For the rest of the week, Din spent most of his time helping where he could around the village, all the while filing away snippets of information about the finer points of farming to take back to Mandalore in hopes that some of it could be of use when they began re-establishing their agricultural system. Much of it was new to him, having lived a largely transient existence even before the Purge forced their Tribe into hiding, but he still soaked up as much as he could if it would help get the planet back to a liveable condition. The highlight of his day came in the evening, sharing his meals with Grogu and spending time with him, Winta occasionally joining them for one last game with his ad before bedtime or to hear a story from him. He considered it a great success when, on the third night, he was able to tell her a sanitized version of him meeting Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls on Trask without the emotion of losing his good friend flooding to the surface.

Something else he came to look forward to, however unexpected, was his conversations with Mayfeld each evening after the day's work had ended. Their conversation the night of the feast had cracked open the door to a genuine friendship between the two men, and Din was determined to savor it for as long as he was in the village. They discussed any number of things, ranging from the most trivial matters to sharing closely-guarded stories from their respective pasts, but inevitably they always circled back to Din's decision. He still hadn't told Omera by the fifth day, and more than once Mayfeld accused him of stalling- which he ardently denied, but his conscience still needled him that it was the truth. He would need to return to Mandalore with an answer soon, and though he enjoyed the respite of being back on Sorgan, he found that as time went on he began feeling the same sense of restlessness and alienation that had plagued the end of his last visit, like he was only pretending to belong when he knew his rightful place was elsewhere. He could also a feel a subtle shift in his relationship with Omera: though she was attentive as ever, quick to offer anything to make their stay in her barn more comfortable, the easy banter they once shared was now stiff and awkward. She did her best to keep the appearances of normalcy, which he appreciated even as he tried to keep his own turbulent thoughts hidden, but Din could still sense that, little by little, she was drifting away from him- a realization even more troubling than his fears of her rejection.

By the sixth night his warring indecision and mounting frustration kept him awake into the late hours of the night, staring up at the dark ceiling of the barn. Grogu had seemingly picked up on his turbulent emotions and stubbornly resisted both his dinner and going to sleep, only relenting when Din finally ate a few bites of his own meal then removed his buy'ce when bedtime came and laid on his back so the kid could curl up on his chest. Now he slept soundly, lulled by the rhythmic stroking of Din's ungloved hand over his head and back. The sound of Grogu's snuffly breathing that he had gotten so used to hearing above him on the Crest should have soothed Din to sleep soon after, but rest still eluded him.

At last he let out a quiet huff of irritation and, after checking to make sure the kid was completely asleep, carefully scooped up Grogu and moved him to the thick blanket spread over the hay pile, tucking the edge over the small form. He pushed to his feet and began to pace in hopes that the repetitious movement would help relax his body and mind long enough to be able to sort through his internal conflict, which he feared would soon reach a breaking point.

On his sixth pass in front of their makeshift bed his gaze landed on the Darksaber, resting where he had left it atop a small table earlier that evening. Without thinking he reached out and took it in his hand, the hard lines and ridges of the hilt digging into the skin of his palm normally covered by his thick leather gloves. Yanking off the other and tossing it onto the table he took the saber in both hands, pushed out a long breath, and ignited the blade.

The ethereal non-light of the weapon was mesmerizing, as was the haunting, high-pitched whine that filled the barn- so different from the low and steady hum that came from Skywalker's and Ahsoka Tano's lightsabers. But as he held it, not even attempting to swing it yet, he could feel it slowly becoming heavier to the point he struggled to hold it completely vertical. The Armorer had once accused him of fighting against the blade, back when they reunited on Glavis and she tried to put him through his paces. Even at the time he knew the statement was true in as much as he had no aspiration to everything that went with possessing the fabled weapon, but more than that his heart was still in tatters from saying goodbye to Grogu. His mind had been distracted by an endless cycle of what-ifs and questioning whether he'd made the right choice- which could certainly account for the string of messy jobs and uncharacteristic injuries that plagued the months in between. A similar conflict tore at him now, stealing his focus and worsening his struggle with the Darksaber.

An image popped unbidden into his mind of Grogu sitting on the seeing stone atop a steep hill on Tython, his eyes closed in concentration as he meditated and reached out to hopefully find another Jedi somewhere out in the galaxy. He still did it from time to time, finding a quiet spot in the caves where the Covert had hidden or on the sand outside the entrance by the water. Din had no idea how to meditate; while Eitan had stressed the importance of patience and calmness for a hunter, he'd never had need of being so utterly still. But nothing else seemed to be working, so he was open to trying anything that might help. He closed his eyes and drew in another long breath then slowly released it, bringing the saber up to a ready position once again.

Though the hilt was different, the weapon handled similarly to the beskad Din had once trained with in the Fighting Corps, and as years of repetition came flooding back his muscles moved on their own, falling back into a familiar rhythm. He started out slowly, his eyes still closed as he allowed his mind to wander, letting the thoughts, worries, and anxieties come then dismissing each one as soon as it formed. Nothing levitated off the floor and floated around him like so often happened when Grogu meditated, but he could feel the Darksaber slowly, gradually, becoming lighter in his hands which allowed him to pick up the pace of his movements. Before much longer he was moving about the space nearly at full speed, and while no clear-cut answers magically came to him he couldn't deny that his mind felt calmer than it had in a long time and wielding the saber now came almost as easily as the beskar spear once had.

