Suggested Listening:
Ride to Fort Hays - John Barry (from Dances With Wolves) | ...here we are again
Bonding in Jail - Randy Edelman (from Shanghai Noon) | ...peli's hangar (this has just become the theme for that place lol)
Saying Goodnight - Joel McNeely (from Tinkerbell and the Legend of the NeverBeast) | ...flashes of his face
The Bedroom - John Powell (from Mr. and Mrs. Smith) | ...i got you something

"And here… we are… again."

I glanced over at Din and shot him a sarcastic smile. He chuckled and shook his head.

Sure enough, Tatooine stretched out before us through of the viewport of the Slave One, the hot sands radiating invisible lines of heat that distorted the horizon, giving me the feeling of being lowered into a cauldron.

I really can't escape this damn planet, can I?

But this time, I thought it with a little laughter — beneath all the layers of fear and discomfort, a small part of me was happy to see this stupid sandy rock again.

"You know," said Fennec, cleaning one of her many elite-looking blasters. "This is where me and him first met."

She jabbed the barrel of the weapon at Din, lightly tapping his shoulder armor.

"Hey!" Said Din, checking it for a scuff that obviously wouldn't be there.

"Actually, this is where we met, too," I said.

"Hey," she barked at Din, sternly. "Quit coming here to pick up girls."

I laughed, leaning my chin on my hand.

"Coming down," said Boba Fett from the pilot's chair.

We descended right outside of Peli's hangar, a sight that was now familiar and strangely comforting to me. As we disembarked, Din clasped Fett's hand tightly and expressed his thanks. I watched the two, both in their beloved Mandalorian armor, and smiled. I turned to Fennec, reluctant to say goodbye. I had the impulse to hug her, but something told me she'd probably put me in a very adept headlock if I tried, so I settled for a handshake.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "For your help, and your discretion."

"You're alright," she replied, a wry smile tilting the corner of her mouth, and I took it as the highest praise.

"Where are you headed next?" Asked Din.

Boba Fett and Fennec exchanged a knowing look.

"Think we'll stick around here for a while," said Fett, his gravelly voice mysterious.

"Odds are we'll see you again then," I said, hoping it was true.

After they left us, heading for the center of Mos Eisley, we walked into Peli's hangar.

"Well look what the Loth-cat dragged in!" Peli emerged from underneath a busted-looking speeder and flipped her protective mask up. "Last time I saw you two you were on your way to go cave-diving — still can't believe you took that gig! Hey—"

She broke off as she stood and approached us, looking worried.

"Where's the little guy?"

"He's okay," I reassured quickly.

"He's gone to train with his own kind," said Din solemnly. Neither of us volunteered the word "Jedi" — I knew we both trusted Peli, but we were keenly aware of how dangerous that information could be in the wrong hands.

She nodded, looking between us as she made a fruitless effort to clean the oil stains off of her hands with a dirty rag.

"By the way," I said. "We found out his name. It's Grogu."

I shot Din a soft smile, hoping it was bringing him warmth instead of making him sad.

"Grogu?" Peli pulled a face, trying out the name. "Grogu… yeesh. That's a clunky one."

I bit back a laugh.

"Anyway, what can I do you for?" She said, putting her hands on her hips.

"We need a ship," said Din.

"What happened to the Razor Crest?"

"It's a long story," I said quickly, not wanting either of us to relive it.

"Wow…" Peli shook her head. "You two have been busy."

"You have no idea," said Din, a glimmer of wry amusement in his tone.

She took us out back behind the hangar to what looked like a junkyard — shoddy frames of ships and large detached pieces of speeder bikes strewn around, looking like a droid graveyard. We came to a stop in front of a massive canvas covering something large and oddly-shaped.

"Feast your eyes, Mando And Co.," declared Peli, sweeping the canvas off with a mighty yank. "The perfect ship for two wayward travelers such as yourselves — The Arrowhead!"

"… Are you serious?" Said Din as we looked up at the shabby heap of metal in front of us. It was vaguely triangular, with two large engines and a high-sitting cabin.

"How dare you!" She put her hand to her chest in dramatic offense. "This baby is reliable and ready to go! Plus, it's pre-Empire, so it's off the registry — I know how important that is to you, Mando."

I looked over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. It didn't look so bad to me — definitely in need of some serious work, but a good size for two and it had a sort of… rustic charm to it.

