#and like the wide view to show the trooper falling

[across-stars]

watched the Rebels movie today, and I was not prepared for that moment, Kallus kicking that Stormtrooper in the face off the railing they were holding on to, I’ll tell you I audibly yelped

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Reunion - Part 34

Summary: Tala (Phoenix) and Echo clear the air; Cora and Fives have a heart-to-heart.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

In honour of our Bad Batch eve, please enjoy this chapter of the Reunion.

I hope everyone has enjoyed their time with their family and gotten a well deserved break after the horrendous that has been 2022. Wishing you and your families an amazing 2023. 

Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Torture, mentions of blood, bruises, threats, implied explosion, angst, fluff, kissing, fear of abandonment, fear of failing, exhaustion, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, mistrust, I think that’s it. If I miss any please let me know. 

AO3 Link |   Words: 6,075  |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |   The Reunion Master List

PHOENIX POV

“… tell us where the Jedi is hiding…”

Tech’s face was bruised, his upper lip had a cut, blood trickled down his chin. A black eye began forming on his left eye, he had trouble keeping it open. His goggles that usually decorated his face were on the ground, facing him, the lenses were cracked, the red light was on still recording. A pair of boots stood in front of him, as a black cape blew swinging into view. “I shall ask one last time … clone”

 “He doesn’t know anything!” Jaz had an expression of pure terror as blood trickled from the side of her head, a bruise forming on her cheek. Her usually pristine outfit was now covered in dirt and blood, her sleeve was torn from being jostled here and there.

“Then …” the dark figure turned towards her shrinking form, as she was forced to kneel by two troopers standing behind her, “ … perhaps you can tell me. Where’s the Jedi?” 

“She doesn’t know anything! LEAVE HER ALONE!” Tech screamed, fighting against the restraints that held him in place, he reached forward with his body hoping to get closer to her, wiggling in place when the butt of a blaster smacked the back of his head, causing him to fall forward. 

“One of you will tell us what we want to know, and once we find the Jedi and any who are helping her, they will all die along with that Jedi scum. Save yourselves.” The dark boots shifted between the two, a red light illuminating each face as the boots shifted. 

Tech and Jaz locked eyes, she smiled as best she could despite the pain she felt. Nodding her head slowly, mouthing three words only meant for him. His eyes filled with tears, mouthing the same words back, before he took in a deep breath, “Barycir (deploy)” a bright flash covered the area.

“Tala!” Echo’s voice reached my ears, as he shook me, “Honey, wake up” my eyes fluttered open as I looked at Echo’s concerned face. His fingers brushing my cheek, “You okay?” A small warm breeze brushed over my arms and face, there were small bright lights floating behind Echo’s head, swirling in a pattern I couldn’t quite make out. I closed my eyes shaking my head, I blinked a few more times before opening them to see Echo hovering over me.

His eyes were full of concern, “You alright?”

“Yeah” I shifted as he helped me sit up.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure … I saw something … I …” I rubbed the back of my neck, I needed to do some research in the repository, I tried to stand but my legs weren’t working properly, they felt weak and sore, “How long was I …”

“You were out for nearly three hours. You were floating, doing your meditative floating thing that you do, when the air shifted, everything went still as your eyes opened wide, and everything floating around you suddenly dropped and you came crashing down like a rock. I thought you were concussed or something but the scanner didn’t pick up anything.”

“That’s good, at least I was still able to protect myself even while I was unconscious.”

“So… you gonna tell me what happened?”

“The force … it showed me something but I …” I shifted again, finding my footing underneath me. Echo held my arms, making sure I didn’t fall again. 

“What did you see?”

I shook my head, “I can’t … it’s all muddled … ” I motioned with my hand to my head, “I need time to understand what I saw.”

Echo narrowed his eyes at me, as though he was contemplating and calculating his next words, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes, no doubt doing his best to push down his thousand swirling questions running through his head, “Okay. What do you need?”

“Our bed and a giant glass of water”

“Done and done”

Echo carried me in his arms over to our speeder, placing me gently on the seat as he climbed in behind me, his arms caging me in against him, making sure I didn’t fall off. Usually, I’d go by myself to do a meditative retreat, however, the force kept telling me to bring Echo along with me. The longer we stayed on Armandine, the greater my connection with the force grew.

With one move, he started up the speeder, and before I knew it we were already half way through the forest and would be arriving back at our base. 

The cave system, that had become our home, had grown more elaborate as I learned more about the crystals that grew on Armandine and how to use them. Enlarging the sizes of the rooms, and providing every room with their own refreshers. We were able to have a fully functioning kitchen, there were even another two layers for storage. Thanks to the repository, the crystals created a hangar to store our transports; keeping our presence to a minimum.

I’m not sure at what point I fell asleep, the next thing I knew I woke up on our bed with Echo lying next to me, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close to him. His soft snores filling my ears, watching him rest, filled my heart with an overwhelming since of happiness; for the first time since we had been together it filled me with fear. Almost as though every moment I spent with him was fleeting, something I wouldn’t be able to hold on to; I’m not sure where the fear stemmed from, maybe it was the vision I had. 

I closed my eyes for a brief second, trying to quell the fear that was rising in my heart, when flashes of Tech and Jaz beaten and bruised filled my mind. The vision I had before playing out in clarity.

The feeling of being confined, the anxiety rising in my veins, I needed fresh air. I shifted his arm, placing it gently against his stomach. After everything Echo had been through for me, he deserved to rest, to not have to deal with a wife who was losing her mind. I shifted out of our bed, grabbing my jacket, and headed outside. 

It was hard to tell what time it was, the nights were longer on Armandine than on Coruscant or even Barab. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

Wrecker’s voice called down to me, I turned to see him sitting on top of the cave. There was a worried expression on his face, he seemed to be doing okay with the realization he’d be having twins, however there were times when fear gripped him completely. I wondered if this was one of those times. 

“Couldn’t sleep, what are you doing here?”

“Same. Figured I’d keep watch, have too many thoughts running around” he motioned to his head.

Mere seconds passed, as I used the force to jump up to the top of the cave, shifting a little before I sat down beside him, both of us looking over the area. The sounds of the forest had started to sound like home, the rustling of the leaves against the wind helped ease the anxiety within my heart. 

Silence settled between the two of us for several minutes, Wrecker was very different from his brothers. He was someone who was always optimistic, always up for a laugh, but there were moments when he was serious too. Moments when he was the more mature one out of all us, didn’t happen often but when it did, it always surprised me. 

“Wanna talk about what’s got you stressed?” I glanced over my shoulder to look at him. 

He looked up to the sky, taking in a deep breath, almost as though he needed every moment to get his thoughts together, he cracked his neck, taking in one more deep breath before shifting his focus to the horizon in front of us. 

“Lur and I were talking about our adiik (children), when she mentioned babies needed blankets, kisses, formula, clothes, milk … I mean she went on and on. I thought for sure she was never going to stop, and it hit me …” he turned to look at me, “What do I know about babies? How am I going to be able to provide for not just her, but my kids? Can I even really take care of them? What about teaching them? It was … it’s all a bit …”

His rubbed over his scar, as he took in a shaky breath.

“Yeah, I could see how that would be overwhelming. I thought there were babies on Kamino?”

“Well, yeah!” He shouted, before covering his mouth in realization he was a bit too loud, “Yes” he replied in a softer tone, I couldn’t help chuckle at his adorableness, “However, I never took care of them. We weren’t really allowed to; only those kriffing long necks, and their medical staff were allowed to care for them.”

“Ahh … I see. You know Wrecker, what you’re going through is something very common among new parents. Not everyone knows what to do with a baby Wrecker, it’s not like you’re born with instructions on how to look after a child, but somehow you find your way.” I smirked thinking about my own experiences, “You know, back in the day when I was still a Padawan, my Master forced me to do a few shifts at the Jedi temple nursery.”

“First, there’s nurseries at the temple?”

“Well…” my smile dropped a little, “There used to be.”

“Oh … right.” He cleared his throat, “Why did he force you to look after the kids?”

“He was trying to teach me patience … long story.” I waved off the rest of that tale, “Anyway” I shook my head focusing on the hear and now, “I’d never taken care of a baby in my life, never wanted to, yet despite my objections Master Yoda said it was training I would need. Not sure why he said that at the time, but looking back at it, I’m glad I got to spend that time in the nursery.”

“What happened?”

“The healer in charge of the nursery, left me alone with ten babies, while she went off to deal with something else. Basically, at the end of my shift I was covered in pee and poo, the babies were crying, I was crying, food was spilled on the floor, the atmosphere was full of tension and chaos.”

“Wait, they didn’t give you any instructions?”

“Well, in fairness she may have tried but I was … I was adamant I could handle it, and didn’t really listen all that much to the instructions provided.”

“This is not making me feel better. You are as brilliant as Tech and Jaz, and if you struggled this hard …”

I placed my hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down with the force, “My point is, even though my first time taking care of the babies was the worst experience I ever had, it was also the best. There was nothing, I mean absolutely nothing those kids could throw at me, that I couldn’t handle the second time. 

This is your first baby, Wreck, it’s different than what you’re used to and it’s absolutely normal to be freaked out. After all, you’ll be taking care of someone who is completely and utterly helpless. A baby can’t tell you if it’s tired, hungry, dirty, upset, or in pain, it has one option to draw your attention, and that is to scream. Scream at the top of their lungs until you can figure out what they need. They are defenceless. They can’t fight for themselves, can’t advocate for their rights, can’t clean up after themselves, can’t even hold their heads up. You …” I nudged his shoulder, “Are going to be their protector, their provider, their shield, and their hiding place. You’ll feed them, love them, care for them, and even if you screw up, if you shower them with love, and do your best to be there for them, they’ll know they are loved by you and that is the most important thing.

First time parents always mess up, even second time or third times mess up. What matters is that you try and show up. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re also not alone. You have Echo, Fives, Hunter, Myri, Oly, Omega, Cross, Tech, Jaz, Wolffe, Azi, Cody, Gregor, Rex, and me. You have an entire village having your back. We’ll be there to help you both.”