He became faintly aware of a scuffling noise somewhere nearby, but it was the sharp intake of breath a second later that shattered his concentration. His eyes flew open, pivoting defensively toward the doorway- where his gaze collided with a pair of wide, dark eyes, luminous with the weak yellowish glow of the lantern Omera held in her hand. Her other hand clasped her shawl closed below her chin, frozen as she stared at him. At his uncovered face. Din felt as if he had been punched in the stomach at the stricken look on her face, and he had no time to pull himself from his stupor before she spun on her heel with a sob and disappeared into the night.

"Omera." His voice rasped in his throat, nowhere near loud enough to call her back. The Darksaber slipped from his hands, disengaging as it landed with a dull thunk on the plank floor, and before he could stop himself he charged after her, desperation flooding his veins. Without the enhanced display of his helmet it took longer than normal for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but before he could retrieve it to better track her path he caught a flutter of fabric out of the corner of his eye, disappearing around the corner of the barn. Without hesitation he followed, only to draw up short when he rounded the corner to see her standing with her face buried in her hands, her slender shoulders trembling with the force of her sobs. "Omera." She stiffened at the sound of his voice and whirled to face him- except her eyes never met his, instead fixing on a spot somewhere near his feet.

"I-I'm sorry, Mando, I didn't m-mean to intrude," she stuttered, her fingers twisting the edge of her shawl. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to go for a walk and then I saw the strange flashes of light…" Another tear streaked down her cheek as her words trailed off, and Din inched forward, approaching her like a skittish animal that would bolt at one wrong move.

"Omera, please look at me," he pleaded, only for her to flinch away when he took another step toward her. The recoil stung more than any slap in the face, and in that moment he finally realized the true depths of his feelings for her. He had never wanted anyone to fully know him as much as he wanted her to- to share everything with her, even his darkest secrets and private struggles, to feel her touch and to be able to look into her eyes unencumbered by beskar and glass. He closed the space by another foot, and then another, hope stirring when she made no move to flee, until little more than a handspan separated them. He reached up slowly, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her chin toward him, but she stubbornly kept her eyes averted, eventually closing them when she had nowhere else to look away. He swiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, savoring the silky feel of her skin against his calloused fingertips, and once again he was struck by how incredibly mesh'la she was, even in the middle of the night with slightly sleep-tousled hair and eyes puffy from crying. But it was those tears that bore testament to the even greater beauty inside, to the compassion and resilience that he fell in love with the first time they met. He blinked as the revelation finally sank in and lifted his spirits: he loved her.

At last she opened them and the barest glance flicked his way before she averted her gaze again, settling instead on the mudhorn adorning his pauldron. "I can't." The agony in her voice was nearly his undoing. "I almost took that choice from you once already, Mando. I won't do it again."

"It's Din." He'd come to hate hearing that moniker from her lips. He'd had to grit his teeth to keep himself from blurting out his true name when she'd called him that the first night- it hadn't been the right time, just like the right time had never come for him to tell her everything that happened. But he would make now the right time, even if she rejected him or wanted nothing more to do with him.

Finally, the revelation had her dark gaze colliding with his. "What?"

"My name- it's Din. Din Djarin." She was silent for a tense moment, searching his face as if looking for any hint that he was somehow lying her, then finally she swallowed hard and the barest hint of a smile appeared.

"That's a lovely name."

"There's so much I want to tell you," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the curve of her cheekbone. "So much you need to know."

"And I want to hear all of it." She pinched her lower lip between her teeth, appearing to be lost in thought for a moment then she took a shuffling step away, his hands falling back to his sides. "There's a special place, not far from here, that I would love to show you. It's quiet and secluded so no one will bother us or see your face. Unless you need to go get your helmet-"

"No, it's my choice. This is more important right now. You are more important." New tears sprang into her eyes at his declaration, but she quickly wiped them away with a self-conscious chuckle.

"Winta woke up about the same time that I came out here. If you agree, I'm sure she could keep your boy- Grogu, isn't it?" He nodded, both in confirmation and agreement, and she brushed past him to disappear into the barn, emerging a moment later with the sleeping child in her arms, swaddled in his blanket, and carried him into the hut. She returned a moment later, a solemn look on her face as she approached and extended a dark-colored object toward him. "I thought you'd want to keep this with you."

"Thank you." He took the Darksaber from her hands and returned it to his belt before sweeping his arm toward the woods bordering the village. "Lead the way."

Tugging her shawl closer around her shoulders, Omera set off for the treeline, keeping to the darkest shadows at the edge of the village to minimize the chance of anyone who might happen to be awake catching a glimpse of Din's face. The light of the half moon was reduced to nearly nothing as they stepped under the canopy of trees, but she moved forward confidently, clearly having memorized the path to their destination. As they walked he stayed just to the right and behind her, his hunter's instincts still sharp and alert for any potential dangers. He only hesitated slightly before reaching out and capturing her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. Her grip instantly tightened, and she threw a quick glance over her shoulder that mirrored the adoration he could feel steadily blooming in his chest.

