Suggested Listening:
The Mandalorian - Ludwig Goransson (from The Mandalorian) | ...flight to the covert
All's Fair in Love and War - Ludwig Goransson (from The Mandalorian) | ...the armory
Hold Hands - Natalie Holt (from Obi Wan) | ...the sack
Sacrifice - Christophe Beck (from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "The Gift") | ...middle of the night

"Din, slow down!"

I gripped the dash and clenched my jaw as the Arrowhead flew faster and lower, almost skimming the lake — and headed right for the gaping mouth of a lizard beast three times the size of our little ship.

"This'll work, trust me!"

I nodded, knowing he was right — hell, trusting him was the theme of the day, what better way than to illustrate it than to let him fly us right into the belly of a literal beast.

With a snap of his wrist, he pulled the lever and shot out a precise blast that tore through the monster, killing it in a quick hit and ceasing its attack on the covert below. I released a shaky breath and looked over at Din. Grogu, of course, had appeared at his side and was reaching up toward the controls with a gleeful squeal.

"Don't drive like that, kid," warned Din. He then looked over at me and gave me an amused head tilt that had the same effect as a wink. I chuckled and shook my head.

"There they are," I murmured, peering over the edge of the viewport at the ground below, growing closer and closer as Din carefully brought the ship back around and down for a landing. "They look like you."

"Mandalorian armor is distinctive," Din nodded.

"I know," I said. "But even compared to Bo-Katan and the Nite Owls…" I looked over at him and examined him with a half smile. "Here I see the family resemblance."

He seemed to mull those words over.

The ship came down with a shudder, and I found my pulse quickening and my mouth becoming dry as I took in the crowd of Mandalorians, their armor shining in the sunlight — The Watch. Din's tribe, here in hiding on a desert planet, making base in a cave near a clay-flanked lake. They all looked up at the ship in anticipation.

"Don't worry," he said, spotting my nerves. He reached over and squeezed my hand. "They're gonna love you."

I looked over at him and made an effort to smile. He thought for a moment and unstrapped, letting out a long exhale.

"… I'm the one they have a problem with."

I let Din walk down the ramp first. I think he expected me to walk alongside him, but something made me hang back — something in me felt how important it was that he greeted them first. I held Grogu tightly in my arms and followed a few steps behind him, emerging into the hot sun.

The entire covert was staring at us. It seemed that while the tribe had been shaken by the sudden lizard attack, Din's persistent reappearance was far more jarring.

After a long silence, one of them spoke — it was a strong female voice, that even through the rumble of a vocoder carried a powerful regalness that made my breath catch in my throat.

"Paz Vizsla." The turn of her head told me that the voice belonged to a tall, imposing Mandalorian with a bronze-colored helmet and the fur of some fearsome beast around her shoulders. "Take the boy back to his quarters. The ceremony will continue when the injured are tended to."

At that, everyone began moving — a burly Mandalorian in dark blue armor gestured for a young boy to follow him, while various others busied themselves lifting some wounded or shocked off of the ground. It was as though we weren't even there.

With a long look in our direction, the woman who had spoken turned on her heel and strode into the cave. I looked at Din, trying hard to keep the worry out of my expression, but I knew it was showing.

"Come on," he sighed, wearily.

We walked through the crowd, garnering a few glances. I felt exposed — borderline naked — being the only person without a shred of armor on. Something about it felt scandalous in a place like this. Even Grogu had his beskar shirt — here I was swanning through a tight-knit religious group, a completely uncovered outsider. I kept my eyes purposefully ahead.

I came into adolescence in a viper's nest of criminal families and this is the most stressful meet-the-parents situation I've ever experienced.

"Is she the Armorer?" I whispered to Din as we walked into the cave.

"Yes," he replied in a low voice. "And she's not happy I'm here."

"Oh," I muttered sarcastically, raising my eyebrow. "Great."

He led me through a narrow hallway until we came upon a wide opening — the armory, I realized quickly. There was a large forging fire in the center of the room, surrounded by tools and workspaces. In the far corner, the Armorer worked diligently on something unseen.

"You have removed your helmet," she said in a hard voice without even turning around to look at us. Din and I stopped walking as she continued. "What's worse, you did so of your own free will. You are no longer Mandalorian."

I shot a concerned glance over at him. I knew that on a bad day, those three sentences could've reduced him to shameful rubble — but today, he was prepared. Today, he had a counterargument.