“Is that what happened with the babies at the nursery?”

“More or less, the healer who was in charge, told me everything I did was wrong, but she also told me what I did right, she said I never stopped caring. I constantly showed my love to those children and that made all the difference. I may have been an absolute disaster, but the kids were fed, they were clean, they were crying because they sensed my anxiety and concern.”

“But I don’t know how to do anything?”

“Your sister-in-law literally runs an archive, you don’t think she could find some parenting books for you? She probably already has every parenting book from the entire galaxy available. However, you have to find your own style, learn as much as you can, and see what works for you. Plus don’t forget, we’ll be here for you.”

I smacked the back of his shoulder, only hurting myself in the process and causing him to chuckle. I gave him a light shove with the force trying to get him to shut up, which of course made him laugh even harder. 

“Thanks vod’ika” he ruffled my hair, “I always enjoy talking to you”

“Me too”

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you up so late?”

I let out an unexpectedly long sigh, “I guess.” I picked at some moss that was covering the stone, it was a few minutes before I had found the right words, I was about to open my mouth when a very familiar and noticeable presence came out of the cave and stood at the entrance listening to us.

“You gonna join us too, Echo?”

Wrecker glanced over to me, I smirked as I reached my hand out, closing my eyes and wrapping the force around Echo, lifting him slowly and carefully, until he was floating before the two of us. I opened my eyes smiling at my dear riduur, “Fancy seeing you here”

“Well imagine my shock and surprise when our bed began to get cold, when I opened my eyes, you were gone. No note. No message.”

The pain in his eyes stung me like a needle through the heart, I couldn’t quite look at him. Ever since he came back from from Skako Minor, he’d have nightmares of still being stuck in the cryotube. Having no one around him, made him think he was still there.

The anger at failing him built up inside me, as well as the pain of letting him down, “Sorry, I just needed time to clear my head. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

He was silent for a while, they both were, until Echo cleared his voice, and I started to sense his nervousness through the force. 

“Uh sweetie, you gonna put me down?” I glanced over to him, he was looking at the ground beneath him, I winced out a sorry and shifted him till he was behind me. He adjusted himself, before sitting down behind me, his legs caging me in on either side of him. Without a second though, he wrapped his arms around me, having me lean back until I rested against his chest. 

Wrecker shifted a little, before he stood in his spot, we both looked at him, my head tilting, a silent question as to where he was going.

“I … um … I need to walk the perimeter. Give you guys a chance to talk or whatever …” Wrecker motioned between us, as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Either way, I’ll be back. You guys keep each other company and don’t let me catch you doing anything I don’t want to see when I come back” he finished with a slight chuckle, I could sense his uncomfortableness through the force.

“Got it” Echo’s voice was tense as he answered his vod, his tone indicating he wasn’t in the mood for Wrecker’s jokes. He simply watched as Wrecker walked away, and turned his full attention to me, “I see you were about ready to tell Wrecker everything.”

“You can’t know that for sure”

“Really? Then you gonna tell me what you saw or is that information for anyone and everyone else but me?”

“Echo, it’s not like that”

“No?”

I wanted to answer him, and tell him his anger was unfounded, but all I could manage to do was entwine our fingers, wrapping his arms around me tighter.

“Do you remember the nightmare Tech had before they left?”

“Yeah…”

“I saw it.”

Echo stiffened as he shifted, “What do you mean you saw it?”

“In my vision, I watched as Tech and Jaz were being interrogated”

“What? Where were they? Who was interrogating them?”

“I couldn’t see, I know it was storm troopers and someone important, but all I saw were black boots and a cape. As to where they were … I’m not a 100% sure, it could’ve been Ord Mantell or it could’ve been somewhere else”

“Is this happening now?”

“No. It was further into the future. Maybe a month or two, might have been longer. I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Doesn’t sound ominous at all.” He let out an frustrated sigh, as his hand untangled itself from my own hand and rubbed his face, “Does that mean it’ll come true?”

“I don’t know. Master Yoda used to say the future is ever in motion. We don’t always see the full picture, nor what that vision really meant.”

“We need to contact them! Tell them not to stay on Ord Mantell.”

How I wished it would’ve been as simple as that, “Echo we can’t, as much as I want to, we can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do we know that by telling them, we don’t enact the very future we’re trying to avoid?”

“Then let’s go there, rather than sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“What if that triggers the vision?”

Echo let out a frustrated sigh, he shifted out of our hold, standing and pacing back and forth, “Well kriff Tala, what the hell are we supposed to do? Nothing? Just hope Tech and Jaz aren’t affected by your vision? Hope the Empire doesn’t find them?”

“What if we go there and someone else gets hurt because of our actions?” I responded standing in our spot, letting Echo pace.

“So…” Echo stopped and turned to look at me, his face quizzical, as anger bridled just behind his eyes, they bore into me with an intensity I hadn’t seen in a long time, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re telling me, you are perfectly fine letting them go through what you saw?”

“Of course not! How could you think that!”

“Well I’m wondering since all you do is shoot down every idea, while giving me no-win scenarios and you seem to be perfectly fine with that!”

“Oh! I’m sorry, am I suppose to be the one with all the answers! I missed that vow during our wedding!”

“No! I’m not saying you should, but come on Tala! You gotta give me something!”

“I’m giving you all I have! I don’t know what the vision means! I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s a possible scenario or what they’re going through right now! I don’t know! All I know is the force is trying to tell me something!”

“Great! Well that’s just great!” Echo’s anger was seeping through, something was bothering him.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why? Why!” He asked stepping forward, “Let me think, you wake up after passing out in my arms on the way here. After, mind you, you were dropped back to the ground like some discarded piece of refuse during your mediation session, and what do I find? I wake up to an empty bed, no note, no message, it took me five minutes to calm down my anxiety, only to find you outside, perfectly calm and content, about to discuss your vision with Wrecker! Not me! Not your husband!” With each exclamation he jabbed his finger against his chest, “Wrecker!” He pointed to the horizon behind me “It seems as though you are willing to talk to anyone first, except me!” 

I couldn’t believe my ears, it was the same argument again; about me not prioritizing him, about not putting him first. It wasn’t true. He was always first. I let out a sigh, and shook my head, I turned to look at the clearing before us, I needed a minute to gather my thoughts and to calm down the emotions running through my heart. I wanted to cry, to scream, to yell, but that wouldn’t have solved anything.

“Echo, do you really think I don’t care for you? That you’re not my first priority?”

Echo didn’t answer right away, the silence growing between us, as I felt a void beginning to grow as well, I closed my eyes taking in a deep breath, swallowing down the trembling that was growing, “Echo, I asked you a question, do you honestly think you’re not my first priority? That I don’t care for you?”

“I … what are you asking me?” his voice shifted it was slightly more tender; I could hear how his own emotions were trying to get the best of him.

“I’m asking, do you think I don’t care for you? That you’re not my priority?” I turned to look at him, his face looked shocked at my expression. He stepped forward, his hands cupping my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears, I had unconsciously been streaming down my cheeks. 

“Sometimes …”

“Echo you are always my priority. I didn’t wake you because you were so stressed with everything that happened, carrying me to bed, dealing with everything regarding me. I meant to leave you a note, but at that moment my own anxiety was getting the best of me and I just needed to breathe.”

Tears were welling up in my eyes again, I closed my eyes, chewing on my upper lip. I took in a deep breath, opening my eyes and focusing on Echo’s. 

“Echo,” I motioned to myself, “I’m not a normal woman. I’m a force wielder and not just that, but an Armandite with additional powers on top of it. I am full of sadness, grief and anger that I carry around inside me every day because of the war, because of what happened to you, what happened on Ryloth.” 

His face started to become blurry through the tears, “I’m angry, Echo! I’m so angry that I’m scared of what I might do, the last person I ever want to hurt is you! Don’t you get that! Being on Armandine has been …” I walked out of his hold, running my hands through my hair, “Being here with you has been amazing, but it’s also caused me to deal with everything I’ve been through. I never realized how hurt and damaged I truly was.” 

I stopped in my tracks, closing my eyes, “Now that I actually have a chance to rest, not running for our lives every moment …” I took in a deep breath, “Echo every day I wake up, there is a sickening pain in my chest and no matter what I do it doesn’t go away. Not my priority?” I turned to look at him, “You are the only thing that matters to me” tears streamed down my cheeks, “I’m doing my best to stay together for you. I don’t want to be a burden for you. Yet, everything I do, every time I try to be the wife you deserve I just keep failing you.”

Echo closed the distance between us, and placed his hands on my shoulders, “I want you to be my burden. I don’t care about anything else. You are it. If you bleed, I want to bleed with you. If you’re hurt, I’ll heal you as best as I can. If you are burdened then let my shoulders carry the weight for you. I’m here Tala, I have always been here, let me be here. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I married you, from the moment I met you, I knew what I was getting. Have there been surprises? Of course, any relationship will have its ups and downs, and things we never prepared for. Yet, I knew all of that going into this with you and what I would have to deal with, and I don’t regret it. Don’t you remember our wedding vows? When I live, I live for you. If I die, I die for you. Let me live for you.”

I nodded as he wrapped his arms around me, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, as tears streamed down my face.

“I love you, Tala. Don’t push me away. You told me, I’m not allowed to push you away when I’m in pain, well you’re not allowed to either. Understand?”

“Okay” I mumbled out as best as I could; I wrapped my arms tighter around him, grounding myself in his warmth and scent.

“Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow, we can find a quiet place and you and I can sit and talk about everything. When your ready, we can tell everyone about your vision, maybe you just need to meditate more or reach out to Master Yoda.”

I didn’t have the strength, the energy, or even the emotional wherewithal to answer him back, I simply nodded. I felt his hands resting against my neck as he guided me out of my hiding place, he placed a kiss on my forehead, and on each of my eyelids. “Don’t worry, Tala; I’m here. I got you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - 

FIVES POV

Lady Cora was fast asleep beside me, the soft Alderaan silk bed sheet covering her. Things had gotten a bit crazy during our last few days here. However, spending time with her had been the highlight of my time here. My finger brushed away a strand of her hair, it seemed to be tickling her nose, as she scrunched it up over and over again. I shifted from the bed and headed to the balcony, taking in theitching to go, especially Wolffe.