Their short journey passed in silence, but no words were necessary between them. At last they reached a break in the trees and Din couldn't help but gape at the vista before them. Sorgan was lovely in its own right, but he never expected a tranquil meadow covered in a carpet of wildflowers with a small stream cutting through it, fed by a waterfall that poured from a steep rock face into a pool that glistened in the moonlight. Still hand-in-hand she led him toward the water, perching on one of the large stones clustered beside the pool. He followed her lead, his knee brushing hers through the pale fabric of her nightdress and sending a rush of heat sparking along his skin as he sat facing her.

His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he struggled to decide where to start. The beginning was probably the best, but even that was a tough story to just jump right into. "I should have told you why I came back right from the beginning." Suddenly it was his turn to avoid her curious gaze. "A lot of things have happened since we were here last, and there are some decisions I have to make that will impact a lot of people."

"Does this have anything to do with your conversations with Jos the past several days?"

So she had noticed. He nodded. "Everything, actually." He hauled in a steadying breath, reaching for some of the calm he had found during his exercise with the Darksaber, before he met her eyes again and launched into the story of the past three years. It occurred to him that he had never shared how Grogu came to be with him in the first place, but now he laid it all out, bearing himself to her scrutiny. As their story unraveled, going into great detail when necessary then briefly touching on the less-important chapters while not leaving anything out, he carefully watched the expressions as they shifted unrestrained across her face: expectation, sadness, shock, nervousness, and at times even righteous indignation- though never was her anger aimed at him.

Din lost track of time as he spoke- hours might have passed but it didn't matter, as long as she still stayed with him and listened. His voice, unaccustomed to such extensive use, grew raspy as he neared the end, the culmination in their reclamation of Mandalore, his possession of the Darksaber, and Bo-Katan's tragic death. It was somehow unsurprising when tears gathered in Omera's eyes as he finished- her, feeling grief for a woman she had never met and in other circumstances could have very well been mistaken as a rival to his affections. Simply because he had lost a dear friend in a single, devastating moment. The depth of her compassion was just one more point on the long list of things he loved about her.

He had never felt this way about a woman before, and the reaffirmation of his feelings at once terrified and exhilarated him. Naturally he'd had his share of childhood crushes which existed with all the permanence of morning dew on the grass, and there had a been a couple girls in the covert that had caught his eye as a young man but his training had always come first, driven by a determination to be the best warrior he could be and make his buir proud.

And then there was Xi'an.

His skin still crawled when he remembered the sly, oily tone of her voice during the mission to spring Qin from prison when she implied that something had happened between them. A lady may never tell, but she was no lady and there was nothing to tell. She was a tease- and everyone in Ran's network knew it- full of bluster and bravado. She had pursued him nearly from the start, convinced that she was the one he would finally remove his helmet for, and Din's aloof manner and constant refusal only seemed to embolden her. He'd been tempted more than once to give in if only for a bit of relief from her pestering, even if it betrayed every promise he ever made to himself and Eitan Moresh. And he very nearly had- but not before a rival launched a surprise raid on their base hidden on a Bakuran moon and he fled in a stolen gunship, leaving the others to their own fates. Truth be told he was glad to end his association with them; the jobs were growing increasingly messy with unnecessary violence, even if the payouts were bigger than ever, and he was growing weary of the constant violations to his conscience. So he turned to bounty hunting, taking on the hardest jobs he could and building his reputation until the guild was practically begging him to join them.

The feeling of Omera's hands covering his brought him back to the present. He didn't even realize they were once again curled into tight fists against his thigh plates until her touch softened them, and he allowed her to ease his fingers apart. A slight breeze stirred, drawing a lock of dark hair across her cheek. He caught it and tucked it behind her ear, and before he could stop himself his hand slipped further into her hair, the strands like the finest silk between his fingers, while his palm framed the line of her jaw. His heart raced against his ribs, his mouth suddenly dry as he slowly lowered his head to brush his lips across hers. It was the barest of touches, but it lit him on fire inside, and he barely had time to consider the line they were crossing before he returned for another, allowing his eyes to drift closed as their lips met again. She responded immediately, leaning in slightly, and her hand drifted up to caress the rough stubble along his jaw. He could still faintly taste the spices from their supper on her lips, the clean smell of her skin and the way her breath fanned across his cheek all combining to create a heady sensation that almost overwhelmed him.

She was the first to break away but only allowed a few inches to separate them, one hand carding gently through his hair and making it very difficult for him to resist pulling her into his arms for what remained of the night.

"So what have you decided?"

"Tomorrow." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I've kept you up too late as it is." He looked up at the night sky above them, and while the sun had not yet begun to light the horizon he could still tell that it was the wee hours of the morning. He pushed to his feet and offered her his hand, their fingers intertwining as she stood and tucked herself into his side, her free hand wrapping around his bicep and resting her cheek against his pauldron. They walked back to the village as quietly as they had left, Din all the while praying to the Maker that this wasn't just some sort of glorious dream.