraging her to take a closer look.

"Yavessk," a guard mumbled. "You know these guys?"

Yavessk's eyes - as blue as the waterfalls on Vashka - never left Rowan's. "Yes. I'm one of the… friends… they were discussing."

Yavessk seemed to hold authority where the others lacked it. Thus, the duo watched in silence as the disgruntled guards sauntered off, mumbling something about a lack of trust and 'too much metal'.

Rowan could have sworn she hadn't blinked.

"You must have many questions; I believe I can help you." Oceanic eyes shot toward Din. "You must know, Mandalorian, that you cannot enter Bakura in beskar."

"N-no, that's not possible," Rowan finally spoke. "It's part of his religion."

Yavessk didn't so much as flinch. "While I respect a fellow spiritual being, I am afraid that I work for the government of Salis D'aar. That government, much to my distaste, requires a refined use of technology."

The Mandalorian suppressed an agitated groan with the sudden realization as to why there was such limited interaction with Bakura: they feared technology. Loathed it. It was bad enough to carry dangerous weapons on one's body, but for your entire body to be a weapon…

Rowan's brain was busy stumbling through options when her partner's voice cut through.

"I'll take it off."

Rowan's eyes were blazing bright. "You can't."

"There are other ways to cover my face."

Rowan glanced at Yavessk with desperation dripping from her lashes. "We can't keep his armor here. He needs it with him. It's far too valuable, and-"

"I will personally see to it that the Mandalorian's beskar travels alongside us." Without a beat of hesitation, the stranger dropped into a low bow toward Rowan. "You have my word."

Din had already started back toward the ship. What was there to be done? They had nobody else to trust and their main priority was getting answers.

Din began to pull out boxes and crates from the smaller storage unit, digging for any kind of material strong enough to hide his face but allow air to come through. In the end, Din was able to craft something out of Rowan's old shirt from Tatooine with anti-glare goggles to help him see. Although there was a chance that someone was able to catch a glimpse of his stare, it would nevertheless be fleeting.

Din would make sure of that.

Outside of the ship, Rowan's excitement released back into herself. It settled into the pit of her stomach like a piece of dropped ribbon. She was the reason Din was in this mess. Thanks to her, the Mandalorian would never have removed his helmet a second time. If she hadn't -

"He is a grown man. You needn't feel guilty for his actions." Yassveck's voice took Rowan by surprise, but his lips hadn't seemed to move. Blinking away what must have been an illusion, Rowan watched him closely. "He clearly desires to be here with you."

Did he know what I was thinking?

Starting with the top of their ever-growing list of questions, Rowan spoke up. "Your name is Yavessk?"

"Indeed." He bowed once more. "It is truly an honor to meet you."

Rowan knew there was confusion etched into every wrinkle on her forehead. In less than five minutes, Yavessk had Din removing his beskar and shutting her mouth - two things the woman never thought imaginable before their arrival on Bakura.

"My name is Rowan," she muttered.

"A pleasure." He gestured to the gunship door with his chin. "And your companion?"

"Just call him 'Mando'."

"Mando? Amusing."

As if on cue, the ship door flung open. Rowan's thoughts were already reeling, but seeing Din out of armor nearly seemed to be the end of her.

The Mandalorian wore the same brown trousers as beneath his armor, but it was apparent for the first time just how fitted they were. The thick muscles of his thighs stood out to highlight years of skirmishes and hunts. Above, Din's shirt was a simple tunic in a dull gray that ran to his wrists. It was also loose where it failed to accentuate his muscular figure, and in a moment of teenage rebellion, Rowan imagined just where her head would fall beneath his chin.

To make matters worse, his gloves were off.

His fingers mocked her; she could still feel them in her hair.

"When we arrive, I will see to it personally that you are able to wear your armor again, Mando." Yavessk offered a gentle smile but did not offer the same bow.

"When will we arrive?"

Din asked the question as if absolutely nothing had changed. It was the only way to ignore Rowan's wandering eyes - which he wished desperately to meet in a silent, secluded place where nobody could see them.

Where nobody could hear them.