"The creed teaches us of redemption," he said.

She turned around to face us, taking a moment to take the three of us in. Finally, she walked to the furnace, directing her speech to Din.

"Redemption is no longer possible since the destruction of our homeworld."

"But what if the mines of Mandalore still exist?"

"All was destroyed in the Purge."

I looked over at Din, expectantly. I knew he had a trump card — a piece of glass he had found a while ago in a Jawa hoard. A piece of Mandalore. I had been shocked when he'd showed it to me. I didn't understand why he had kept it so secret, letting it sit in his collection instead of rushing to his people with evidence of their planet's resilience.

I remembered his reticence when explaining himself, the discomfort in his body as he explained how much he had wanted to stay out of Mandalore's reconciliation. Bo-Katan's hope for reclamation hadn't spread to his heart — instead, he had been carrying around a hornet's nest of complicated feelings about his planet and his people. Deep down, he seemed to be truly at odds with himself. I hadn't pried more than that, much as I'd wanted to. Instead, I'd settled eagerly into the copilot's chair and listened with rapt attention as he painted a picture for me of the history of Mandalore, leading up to today.

Now, I watched as he slid his hand into a utility pocket and pulled out the jagged green piece of glass.

"Is this inscription not Mandalorian?"

He placed it on one of the Armorer's surfaces. Grogu, nestled in the crook of my left arm, burbled as his little hand reached out toward the shard. I hushed him, quietly. The Armorer's helmet turned ever so slightly toward me.

"This is not a discussion to have in front of an outsider."

Ah, I thought with an eyebrow raise. So she does see me.

"Anything said to me can be said to her," said Din.

She slowly came to stand in front of me, her T-visor inscrutably dark.

"You, too, are not Mandalorian."

I swallowed.

"No," I said hoarsely. "No, I'm not."

"What business do you have with us?"

I opened my mouth to speak but had no idea how to answer. I faltered for a moment, stopping when I felt Din's gloved hand wrap tightly around mine. I looked down at our hands, then up at him.

"I brought her here," he rumbled. "To meet The Watch."

The Armorer looked from him to me, and back again.

"I see," she mused. "And what is the nature of your bond?"

Well this'll be interesting, considering we haven't actually established that to each other…

"Devoted," Din answered without delay. My heart skipped a beat. He said it like it was a category of relationship — and maybe it was. I felt my cheeks flush as I bit back a smile. Grogu squealed happily.

The Armorer looked at me again and I returned her gaze, offering a small nod of confirmation.

"You understand," she said to me carefully, "that your companion has brought you here knowing full well he is in exile from our covert?"

"I do," I nodded. I had decided before coming that sticking to speaking when spoken to would be the best approach for a first meeting, but I found myself feeling the need to say more. "I know he wants to heal things. He is willing to do whatever it takes to redeem himself in your eyes, and I support him wholeheartedly."

"Indeed?" She fixed me with a stare that I couldn't help but feel had a cocked eyebrow behind that beskar. "I am surprised he has your support, knowing that were he to do the impossible and bathe in the waters… his helmet's vitality would be restored. I find it hard to believe that the cause of his transgression would advocate for it's amelioration."

I felt a pit in my stomach. She hadn't said it cruelly, but I was painfully aware that my fears had been rooted in reality — in the eyes of The Watch, I was the temptress that had caused him to stray

"She wasn't the cause," Din said firmly, his hand tightening around mine. "I made the choice. She wasn't even there."

I averted my eyes, hoping she wouldn't look into them and see the many breathless nights we had spent bending the rules. After a long moment, she looked down at the glass and picked it up, carefully.

"Where did you get this?"

"Jawas," answered Din. "They came upon it by trade from a traveller who claimed to have visited the surface of Mandalore.

She examined it, turning it slowly in the light of the fire.

"Then this relic only proves that Mandalore's entire surface has been crystalized by fusion rays."

"But a traveler was able to retrieve this," pressed Din. "So perhaps it is not poisoned."

He looked over at me. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"If we visit the planet and can bring you proof that I have bathed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore," he said, "then by Creed, the decree of exile will be lifted and I would be redeemed."

She turned to me, the flickering of the furnace reflecting in her dark T-visor.

"Do you know what took place on Mandalore? Do you know what he is taking you to?"

"I know what I've been told," I answered with a nod. "And I trust Din."

"Then you know," she said firmly, "that even if the impossible is true and the Living Waters remain, you are not welcome to set foot in them?"

