WARNINGS: This chapter contains violence.

A special note about MANDALORIAN ONLY chapters:

The resol'nare, or Six Actions, defines what a Mandalorian does.

4. "I will always speak Mando'a to other Mandalorians." The Mandalorian language, Mando'a, is one of the most important things that sets the Mandalorians apart from other groups.

SO...while I absolutely REFUSE to make my readers struggle through and ENTIRE chapter with every single piece of dialogue translated into Mando'a-please know that these exclusively Mandalorian chapters-these people ARE speaking in Mando'a. Every word. Every action. Every thought. It is as basic to them as breathing. So, I add words for emphasis cause I love to do that, but the truth of this chapter and the next is ALL of the words are in Mando'a.


Notes:

So, since I destroyed you all emotionally with a baby Torian being bullied last chapter-I thought I would try to limit the overall angst this time. Enter...Corridan. ENJOY!

If you REALLY want to enjoy this chapter you need to set the following song on repeat through the entire chapter while you read it hahaha Cause, seriously, when I read it, that's ALL I HEAR now, and there's this one part, that is just so emotional if you have the song playing and you're like me and see the story in your head as you read you are gonna be jumping up and down in your seat haha

watch?v=dKGwgEqMxMQ

You can hold your cursor over any of the Mando'a/Non-Basic words in the story and the pronunciation and explanation will pop up for you! I haven't tested this on mobile yet, but it works on the computer!

In case that doesn't work: Chapter 8 Translations: For those who don't like to wait til the end to know what the non-english words mean (like me!) This works especially well if you open it in another window so you can just click back and forth to see the translations as you hit the words. (Right click and say "open in new tab")

WARNING: Contains spoilers of course!

Tumblr Translations: post/149826237366/the-pages-between-chapter-8-finally

Chapter Playlist: Only one song...really this one: youtube watch?v=dKGwgEqMxMQ


Raeyn's heart was beating out of her chest, and her hands were sweating. She could feel a bead of perspiration sliding down the side of her face from her temple. Her hair felt like it was heavy on her head, her feet like they were filled with lead. Her tummy was twisted up inside and it felt like her legs were jellly. She clenched her hands to her side, then awkwardly folded them across her chest, trying to make them be still, to hold them, stop them from reaching out and grabbing Torian.

They had just loaded his father's carbonite sealed body onto a transport—Mako and Gault were standing a short distance away trying to inconspicuously not appear to be watching, which was a complete failure but she was too shaken to care. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. What she was supposed to say. Torian had packed up his gear and was walking toward her to head back to his camp—to head off into wherever the Mandalorians were going next. Away from her.

Please, no.

She closed her eyes hard, willing herself to keep it together.

"I wanted to just say...I..." Torian was so close to her, she could just step forward and she'd be in his bubble, she shifted her feet, willing them to not move toward him, his voice was so soft, like he was testing the air around them, different than his normal manner that spoke of years of training—and she knew, she felt the atmosphere—it was violent, roiling with her emotions, and she didn't want this to be what he remembered from being close to her, his voice was shaking when he spoke again, "I mean...Thank you, Champion."

He nodded his head, tipping his eyes to the ground between them, and she wanted to scream, "You're welcome, stay with me forever!" But instead the word she spoke was soft and small, "Anytime."

He looked at her then, his mouth twisting as if he were weighing words...and then he just nodded curtly, his body swaying lightly, and then he went rigid like a soldier drawn to attention and he turned and walked away.

Every step he took away from her made her buckle a little, her shoulders beginning to drop down, hands wrapping around herself, trying to hold herself together. It hurt. It felt like something was being pulled from her body, ripped through her skin. Her mind was frenzied, her soul was screaming. When he was twenty feet away she felt his eyes on her, he'd glanced back and she nodded her head once sharply, turning away before he could see the tear that slowly rolled down her face.


Torian had been sitting on the ground staring at the fire for several hours, his mind a mangled mess of thoughts, feelings, and pictures he couldn't get rid of now. Today he had killed his aruetyc buir, the man who had left both him and his mother to die at the hands of his enemy. He had thought that after he had finally finished the one thing in his life that he had been waiting for, it would fix the empty feeling in him—bring closure—but so far it hadn't. So far he felt the same, and there was a gnawing feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach that just wasn't there before.

When he had returned to camp that night, he wasn't exactly surprised no one noticed—and he was glad to not have to face all of them—like he'd told Raeyn, he just really needed to be alone to think—though he couldn't explain why walking away from her had been so painful. He did want to be alone, he needed to figure all of this out, and he couldn't do it with her there. He was glad for the cover of the Clan. He'd spent most of his life trying to blend in and stay below the radar—and that suited him just fine today, since being invisible was not a hard thing given the size of Clan Ordo these days.

He'd went as far outside of camp as he felt he could without ending up with unwanted attention from local patrolling soldiers or wildlife. He'd made a fire and spent the evening just listening to the noises it made, as night fell the added symphony of all of the world around it trying to give him a soothing sound—except he couldn't quite process everything that had happened, and he needed to understand why everything felt so...wrong.

He grunted, "Alor'ad", in greeting when Corridan sat on the ground beside him, not looking at Torian as he began tossing a few twigs into the fire.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Torian considered that, staring at a dancing flame as he thought it through…do I want to talk about it?

"Not sure yet," he replied, deciding the truth of his confusion would be the right thing to share.

"Look, I'm not here to get you to talk about your feelings," Corridan laughed lightly, tossing more sticks at the fire, "Force knows, I know better than that…It's just…" Corridan grabbed a stick out of the fire, tapping it sharply on the ground in front of him, sparks falling around it.

"Vod…seriously," Corridan threw the stick back into the fire, turning his body toward Torian, "I just think it needs to be said out loud. This wasn't some ordinary situation—I don't know anyone else in the history of our people who has done what you had to do—honor be damned."

"I mean, hell, you had to hunt and kill your own father—and there's no way—not me, or anyone else here—maybe anywhere could know what that feels like. I'm not about to pretend I do. But…I can tell something powerful happened out there—and you don't owe me a single bit of it—but if you do want to spill it—you know…just, I'm here."

Torian turned slowly to look at Corridan, his face impassive, "Laandur, thought you said we weren't talking about feelings?"

"Shabuir!" Corridan reached over and smacked Torian across the back of his head, laughing when Torian reached up to rub his head.

"Ow," Torian looked at him, laughing lightly, "Thanks. Really."

Corridan nodded, knowing Torian well enough to know that there was a lot said between the lines. He kicked his legs out, laying down on the ground, propping his head up on his hands, staring up at the stars.

There were faint noises from around the camp—a few people still up and stirring—most already tucked in so that they would be ready for tomorrow's orders. Mand'alor had sent word they would have a new destination in the morning.

A new place to go do the same things.

Torian folded his arms across his knees, laying his head down on them, staring at the flames—getting lost in the way the colors swayed and flowed in the light wind around them.

He didn't know how much time had passed, when Corridan stretched beside him, yawning loudly.

"S'pose I'm gonna head to the barracks—unless you had anything you wanted to…maybe…talk about?"

Torian looked over at him, truthfully, his only friend. The friend that protected him, and after the day he got his scars, never let anyone even look at him sideways. The only friend he'd ever had—truth be told, Torian didn't have any memory as far back as he could remember that didn't have Corridan in it. He was someone who saw past the labels that he lived with since he was old enough to understand that the word the other kids called him growing up was actually a brand that would never leave him, not as long as his father was alive.

"Gehat'ik osik'la," he said, shaking his head as if to clear the confusion away, "He wasn't…not what I expected."