Yavessk waved his pale fingers in a gesture to follow. Rowan and Din stayed at one another's side, the wind gently pulling the fabric away from his face. She continued to glance at it - unsure if she could believe that it was truly the Mandalorian beneath those rivers of fabric.

"You look like the cousin of a Tusken Raider," she chuckled.

Din's head turned just enough to catch his mocking tone. "Say that again and you'll wish you hadn't."

Yavessk led them onward into the heart of the city. It was not entirely dissimilar to the large cities of their own galaxy, although technology was clearly limited and droids almost non-existent. Much like her own backyard, the Salis D'aar market was at full capacity as the sun reached its peak. Children dressed in silver and blue smocks flew past the trio with joyous laughter, as humanoid dolls flew over their heads on invisible clouds of hope and imagination.

The scent of unfamiliar spices swam through their nostrils, sending Rowans' stomach into a whirr of noises.

"You must be hungry," Yavessk spoke over his shoulder. "If you can hold on for a bit longer, your meal will be well worth the wait."

Despite the riddle, Rowan was eager for the outcome. She had hardly noticed Din inching closer to her side until his shoulder came into contact with her own. "How do you feel?" His whisper was full of concern.

Rowan kept her eyes forward as the silver city secured itself as the background of their strangely-woven tale. "Overwhelmed."

"We can go back to the ship." The brush of Din's fingers against her own was electricity down Rowan's spine, warming her from the inside out. "Just say the word."

Rowan ran a finger over his wrist to feel his blood flow. Did it quicken when she'd kissed him? "I need to be here, but I don't want to drag you into this… should you have other appointments."

She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, felt his body go still with predatory focus, as his voice dropped to a murmur. "What could be more important than you?"

Rowan swallowed that increasingly familiar, painful desire. Knowing that he was with her, stripped of his armor in a land unknown, was enough to make her want to kiss him - need to kiss him. "If we weren't here right now-"

Din's fingers trickled up her sleeve, meeting her elbow with a gentle brush before sliding down as if nothing had happened. "I know," he cut in. "I can still taste you."

Rowan's eyes shut at the memory. The way his tongue had brushed hers with gentle, deft strokes that demonstrated what he was capable of doing elsewhere.

Everything about Bakura - about Yavessk - seemed to melt into the dust spreading outward beneath their feet. All Rowan and Din could do to refrain from dashing off to the next alley was to take a conscious step away from each other.

They would have time.

Time to do whatever they wanted.

To say whatever they needed.

Just… not yet.

Just in time, Yavessk stepped up to a small land speeder with an open roof and four seats at the simmering end of the marketplace. Knowing that there was no other way forward, Din tossed his sack of beskar onto the dirt-crusted floor. There was a silent command in such an action, but Yavessk hadn't missed it.

I'll be sitting in the back.

With her.

Yavessk silently encouraged them to enter with a wide sweep of his arm. Rowan wasn't entirely sure why she was trusting him: a stranger whose species was still uncertain. Considering the Mandalorian was at her hip, however, allowed her to feel safe no matter the location.

"There are several things I should inform you of before we depart." Yavessk turned over his shoulder to speak. "Reaching our destination will be somewhat of a journey. And while I understand that you have many questions, I can assure you that they will be answered in due time by the Head Shaman." Yavessk was not threatened by the slow, hesitant glance the couple shared. "I also know that you likely require more proof of my trustworthiness."

The words were chosen carefully.

"I know who you are, Rowan Typhe." His words were almost… raw. Transcendent. They filled every crack and crevice of the woman's skull. "This moment has fallen at the right time: the time of destiny. For you to arrive here is the blessing of many moons." Yavessk lowered his head more deeply than before, solidifying the pair's growing suspicion that each bow had been solely for Rowan.

It was unexplainable. Although fear lined the mechanic's stomach, something else lingered at its edges.

Comfort.

Yavessk, however, was not finished. His eyes shifted toward the Mandalorian, their pupils filled to the brim with admiration and respect. Without uttering a word, Din Djarin could sense something deep in Yavessk that lingered in his own core: honor.

"And… perhaps… we have been waiting for a Mandalorian, too."