I felt a pang of anxiety. These rules, I thought with a jolt of guilty frustration. No wonder Din's so confused, this culture is like a minefield.

But despite my emotional response, I did understand and respect why I couldn't touch the water myself. I didn't know what the future held, but I had a strong suspicion that even if Din and I were to spend our lives together, me becoming a Mandalorian was not something I saw for myself — and even if I did, going about it the wrong way without the ceremony and blessing of Din's people would be deeply wrong.

"I won't," I assured. "I'm only going to help."

The Armorer's gaze lingered on me for a moment, then dropped to Grogu, who was cooing eagerly in my arms. He looked up at her with wide, earnest eyes. After a moment, she looked up at Din and nodded.

"In that case, you'll need protection," she said in a magnanimous voice. "This is the way."

A while later, we were back on the Arrowhead in a hyperspace lane, standing silently over a sack in the center of the cockpit like it was a bomb that could go off at any moment.

"I'm afraid to open it," I breathed with a wan chuckle.

"I've never—" began Din, but his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Never seen this done. For anyone."

"Why would she do it for me?"

"I don't know."

Well, I asked.

"I don't mean it like that," said Din, shaking his head. "I just… this is against the rules."

"… And yet…" I mused, looking back down at the sack. "Look, Din… if you don't want me to put it on, I respect that, I—"

"No," he insisted. "No, I want you to wear it. Especially where we're going."

I looked at him. His cogs were turning. There was an undercurrent of frustration, but I knew him well enough to know that it wasn't toward me — he was frustrated that the rules seemed to be alright being broken sometimes, but when he did it…

I could only imagine the bewilderment that came from trying to live within those complex confines.

He stooped down and picked up the sack, his bicep flexing with the weight of it. Grogu cooed from his seat in the copilot's chair, his ears waggling curiously.

"Are you ready to…?" Din looked at me.

I nodded, pulling off my jacket and tossing it on the pilot's chair. Slowly, he opened the sack and we peered in together. There, glimmering in the low blue and purple light of the cockpit, was a deconstructed suit of armor. Pure beskar.

Wordlessly, Din pulled out piece by piece and assembled them on my body. Chestplate, then shoulderplates, then vambraces. It had none of the bells and whistles of Din's — this armor wasn't a weapon, it was purely defensive at the most basic level. But somehow it was tailored exactly to my body, fitting me so well that I almost didn't register how new and challenging the weight of it felt.

"Last part," murmured Din, pulling something out of the sack.

I froze.

"A helmet," I breathed.

Sure enough, it was a Mandalorian-style helmet, T-visor and all.

"Why do I feel afraid to put it on?" I laughed at myself softly, but the question was a real one. Din exhaled, looking down at the thing in his hands.

"Because of what it symbolizes," he said thoughtfully.

I looked at him in surprise that he was able to put it so concisely.

"But don't forget," he continued, turning to me and handing it to me. "If you put down the baggage of the symbol… it's for your protection."

I took it, my hands shaking. He was right. I'd let an awful lot of complicated and guilt-plagued resentment build up for his helmet as time had gone by — but ultimately, that thing had kept him alive when he could've been killed a hundred times over.

"Recontextualization," I said with a smile.

I lifted the helmet and pulled it on over my head. To my surprise, it wasn't the instant crisis of claustrophobic panic I'd anticipated. Like the rest of the armor, it seemed to be designed to fit me perfectly. I could see more through the T-visor than I ever thought was possible, and the snug feeling was comfortable and shockingly light.

Grogu babbled, and a little laugh pealed out of his mouth.

"It fits," I said, and I caught myself by surprise as I heard my own voice through the vocoder.

"Your voice," said Din, a little surprised. "Is that what I sound like?"

I laughed.

"I guess you don't hear your own voice without the helmet very often."

"And when I do," he rumbled through a wry smile, "my mind is on other things."

I grinned.

"Well?" I stepped back and held my arms out, turning around for the full effect. "What do you think?"

There was no bottom half — the Armorer had only given me the basics — but I could feel how useful this would be in any battle situation. I had expected to feel burdened, and instead, I felt powerful.

He looked me over.

"It's perfect," he said softly. He brought his hand to the shoulderplate and ran his fingers over it gently. I furrowed my brow in confusion, until my eyes landed on his own shoulderplate.