“I found her!” 

Everyone turned to look at Wolffe as he rushed in with his datapad, Tech and I stood trying to determine what he was waving to us. 

“See!” He thrusted the datapad into Tech’s hands. He spent all of two seconds trying to determine what he was looking at before his eyes went wide.

“She boarded some sort of transport” Tech responded, his voice a little distant.

“Exactly! In the middle of the chaos, she climbed aboard a transport.”

“Who’s that?” I pointed to the man holding her hand helping her climb into the ship.

“Tech that’s where I need your help” Wolffe patted Tech’s shoulder, “I need you to find out who he is.”

I let out a light huff, remembering how hard Wolffe squeezed his shoulder, the next thing we knew Tech was scrubbing every aspect of that footage along with Wolffe. Well more like Wolffe was hovering over his shoulder keeping an eye on what he was doing, he stayed that way until Tech found what he was looking for.

“Oh!”

“Oh? What ‘oh’?”

Jaz and I turned to look at Tech and Wolffe, he was practically growling as he looked at Tech’s datapad. “What are you guys looking at?” We shuffled over, the video file was paused there was smoke covering most of the view, in the midst of the smoke, there was the outline of a transportation. It hovered for a minute before it took off, but in that minute the door slid open, someone completely covered in armour leaned out, grabbed a hand and hauled another person into the transport before it headed out of the area. Tech had zoomed in on the armoured person hanging from the transport. 

The armour was reminiscent of Mandalorian armour, but there was something odd about it. It almost seemed to be intentionally misleading. 

“This armour is of Mandalorian design” Tech finally spoke up.

“Not just Mandalorian, though” Jaz added as she leaned over his shoulder, “That armour …” she zoomed in, “That looks like Commando armour”

We all turned to look at Jaz, “How the hell do you know that?” Wolffe narrowed his eyes at her, almost as though he was assessing a threat.

“Tech showed me all the different types of armour used during the war, during one of our dates.”

We both looked at Tech, “You showed her armour on one of your dates?” I asked not quite comprehending how that could’ve even been a date.

“She was interested in our armour” he shrugged as he examined the image again, “Not to mention, it turned into one of our more …” Tech cleared his throat, “Livelier dates. Getting back to the matter at hand, this armour is reminiscent of Omega squad, although it has been altered. However, my focus is on the transport. A modified civilian patrol transport.”

“What’s so special about a civilian patrol ship, Tech?” I leaned in, it didn’t seem all that unique to me.

“The fact it’s not a patrol ship.” Tech tapped a few buttons on his datapad and pulled up a program that scanned and examined every inch of the transport available, compiling and outlining every line and modification of the transport. “There seem to be a variety of different techniques here, all from various systems,  Qiilura, Olanet, Gaftikar, Haurgab and Mandalore.”

“Those are quite random …” Jaz looked at the program, zooming in on one of the modifications, “This … this is a unique type of modification”

“That my dear” Tech smirked, “Is clone modification, a special technique we developed and passed on to other clones back on Kamino.”

“You’re saying Chagri was rescued by clones?” Wolffe’s face dropped.

Tech nodded, “That’s a good thing though”

“Good thing?” Wolffe’s patience was barely hanging on as his jaw clenched even harder, his muscle twitching, “Explain to me how her, being in the hands of clones who had their chips triggered a good thing?”

“Because I believe the clones that made these modifications weren’t affected by the chip, otherwise … why would they fly a modified transport? If they were affected they would be using the new Empire patrol transports.”

“Fives?”

I turned to look at Cora, her hair was a mess, yet it somehow enhanced her beauty even more, regardless of the fact sleep was still present in her eyes, “What are you doing up, mesh’la?”

She wrapped her arms around me as she snuggled into my side, the bedsheet that was wrapped around her warming me up as well, “I reached over and you were gone, everything okay?” She rubbed her face against my chest as I wrapped my arm around her. 

“Yeah, just can’t believe we’re leaving already. Feels like I just got here yesterday.”

Silence settled between us, it was almost as though she wanted to say something, her fingers kept  trailing against my side, it was a nervous tick I observed she had, we were only supposed to be here for two weeks, we had already stayed three. Rex and the guys seemed okay with the change, but they did recommend we hurry up and get to Ord Mantell as soon as possible. 

“You okay?” I looked down at her, “Seems like you want to say something” she squeezed my waist, “Cora, you know you can talk to me.”

“Is there any point to say anything?”

“Never know until you do”

“Maybe it’s better if I don’t say anything; if I don’t say it, then I won’t get disappointed when I don’t get the answer I want.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to give you the answer you want”

“I know, but your path lies on a different one from me”

“Not forever, maybe once everything changes.”

Cora chuckled, “That’s a long time”

“I’m willing to wait” I held my breath, it was a confession that I hadn’t intended to make, but it was true, ever since I met Cora, things had changed for me. She helped me realize moving on from Shaak Ti didn’t mean I’d forget her or that I didn’t still love her, it just meant there was still room in my heart to love, to be devoted to one person. 

“What if things become worse or … what if …”

“I don’t make it back to you?”

“It’s a thought. I know we haven’t known each other long, but there is something here, right?” Cora looked into my eyes, a smile gracing her lips, “It’s not just me, right?”

“No. Not just you. I think there’s something here too.”

She closed her eyes nodding, before resting her head against my chest again, “We have crap timing”

A chuckle escaped from my lips, “Yeah, we do” I cleared my throat, pushing down the bubble that was rising, “What should we do?”

“Why ask me?” Cora shifted one of her hands, wiping away the tears that were dampening her cheeks and my chest.

“I’ll follow your lead,” there was a look of surprise on her face, “Didn’t think that was possible?” I turned facing her, as her arms stayed wrapped around me, “Cora, you …” I smirked as I looked into her eyes, “You gave me a new perspective, a possibility I didn’t even realize could ever happen again. Therefore,” I tucked her hair behind her ear, “If you wanna wait, we can wait. You want me to walk away from you, I’ll walk away. However, painful it might be for me. I’ll follow your lead, but there is only one thing I can’t do…”

“Leave your family” she finished the sentence for me.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t leave them to face whatever might happen without me. And not just them, but my other vode are still stuck on the front lines; the Empire is using them for cannon fodder, and I can’t … I can’t walk away from them.”

“I know, Fives, and I wouldn’t ask you to, either.” She took in a deep breath, pulled away, wrapping herself in the bedsheet tighter as she began pacing the balcony. Every second the silence grew between us, my heart felt as though it was beating out of my chest. 

She turned to look at me, a solemn smile graced her lips, as a look of defeat encased her eyes, “It’s late, we should probably go back to bed.” She smirked before wrapping herself even tighter in the sheet and headed towards the room, leaving me alone on the balcony. 

My eyes focused once again on the peaks of Alderaan, it was too much to expect her to want me to make a life with her; it’s all great in theory but we come from separate worlds. After all she was part of a royal family, me … I came out of a container. Nothing about me is really real, not like Cora. I felt completely pathetic at that moment, I began to wonder if there was a point to me staying with her, or maybe I should just head back to my own room. 

“Fives?”

I closed my eyes focusing on the sound of her voice, trying to keep it in my memory as much as possible, I glanced over my shoulder, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Good, I want to get as much time as possible holding you in my arms. If I have to wait, I want the memory of us to last until we meet up again.” 

My mind couldn’t comprehend what I just heard, I turned to face her, “What did you say?”

“I said, I need as much time with you as possible, until we meet up again. If I’m going to wait for you, I want as many memories as possible.”

With three strides, I closed the distance between us, cupping her cheeks with my hands, kissing her with all my strength.

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[obwjam]

would you be able to do a Mandalorian/Pedro Pascal x borrower??

I guess the plot would be where grogu finds the borrower, the borrower is like terrified to death and then mando finds them, and like he has to do something that’ll make them trust him or something?

btw i’ve been reading your stories and prompts like for two hours straight and i just wanna say that i would stay up all night reading your works instead of doing anything else i love them so much 🥺❤️

also, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to, or have a reason not to, i have no idea if you’re still doing requests and stuff or anything. thank you so much though!

ugh oh my gosh thank you thank you!!!! i love to be a sponsor of procrastination. keep up the good work. i truly love the idea of grogu just unknowingly terrorizing a tiny and i’m way overdue to write some mando g/t so let’s go!!!

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Din Djarin found you running for your life, nearly tripping over yourself and screaming so loud that he was sure the entire planet could hear. He was confused at first -- he had never seen a borrower before, and it took him a moment to register what exactly was going on. 

What were you running from exactly? Well, you didn’t know what it was, but it had giant ears, tiny arms, outstretched hands and could waddle as fast as you could run. You recognized the look in its eyes, too. One word: food.

“GROGU! NO!” 

At the sound of another voice, you whipped your head up and subsequently tripped over a rock. You slammed into the ground, gathering yourself for a moment before flipping yourself over and gasping at the sight.

At this point, you kind of wish that fall had killed you. The only thing worse than a bloodthirsty creature trying to eat you was the human who owned it. And, god, you couldn’t even tell where this human started and where he ended. He was covered head-to-toe in shiny metal armor, complete with a dark helmet and some gnarly looking weapons. He looked like a giant-and-a-half. You were done for.

Din cocked his head, tapping the side of his helmet to do a quick scan of you. The scan didn’t tell him much, but it showed him you were four inches tall and scared out of your wits. He frowned at how badly you were shaking.

He held Grogu out in front of him and tilted his head down. “No. No. You can’t be doing that. You hear me? Don’t do that again. No.”

Grogu stared back blankly with a smile and a patoo. Din rolled his eyes and plopped him into his pod before turning his full attention to you. He was surprised that you hadn’t tried to run away, but truth be told, you were frozen in fear. When a human was involved, there was nowhere to run.

Slowly, Din crouched down, trying to a closer look without looming too much. It was impossible to do that, but he was trying. A pang of guilt shot through his stomach as he peered down at you, cowering and starting to cry. Oh boy. 