"It could work," I said optimistically, approaching the flank and examining it. "And I bet it's a good price — right, Peli?" I shot her a pointed look.

"Very good," she nodded, crossing her arms. "But keep in mind, this ship is highly sought after."

I kicked the flank lightly and a panel fell to the ground with a loud clatter. We all stared at it for a moment. Peli turned to us with a broad smile.

"It's a fixer-upper!"

Din sighed, and I could feel the eye-roll behind his helmet.

"Let's see inside."

The interior was in better shape — the cockpit was set up for a pilot and co-pilot, with a passenger bench in the back next to the doorway. Behind that was a corridor with utility accouterment hung on the walls that led all the way back to the exit ramp. On either side of the narrow hall were doors that led to two separate cabins, each cramped but comfortable with a slim cot and a porthole. I looked over at Din with a convincing smile.

"The Arrowhead…" I mused, trying out the title. "It's kind of perfect."

He opened a cabinet in the cockpit and found a spigot for drinking water.

"It's a tourist ship," he observed. "It's hardly set up for the kind of life we have."

I felt a flutter of warmth and bit back a smile. The life we have. No matter how my increasingly confusing feelings about Din made things complicated for me, I marveled at how much safer, how much more a part of something I felt these days. I hadn't had a nightmare in weeks. The girl I had been back at the bar in Mos Pelgo felt lightyears away.

"It has one excellent laser cannon," said Peli defensively. "And hyperdrive capabilities! You can't beat these amenities at this price."

"Yeah," muttered Din drily, striding back outside. "Let's discuss this price of yours."

She followed him out and I lingered, running my hands along the nets and tools that were mounted along the corridor. I realized that there was a knob behind a long swathe of rope, and I pulled it, eager to find something mysterious — only to stumble into the privy.

"Well," I murmured out loud, examining the necessary amenities, including a tight, cramped shower. "At least this one has a door."

Within ten minutes, credits had been exchanged — pressed for by an eager Peli and haggled down by a stubborn Din — and the two of us were left to fix up the exterior with borrowed tools. Peli had sealed the deal by showing us that underneath the ship, a small speeder was stored for quick ground travel — an asset Din couldn't deny. We worked in a comfortable silence, which gave me time to spiral in my head.

I kept seeing flashes of his face in my mind. I had felt an intense attraction to him before I'd ever come close to seeing what he looked like — a pull that I knew had to be stifled in order to protect what we had. Now, having looked him in the eye, the reoccurring ache in my body was ten times more painful. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts as a flash of his bare torso appeared in my mind — the mottled indigo bruise, but also the muscular form and tan skin…

"Dank Farrik," I muttered out loud, frustrated with myself.

"You need help?" Din called from the other side of the ship.

Clearly, I thought, but I put on a bright voice.

"Nah, I just caught my finger with the fuser."

"This is why you need gloves," came the response, a slight teasing tone in his voice.

I focused hard on the repair job in front of me. I wanted to picture him. His face was instantly dear to me the second I laid eyes on it, and it felt so hard not to let my mind wander… but I felt gripped by an intense guilt, a feeling of wretched selfishness. Who was I to love his face? His entire sense of self was tied to keeping his visage private. Even me picturing it felt like I was committing a violation. I felt yanked in every direction, my own desires at war with my intense need to do right.

"That's what he likes about you," Fennec had said. "That conscience."

Well, then, he'd love this.

By the end of the day, we'd gotten the ship to a place where we felt confident it would hold up for at least one mission. We gathered in the cockpit, testing out our pilot chairs and splitting a dinner of ration bars.

"So, this bounty, this Vank kid," I said, running my fingers over the controls on the dash. "What are you thinking?"

"We know he's going to be at this party in a couple nights," said Din thoughtfully. "Cara sent me the coordinates. I say we just go in there and drag him out."

"We can't do that," I laughed. "Cara said explicitly that this job had to be discreet. We can't make any waves, if his family catches wind they'll cause problems for the justice system. We just have to sort of… disappear him."

"Okay," he said, putting his feet up on the dash and leaning back in his chair. "You man the getaway, I'll go into the party as a guest and I'll get him alone. Then I'll tranq him and we'll high-tail it."

"You really think you can walk into a fancy society party in that armor and not cause a scene?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. He didn't answer. "Look, I'll go. I know this type, I can blend in."

He looked at me, and I picked up on a sense of shock.

"You'd walk into a party like that? Isn't that kind of a serpent's nest for you?"