He shrugged, "Fought us, hard, was still strong—meant to kill him that way, in the battle—'cept he stopped—he laid his weapon down."

Corridan shifted to sit up, his eyes wide, "What?"

"Knew me. Heard my name, from the other hunter, and knew me."

"Damn."

"Said Mand'alor had promised to kill me. Said that he thought it was true. Told him I wished he had sometimes."

"Vod…"

"You know it's true."

"I know."

"In the end—he let me speak my mind."

Torian looked up at the sky for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

Corridan whispered, "And…did you?"

"Yes."

He took in a shuddering breath realizing no matter how the words came out or how long he took to speak them, there was no easy way to get past it.

"Called him dar'manda, right to his face. Told him he stripped our clan of our honor, destroyed me in the process—Mando'ade without honor is worthless. Said what I had waited my whole life to say. Was there to take back the honor he stole, from me, from the Cadera name."

Corridan sat completely still, his mind trying to imagine the scene—realizing that this was a horrific moment in Torian's life, not the healing, cathartic one that he had always imagined for his friend.

Torian's voice shook, pulling in a ragged breath, "Told me I was wrong, that I never should have worn my name in shame, said he understood and he was ready to die, not because Mand'alor demanded it, but because he knew it was what would give me my life back."

"Told me…." He took a deep breath, "if he'd known I was alive he would have already come. Would have given himself up, so I could have my honor," he whispered the words, "I….almost walked away."

Corridan sat still, knowing that he wasn't finished with the story yet.

"At the end, told me 'Gar taldin ni jaonyc, gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la', was serious, said to find my life, my path, that I needed to bring Clan Cadera back into the fold. Wanted to know if I had taken Ordo as my name. Smiled when I told him no."

"And then….I just…I told him…I would, I'd figure out my way—that I would do our name proud—because his death wasn't going to be worthless. Did what I had to do—fulfilling the promise—wasn't what I thought it would be."

He tossed a rock beside him into the fire, tiny little embers spitting out around the base, "Thought I would feel some….relief, or peace—all I am left with is confusion."

He reached up, his hands going into his hair, leaning his head down, growling, "I'm alone now, there is no other left, the only other Cadera is dead, by my own hand."

Corridan grunted, he understood what Torian was saying, "Ner vod, you are alone only in name, not spirit."

Torian nodded, not looking up, "Used to feel like enough, Cor, it doesn't anymore, not now."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not a member of your clan," he locked eyes with Corridan, challenging, "Never have been, not really—you knew that, but never said it out loud."

"You are my vod," Corridan said, his voice sharp, "I don't care what anyone else thinks! You're right, you never have been an Ordo—because everyone knew you were going to be more, more than just a name absorbed into another clan to be lost in the stories. You've always been more than that!"

Torian grunted, the best he could do as his throat was thick with emotion from the words Corridan had spoken.

"What you don't know is that if you had offered to take our name, no one would have let you. Mand'alor himself would have stopped it—haven't you ever wondered why you were spared?"

Torian looked at Corridan, unsure. He really hadn't ever thought about it. He knew that there were other members of his clan, all killed, even his mother, but he really hadn't wondered how or why he was not.

"Mand'alor had a visionary visit him, when he was waging war—when he'd already sent a clan to kill your people—and that person told Mand'alor something that convinced him that you needed to be saved. He sent you here, to Clan Ordo—his orders clear—keep you safe—I know there were other things too, that Mand'alor told them about how you were to be raised, but I wasn't privy to them then and haven't thought about it since."

Torian considered this, remembering how the story about his mother had included someone convincing her to take him to Mand'alor, his mother protecting him by allowing Mand'alor to take him. Was it all really true?

"You've lived your life in darkness, you've hid away—you didn't want people to see you, not even with the truth right there all over your face—mandokarla—and you know what? That was fine, good when you were young and couldn't handle the truth, but today, right now—you need to know—Mand'alor believed it. Don't ask me why, I mean it's not like any of us are especially spiritual—but whatever this visionary told him, showed him, he was damn well convinced."

Torian grunted.

"Now YOU need to be convinced, Jicoln told you the truth, for once in his miserable life—he said the truth. You are meant for more than being a shadow in Clan Ordo. Your path isn't here, isn't to be snuffed out by us—but to walk a different path—one you have to make for yourself—and now, nothing is stopping you."

"You're free, Tor," Corridan reached over, his hand resting on the back of Torian's head, moving down to his neck, pulling him forward to knock heads with him, "Finally, you can choose what you want, how you want to live, rebuild your clan, and do what you were meant to do."

Torian's hand came up to clasp Corridan's head, "I don't even know where to start."

Corridan laughed, his hand still holding Torian to him, "Vod, no one knows that—I think we're all just putting one foot in front of the other and hoping for the best most of the time. Whether it's on the surface or somewhere deep inside of us—we are unsure, not clear on what the best course is—but we are Mando'ade—and that means that we move past our uncertainties, use the unknown to fuel the power inside of us."

His hand came up, tapping on the scar on Torian's cheek, "You remember what you said to me the day after you got those?"

Torian nodded, unable to speak the memory flashing in his eyes, the pain still having a hold deep inside of him despite his age.

"You said to me that you were going to make Clan Cadera something to be proud of, make it great again."

Torian nodded, remembering well.

"Tor, you can't do that inside of Clan Ordo," Corridan released Torian's neck, leaning back from him, stretching his legs back out, glancing up at the stars.

"Well, maybe I should rephrase that," Corridan's tone was teasing, "You certainly could rebuild your clan from the fertile soils of Clan Ordo, but you won't even look at any of the women who are trying to get your attention."

Torian shrugged, his mind picturing Raeyn instantly, "None of them are the right girl, that's all."

Corridan huffed, "Osi'kyr! Torian, you don't have to marry them, you can just have some fun—I don't know when you became such a cin'runi."

"Not cin'runi," Torian mumbled, his hand moving into the pocket hidden inside his glove, his finger running across the stones of the ring hidden there.

"Dreams don't count," Corridan laughed, nudging him with his foot.

Torian didn't even look at him, shoving his foot away, looking at the fire.

Corridan shifted, sitting up, "Hey, you never told me who you hunted with—you said that someone else was there helping you track Jicoln, right?"

Torian cut his eyes over to his friend, narrowing slightly, "Yes."

Corridan shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, "So…who joined your hunt? Why were they there?"

Torian's eyes were fixed on Corridan, who was feeling more and more out of sorts—the air around them felt tense and charged suddenly and he was having a hard time understanding what was happening. He drew his hands up gesturing for Torian to talk, confused about why he was hesitant in the first place.

"The Grand Champion."

Corridan roared, jumping up to his feet, ""Wayii! Are you kidding me? Why didn't you tell me the second you got back here, you or'dinii?"

"Knew you'd make a big deal about it," Torian responded, glancing back up at him where he was standing practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He gestured his hand up and down toward Corridan, "Wasn't wrong."

"Tell me everything, tell me, I have to know! What did she act like? Was she a good hunter? Could she fight? Like really fight?"

Torian rolled his eyes, huffing, "She acted like a hunter, exceptionally skilled, fought according to her skills, and yes, was named the Grand Champion, she really fought."

Corridan plopped down next to Torian, disappointed. Then his eyes drifted over to Torian, taking in his posture, the way his shoulders were drawn up and tense, the way his hand was digging into his glove to touch the ring, the tone his voice held—defensive.

"I'm a damn utreekov!"

"I'm glad you figured it out—go to bed."

"You like her."