“Hey, hey...” he started, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t going to do anything. At the movement of his hands, you flinched and moved your arms up to cover your face. 

Din hummed. “No, no. See?” He waved his hands a little. “No weapons. Nothing.”

You gave this curious giant the side-eye. He was clearly a warrior, or a bounty hunter of some kind. Why was he trying to be peaceful?

“What are you doing out here, little guy?” he tried, the helmet masking the true sound of his voice. “There’s a lot of imps around here. It’s not safe.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused as to what imps were, but all of your words were stuck in your chest. You couldn’t tell where this giant was looking or what he was thinking. Not to mention he was absolutely huge. Those boots could crush you in an instant.

“Hmm.” Din spent most of his days talking to a baby who couldn’t speak basic, so this should not have been as big of a challenge as it was. But you were clearly terrified out of your mind with the way your gaze was locked forward and how badly you were trembling. You looked like you were about to vomit. 

“Uh, do you... do you have a name?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Din was about to try another question when the sound of blaster fire filled the air. You both looked toward the source of the sound, and Din quickly whipped his head back to you.

“You need to get out of here. There are some really angry guys coming this way.”

As soon as the giant shifted his position, you assumed the worst. “No!” you cried. “No, pl-please. I... I don’t... please... this--this is my home...”

Din’s eyes went wide as you lost it right in front of him. He could certainly understand your apprehension, but he clearly wasn’t going to hurt you. The Imperials would.

“I know you’re scared, kiddo, but when those Imperials find you, they won’t be as kind to you as I am.” You could barely comprehend what he was trying to tell you. You were far too petrified. Din looked at you, back over his shoulder, and back to you. Those imperials would be here any minute. There was no way you weren’t going to get squashed. He only had one thing left he could do.

“AH!” you shrieked as soon as the gloved hand entered your vision, but it was useless to try to run. Giant digits wrapped around your body, and you clung onto the folds of his glove for dear life as he lifted you into the air at a speed that was far too fast for your liking. Stars popped in and out of your vision as you kicked and punched and yelled in protest. 

Din grimaced, barely able to feel the impact of your struggles. You were clearly overpowered, but more clearly terrified. 

“This is for your own good,” he mumbled, hoping you would hear him as he plopped you down into a brown satchel that was draped over his shoulder. 

Inside the bag, you were clawing for a way out. Screams of LET ME GO! went unheard as the giant started to move. Din was trying his hardest not to jostle you too much, but that was a tall task considering he was fleeing from a legion of stormtroopers who were after the kid.

There were a lot of grunts, screams and blaster bolts, but soon, all was quiet again. You had since shut your eyes and gripped tightly to the walls of the bag to stay stable and ignore the chaos, but it didn’t take long after the violence died down that you realized the giant was still walking somewhere.

“Hey. HEY!” you yelled. Din was ignoring you. There were surely more troopers hot on his tail, so he had to get to the Razor Crest and fast. He pushed Grogu up onto the ship and opened the roof to his pod before hurriedly climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. The deafening sound of the ship powering up made your stomach drop, but it all turned to a soft hum once Din made the jump to hyperspace. 

Light flooded your vision, and you grimaced as that damned hand came reaching for you again. Again, protesting it would be foolish, so you just closed your eyes to fend off the headache that was sure to come when he lifted you too fast. 

Din made sure to go slower this time, and when he held you out in his open palm, he finally got a sense of how small you really were. His fingers were slightly taller than you, and with your knees pulled to your chest, you were more the size of that stupid metal ball Grogu liked to play with. Maybe that’s why he went after you.

“I’m... sorry about that,” Din started, trying to sound earnest. “You were in danger. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You finally opened your eyes. The view in front of you took your breath away. The sky was swirling blue all around you, but you quickly realized that wasn’t the sky at all. It was space. Hyperspace.

Din huffed a laugh. “First time in space?”

You nodded robotically, forgetting for a moment you were sitting in the palm of a giant. “First time... anywhere.”

Din smirked. He supposed that made sense, but it didn’t make it any less shocking -- or adorable -- to him.

“I’m sorry about Grogu,” he said, as if you were supposed to know who he was talking about. You cocked your head at him. “Grogu. The little green guy that... tried to eat you.”

“Oh.” You shuddered at the memory. “It--it’s okay, I guess.”

A pause.

“I can bring you back to your planet, if you’d like. It wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

You considered this, but something was holding you back. “What... who were those guys? What did they want?”

Din sighed. “Imperials. They were looking for me, but they were also occupying any and all territory they could. I hate to say it, kid, but even if I brought you back, I don’t think your home would be much of a home anymore.”

“It was never that much of a home anyway,” you grumbled. You were surprised that you could tell Din was waiting for you to continue. “I mean, it’s just. That green guy was not the first thing to try and eat me.”

“Oh.” Din didn’t know what to say. 

“It’s fine. That’s just... how it is.” A beat of silence. “Are you... are you going to sell me?”

“Sell you?” Din was confused. “Why would I sell you?”

“I--I thought -- that’s what humans do, isn’t it? Especially ones like you.”

Din frowned. That was not something he had thought of. “No. I’m not going to sell you.”

“...so what are you gonna do with me?”

“I...” Din faltered. What was he going to do? He was so focused on getting you to safety that he didn’t calculate the long-term implications. Through his helmet, he stared at you, your eyes shaking and pleading with him for mercy. You looked so small compared to the space around you. So vulnerable. Din felt this pull toward you; that protective instinct that caused him to change his life for Grogu. At least the kid could defend himself. You couldn’t.

“You can stay here, with me,” Din offered. “Until we can find you a place to live. How’s that sound?”

“Really?” This giant didn’t seem like the hospitable type, but he just shrugged. 

“You’ll be safe here,” he assured. “I promise.”

“What about... Groku?”

“Grogu,” he smiled. “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

You could barely believe this was happening. You were nearly eaten, discovered by a human, kidnapped and killed; now, he was not only offering you shelter, but something you’ve never had in your entire life: protection. Even if it was a trap, what did it matter? What would be his motivation for lying? If he was offering you a place to be safe... how could you possibly turn it down? He didn’t have to try and save you from the Imperials, but he did. Maybe he was being sincere.

You tried to hide your smile, but failed. “Y-yeah. I guess I’ll stay here. I’ll... try not to get in your way.”

“...don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Din said. He gently moved his hand to the console in front of him and placed it down, allowing you to jump off. Din marveled at how some of the controls practically towered over you. “Is this okay?”

Once you got your bearings, you slowly turned around and fully took in the beauty of what was in front of you. It took up your entire vision like the most amazing spectacle in the galaxy. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t experienced this before.

“Yeah,” you said, turning back to Din, who failed to suppress a smile of his own. “This is perfect.”

[crab-instruments]

Dust in the Wind Part 5 (tbb)

Master <Part 4 Part 6>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: General audience, fighting, injury, panic/stress

Words: 2.2k

a/n: Action! We fight some people. Notes at the end. I hope the action is somewhat easy to follow and interesting.

My writing process involves me thinking of fight scenes as I listen to music while I walk, this one is choreographed to Rat A Tat by Fall Out Boy. This is unimportant and uninteresting but is how I get a lot of my ideas.

Surprisingly, this is the longest part of written and I cut it short. Thanks for all the likes and reblogs, y'all. Keeps me going.

Cid had given the Batch a mission to the Outer Rim. Tech had told the squad what planet but you had zoned out. Restarting your life every time something goes south was taking a toll on you and while your new crew was accommodating, it didn’t stop the stress of existing. You had gotten closer with the Batch on the trip to the next mission since it was a bit further out and you had time to get to comfortable. Wrecker and Omega seemed to enjoy your company the most, wanting to play games and share stories with you. Otherwise you helped Tech and Echo around the ship and chatted with them. Down times were spent with Hunter in the cockpit, watching hyperspace.

“Maxis… do you know how to sew?” Wrecker had caught you outside the armory, holding something behind his back.

You blinked, not used to seeing Wrecker so timid. “Uh yeah, I can sew. What do you need?” With a swift movement, he brought a red and black tooka doll between you. One of the arms had a rip in it, showing the stuffing inside.

His eyes looked sad as he said, “Lula got caught on a hook.”

“Ah, that should be easy. I can patch Lula up while you’re on your mission, so she’ll be ready when you get back.”

Wrecker smiled wide and pulled you into a hug. When you separated, he then held Lula out for you to take. As your hand touched the doll, your senses were overwhelmed with a rush of emotions and your head filled with memories that the doll contained. It stunned you for a moment and you had to close your eyes, not having experienced a force echo in a while. Luckily none of the memories were traumatic, just loud since Wrecker had strong emotions.

“Are you okay, Maxis?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking how cute Lula was,” you said with a smile.

The time between taking Lula from Wrecker and entering the planet’s atmosphere was fuzzy. Your mind was still on experiencing the force echo. Psychometry was a force ability that few Jedi had but most of the time it was a pain. You had to train a lot to get it under control when you were younger and when people found out about it, they wanted to do study you and learn everything about it they could. Since you had left the Jedi life and mostly disconnected with the Force, the echoes had dissipated. Having one suddenly didn’t sit well.

Tech’s voice grounded you back to the present as he alerted everyone he was landing the ship soon. Hunter appeared in the seat across from you, something in his hand. “This mission shouldn’t take very long, just a few hours. Here’s a comm, we will let you know when we are on our way back or if something goes wrong. I know you can’t fly but it would be useful if you could get the ship ready in case we need to leave in a hurry.” You nodded and took the comm. “Will you be okay, Maxis? I did say this would be dangerous. Although it’s unlikely, they could come to scout the Marauder.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong on my end I can let you know as well, though I bet the worst thing is I prick my finger sewing Lula together or shock myself with a live wire.” Hunter’s face softened and he seemed to relax a bit. Your eyes held his until the ship shook when it landed. When he got up, he put his hand on your shoulder for a moment before getting ready to head out.

You watched as they shuffled out of the ship, saying a quiet “be safe, please,” as they disappeared from your view.