Truthfully it was. Corporate magnates definitely had their roots in the crime world, and I knew that if I were to go to a party thrown by their ne'er-do-well, layabout heirs, I would run the risk of being recognized. But something in me felt like I needed to challenge this fear that had held me back for so long. I mean, we had taken down Moff Gideon. Being on a team with Din and getting out in the galaxy had made me feel like maybe I was stronger than I thought I was.

"I can do it," I said. "I'm feeling… I don't know. Bolder, maybe?"

"Bold is good," he said, looking over at me. "Just don't be reckless."

"I won't. I promise."

He considered me for a long moment, then sighed.

"Okay. You go in, you blend in, you get Vank alone — can you get Vank alone?"

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat, uncomfortably.

"Right. Okay. So you get him alone, I'll be close by, one of us will tranq him, and we get him out of there together. Deal?"

"Deal," I said. "But… I'm gonna need an outfit."

He looked down at my scruffy pants and dusty jacket.

"What's wrong with what you have on?" He asked, seriously.

I cackled.

"Fine," he said with another sigh. "We'll go shopping tomorrow."

Eventually, we said our goodnights and retired to our own cabins — I took the one to the left, and he the one to the right. As I fell asleep on the little cot, I felt surprisingly comfortable… until my mind wandered across the hall to where Din was sleeping. Did he sleep in his helmet behind closed doors?

Not your business, I thought firmly, and pulled the covers over my head.

The next day, we headed into the marketplace in Mos Eisley to find me something to wear that would be elegant enough to get into an elite shindig. Peli pointed us toward a shop in the center of town — "that's where all the fancy-pants from Mos Pelgo go when they gotta be glamorous," she had said. As I opened the door, Din told me he was going to check the market stalls for food and supplies for the ship. He slipped away and I went inside.

I hadn't worn anything other than variations of my current ensemble since I had left the compound, but instantly, sense memory came back to me. I tried on a few garments, but settled on one that made me feel especially powerful — it was a black gown with think straps and stiff peaks at the sides of the low-scooping neckline. The soft, sleek fabric swept down to the floor, with a high slit reaching up to my upper thigh — I instantly thought to myself that it would be the perfect place to store my weapon discreetly. The back of the dress was fairly low — the long, T-shaped scar running alongside my shoulder-blade was clearly visible — but it came with a detachable cape that was structured almost like a connected set of wings, with high peaks at the shoulders. When I looked at myself in the mirror, even with my bedraggled braid and nothing on my face, I felt like I could walk into any serpent's nest with my head held… maybe not high — that was a security risk — but strong.

I settled up, dropping quite a few of our remaining credits — It's an investment, I told myself — on the dress and a few accessories, and left the store. Din was waiting for me, leaning against a street lantern with a bundle over his shoulder. He stood up straight when he saw me.

"Get what you need?"

"Got it," I said, trying not to be nervous about getting dressed up in front of him when he'd only seen me one way. "Let's get moving."

The Arrowhead was much slower than the Razor Crest, a fact that brought Din quite a bit of frustration. We arrived on Niamos around the time the party was starting and parked a distance away from the estate, planning to use the speeder to get there more discreetly. It was a grand, looming palace perched atop a hill, flanked by frondy, tropical forests and teetering on the edge of a bluff that plunged into the sparkling ocean below. I could see, even from a twenty minute ride away, that the event was in full swing — lights sparkled against the dark landscape and elegant music drifted toward us on the breeze.

I had disappeared into my cabin to get ready an hour before.

"Don't you think it's a little early?" He had asked.

"Wow," I had laughed, shaking my head. "How do you know so much about so many things, and so little about others?"

Now, as I looked in the mirror, the nerves returned. I was in the gown, the cape draped on my cot. I had done my best to style my hair with the limited resources I could find, and I was pleased with the result — a sleek, high ponytail held by a gold cuff, my copper hair spilling down my back in soft waves, a few rogue tendrils framing my face. I hardly recognized myself — I wondered how Din would react.

"Mando, are you ready to go?"

It seemed a silly question considering that I was the only one getting ready, but nevertheless he answered.

"Yes," He called from his pilot's seat without turning his head. "Did you, um… are you, uh… decent?"

I chuckled to myself.

"Yes, if by decent you mean clothed," I said. "Character-wise, I'm hardly the one to judge."

He stood and turned around, freezing when he saw me. I smoothed my dress at the hips and made an awkward "ta-da" pose.