Torian laid back on the grass, his hands under his head as a pillow looking up at the starry sky.

"Damn. You really like her if you aren't fighting me about it. What's her name again? Xaraeyn? Is that it?"

He waited. The silence stretching out.

He leaned over Torian, slapping his cheek, "I can do this all night, Vod, and you know it."

Torian let out a slow breath, "If I tell you something will you please go to bed and leave me alone? I'm tired, and you're a mir'sheb."

"Not gonna make any promises."

Torian weighed the chances that he would actually leave, considering it worth the possibility, "She goes by Raeyn, not Xaraeyn and when I realized it was her…well, I tried to be clever…"

"Oh, hell."

"Exactly. Cornered her and her partner, thought I caught them off guard."

"Okay."

"I didn't."

"…."

Corridan practically screeched, "Oh, screw this! You aren't going to tell me that's the whole story."

Torian shrugged, laughing at the way it looked like Corridan's head was going to pop right off of his shoulders.

"She took me down, in like…two seconds. I mean…flat out on my back, her foot right damn well—here!" He took his hand and slapped it on his chest, "her blaster pointed at my head and her idiot partner mouthing off about how she must like me because she didn't kill me."

Corridan's eyes were narrowed, staring at the spot on Torian's chest. Torian tried to figure out if he was okay, when he suddenly burst out, "How the hell did she take you down? I've never taken you down, and I know all of your moves! I taught you most of your moves!"

Torian laughed, he wasn't wrong…Corridan had never successfully taken him down—a long running burden in their friendship.

"Seriously, you have to tell me."

Torian spoke lightly, trying to minimize the words, "Just said she was eager to see me after Dromond Kaas."

He thought Corridan might be having a heart attack, his hand clenching at his chest, his mouth opening and closing rapidly. He was considering slapping him when he burst out, "Osi'kyr! Osi'kyr! You LIKE her."

Torian wanted to deny it, but there was no point, no one knew him better than Corridan, and he wasn't good at lying. At all.

Corridan sat back down next to Torian, his voice reverent, "You like her."

Torian turned his head to look at him, "Yes."

"Like, like-like or like-like- like?"

Torian's hand flew up smacking Corridan in the back of the head, hard, "Could you be less stupid, gedet'ye?"

Corridan rubbed the back of his head, looking pointedly at Torian.

"Like-like. Now shut up and go to bed."

Corridan's eyes were so wide it looked like they could pop right out, "Wait, wait," he started moving his body back and forth with excitement, "like-like—as in, murey'lin kinda like."

"Rangir!" Torian stood up so quick he knocked Corridan backward, he was laughing, sprawled out on the ground.

"Don't be mad, don't leave, please, I'll be good," He let out a long squeal, laughing, "You can't blame me for hoping you might get some action so maybe you'd loosen up a little bit. I think you'd be a lot more pleasant, and there's no denying she's hot…I mean did you even see how she…"

The words caught in Corridan's throat as he noted the way Torian's body had tensed, his entire countenance changed from one of teasing banter to one of confrontation. Torian pointed his finger at Corridan, "I will hurt you if you talk about her like that again." His tone was absolute, "I'm leaving now."

"Good! Yes!" Corridan shouted at him, laughing, "That was the whole damn point!"

Torian stopped, groaning as he ran his hand down his face, turning to look at Corridan where he was still laying on the ground next to the fire, "Explain."

"I've been your friend since you were born, we have fought side by side, through thick and thin, and I know you, Tor—I've studied you, and seriously, I have actually PAID women to try to seduce you, and nothing—no spark, no light, certainly no response from yo…"

Torian interrupted him, "You PAID women to do what!?"

Corridan made a loud shrill noise, "You're focusing on the wrong part of the conversation—the point I'm trying to make is I knew when we saw her on Dromond Kaas that you liked her. Everything about you was different, has been different." He shrugged, "I don't know how I can see it so clearly, when you can't."

Torian stared at him, considering what he was saying in light of the feelings inside of himself.

"You went after Jicoln because you wanted to be someone that deserved her, you can't even deny it, cause I know it's the truth," Corridan stood up, walking to where Torian was still standing, thinking.

"Your path, the one you've been looking for since you were seven? It's not here, Vod."

Torian studied him, his expression blank, not giving anything away, not speaking.

"It's her."

Something about his words rang true, but at the same time, Corridan was an incorrigible idiot who didn't know the first thing about relationships or how they worked—so his advice didn't carry a great deal of weight.

"There was this….feeling, don't know how to explain it…" Torian struggled trying to think of how to describe what happened that day when she was named 'Grand Champion', words to explain what the additional time spent with her made him feel, "It's like…she can…like she could read my soul. Like she knows me, even though we just met."

He shrugged, knowing it didn't make any sense at all, "Feels like I know her, too. Like I always knew her—was waiting for her."

He shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground, shaking his head, "It's stupid, I'm heading to my bunk."

"No."

Torian looked up at Corridan who had his hands on his hips, "No, you aren't. You are going to the spaceport and you are going to find that woman's ship and you are going to tell her how you feel."

Torian scoffed, "I am not."

"The hell you aren't," Corridan stood up to his full height, "You are, even if I have to drag your ass there."

"Like to see you try," Torian raised an eyebrow in a challenge.

The words had barely left his mouth when Corridan charged into him, his shoulder making contact with Torian's chest, throwing him five feet backward, his body skidding across the dirt from the momentum.

"What the hell, Cor…" He whipped his head up when he felt his foot being lifted, looking at Corridan who was dragging him by his leg, "What are you doing?"

"What I said I would do, you damn idiot," he had managed to drag Torian several yards at this point, "She's still here. I'm part of the crew tasked to get Jicoln from her to take to Mand'alor. We meet her at eight in the morning."

Torian was nearly hysterical, throwing his hands up in the air, as Corridan continued to drag him across the ground, "SO!?"

"So—you're gonna be there—and it's gonna take me all night to drag you there!"

Torian's face went blank, then suddenly his other leg flew up, twisting his body, connecting with Corridan's arm, knocking him backward, turning to get on his knees to stand up. His breath whooshed out of him when Corrdidan's arms came around his neck, landing on his back.

"You're going!"

Torian growled, pitching himself backward, landing on top of Corridan, who was reaching around him trying to hold him down, his legs flailing, reaching to wrap around one of Torian's, managing to get leverage, lifting himself up and folding Torian's body in half, holding his neck down.

"I can do this all night."

Torian bucked backward, his head smacking Corridan in the chin, sending his line of vision skyward, as Torian shifted, his foot landing right in the middle of Corridan's chest, spinning him back away from him.

Torian turned to walk away, making it about eight feet before Corridan flew across the space between them, landing with a crash into Torian's back, his arm around his neck holding his head straight up, his words harsh in his ear, "You're going!"

He'd barely finished the last syllable when Torian shifted his center of gravity forward, his arms coming up to grab Corridan's head, tipping over quickly, pitching Corridan onto his back. He leaned over him, now lying on his back looking up at him, upside down, "I'm not."

He took a step forward, his foot coming straight down on Corridan's chest, the air making a sharp noise as it was forced from his lungs, somehow managing to speak through the breath, "The hell you aren't!"

His hands reached up to grab Torian's foot, yanking on it and rolling as he began the fall, clearing most of his sprawling appendages, Torian's knee hitting him in the shin. Torian was trying to get up, making it to his hands and knees before Corridan used the distance between them to get enough weight behind him to pounce on Torian's back, his feet dug into the dirt for leverage—pressing him down to the ground, his elbow pressing into Torian's neck, holding him still.