The reality of being by yourself seemed to set in, making the Marauder daunting. There was Gonky, at least. Shaking that off, you settled in and got to work fixing up Lula’s arm. You made quick work, almost wishing you had more to work on. Taking apart the ship to make repairs was risky if they needed to leave quickly.

Slumping back in your chair, you held Lula in front of you. “What do you think I should do, Lula? I could go clean the air filter or organize the wires in one of the control panels, even though Tech does a pretty good job at color coding them. A few of the sensors could be looked at but… I’m still a little stumped on… why I got a force echo from you. You are special, I’m sure, but… I guess I could meditate for a bit, see if that helps clear things up.”

You crossed your legs in the chair and put Lula in your lap. Meditating was supposed to be relaxing, but it was harder to find a calm now. It felt empty, in a way. You tried hard though, seeking an answer as to why now.

After a few moments, your eyes shot open. Something was wrong. You gasped for breath the feeling of overwhelming apprehension. Someone was heading toward the ship. Three, maybe four, people and they didn’t feel like your crew. Hunter did say he would alert you when they came back and it hasn’t been that long.

Swiftly, you got to your feet and headed towards the cockpit where the comm was still sitting on a chair. However, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a white bucket helmet walk around the front of the ship through the windshield. Troopers. Your heart pounded in your ears and you sank quickly to the floor. The fear of being caught by the Empire was arguably your biggest fear, they hunted Jedi ruthlessly, even hearing about troopers trained to fight Jedi specifically.

A noise came from where the entrance ramp was, they were trying to get on the ship. You remembered that Tech had told you about an escape hatch in the cockpit, so you quietly crawled to it and lifted it up. You did your best to make sure that you were in the clear and dropped down.

“Dank farrik! It’ll be another minute to open the hatch,” one of the troopers exclaimed. It seemed the others were spread out around the area, so making a run for it wasn’t necessarily the smartest decision but taking on four troopers by yourself wasn’t wise either. Close quarters combat was a strength of yours, training to not depend on your lightsaber was a priority for your Master. Long range combat would be more of a struggle, as your shooting accuracy left something to be desired. One of the reasons you ended up leaving the Order was it became less about peace keeping and more about being a soldier, and the senseless death had caught up to you.

You did your best to keep calm. Everything in your body told you to run, escape, survive, but… what about the ship? This was your home now. Hunter… the squad… depended on this ship. If you didn’t do something to protect it, what would happen?

Unfortunately for you, the choice to run or fight was taken from you, when the trooper noticed you crouching by the front of the ship.

“Hey! Foun—” before he could finish his sentence, you rushed him. The trooper had his blaster pulled out when he saw you. You used the element of surprise to go for a disarm, checking his blaster arm with your left, getting your right hand on the opposite side to redirect his hand. The blaster clearing your stomach as you brought your right arm across your body. While sweeping with your right, you used your left to get a grip of his wrist. With this, you were able to free your right hand to strip the blaster from him, squeezing his wrist to force his hand lose and you were able to swipe it out of his grasp. Once the blaster was out of his hand, you pulled his left arm back, hooked your foot behind his right to destabilize him, and then gripped the front of his armor tightly to put as much power as you could into pushing him into the ground, you kneeling next to him. While not quiet strong enough to knock him out, it was enough to stun him for a moment since you used his and your weight against him.

You heard a movement behind the ship, the other troopers had been alerted. Scrambling for the blaster, you switched it to stun and shot twice, knocking out one trooper. The third trooper came from around the front of the ship and shot. You had just enough time to twist your body and dodge a majority of the shot, but it still skinned your left arm, leaving a nice wound for later. Two more shots from you to knock him out.

While your arm screamed in pain, you had one last trooper to deal with. Keeping crouched, you rounded the front of the ship.

“Freeze!” The trooper was right in front of you and you were staring down the barrel. Kark! Slowly, you put your hands up in a half surrender, but in that moment you thought of a plan.

“Catch!” You tossed the blaster towards him and the trooper, confused, went to catch it. You pulled your knife out of your thigh holster and rushed him. Using his now bent knee, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his mid-section, using the boost of the jump to shove him to the ground. You pressed the blade to his neck, ready, but hesitated. You couldn’t follow through, even when your life seemed to depend on it.

No good deed goes unpunished. The trooper pushed you off but you land within arms reach of your fallen blaster and you made quick work of stunning him.

For a moment, you sat there, breathing heavily and you hands shaking. Your pulse raged in your ears and adrenaline rushed through your veins.

Achievement Unlocked: You protected the Havoc Marauder! But now what? And what if… the squad finds out? Something about them knowing you took down the troopers didn’t sit right. The odds were stacked against you, what if they start getting suspicious? What if… What if Hunter gets mad?

Checking the trooper in front of you, you found a pair of handcuffs. More than likely they would all have handcuffs and you could move their bodies away from the ship, effectively disposing of them.

One by one, you dragged the troopers bodies away, putting them in some foliage after handcuffing one arm and the opposite ankle behind their back. Hopefully this would keep them relatively immobilized when they woke up. After moving the last one, you could no longer handle the pain of the blaster shot and headed to the ship.

You looked for the med kit and handled it with shaky hands. After applying the bacta and patching it up, you did your best to hide the wound with your sleeve. You then went to your backpack and grabbed the small notebook and pencil. Something about writing felt better than using a holopad, so this is where you kept your notes for supplies and such. Though it was difficult, you wrote ‘bacta and bandages’ to your supplies list. Hopefully they wouldn’t get mad at you using their supplies but just in case, you would just silently replace it. No one would know.

As everything seemed to wear off, all you wanted to do was crawl into a small area and hide. You found an area between some crates and sank down, willing yourself to melt into the floor. In an effort to calm yourself, you muttered a few bars of the song that had stuck with you.

“♪ Same old song

Just a drop of water in an endless sea

All we do

Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind

All we are is dust in the wind ♪”

A beep cut into your thoughts. “Maxis, come in, do you read me?” Hearing his voice, you became renewed with a sort of energy. You stood up, walked over to the cockpit once more, and grabbed the comm. “Loud and clear, Hunter.”

“Great, we’re done and on our way back, we had a small set back but no other problems.”

“I’ll start up the ship for you.”

************************************************************************

When Hunter and the squad got close, Hunter sense something was off. He signaled for the group to halt as he went to go investigate. Hearing some slow breathing from a few sources, he approached the bush carefully and paused when he noticed four knocked out troopers tied up chaotically. Tech noticed Hunter’s hesitation and walked forward.

“What did you fin—Oh. How did four Imperial Troopers end up here? You don’t supposed they went for the Marauder and Maxis took them out?”

“Who else would have? Four troopers… they have the strength to take out four troopers by themselves?” Hunter sounded bewildered. He finally looked at Tech, “Maxis didn’t attempt to alert us and I missed it, did they?”

“No, but it could have been inconvenient at the time. However, there wouldn’t be a reason why they wouldn’t have contacted us after dealing with the situation. Perhaps something else went wrong.”

With that, Hunter signaled the rest of the crew to board the ship with caution.

Part 6 _______________________________________________________

Notes:

Psychometry/Force Echo: This is the next Jedi Fallen Order reference, also seen in 1 or 2 episodes of TCW. I based the reader's ability from the game. Fight scene choreo: Warning, video contains fighting scenes. I love MGS and specifically the CQC in MGSV. For this scene, the first disarm is a combo of the moves described in 1:08 (beginning) and 4:01 (ending). It was mainly supposed to be the second one but the arms are switched so as an artist of my craft, I must adapt. The last move is mostly just the Peter Pan jump from 5:23. I tried to describe the action as best as I could without being like "left right must left right" but here is the visual aspect of it.

[chadillacboseman]

Blowing Off Steam, PT III

PART I, PART II

Pairing: Axe Woves x GN!Reader (previous installments have been F!Reader)

Warnings: This one...kinda got away from me. NO Smut?! Actually a little fluffy. Some violence. Mentions of alcohol use. 

Word Count: Like 2.5k

Author Note: AXE SIMP HOURS ARE ON. IS OUR DEAR READER FALLING FOR THE BIG BLUE IDIOT? TUNE IN TO FIND OUT!

Your eyes open with a flutter, and it takes a moment for them to adjust enough to remember where you are. With a jolt, you realize you aren’t alone in the bed, and then it all comes back to you- again you had succumbed to the charm of the Mandalorian. But this time was different. This time, he had asked you to stay, and like a fool you had done it. Axe was still fast asleep next to you, his bare chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.

Sunlight filtered in through the observation window, high enough to indicate that you had slept much longer than you should have. Careful not to disturb the slumbering Mandalorian, you rose from the bed and fumbled for your clothes on the floor. You shrugged on your shirt and began searching for your boots, feeling a headache forming from last night’s alcohol and the bright sunlight.

“Leaving me already?” Axe’s voice makes you jump, and you spin on your heel to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an eyebrow cocked. Your face grows warm as he watches you, awaiting an answer, “No…” you pause, trying to avoid his eyes, “just getting dressed.” He chuckles and rises from the bed, moving to find his own clothes on the floor.

“Thank you...for letting me stay the night,” you try not to look at him as you speak, knowing that your embarrassment will shine like a beacon if your eyes meet his. “It would have been a little rude to let you trek back to the city in the middle of the night while you were drunk,” your head snaps up at this response. “I wasn't drunk!” you cry, exasperated. Axe laughs and mimics staggering, his face contorted in a cross-eyed expression. You shove him and he stumbles back a step, his face still split in a boyish grin. “I was not drunk, Woves,” you snap, still glaring at him. “Well, that’s a relief. I was starting to think you had to be off your ass to sleep with me.” You huff, but can’t for the life of you find the words to retort.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off of the Mandalorian as he dresses- the way his arms flex as he pulls his undershirt over his head nearly puts you in a trance. “I’d ask if you see something you like, but I think I already know the answer to that,” his voice snaps you out of your entranced gaze and you feel your face grow warm again. “At least let me walk you back to your place,” the cockiness is gone from his voice now, replaced by something else that you can’t quite place. “Will you let me do that?” You consider him for a moment before sighing and conceding.