"Yes, alright, mine doesn't have an impressive emblem like yours," I conceded. "But gimme a break, I'm a non-Mandalorian nobody who just got given a custom-made suit, I'm not nitpicking."

"It's a signet," he said. "A mudhorn. It's for my clan. You'd only have one if—"

He broke off, his fingers still lingering on my blank shoulderplate.

"… If what?"

But he didn't answer. Instead, he let his hand fall and took a step back.

"I think I know why she gave you this."

"Why?"

"I think…" He sighed, sounding tired. "I think she wants to restore Mandalore."

"She didn't sound especially convinced that the planet was habitable," I said, furrowing my brow.

"Trust me," he replied. "She never would have made you this if she thought we were going to our deaths. I think she wants us to help bring the planet back together."

I raised my eyebrows, my pulse quickening.

"That's…" I found myself smiling. "Exciting! Isn't it? I mean, your people wouldn't have to be in hiding anymore — the rivalries could end."

And perhaps peace for Mandalorians would bring peace to his mind.

"It's not that simple," he said.

"I know," I responded, nodding thoughtfully. "But you have the darksaber. If I'm putting all these pieces together correctly, doesn't that mean you… rule Mandalore?"

"I don't rule anything," muttered Din firmly.

I placed my hands on either side of my helmet and lifted it off, resting it on my hip and smoothing my hair down.

"Din," I said gently. "You might not like the title, but you bear the tool."

He sighed and nodded.

"I know." He examined my face, then slipped a glove off and brought his uncovered fingers affectionately to my chin. "Reuniting and restoring Mandalore… that's a big quest. Are you up for it?"

I grinned, taking his hand from my face and kissing his knuckles gently.

"Sounds like an adventure."

He squeezed my hand.

"In that case," he said, heading for the pilot's seat. "I think we need to make a detour before we get to Mandalore."

"Bo-Katan?" I asked, putting my new helmet carefully on the copilot's seat and lifting Grogu into my arms.

"Bo-Katan," confirmed Din, plugging in some new coordinates.

We put the kid to bed, then headed to our cabin, knowing we had time for some sleep before we got to the Mandalore system. It was an interesting new experience, stripping our armor off together in our room. Something about it felt oddly intimate, even though I'd seen him remove his plenty of times, and he'd seen me… well, he'd seen me remove everything. But as we sat on our cot in our sleepwear, our armor hanging on the wall opposite us, I felt that we'd become even closer somehow.

I reached over and grabbed a blindfold off the floor, pulling it on and tying it tightly. I smiled as I heard him remove his helmet and place it carefully next to him.

The blindfold didn't just mean sex. While we did find ourselves often swept away by an intense, deep need for each other, it was equally often that we connected in the way we did tonight. I listened to the mattress creak gently beneath his knee as he crawled toward me, smiling when he reached me and his lips gently crashed into mine. I kissed him back for a moment before wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down with me, lacing my fingers in his curls and resting his head on my chest. He breathed out a sigh of gentle release, as he always did when he hadn't touched me for a while and could finally relax in the connection of our skin. I stroked his hair softly as he nestled his cheek against my sternum, listening to my heartbeat.

"Are you nervous?" I asked tentatively. "To go back there?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead he let out a long exhale and shifted his weight just enough to slip his strong arm up underneath the small of my back.

"Yes," he said quietly.

I hadn't really expected him to be so vulnerable about it, and the smallness of his voice made my heart swell.

He lifted his head and I felt his lips brush against mine tenderly. He rolled onto his back and pulled me with him, so that I was now lying on his chest. My cheek floated down as he let out a deep exhale, his chest collapsing in a steadying sigh.

I felt him relax beneath me, his breathing gradually slowing to a sleeping rise and fall, but my eyes wouldn't close just yet. There was something going unsaid between us, something that was beginning to gnaw at me. "His helmet's vitality would be restored," the Armorer had said. When he took the creed… would he ever be able to kiss me again?

It was with this question circling my head that somehow, finally, I fell asleep.

I awoke to a familiar ragged gasp for air, a panicked lurch out of a disturbed sleep — but for once, it wasn't mine.

"What?" I cried as I sprang up, ripping my blindfold off before I had a chance to think.

Din's hoarse noise of panic had put me into full alarm-mode. My eyes searched the dark of the room for a threat, only to find nothing but what was usually there.