Torian growled, his face smashed into the hard dirt under him, he waited, stilled, conserving his energy—Corridan leaned over him, "What are you? Stupid? You like her! Deal with it!"

He yelped when Torian twisted his body, rising up under him, his elbow slamming into his throat, twisting his torso to land his fist across Corridan's jaw.

Corridan grabbed his leg, wrapping himself around it, Torian shook his leg, both of his arms gesturing to Corridan's ridiculous position, "Seriously?"

"Vod, I understand the not knowing, I get it, I really do, but you can't hide here forever."

Torian leaned over, growling, his fist slamming into Corridan's cheek, his head flying sideways, but his body still tight around his leg.

"That's what you are doing Tor, you are hiding in this clan!"

He ducked when the fist came flying at him again, glancing off the side of his head, "You are no arue'tal, never been, hell, you are the craziest bravest Mando'ade I have ever seen in my life. You run forward when the world—screw that, when Mando'ade runs away!"

Torian tipped backward in a calculated drop, hitting the ground, then his other foot flying up, kicking Corridan's chin, "Son of a…that HURT!"

"Meant to," Torian hissed at him, his leg shooting out again, Corridan grabbing it before it made contact, twisting it, Torian's eyes widening as he realized if he didn't roll with him, he might end up with a broken leg.

"Damn it," he threw himself into the roll, his hand grabbing Corridan's hair trying to get him to break loose.

"Stop fighting like your girl, Raeyn," Corridan's hands were clawing at Torian's trying to loosen his grip.

"You kadas'ika!" Torian hissed, his fist flying forward striking Corridan's mouth straight on, "She'd already have kicked your ass—twice!"

"Oh, your girl is that good, huh?" Corridan spit the blood that pooled in his mouth on the ground beside him.

"She's better than either of us," Torian muttered, looking around for something to hit Corridan with to get him off of his leg, looking back down at him, "Especially you."

"Bevagol!" Corridan spun onto his side and back, twisting with his leg sweeping sideways, his boot slamming square across Torian's face, "Aw, hell, you're gonna have a black eye when you see her tomorrow!"

The blow had sent Torian flying sideways, rolling down the slope they were on, until he ended up on his back. Corridan threw himself down the hill after him. Torian was breathing heavy, lying flat on the ground with Corridan sprawled out across him, his legs digging into the dirt to keep him pinned down, his shoulder dug into Torian's chest, "Get off me."

"No."

"Not kidding," Torian hissed his breath labored, "Move."

"No."

"Haar'chak!"

Torian's knee popped up, as he curled his body in, landing in the middle of Corridan's back, he rolled as Corridan shifted, then moved around to get his arm around his neck, pulled up on his knees, pulling Corridan backward.

"We're done."

Their breath was loud and heavy, Torian didn't loosen his pressure on his neck, knowing full well, that as soon as he moved his arm even an inch Corridan would respond.

"Tor," Corridan, huffed, "you can't stay here." He tried to take a deeper breath, "Not if you expect to bring your Clan back."

"Shut up!"

"Everything that was stopping you is gone," Corridan's body shuddered as he finally gathered a full breath, "There's nothing left to keep you from taking what you want, except you, and the thing you want the most—it's right there at that spaceport."

Torian's arm tightened around his throat, a silent protest. Corridan exploded, "I swear to all….you know what? That's IT!"

Torian couldn't react, so fast were Corridan's movements, and before he could even comprehend how it had happened, Corridan had reversed the position, slamming him down to the ground, pulling one of his arms back behind his back, pressing his knee down into his shoulder blades, leaning his full weight on him.

He couldn't take a good breath, so he couldn't make a sound, a small wheezing noise coming out through his mouth.

Corridan bounced on him, a strange groan coming out of Torian, Corridan leaned down to his head, "You're gonna damn well listen to me. I know you've never been alone. Not really—you have spent your whole life in Clan Ordo—feeling alone—but you weren't. But you can't keep hiding," Torian bucked when he said the word, "You think you haven't been hiding, Vod?"

Torian went wild under him, his entire body alight with fury, somehow getting his arm under himself to pitch Corridan off, scrambling over to him, landing with his knee on his chest, seething, "My father was hiding. I don't hide!"

Corridan stared at Torian, a play of emotions moving across his friend's face, until suddenly it crumbled, his head dropping down, "He hid all of these years, but then he stood there, with his son holding a blaster to his head, and gave me peace to do what I had to do."

He tipped backward, resting on his heels, his hands reaching up to pull his hair, "How can I be a leader of my Clan? What do I even know about being a leader? What? The little bit the prior clan leader taught me in the fifteen minutes I was with him? How do I take the first step away from here to there? How do I be as sure as he was about the right thing to do next?"

Corridan sat up then, trying to get a deep breath, "Wait, wait, are you…you are comparing yourself to your buir?"

Torian shrugged, figuring it made sense.

"Vod, that's complete and utter osik!" Corridan shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, his mind a little muddled from a few of the blows, "Wayii! There are people to admire, there are people to emulate—but your buir, I'm sorry, but he's not one of them—and it's not because of the war, it's not even because of Mand'alor."

"What?"

"He ran away, he stayed away, he hid—he didn't have courage, and I call foul on the idea that he knew what the right thing to do was—he wasafraid to face the consequences to his actions so he HID, letting your mother take the punishment and by default, you as well. He was a hut'uun in the worst way, so don't you dare tell me you are comparing yourself to that man. Fifteen minutes and a single act of courage doesn't make up a lifetime of cowardice and treachery."

Corridan's voice took on an edge of raw anger, "I was here, hell, I was with you, while he was hiding. I remember every night you cried in your sleep, and I was there, slamming jar'sheb evaar's heads into the wall every time they even looked at you wrong. I…damn it, I protected you, I taught you, I spent my entire childhood making sure that you were safe, taken care of, because…that's what brothers do. Isn't it?"

"You raised me."

Corridan shrugged, knowing it was an odd way to express it, "I guess, that's it. I dunno. It's just…I was here and he wasn't. He might have been a good man, a brave one, and I admire any man willing to die for his convictions—honestly I do—but that's not what your Dad did—he hid. He left you to be loathed, to be ridiculed, to be tortured,"

His hands waved at Torian's face.

"If you didn't kill him, I would have. It was just a matter of time."

Torian nodded, understanding.

Corridan didn't know how to express it, not without hurting Torian's feelings, but he made an effort, "It's time to move, it's time to take that first step out of the comfort of my clan and embrace your own—when I say you are hiding, you know it's not like that—it isn't cowardly—because you don't have a cowardly bone in your entire body! I am saying this is the easy road, this is the simple way, toast. But you and I both know it's not where you have been going, not for a long time—this, stepping out and embracing your clan? It is what you WANT, and if you need me tomuun'bajir gar out the door I am not afraid to do that."

Torian studied Corridan, minutes passing before he grunted, speaking emphatically, "You were a horrible father."

"Wha…" Corridan huffed, "Osik'la gar!"

"And a horrible mother, too."

"Murcyur ner shebs!" he turned, lifting himself to stand up.

"And you couldn't brokar ni, fear or not, we just settled that?"

Corridan was fuming, he started walking away, then, without warning, he launched himself at Torian, who knew what he was going to do, rolling his body sideways, sending Corridan sliding across the ground in front of him, his face the main thing slowing him down.

"Like I just said…" Torian said lightly, cringing a little when Corridan lifted his face and pebbles were stuck in his skin.

"Shut it."

"I'm just…"

"Torian?"

"Vod?"

"Walk away."