--

You feel safe next to Axe as he walks with you back into the city; his armor alone makes anyone you meet give the two of you a wide berth. It suddenly occurs to you that you likely look like a bounty he’s escorting, which, when you consider it, is favorable to the alternative of them knowing that you are essentially on a walk of shame.

Your place isn’t much- a small apartment in a single level building in the heart of the city. The building is home primarily to transient dock workers and a few permanent transplants like yourself. You silently thank the maker that none of your neighbors are outside when you arrive at your door. You fumble to find your key chip in your pockets and hold it to the reader before pushing the door open. You stand in the doorway and turn to face Axe, unsure of how to thank him. He simply tilts his helmet in a nod and you hear a slight chuckle filter through his vocoder, “See you around.”

--

A hot shower and clean clothes have never felt so good, of that you are certain. You have never been so thankful for a few days off of work- a great opportunity to sleep off your hangover and recover in peace. As you lie in your bed, it’s difficult to keep Axe off of your mind. The ease with which you think of him annoys you; you sleep with a guy twice and suddenly he’s all you can think about? You scoff aloud to no one, but nagging thoughts of the Mandalorian continue to persist in the back of your mind, even as you drift into a midday nap.

When you wake, the sun is setting and stray rays of orange light filter in through the shuttered windows in your bedroom. You rise slowly and stretch, savoring the gentle pull on your sore muscles. You feel your stomach growl, and remember with a groan that you have yet to visit the market and restock your groceries this week. Not one to deny your stomach its needs, you throw on your jacket and head out to the inn, hoping for a hot bowl of stew. As you exit, you retrieve your blaster from the drawer by the door and quickly holster it in your belt. If there was one thing your transplant life had taught you, it was to always be prepared.

The streets are quiet, which is unusual for Trask, even at night. When you round the corner to the port, you realize why- an Imperial cruiser is docked and the street is flanked by storm troopers. You feel your heart leap into your throat as you duck behind a stack of shipping crates, cursing yourself for ever leaving your apartment. There is a commotion inside the inn before an officer exits; behind him, two troopers are pushing civilians out at gunpoint, and shove them to their knees on the street.

Your hand finds your blaster as you scan to quickly count the troopers outside the inn. Twenty-five, not counting the officer or the two pointing guns at the civilians. You recognize one of the civilians- the human bartender you so often bantered with. The other is a mon calamari you haven’t seen before. The officer is speaking, but you can’t make out what he is saying. The mon calamari responds, and a trooper strikes him in the face with his blaster, sending him crumpling to the ground.

There was no way you could take them on yourself- you wouldn’t have a tauntaun’s chance on Tatooine against all of those Imps. The human bartender was speaking now, and your heart sank when you heard the word “Mandalorian”. You swore silently and retreated into the dark alley behind you. Clearly these troopers were here in response to the freighter they’d lost, and Axe Woves was going to be their top target.

Once you are out of earshot you break into a sprint, headed for the city gate. When the trooper’s arm catches you in the chest it practically knocks the wind out of you. You fall to the concrete, gasping, as the white armor comes into your view. You make a reach for your blaster and feel a boot come down, hard, on the top of your hand. You let out a yelp of pain and try to pull your hand away as the trooper reaches down to pull the blaster from your belt. You hear the crackle of a comm unit, and the trooper speaks, “I’ve got a runner down the west alleyway. Armed with a blaster.” The voice, likely that of the officer, crackles back, “Bring them here.”

You feel a hand on the back of your jacket that wrenches you to your feet, and the cold metal of a blaster presses into the small of your back. “Get moving” the trooper spits, jabbing the blaster, hard, into your skin. Predictably, he brings you to the street in front of the inn, and shoves you to your knees beside the mon calamari, who is back upright, but bleeding profusely from a cut above his eye. The officer approaches you- his suit is covered in Imp badges and medals, no doubt a testament to his ruthlessness.

“Is this the one you told me about?” he’s asking the human, who quickly glances at you, then nods. You make a note to never trust another bartender again. The officer turns his attention to you, “Where is the Mandalorian?” You make up your mind right then and there- this man is getting nothing from you. You shrug, trying to keep your face neutral. The butt of the blaster catches you off guard as it strikes your face. Searing pain rockets through your skull and you crash to the pavement, unable to catch yourself. “I will ask you again,” the officer is on one knee next to you, “Where is the Mandalorian?”

“Right here, hu’tuun.” The officer jerks to his feet and turns. Your vision swims slightly, but there’s no mistaking the blue armor- Axe Woves is standing in the street, once again flanked by his companions. You clench your eyes shut as blaster fire rains down around you, and you feel bodies hit the pavement nearby. There is a rushing sound, like a ship’s thruster, and you feel yourself being lifted from the ground, an armored arm wrapped around you. You glance up to find yourself staring into Axe’s visor, and you can’t help but push yourself against him, despite the cold, hard beskar between you.

“Let’s get you out of here,” even the vocoder can’t hide the emotion in his voice. As he engages his jetpack, you glance back to see one of his companions put a blaster to the officer’s head. The other is entering the cruiser, and you smile knowing that the Imps have one less ship, and now, one less officer.

Axe lands rather gracefully outside your door; you expect him to set you on your feet, but he keeps you held tight to his chest. “Unlock the door,” you do so without argument, and he carries you over the threshold. Only once the door is sealed does he move to set you on your feet. Your legs shake, but you manage to stand upright, at least for now.

The Mandalorian removes his helmet with a quiet pneumatic hiss, and tosses it to the floor. You feel a little hysterical as you fumble your words to thank him, “Axe, thank you so much. If you hadn’t showed up when-” his mouth on yours cuts you off and takes you by surprise. It’s a desperate kiss, his stubble rough against your skin, and his gloved hand tangling in your hair. When he pulls away, his eyes don’t leave yours as he speaks, “How is your head?” he pulls one of his gloves off and gently touches the spot where the metal connected. “Killing me,” you reach your own hand to your face and feel dried blood beneath your fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Before you can argue, the Mandalorian lifts you off your feet and carries you to your bedroom, where he gently sets you on the bed.

He exits the room and you search your drawers for clean clothes, quickly pulling them on and tossing your bloodied garments in the hamper.

When Axe returns, he has a small towel and a bowl of water. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and dips the towel into the water, moving to gently wipe the blood from your face. You put your hand over his to still it, "You don't have to do this-" he brushes your hand aside and continues to mop the blood away. "And you didn't have to defy an imperial officer to try and protect me," your face heats at these words.

The two of you sit in silence as Axe cleans your face gently. When he finishes, he sets the bowl and towel aside and turns his attention back to you. You search his face, trying to decode his expression, but it's unreadable. It's a moment before he speaks, his voice is even, but brimming with emotion. "Mesh'la," his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip and his eyes bore into yours, "When you stayed with me last night, I wanted to tell you how I felt." He pauses, searching for the words, "I planned to find you again at the bar. To really get to know you." You can only stare at him, taking in his features- was he blushing?

You wanted to tell him that you felt the same- that he had been on your mind every moment you were apart- but the words just wouldn't come to you. Instead, you simply pulled him into a hug, ignoring the hard Beskar between you. You felt his arms wrap around you, and he sighed contentedly. For a few moments, there was just this- the two of you, embracing there on the bed. When you finally pulled away, the Mandalorian was smiling, and you couldn't help but return it.

"Rest, mesh'la," Axe's voice is gentle as he brushes the hair from your face, "tomorrow, I'll find you at the inn."

---

Tagging @calamity-queen @djxrxn and @lestrange2703

[bedlamsbard]

Part 12 of the other side AU concept, the second epilogue sequence!  At least one more sequence after this before I either start revising or just keep on going as concept writing.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

About 4.6K below the break.

***

Humidity made the rock of the cliff face slick against his fingers, forcing him to pay extra attention as he made his way up it.  He clung to the seemingly sheer rock with his fingers and boot-toes stuck into grips too small for most humans to manage for more than a few meters, relying on the Force to keep him from falling.  Heights had never bothered him, but he still didn’t look over his shoulder at the vast spread of jungle beneath him; he needed all his focus for the climb itself.

“Sure,” Ezra Bridger muttered, the words so soft that they were closer to being a thought than voiced, “ninety-nine percent of the time it’s ‘sit in this cell until we can think of something better to do with you,’ but it’s that one percent of ‘you’re a Jedi, please do this incredibly dangerous thing that no stormtrooper can pull off’ that gets you.”

The unfamiliar weight of both the sniper rifle and the pack slung across his back made the climb a little more awkward than he would have preferred, but he didn’t mind it.  Going anywhere without a weapon right now would be a bad idea, not to mention the fact that he was still a little impressed that Captain Pellaeon had given him one at all.  More than one, as it happened; he had a blaster pistol holstered at his hip and a couple of vibroknives secreted elsewhere around his person.  Pellaeon didn’t know about the blades.

Despite the fact that the humidity was so thick that the growing fog was just short of being rain, Ezra couldn’t resent his current position.  If he fell – and it wouldn’t take much – then not only would it be an ignominious end, but it was likely that no one back at Chimaera Camp would even notice his absence for a few days.  If they did, Pellaeon would probably assume that he had made a break for it.  It was an option that Ezra had considered and discarded given their current circumstance, but he was keeping it open if those circumstances happened to change.  He knew roughly where they were in relation to the Chimaera’s crash site, but he was also aware that there was nothing space-worthy left on the star destroyer. Aside from the ships back at Chimaera Camp, there was only one other option to get offworld, and Ezra wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

It felt good to have his hands on the living stone of the planet, to feel fresh air – and yes, the fog – on his bare skin, to lick his lips and taste the slight tang of the moisture of a new world.  He had spent nearly all of the previous six years on the Chimaera; the Force was everywhere, but it was different in space than it was planetside.  After spending his entire life on Lothal, the months the Ghost had spent with Phoenix Squadron in deep space had been a shock to him.  It had been at least a little preparation for all those years on the Chimaera.