"Sorry," I breathed, scooting away from him and bringing my hands up to my eyes. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't look," he panted, his voice broken and punctuated with ragged breaths. "Hold on…"

I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the rustle of fabric behind me as a sinking feeling began to weigh my stomach down.

I really can't even look at him.

I shook the thought away, ashamed at how selfish it was — but the sinking feeling remained.

"Okay," he said shakily, his voice rumbling through his vocoder.

Slowly, I turned back around to face him. He was sat up in bed, helmet on, the sheets down by his feet revealing his dark trousers and bare torso, currently glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was leaning his elbows over his knees and trying hard to stabilize his errant breathing.

"Are you okay?" I ventured, moving back to him and putting a hand on his leg. "Let me get you something to drink, it'll help with the breathing, trust me—"

I made to stand but his hand flew out to catch my arm in a tight grip.

"Just… just don't go for a minute…"

I looked back at him in surprise and placed a hand over his, rubbing his fingers with my thumb.

"What did you dream?"

"I—" He struggled to put the words together, his body still in fight-or-flight. "You were gone. You were gone, the kid was gone, I lost you—"

He broke off and leaned back on the pillow, heaving a deep breath.

"Hey," I said in a small, warm voice. "I'm right here."

I skimmed my hand across his chest and moved my body closer to him so that my face was hovering just above his T-visor.

"I'm right here. Grogu's asleep in his room. We're not going anywhere."

He took another deep breath and his hand found mine on his chest. He wrapped it up tightly, his fingers slipping between mine as his other hand touched my face, gently stroking my hair behind my ear.

"Look at me," I murmured, gazing pointedly into his T-visor. "Are you looking at me?"

A small exhale as his thumb swept across my cheek.

"I'm always looking at you," he rumbled in a low, weak voice.

A grin stretched across my face before I could help myself, and I felt my cheeks blushing as my heart swelled.

"Good, because I want you to see me when I say this." My smile slipped away as my face turned serious once more. "We are in this together. I'm not going anywhere. It's us, or it's nothing."

His hand tightened around my hair for a moment before slipping back to cradle my neck.

"I promise," I said firmly.

A moment went by and something in me could almost feel him looking intently into my eyes.

"I don't know how to do this. I've never…" he murmured, his voice small and vulnerable. "I've never had…"

"Me neither," I whispered. "But here we are."

"I'm afraid I'm—" He broke off and swallowed anxiously.

"What?" I asked, a pit of anxiety beginning to brew in my own stomach.

He took another shaky breath.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna mess it up."

My heart ached at his vulnerability. I didn't dare voice the fact that I was also deeply afraid that his renewal of his creed would change things between us. Maybe even break us, thought a fearful voice in the back of my mind. I tightened my grip on his hand.

"Neither of us can know what'll happen down the road," I murmured, speaking as much to myself as to him. "Right? But we know how we feel about each other… and we know who we are. You're… admittedly sometimes a very grumpy guy, and kind of a sore loser when it comes to target practice—"

He huffed a relieved laugh.

"… But you're also a man of deep integrity. And you care. And I care about you," I said with a warm half-smile. "Very, very much. And I know that even if things get hard, we'll figure it out."

"That's what we do," he breathed.

"That's what we do," I echoed. I almost added "this is the way", but I figured that given the night's particular circumstances, The Way was better left for tomorrow.

He exhaled a long, steady breath and pulled me gently to his chest once more. I could hear his heartbeat gradually begin to slow from the speeder's pace it was hammering. His arms folded around me tightly, clinging me to him so hard that it almost hurt. I nuzzled into his sternum, closing my eyes and inhaling the scent of his skin.

Time passed, Din's breathing settled, and I thought he'd fallen asleep when his low, drowsy voice rumbled against my cheek.

"I still can't believe I get to do this."

I tilted my head up ever so slightly and skimmed my hand up his chest to nestle where his neck met his shoulder.

"Do what?"

"Hold you like this," he replied, his hand beginning to slowly stroke my hair. "So many times I just wanted to pull you to me. Wrap you up."

"It's funny," I mused, smiling into his chest. "Back then I never would've pegged you as a hugger."

His chest vibrated with a low chuckle.

"If it weren't for my armor, maybe I would've done it sooner."

There was a waver in his voice, a hint of bitterness that told me his agitation was undoubtedly tied to tomorrow's quest. His armor was at once an obstacle and a core part of his very soul — and the tension of that was beginning to show cracks.

And despite the calmness with which I soothed him... his fear terrified me.