Torian stood up, rolling his neck, watching Corridan roll over on his back, groaning loudly, the entire left side of his face scratched and bruised. He stepped over to him, reaching down to help Corridan up—he slapped his hand away, closing his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep out here, Cor."

He grunted a response, satisfied, Torian then turned, walking toward his barracks.

"Tor?" Corridan called out to him.

When he didn't answer, he leaned up, glancing around—Torian was no longer there.


Corridan bolted straight up, gasping, his eyes flying open, his hand digging in his armor for his chrono, checking the time. Relief washed over him as he realized he still had forty minutes to get to the spaceport.

He glanced around, expecting to have to wake Torian, but he wasn't there—everything was pretty hazy about where he'd gone at this point. He twisted around, scanning the area for him—standing up, stretching, his bones popping from sleeping on the rocky ground, and from the beating his body had taken from Torain.

He reached up, rubbing his jaw, shifting it from side to side, his skin tight and swollen, painful, positive he looked like he'd went a few rounds with an angry nexu. That wasn't too far from the truth.

He made his way to the mess hall, running his fingers through his hair trying to tame it. He grabbed a few portable foods, Hsuaberry muffins, stopping to have a chat with his Uncle, still serving as Clan Ordo's leader, then making his way to his speeder.

He couldn't help be disappointed when Torian wasn't there. He stuffed the second muffin into his mouth, throwing on his helmet and latching the strap, heading out to the spaceport for the pickup.


Torian hadn't slept. He'd left Corridan laying out there in the field, following one of the trails up to a high point, above everything, and he'd sat there all night. Thinking. Imagining. Considering. Talking to the cosmos.

He'd went around and around in circles with himself—on the one hand, he had a home, this was his home—these were his people. It was all he'd known. Which wasn't a bad thing.

He'd also thought of the fact that he was always driving to do more, never completely happy, always feeling….held down, back, his hand ached from holding the ring so tightly, and he'd do anything to have his mother there with him to tell him what he should do. This was one of the important things Mother's did for their children in their society—guided them, helped them understand paths and how to tell one from the other—he didn't know much about her, not really, but he had a feeling deep inside that she would guide him to do the right thing.

It was all so confusing—with no clear answers—he'd wrestled with himself for several hours before he had finally admitted he was afraid. It was a foreign word to him and quite possibly not even the right word to use for what he was feeling, but it was the closest word he had to describe it—the all encompassing feeling of the unknown right outside of his boundaries. The worry that he might fail—seemed to him that it could be a kind of fear—even if not in the traditional sense. That he might crash if he tried to fly. Protective of himself from being hurt, positively mortified that he might hurt someone else, to do anything emotional really. He had to come around to the understanding, despite having nary a single fear when it came to battles and war—when it came to every other facet of his life, he played it safe…especially about relationships—the main reason he had only a single person he trusted in the world.

He'd learned as a child to keep his head down, to not speak up, to stay behind everyone, and to fight to win—every time—because he'd never allow himself to be that kid pinned down to the ground again.

Never.

The truth was, no one ever challenged him to do more or be more, and now he figured that was because of Corridan protecting him in his own way.

Plus, the things he was good at and confident in made sense to him. Battles made sense. There was a definitive goal. A beginning, and an end. You walked into a fight knowing what was expected of you—and you left knowing you had accomplished it.

Everything else in life was messy. He had spent every day of his life so far walking the undeniably safe path—the clean, organized, and completely risk free path.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If he didn't try—then he couldn't fail. If he didn't put himself out there—then he couldn't get hurt.

Except, maybe, just maybe—there were some things worth taking the risk for.

His mind had carried him back to a conversation he'd had with a man he greatly admired as a child.

"I like them." The man had pointed at his scars on his face. He was proud of them, he thanked him.

"I want to make sure you know something about today, and every day that you live beyond this…"

This was important. This was vital. No one gave him advice—but this great man wanted to share his words of wisdom with him. He meant to remember every word, to live it out day by day.

"Live up to the person these symbols say you are. They will be as a banner before an army—speaking boldly to others—you made the decision to make this your identity—now you have to believe it—you have to live it—be it."

"I will," he meant it, he would. He meant to. He really did, but life was challenging and under the weight of all of the struggles he faced, he lost track of what his goals were, what he had planned at that young age—the life he had imagined, the Clan he meant to build.

"Make Clan Cadera great again."

The words lodged in his throat, he whispered softly, reverently, anxious to give them life by speaking them into existence, "Make Clan Cadera great again."

He knew he'd lost sight of the vision he once had for his life. Beaten down by his circumstances—when you'd been called horrible names your entire life—it was easy to let it become a part of you, even when you didn't realize you had—and he knew now he definitely had, he had let his father's mistakes define him—and the narrow view of a small group of people influence how he saw himself.

They'd taught him to question himself, to have doubts —told him he'd never amount to anything. Told him that he was worthless. Told him that he'd never do anything right. Told him that he would never see his Clan whole again.

I believed them.

As he sat there on the hill, the sun breaking over the treetops beyond, the first rays of light reaching out to him as if whispering a hello—he didn't believe them.

Not anymore.

He knew he was made to do amazing things. He felt the surety deep in his soul. His life had purpose and he was not going to find it if he kept using Clan Ordo as a security blanket. He needed to step out. Step up. Making his Clan great again—that started by acknowledging that he WAS the Clan. That it started with him, and with only himself—he is still a Clan.

From there, he knew it could grow—and his heart squeezed when his thoughts drifted to Raeyn, her image alive and full colored in his mind's eye. He knew he hadn't known her long enough to feel so…needy about her—but he'd never felt this way about anyone before. She was breathtaking. And sure, she was beautiful, it was impossible to not notice how beautiful she was physically—but it wasn't that. There was something about her, a feeling that only existed when he was there. Made him feel alive, truly alive. She was strong, and not some average kind of strong, but strong—vital—capable—determined—spirited—fearless—bold—and all of it was wrapped up in this feminine person—who wears pink, purple, green, and has multi-colored hair, and who just….lives. Really lives. He could tell from just the short time he'd spent with her that when she woke up every day was a perfect day to live, and nothing in his life spoke more of what being Mando'ade really was if that didn't.

She's Mandalorian.

His heart beat so hard it felt like it might jump right out of his chest. Manda'lor had adopted her—she wasn't just an example of what a Mando'ade could be. She was an example of what a Mando'ade is. She was one of his own, and she was a far better picture of what all Mandalorian should aspire to than most who had been born into their clans. She made him want to be a better person. When she'd walked into the room the first time, his world shifted, and it was like everything in the universe pulled to her gravity field. He wanted to let go and fall into it, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

And then when she'd shown up to hunt the beast in the cave on Dromond Kaas, he'd had the chance to spend more time with her. She'd had a meal with them after the hunt, and he could feel how happy she was, how unique. How every color in the sky was a beautiful vision to her. How the taste of the bread and gravy made her close her eyes, savoring it. He wanted that. He wanted to fall into it, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

When he'd approached her while hunting Jicoln—he got to know her a little better—he had the chance to utilize his skills as a hunter—to observe and take note of her—and everything he discovered made him understand that she wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met. She was absolutely crazy, her hair a different color on this planet, her clothing color picked to match it, like she changed her personality based on how she woke up that day. She was exuberant. She was a ball of energy—and yet, she would sit still for hours watching a firefly or the sparks from a fire. She was smart, and witty, brash and volatile—and then she was deeply introspective—she didn't make him feel like a horrible person for what he was doing—she told him that they all had to follow their own hunt, and that anyone who refused to, would only live a half-life.

I've been living a half-life.