This wasn’t Lothal, but he was still attuned to the Living Force and he could still feel the thread of wrongness that ran through it here.  As far as they knew, this planet didn’t have a name, just the designation it had been given when they entered the star system; if it had an indigenous sentient species, they hadn’t run into them yet.  Ezra had no way of knowing what the planet should have felt like in the Force, but he could tell that there was something badly wrong here and getting worse by the day.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself up over the top of the cliff with a grunt and crouched there, breathing hard, then took out his water flask and drank sparingly.  The Chimaera’s scientists were monitoring the water in the stream that ran past Chimaera Camp and had found that its chemical content was changing by the day; Ezra had water purification tablets with him, but there was always the chance that whatever was leaching into the water table was wouldn’t be affected by the Imperial-issue tablets.

He put the flask back onto his pack and took the sniper rifle off his back, using the scope the same way he would have done a pair of macrobinoculars.  The scope was the reason he hadn’t brought a pair of macrobinoculars; if he had to he could remove it from the rifle to use on its own, and he might need the weapon.  While he had never been formally trained as a sniper the way that some of the stormtroopers and death troopers aboard the Chimaera had been, given the time needed to set up a sniper’s shot he could use the Force for nearly the same level of accuracy.  If not, well, a sniper rifle was still a rifle – this one was reconfigurable, so Ezra could always break it down into an assault rifle or a heavy blaster pistol.  While most death troopers used the BlasTech E11-D and DLT-19D that were standard issue, they often had the liberty to carry other weapons if desired, which was how Ezra had gotten his hands on the A280-CFE that was commonly used in the Rebel Alliance.  

The view from the scope showed him only the seemingly impenetrable tree cover of the jungle he had come through.  Ezra knew that there were a number of clearings in it, some large enough for a light cruiser like the Scylla or the Charybdis to put down in – and in fact the Seventh Fleet’s remaining cruisers were parked in two such – but even with the scope they were impossible to see.  It had a range of five kilometers on a clear day, which this wasn’t; a heavy blanket of fog mixed with the tall native trees of the planet, turning the view beneath him into a grayish-green sea.  With a sigh, he straightened up again.  He kept the rifle in the curve of his arm rather than returning it to his back, wanting to have it quickly to hand if he needed it; the few seconds it would take to swing it around could cost him his life.

The jungle began again a few meters from the edge of the cliff.  Ezra eyed it dubiously; having spent his entire life to the age of fifteen in grasslands he still found forests both disconcerting and distasteful. When he stretched out with the Force, though, he could feel the life within it – confused by the changes being wrought upon the planet, but still present.  The wildlife, he knew, would be his first hint of real trouble.

Right now it told him that there was nothing to be concerned with except for the planet’s native dangers. Still, Ezra hesitated, looking at the edge of the jungle and fighting down his nerves.  Annoyed by his own reluctance, he sank down into a tailor’s seat, resting the rifle across his knees.  He fell quickly and easily into a light meditative trance; he had years of practice, after all.  He didn’t let his attention roll out the way he had done when he had meditated the previous night at Chimaera Camp, but turned it inwards instead.  He just wanted a few minutes to clear his head.

He was, he realized, afraid.

The fight on the Chimaera had been one thing, as had the handful of other skirmishes he had been involved in over the years, but this was the first time in more than six years that Ezra had been completely on his own, whether on an alien worlds or back on the Chimaera.  If he had died then, at least Grand Admiral Thrawn and the other Imperials would have known, assuming the whole Chimaera hadn’t been destroyed at the same time.  There was no real difference in being out here than there was being back with the Imperials, who had more reason to want him dead than anything else on this world and had come close a few times; Thrawn had twice had his own men shot over two such incidents.  Ezra had scars from the attempt that had come closest to succeeding.  On this world only Captain Pellaeon and a handful of other acquaintances – not quite friends – amongst the Chimaera’s complement really cared if he lived or died.  Some days Ezra wasn’t entirely sure that he himself did.

Kanan had lived like this for years, Ezra reminded himself, and often in worse situations than this one after his entire world had died.  So had Zeb.  Ezra could do no less than either of them, and refused to fail them.

It hadn’t been left to him to make any decisions one way or another for a long time now – not the kind of decisions that actually mattered.  He had been volunteered for this particular mission rather than volunteered himself, but hadn’t bothered to argue it even though others had.  It was something to do, at least.

Years ago he had asked Captain Rex about the Clone Wars, which Kanan only ever talked about when forced or when he had been drinking, which wasn’t very often.  The old clone had gone quiet, thinking about the question, and then said slowly, “When you go into battle – whether it’s a major push like Geonosis or a five man black ops mission – you go in understanding you’re already dead.  You can’t be afraid of dying.  You accept it – you take it inside of you.”

Rex hadn’t said whether or not he had learned that from the Jedi he had served with, but Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.  He let that knowledge fill him now, the reminder that in the Force he was both living and dead at once, and even if he was still drawing breath now, it was a state that could change at any point.  There was no point in being afraid of the unknown: what would happen would happen as the Force willed it.  All he could do was the best that he knew how.

He opened his eyes and got to his feet, tucking the rifle against his shoulder as he went into the jungle.

It was slow going. The undergrowth seemed to be thicker up here than it was in the lowlands around Chimaera Camp.  The tree cover was so thick that it blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving Ezra to pick his way through the jungle in greenish gloom, trying not to trip over creepers on the forest floor, which had leaf litter so thick that in places he sank into it up to his ankles, or hang himself on the vines that passed from tree to tree.  Many of the tree trunks were so wide around that it would have taken a dozen men holding hands to encircle them.  Nor was it silent.  Animals – he saw avians and snakes, along with some kind of small red-scaled reptile and the quick flash of a furry mammalian tail vanishing up a tree – called out constantly.  They weren’t much bothered by his passage, as animals usually weren’t, though more than once he heard them go quiet in response to some native predator passing through.  He sensed disquiet among them even as they went about their normal routines; they were as aware of the changes happening on the planet’s surface as he was.  More so; this was their home.

Mid-afternoon brought the downpour that Ezra had learned to expect after the past three days onworld. Rather than press on, he spent the time crouched on the upturned root of one massive tree, sheltering as best he could beneath leaves the size of his cell door back on the Chimaera.  The rain seemed to come down in sheets, like a solid wall of water despite the fact that by the time it reached him it should have been disrupted by the tree canopy. Ezra managed not to get drenched this time – the first day he had gone out to stand in it, to the horror and disgust of the sailors assigned to guard him.  Most members of the Imperial Navy hated and distrusted uncontrolled weather at best and planets entirely at worst.  This time getting soaked would be a hindrance – and besides, it wouldn’t particularly aid his already slow passage.  Ezra watched the rain fall from the dubious shelter of the tree and let his mind drift out in something that wasn’t quite a meditative trance – while most of the native wildlife had gone to shelter at the same time he had, it wasn’t a guarantee that the enemy would do so as well.

When the rain had passed and the sun had reappeared, Ezra recommenced his slow trek through the jungle. He hadn’t stayed completely dry in the downpour, but the scout trooper’s undersuit he wore was more or less waterproof; it still left him feeling uncomfortably like he had gone through a sanisteam in his clothes.  He paused twice to eat, the tasteless emergency rations that stormtroopers carried as a matter of course, and once to refill his water flask at a stream after he had tested the water with the Force and decided he didn’t need to use one of the water purification tablets.  By the time that dusk fell, casting the jungle into even further gloom, Ezra had, he guessed, advanced within a kilometer or two of his goal.

The advent of darkness slowed his progress even further.  He took out the night vision goggles he had gotten from the Chimaera’s death trooper captain – promoted from the ranks two years ago after the remaining death trooper officers had died – and put them on, blinking as the shadows of the jungle resolved into only moderately more penetrable shades of green.  While he had a glowrod, using it would be just as good as sending up a beacon, not something he wanted.  He could have passed through the jungle without needing to see at all, except that would leave him vulnerable to something he wouldn’t have thought possible six years earlier.

By the time he sensed the final setting of the sun sometime later, the jungle had been the next thing to pitch-black for more than an hour.  Ezra was silently arguing himself out of trying to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours when he felt the nearby animal life go silent, then recommence its noisy outcry.  The negation and recommencement of sound shifted in his awareness of the Living Force, and he swore wearily to himself.

Something was coming towards him.

He settled the rifle more closely against his shoulder and touched a finger to the night vision goggles, making certain that they were as firmly affixed to his face as possible. He had learned the hard way that what was coming left no trace in the Force – not of itself, at least.

Ezra could have gone up a tree, but he was city born and bred and could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had actually tried to climb a tree.  Even in this unfamiliar environment he felt far more comfortable on the ground that he would have perched on a branch – he was sure he could get up to one, but not positive that he could stay there, a hesitation he would never have had on a cliff edge or a high-rise.  He was absolutely certain that trying to fight on one would end with him flat on his back on the ground, and that was a best case scenario.

Instead he settled himself in the soldier’s stance he had learned from Rex, letting the rifle rest loosely against his shoulder as he let his awareness spread out.  Animals, frightened by the alien sight and scent of the intruders, fled their approach; plants flinched away from the heavy tread of feet.  Ezra felt them come closer and closer – a near-silent passage to anyone but a Jedi. The air felt close and heavy around him, the night sounds of the wildlife vanished into stillness or flight. Ezra let his mind fill with the blazing clarity of the Force, until in every way that mattered Ezra was the Force itself.  The Jedi were the sword hand of the Force, Kanan had said more than once; with or without a lightsaber Ezra was still a Jedi.

He fired even before he saw the flicker of movement in his night vision goggles.

The crack of the blaster shot broke the stillness of the night air, sparks flaring at the laser bolt struck armor it couldn’t penetrate. Ezra threw himself sideways, feeling the rush of air as the thrown thudbug just missed his previous position. He rolled and came up on one knee as he fired again, twice in quick unison, relying on instinct rather than the little his vision showed him.  He got one more shot off and then had to reverse his grip on the rifle, slamming it upwards two-handed to block the amphistaff blow aimed at his head.  Quick as the serpent it resembled, the amphistaff lost its staff form and lashed out, its jaws gaping wide.  Hissing, it spat poison at his eyes.