"Whaddaya think," I asked in a jokey voice. "Presentable?"

"Yeah. No," stuttered Din. "I mean yes, you look, um—" He cleared his throat. "You look very nice. Your hair, it's pret— it's um, nice."

I could feel a blush creeping into my cheeks.

"Do you have the tranq gun?" I asked, trying to keep my voice businesslike.

"Yeah," said Din after a momentary delay. "Yeah, it's here."

He grabbed it off of the dash and tossed it to me. I caught it in one hand and yanked my skirt up at the slit, hoisting my exposed leg up onto one of the cargo trunks.

"What, um— what are you doing?" Asked Din.

I slid the sedation gun into the holster I had secured to my upper thigh and put my foot back on the ground, disguising it in the fabric.

"Easy access," I answered, looking back up at him. For a moment, we stared at each other and I swear I felt the molecules in the air teetering on a palpable shift. What if you let it, a dangerous voice in my head said. What if you find out for sure what he would do if you changed the game?

I swiftly, anxiously closed the door on that voice.

"Anyway," I said, gesturing down at the dress. "It'll work for tonight."

I turned away, pretending to fiddle with the fabric.

"There's a cape, too," I continued, just to have something to say. "I'll grab it on our way out."

I turned to start heading to the exit ramp, but he stopped me.

"Wait," he mumbled, looked around for something. "I, uh… got you something."

"Oh," I said, a surprised smile curling the corners of my lips. "You didn't have to…"

He found a little navy blue bag on the dash and handed it to me, wordlessly. I pulled the string and poured a slinky, gossamer-thin silver chain into my palm, lacing through an elegant hammered-silver circle pendant.

"Wow," I breathed, tracing the chain with my thumb.

"It's beskar," he said, and my heart leapt.

"Really?" I said, my eyes wide. "But isn't that… beskar is rare, isn't it?"

"It can be," he said. "I don't think the shopkeeper knew what he had. For Mandalorians, it's… well lets just say, I didn't want to leave it there."

I looked down at the shimmering circle in awe. "I don't know what to say, it's beautiful, I—"

"It's a tracking device," he interrupted.

I couldn't help but laugh. Of course it is.

"I found the necklace in the market while you were getting the dress and I put a small tracking device on the back of the pendant," he explained, his enthusiasm increasing with the chance to explain weapons technology. "I keyed it into the radar on the ship, and I have a portable one. That way, since we'll be operating separately, I'll be able to find you if something goes wrong."

I turned over the pendant and sure enough there was a tiny cylinder fused to the back, with a minuscule blinking blue light.

"I love it," I grinned, biting back another laugh. Leave it to Din to turn a necklace into a defensive tool.

I lifted it to my neck and attempted to fasten it, but I couldn't get the small, complex link to connect. After a few failed tries, I turned back to Din.

"Can you…?" I held the necklace out to him.

He hesitated a moment, then joined me, taking it between his finger and thumb. I turned away from him and reached back to move my wavy ponytail out of the way. He slipped the necklace around my neck again and fiddled with the link, his gloves making his fingers clumsy.

"Dank Farrik," he cussed under his breath. "Hold it for a second."

I placed my hand on the pendant against my chest, holding it in place. I heard him whip his gloves off and toss them on the floor with a little frustration.

"Okay," he murmured. "Hold still."

I held my breath as I felt the tips of his fingers graze the back of my neck. They were tentative and a little clumsy. I realized with an overwhelming swell of feeling that this was the first time we had ever actually touched, skin-to-skin. I wondered how long it had been since he'd touched anyone. I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful that he couldn't see my face or feel my heartbeat — which was hammering. The whisper-like touches at the nape of my neck were delicious and excruciating — I wanted it to last forever, and I needed it to stop immediately.

"Got it," he mumbled, finally.

I was about to let out a breath of anguished relief, but I felt his fingertips move briefly over to the scar on my back. He gently touched the raised skin before quickly withdrawing his hand. The soft, unexpected feel made me shiver.

"Sorry," he mumbled, sounding nervous.

"It's okay," I said, turning to face him. "It'll be covered up."

I looked up at him, the space between us smaller than I had expected. That voice slithered into my head again. What if? But before it could take over my brain, thankfully, he spoke.

"You sure you're ready for this?"

I swallowed hard. A room full of people whose parents probably knew my father… three weeks ago I never would've considered it. Now…

"I'm ready."