When they'd confronted his father, she stepped aside—having put in as much effort as he had, she offered the kill to him—even telling him if he didn't want to do it, she would—going so far as to tell him that she'd bring him back in carbonite if he didn't want to do it the other way. She meant it. She knew he could do it, she didn't question his capability or resolve, she wanted to know what he wanted. No one cared what he wanted. Ever.

She took his hand, squeezing it as she stepped to the side to he could speak to his father alone. She told him, a tiny whisper as she passed by him, "I'll be here no matter what you decide." And it felt like she meant it. She didn't press him for details, she had reached to him, while they were sitting on a rock, waiting for her crew to get to them to help get his body on board—and her hands, she'd turned her body toward him, her face open and full of truth, and her hands—they took his. And she bowed her head over them, and he couldn't put a name to what he felt but something in him felt peace, real peace—it was fleeting and by the time he'd arrived back at the camp—it was fading—but he felt like she'd given him a sacred gift there in the moments after he'd killed his own father. There was acceptance, there was understanding, and she radiated with another beautiful emotion he couldn't name.

When they were parting, as she was heading to her ship, and he had been coming back to his camp—she shuffled her feet, and he felt it, the pull, the gravity growing, swelling, desperate around them, pulling him to her, and he fought it, he pulled away from her, it took everything in him, to break away, and he thought he saw her face pained, but in a flash it was gone, and he walked away, convinced that even though he wanted to fall into it, he wasn't ready.

Except, sitting there, the wind blowing across his face, feeling more alive than he had his entire life—he was ready. She might end up hating him. It might never work out. They both might be too different or even too much alike. Anything could happen—but he could tell in the innermost part of his soul—she is worth the risk.

I am ready.

He jumped up, the bottom falling out of the pit of his stomach as he realized he didn't know what time it was and that the crew was meeting her at her ship's hangar at 8:00. He looked at the sun, worried that it was already late morning…taking off down the hill, digging through his armor trying to find his chrono, running while he pulled it up, trying to see the numbers as they bounced, while he ran. He finally had to stop, out of breath, holding it up, and sheer panic set in when he realized it was fifteen minutes until eight.

He was like a man gone mad, tearing a wild path through the woods heading back to the camp, completely oblivious to any danger, not caring, not having the time to care, he was getting to that hangar before she left.

He tore into the camp, flashing past people who tried to ask him if he was okay, calling out to them as he ran, "I'm amazing!"

He turned a corner, running into someone, turning as he continued to run backward, his eyes widening as he recognized the clan leader, Corridan's Uncle, he opened his mouth to issue an apology when the man's eyes lit up, a smile breaking across his face, "Go! Torian! GO!"

"Yes, sir!" he yelled, turning and breaking into a full sprint. He realized Corridan must have told his uncle and he was thankful, so glad to have seen him in the moments before he was leaving—his heart renewed as he felt the surety the man had planted in him all those many years ago swell up inside of himself.

He knew he didn't have time to gather his belongings, instead he just moved his hand to confirm he ring was in his glove and when he knew it was safe, he ran past the barracks to the speeder parking. He grabbed the first one he came to, the helmet falling off, and he laughed, knowing it was the first risk he was going to take—kicking it to the side—starting the engine and flooring it out of there.

He ran the bike full throttle, too many close calls to count as he avoided mishaps and potential death traps. A pack of Rakghouls chased him for 40 clicks before they trailed off accepting he wasn't going to stop. He could see the spaceport over the hill—still so far to go—he looked at the dash—7:56.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" he yelled leaning forward trying to make the bike go faster. He could see the outline of the top of the spaceport, coming up across the horizon as he flew through Olaris base—people screaming at him as he flew up on the sidewalk, the base alive and bustling with the morning crews and patrons milling around, he ran over the shrubbery dividing the walkway, to avoid a group of people who were blocking the street.

"SORRY!" He yelled as he passed them. He knew he needed to slow down—it was 8:12—so he couldn't, his heart was ready to burst out of his chest he was so overwrought with anxiety.

He took the bike up the steps to the Spaceport at full speed, people moving to the side as he sped toward the wall in front of him. He hit the brakes hoping to slow down, but realizing it was too late, he let go, the bike sliding across the floor as he rolled off of it. He came out of the roll running—circling around the entryway, realizing he had no idea what hangar she was in.

He ran to the information droid, trying to say the right words but his tongue was tied. He finally said her first name, realizing he didn't know her last name—and the droid made noises, seeming to take longer to search the records than could possibly be normal, and then told him she was in hangar 18B preparing for takeoff.

"No, she's not!" He swore as he dodged people, throwing off his chest piece as he ran, allowing him to breath better, sliding sideways between a crowd of people who were in his way—his hands flying up in the air to keep from hitting them as he passed—his legs burning as he ran, his chest on fire—his eyes wide, seeing the light for her gate—pushing himself, on autopilot, absolutely out of his mind, soaring across the space his hand slamming into the button, glancing behind him at all of the people standing still in his wake. All staring at him. Complete havoc in the entire lobby.

"Sorry," he mumbled, slapping the button again, "C'mon, gedet'ye—come ON!"

He heard the shuttle moving, coming down. He glanced around to see if there were stairs, his eyes going wide as he saw a sign to a door about ten feet beside him that appeared to be stairs. He glanced back at the shuttle, it still wasn't there. He took off running to the stair doors—slamming into it, and taking the stairs two at a time. He couldn't see the end of the six level stairway, cursing the fact that spaceports thought making the ships take off from a higher altitude made any difference at all.

He finally reached the top steps, skidding into the door, missing the bar to open it, his breath knocked out of him, as he slammed it again, it flying open, he rushed out into the gate lobby. He looked around at all of the people, not seeing Raeyn or any of the people from Clan Ordo anywhere. He saw the light for Airlock B—it was flashing—prepared for departure.

He took off toward the tunnel, one of the airport security people calling after him, he knew he was risking his life, but he'd already went through rakghoul infested, landmine permeated, rebel overrun terrain at 150 miles per hour without a helmet to get there. He'd take his chances on the security guard. He slammed into a trolley filled with crates, shoving it out of his way, the tunnel hatch so close. He threw everything that stood between him and the gate out of his way—people rushing to get out of his way…some container with livestock tipped over as he slammed into it and careened off the side of it—the sound of Endorian chickens squawking and cackling filling the air, poofs of feathers flying up above everyone's heads as the crates burst open when they hit the ground.

He slammed into the hatch, his fingers pressing every button he could find. It made the right noise finally, his fingers thrumming the door, depressurization beginning. He glanced behind him at the guard still stumbling his way past the utterly wrecked lobby he'd left behind him.

The lock seals started to screech as the door disengaged, then it opened, painfully slow while he was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

When it had cleared enough for him to duck under it he threw himself past it, running down the tube to the other side where another door waited—he hit the door with full force—it blew back violently slamming into the wall behind it, as he came barreling into the entry space, everyone in the small area turning to stare at him as he leaned down, his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

He held his finger up, trying to get some oxygen to his brain so he could actually talk, his heart beating out of his chest from both the exertion and the fact he could feel her—can feel her—she was there.

"Geez, Torian, it's not like your dar'manda buir needs you to be his escort, why are you even here?"

Jogo.

If he did have any ability to respond he'd probably use a strongly vulgar string of words—given that, he was actually glad he couldn't actually speak.

"Shut up, Jogo," Corridan snapped, "You guys take the mark out of here." Corridan looked around past where Torrian thought he might actually be dying to see a security guard coming down the tunnel—his eyes flashing to Torian and then back at the guard.

"And take care of that guard," he hissed, one of the Mando'ade turning to look at him, holding up his fingers to gesture as if it meant money, to which Corridan nodded affirmative.

Torian shuffled to the side, letting them pass, his father's carbonite tomb moving past him—closure to a long dark chapter in his life.

Finally.

Corridan walked over to him, leaning into him, whispering, "You okay?"

Torian laughed a small huff in between his gasps, "Dying."

"I'll cover you," Corridan whispered, walking back over to Raeyn, his voice loud in the small space when he spoke, "Torian had to deliver a vital message to me."

It wasn't even like the lie was delivered in a way that would make it remotely believable and he heard Raeyn scoff, knowing she was being played.

She's smart, Cor, you idiot.

Torian stood up then, his hand landing on his chest, trying to calm his heart rate, his hair plastered to his head from the sweat, he shuffled to where Raeyn and Corridan were standing.

She was smiling brightly, the gravity around her swelling the closer he got to her—and he wanted to go, oh, how much, how deeply, how truly he wanted to leap. Dive. Fall.

"Sorry, didn't….mean to….barge in like that," Torian spoke between still labored breaths, "I….needed to…ask you, Champion."

"Well, take some time here, Cadera—whatever you want to ask—you can ask when you aren't on the verge of passing out."

Was her voice always that beautiful?

"Dar'liser…" he muttered, "…Dar'liser parer. Gedet'ye …."

"Haar'chak!" Corridan cursed loudly, "She doesn't know Mando'a you…." Corridan huffed, "Champion, my boy here, he has a favor to ask you."

Raeyn didn't stop looking at Torian, though her eyes narrowed slightly at Corridan's tone before they resumed studying Torian. Even though Corridan was speaking for him, Raeyn just continued nodding her head, almost absently, while she stared at Torian.

"He wants to come with you," Corridan said quickly, his eyes wide open trying to take in the image before his eyes, because despite him standing right there, Raeyn was completely and utterly fixated on Torian.

Torian nodded, his head still bent over his frame, the hand on his chest pointing to Corridan, his head shaking yes, as if to say "what he's saying", as he laid the hand back down on his chest again.

"Didn't get enough of me yet?" She asked, stepping forward into his bubble—the air somehow easier to breath suddenly, and he straightened up to see her eyes, they were lit up with humor, a sassy smirk painted across her face, and his eyes fell past her to Corridan who was smiling like he'd just bagged a wampa without breaking a sweat.

Torian's eyes shifted back to Raeyn who had moved a few more inches closer to him, his entire being screaming, "YES!"

"Guess not," he answered, grinning at her as she seemed to be bouncing a little, his breath still landing a little short but his words were understandable.

"Well, then, welcome aboard, Torian."

Her tone felt familiar, and his skin prickled with goosebumps as it ran across him, his name from her mouth. Her eyes shifted past him to where Jogo had returned to let Corridan know they had secured everything and were ready to head back to the camp.

Corriadan moved so that he could face Raeyn, nodding, "Thank you again for your help, Champion, it was a pleasure."

"No, thank you!" Raeyn still didn't look at Corridan, who actually couldn't even be offended, because this was pure golden sunshine as far as he was concerned.

Corridan turned, starting to head to the door, but paused when Jogo called out, "Coming Torian?"

Torian turned, his breathing finally almost normal, "Nope." He responded without looking at Jogo, unable to look away from Raeyn.

Jogo huffed, and then made a sound of displeasure, "You can finally show your face, and now you're running off. Figures."

Raeyn had been studying Torian's injuries, the swelling and black and blue marks that marred his skin, her hands itching to touch the marks to find out what they were from. She tried to resist, but her hand moved of it's own accord, reaching out and landing on Torian's cheek. Torian's body snapped to attention and he pulled backward a bit at the shock that ran through him.

"Try to make something of yourself, Arue'tal," Jogo hissed. Torian managed to pull his eyes away from Raeyn's to look across the room at Jogo then, his mind flittering to the memory of his scars and considering an appropriate response in front of her.

Torian glanced back to look at Raeyn, her hand had dropped from his cheek, and her expression was dark and brewing.

Her words were friendly, but still had an edge to them that he couldn't quite describe, almost as if they were dripping with acid, "Actually, could you excuse me for a moment? I have something I forgot to mention about the carbonite casing…special model."

She shuffled past Corridan, entering the tunnel, pulling Jogo with her, the door hissing closed behind them.

Corridan stepped back to Torian whose eyes were still fixated on the tunnel where Raeyn had just entered. He surveyed Torian, one side of his face bruised and swollen, sure enough a pretty prominent black eye was forming where he had kicked him, he gestured toward him, "Sorry about…" he just waved his hand around in the air, "all of that..." He turned to tuck his helmet under his arm.

"Don't be."

Corridan couldn't help but look surprised.

"I needed it," Torian shuffled his feet, "I..just…"

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, "Came here knowing she was either going to take me with her, or I am going…somewhere…I'm looking to make my clan."

Corridan wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he already knew she was going to take him on her ship. He just KNEW it.

He nodded, proud of himself for his understated response.

"Rangir," Torian grumbled, "Just do it."

"I expect you to call me the minute you've boarded her ship, and I want to know everything, and seriously, you couldn't have actually considered the possibility that she wouldn't take you, I'm never wrong!"

"Except about paying women to try to seduce me, you ," Torian rolled his eyes when Corridan started to speak, "Don't worry about it—I'm just saying, you aren't always the best judge of these things."

"I'm right about this one. I've got a feeling about her."

Torian shrugged, "Maybe, we'll see—either way, I want more—want to live—to finally be me, apart from the labels." He shuffled his feet, "I didn't know how to take the first step, you were right about that." He reached up running his hand across his cheek, "I know now. This is it."

Corridan moved to stand in front of him, his hand pulling him to bump his head into his, "Clan Ordo will always have Clan Cadera's six."

Torian stared at him, then nodded, his hand landing hard on Corridan's shoulder, squeezing it.

"So," Torian took a deep breath, then spoke quickly, "Are we gonna cry or braid each other's hair, or can you go send her back I here so I can get off this planet already?"

"Osi'kyr!" Corridan shoved Torian's head backward with his palm, laughing, turning to head out the tunnel, opening the door and almost bumping into Raeyn who was walking in.

"Take care of what you needed to?" Corridan asked, letting her pass by him.

"Sure did!" She beamed a smile at him and his heart caught in his throat. Torian was a lucky man.

"Take care of my boy," he said, softer than he meant to, his eyes flashing past her to Torian who looked like he was going to either launch himself across the room at him, or maybe cry. Possibly both.

"You can count on it!' Raeyn responded, turning to walk backwards, still looking at Corridan, "he's part of my crew now and I take care of my people."

She winked at him, and he couldn't help but smile, reading between the lines, knowing that he was right about her and she was crazy about Torian.

"Glad to hear it," he nodded to Torian and then headed out of the airlock.

Raeyn grabbed Torian's hand as she passed him, his eyes wide with shock before he schooled his face when she turned to look around the area.

"What?" He asked, looking around for whatever she might be trying to find.

"No bags?"

He shook his head, "Had a little confusion on time this morning—so I didn't get a chance to pick them up."

She smiled, his breath catching in his throat, "No worries! That just means I get to dress you."

He turned when he heard laughter from behind them, Gault and Mako standing at the door to the ship.

"Son of a Hutt," Gault moaned dramatically, "you've already lost your man card and you haven't even stepped on the ship. Emperor help us all."

'Shut up Gault," Mako reached over to slap his arm. Gault acted offended, then laughed when Mako leaned to him, hitting him with her hip.

Raeyn turned to look at Torian, his hand still in hers, like she didn't even realize she was holding it, "Let's get you settled into your new home."

He nodded, smiling even though it hurt his face to smile.

Home.


Raeyn couldn't control herself, and she was screaming internally that she really shouldn't touch him, at the same time as her hand reached out to touch Torian's face, bruised and swollen. She desperately wanted to protect him, take care of him, and she wanted to know how they had happened—so that if it was something she could correct, she would. She knew it was too soon for such notions but her heart was flooded with them.

Jogo had walked back into the room, and while she was consumed with her internal dialogue, she heard the word, "arue'tal" as her hand touched Torian's cheek, a horrible vision passed from his mind to hers.

No. Please. He was only seven years old. How could he?

Understanding settling over her instantly, her eyes darting to Jogo, narrowing, she was barely able to keep from growling. Her hand dropped and she was glad Torian was looking away from her. She took a deep breath, knowing she was fixing to blow the lights in the room if she didn't calm down.

When Torian looked at her she had managed to compose herself, mostly, half smiling as she spoke in a somewhat too sweet voice, "Actually, could you excuse me for a moment? I had something I forgot to mention about the carbonite casing…special model."

He nodded, Corridan stepping aside so she could go to the tunnel where Jogo was standing. She grabbed his arm, none too gentle, his eyes popping open as she pulled him into the tunnel, slapping the lock so the door would close.

As the door hissed closed he jerked his arm out of her grasp, "What do you thi…"

His head jerked backward, hitting the metal behind him, pain blooming across his face, as Raeyn's hand had shot forward with a nose breaking punch straight into his face, his hands flew up, blood pouring between his fingers as he tried to make sense of what just happened. He started to speak, to yell, but she had her arm against his throat, leaning up on her toes to reach him with enough leverage, before a noise could be issued, her voice low and hissing, "That's the last time you will ever call Torian by such a disrespectful name."

She leaned into his face, her eyes blazing, "I know what you did to him. I know about his scars. I know why you did what you did Jogo—you hated him because you were jealous. That was a long time ago—and you are no longer a child—and I will not be patient the way your peers seem to be. You will not use that name or any other name that disparages that man's character again. Do you understand?"

She moved her head down, her eyes cold, challenging him. His mouth opened and closed, looking down at her slight form, his brows furrowing, the hand that was squeezing his nose shut tilting down to see her better.

She had to close her eyes as the room was turning red and she could feel the fear that Torian felt, the shame, she could feel the knife slicing into her own cheek. She was filling with rage. She heard the walls in the tunnel begin to shake. She tried to think of happy things. Laying in Torian's lap to sleep as he sang a Mandalorian lullaby. She felt herself calming down, able to take a deep breath.

"Wh…what are you?" he asked, his eyes wide with fear.

She smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, it was cold and menacing, "I am your worst nightmare."

His eyes bulged, clearly believing it to be true. Her hand came up, he flinched, she reached to lay her hand on his cheek, meaning to grab him to warn him, when she touched his skin a new vision from him filled her mind.

Suddenly, she threw her head back laughing, a tiny snort coming out as she tried to catch her breath. Jogo's brows furrowed in confusion, considering that she may have lost her mind, and maybe his life was in mortal danger.

She seemed to compose herself, her hand slapping him softly on the cheek, "You are pathetic."

His eyes widened, "What? Why would you say that?"

"You are beholden to Clan Cadera," as the words left her mouth his body stiffened, his face turning red, he tried to shift his eyes, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her, "You call Torian 'arue'tal' because it makes you feel better about your position under him, but what reallybothers you is that he doesn't correct you because you aren't worth his effort. Not one single breath."

Jogo's eyes narrowed, "What kind of sorcery is this?"

"The kind that will kill you in your sleep. From another galaxy. With zero effort." She pulled a hair from his head, holding it out in front of him, "This is all I need to attune to you, no matter where you are. Do you understand?"

He nodded his head, clearly believing her.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not like Torian, who clearly has long-suffering patience, overflows with unearned loyalty and forgiveness to those who do not deserve it—such a good and decent man—all of which I lack, all of which I have never really needed in my life—so while your words may be something Torian doesn't take offense to, I am offended by them. I have no patience, I have no loyalty to you, and I will never forgive you. If you mistreat him again, it will be the last time you live to do so."

She stared at him, and to him it felt as if she were digging deep into his soul. He nodded his head, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Good, then moving forward you will treat Clan Cadera with the respect that is due, and if you do not—I will be seeing you again," she released his face with a jerk, his head hitting the metal again.

He rushed away from her, down the tunnel, still holding his bleeding nose when she called out to him, "Jogo!"

He turned, his eyes wide, "If you don't stand by this promise, then I will know, and I am a woman of my word."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodding, reaching around to slap the console to open the door to the lobby.

She watched as the tunnel opened and he flurried out into the lobby, dropping the hair she'd pulled out of his head to the ground, dusting her hands of and turning to open the door to her ships air lock.

Not even sorry.


Notes:

It's impossible for me to tell you all how much your kindness means to me! Every single read and kudo is a beautiful gift to me! Comments are like the singular most beautiful gift in the universe and I LOVE you all for sharing your thoughts and feels with me!


aruetyc buir [AH-roo-eh-TEESH boo-EER] traitorous father

alor'ad [al-OHR-ahd] captain

vod [vohd] brother

laandur [LAHN-doo-er] delicate, fragile (sometimes an insult - weak, pathetic)

shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger

gehat'ik osik'la [oh-SIK-lah GE'hah-teek] messed up, screwed up, horrible story

dar'manda [dar-MAHN-da] a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade

Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. [Gar Tal-DEEN nee jah-OHn-eesh, gar sa BOO-eer OH-ree-wah-DAHS-la.] *Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be.* (Lit: Bloodline is not important, but you as a father are the most valuable thing.) Mando saying emphasising the importance of a father's role, and that a man is judged more by that than his lineage.

mandokarla [MAN-doh-KAR-lah] having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue

Osi'kyr! [OH-see-KEER] Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay

cin'runi [seen-roo-NEE] virgin, innocent-not necessarily meaning sex life, lit. pure soul

Wayii! [Why-EE or WHY-ee] Good grief! General exclamation of surprise, good or bad.

or'dinii [Ohr-DEE-nee] moron, fool

utreekov [oo-TREE-kov] fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass

Gedet'ye [Geh-DET-yay] Please

murey'lin [MOO-ray-leen] lust, lustful

Rangir! [RAN-geer] To hell with it!

arue'tal [ah-roo-TAHL] traitor's blood

kadas'ika [kah-DAH-see-kah] - cub, pup, baby predator

bevagol [bayv-AH-gohl] - male reproductive part...putting it politely here ha but YES it's THAT

Haar'chak! [HAR-chak] Damn it!

osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)

hut'uun [hoo-TOON] coward (worst possible insult)

jar'sheb evaar [JAHR-sheb EH-var] dumbass children (someone stupid enough to get into fights they are bound to lose or get their ass kicked)-loosly used here as basically punk ass kids lol

muun'bajir gar [MOO-wun BAH-jeer GAHR] kick your ass, ie trounce, teach someone a lesson, *kick butt* lit: educate hard

osik'la gar [oh-SIK-lah GAHR] screw you (impolite)

murcyr ner shebs [moor-SHOOR nair hebs] kiss my ass (impolite)

brokar ni [broh-KAHR NEE] beat me

dar'liser [dahr lee-SAIR] can't wait

di'kut [DEE-koot] idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)