The night vision goggles cracked as the poison struck.  His vision blurring – knowing he had only seconds before they broke entirely or the poison dripped down onto his skin – Ezra thrust out with the Force.  The amphistaff’s bearer didn’t release the living weapon, but his arm and the amphistaff both swung wide, away from Ezra as he threw himself into a backflip, ripping the night vision goggles off as he did and letting them fall.

Darkness closed over him.

He pulled the rifle back to his shoulder and fired again; once more, sparks briefly illuminated his enemy as his shot struck uselessly off armor.  Then the warrior was on him; Ezra swung the rifle like a club, feeling it connect with his enemy’s skull.  Undaunted, the warrior lashed the amphistaff like a whip; the serpent slashed down across the barrel of the rifle, cutting the weapon  in two.

Ezra didn’t hesitate, just flung the remaining half of the rifle at his opponent even as he flung himself sideways again, avoiding the amphistaff’s attempt to get its teeth into his throat.  He twisted and came up with his blaster pistol, firing as fast as he could pull the trigger – a steady stream of blaster bolts, nearly all of which sparked uselessly off vonduun crab armor.  Only one penetrated between the joints of the armor, making his opponent grunt in pain.  His ears ringing from the blasterfire, Ezra thought he heard it echo oddly in the jungle, but he was already moving, grabbing one of his vibroknives with his left hand and slashing backhanded in the same motion.  With the Force behind it, the vibroknife cut through the amphistaff in the vulnerable place just below the head.  Halfway through the blade stopped, jammed against the creature’s seemingly indestructible internal structure.  It thrashed in the warrior’s hand.

It couldn’t cry out, but he could.  Ezra could neither understand the words nor sense the emotions that underlay them, but he released the vibroknife and got both hands on the grip of his blaster again, firing at the place he thought he had seen a vulnerable point between helmet and breast plate.

The blaster jammed.

Oh, karabast, Ezra thought – he didn’t have time to voice the words before his opponent’s free hand shot out and closed around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, armored fingers like durasteel cutting off his breath.  The blaster fell to the ground as he clawed at that implacable arm, fingers scrabbling over the plates of living armor that covered his opponent’s forearm.  He felt it twitch beneath his fingers, lending its strength to the enemy.

His opponent snarled something in his native language, his fingers tightening.  Ezra reached for the Force as his vision started to gray out, knowing that if he wasn’t dead yet then it was because the enemy intended to take him alive.  After enough suffering to make up for the death of his amphistaff.

Light flicked out like a whip, coiling around the warrior’s body.

Ezra had just enough time to feel astonishment before the brief flash of a jetpack’s repulsors heralded the being who slammed feet-first into the warrior, knocking him sideways. He dropped Ezra, turning to grapple with this new adversary as the glowing line of energized whipcord vanished. Ezra hit the ground, gasping for air but already reaching for another of his sheathed vibroblades.

Even now his enemy was absent from the Force, but the new arrival wasn’t.  Ezra didn’t bother to think, just drew his vibroknife, thumbed the switch on, and waited – with his amphistaff dead, or at least out of commission, the warrior was left with only whatever razorbugs or thudbugs he was carrying and his dagger-like coufee.  He heard the living weapon scrape against – or possibly through – what could only be beskar, and a grunt of surprise.  The brief burst of a short-distance repulsor sent the warrior stumbling back a step and Ezra struck in his moment of confusion, slamming his vibroknife up beneath the skirt plates of his armor to the vulnerable place on the inside of his thigh where most humanoids had a major vein.  He felt the weapon dig in and dragged it down as far as he could before the warrior cuffed him aside, sending Ezra flying to strike a tree.

He hit hard enough to black out for an instant, but was dragging himself upright as soon as he could, reaching for his fallen blaster through the Force.  The grip smacked into his palm hard enough to hopefully displace the jam and he raised it, aiming at the spot he thought the enemy was.

There was a blaster shot, not his, and in its flash he saw the warrior on his back in the undergrowth. It also illuminated the injured amphistaff making its way like a sidewinder through the leaf cover, with Ezra’s vibroknife still stuck into its neck.

Even as the flash faded Ezra fired.  His own shot wasn’t aimed at the creature, but at the hilt of the vibroknife, slamming the weapon those last few precious centimeters forward to sever head from body. Ezra heard it thrash briefly, dying, and then there was silence.

He would have liked nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week, but he braced himself against the tree with his free hand and kept the blaster in his other hand.  His head was pounding; he knew he’d have bruises the next time he looked, to go with the bruises he still had from the Chimaera’s final battle and crash.

“Who –”  He coughed as his abraded throat protested. “Who’s that?”

Light sprang into being, the thin artificial life of a glowrod illuminating the Mandalorian woman standing by the warrior’s corpse.  After four years living with one, Ezra was hardly going to forget that particular silhouette.  His gaze traversed the slopes of painted beskar armor, noting the fresh scars on it from the coufee blade before settling on the helmet before the woman reached up to remove it.

“Ezra?”

He stared.  Then he tried to take a step backwards and couldn’t, his shoulders already braced against the tree trunk.  His mind didn’t seem to want to come to terms with what was in front of him, even as he lowered the hand with the blaster in it.  He slumped back against the tree, letting it take more of his weight.

“Hey!”  She crossed the space between them with a few quick steps and grabbed his shoulder, her grip solidly human and real. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

Ezra reached up and closed his free hand around her forearm, staring into her face. “I’m not going to pass out,” he said. “They usually patrol in threes –”

“Yeah, we met the other two. They’re dead.  You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said, or tried to say, but was already folding up.  He sat heavily, belatedly holstering the pistol he was still holding. “You changed your hair,” he said inanely.

“Yeah, I do that,” Sabine Wren said. “So did you.”

Ezra touched a hand self-consciously to what remained of his hair – long on top and pulled into a tail wrapped with strips of thin leather, close cut at the sides, because he had spent the past six years with sailors and stormtroopers who thought a buzzcut was the height of fashion.  He stopped with his fingers hooked through a strip of leather, stared at Sabine, and felt himself start to shake. “You’re real,” he croaked, even though the Force had already told him the answer. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand still on his shoulder. “I’m really here.  We’re all really here.”

When he looked up again, he felt as much as saw them ghosting out of the shadows at the edge of the glowrod’s illumination like the spectres they had been named for.  Ezra was too tired and overwhelmed for further disbelief; he pushed himself to his feet with Sabine’s help and stumbled into Kanan’s arms.

“I felt –” he said shakily, his voice muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.  He fisted his hands hard against Kanan’s back, aware of how gloriously alive he felt. “– in the Force, I felt something change, six months ago.  I felt you come back.”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, his voice gentle. “Yeah, Ezra, it’s me.”

Hera put a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and Ezra turned into her embrace, then Zeb’s.  He was shaking so badly that Zeb had to help him to a seat on an upraised tree root, one hand folded over his shoulder as though he couldn’t bear to let Ezra out of his grasp.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t hallucinating – that he hadn’t been taken captive after all and this was some new torture.  Then he looked at Kanan’s calm white eyes and touched the Force again, gingerly, like prodding a sore tooth, and knew it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re going to explain that,” he said, a little wildly. “You were – I thought – I saw – I felt –”

“Yeah,” Kanan said again. “It’s a long story.”

Meaning not now.  Ezra took a shaky breath and leaned back into Zeb’s reassuring grip, watching Sabine crouch to inspect the fallen warrior.  She touched the scratches on her breast plate gingerly, then her eyes widened as a hand-size piece of beskar broke off in her hand – the coufee had cut nearly through it and the slight pressure of her touch had freed it. “What are these things?” she demanded.

Ezra sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Long story.”

“We saw the Chimaera,” Hera said, sitting down on his other side. She kept her blaster in her hand, resting across her knee, which under the circumstances Ezra thought was the wisest thing she could have done. “We were on our way to the rendezvous coordinates when Kanan sensed you, but we had to find somewhere safe to put down. Chopper’s with the Ghost about two kilometers away.”

Ezra rubbed his hand across his face.  “They’re from beyond the Unknown Regions – beyond our galaxy, maybe – and they’ve been making a push towards the Empire since it was still the Republic,” he said. “They’ve been tracking the Chimaera and the rest of the Seventh for months – years – and finally cornered her here. They’re warriors – shapers, they call themselves; everything they use is organic, alive – their armor, their weapons, their ships.”  He nodded at the warrior’s corpse and the dead amphistaff beside him.  “They’re called the Yuuzhan Vong.”

[purplesauris]

Let The Universe Go Red

Din doesn't know what to do without his son and a broken creed- how does he pick up the pieces scattered among the stars? 

This is entirely dedicated to @frostedbasilisk who not only got me into the Mandalorian but held on while I ranted and raved about these idiots

Read on AO3 here!

He’d broken his Creed. He’d told himself, reminded himself that he’d done it for a far less selfish reason than his brain supplied. That he’d done it for his ad’ika, to save him. He would do it again a thousand times over, no matter how the outcome remained the same. 

The recycled air on his face felt as much a betrayal as the influx of light that blinded his sensitive eyes. But the small clawed hand that smoothed over his cheek, touching with the same gentle insistence as he did when he wanted dinner or a snack or just to be held, that didn’t. It felt like a homecoming, like a part of his soul was finally settling after drifting aimlessly for far too long among the stars. Grogu stares up at him, dark, bottomless eyes wide and enraptured by the way that Din’s brows twitch, lips twisting as nerves strangle his heart.

“It’s okay, kid. You can go with him. He’s your kind.” A large, soft ear brushes against his chin as Grogu tucks his head against the fabric of his bodysuit, right above where his chest piece begins. Din lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and tucking his nose against the top of Grogu’s little green head, hugging him a bit closer. The back of his neck crawls, jitters making his fingers twitch as he straightens up again, aware that every moment he spends with his helmet off is another he can never reclaim. “This isn’t goodbye, I’ll see you again, okay?”

Grogu coos sadly, ears drooping, and Din runs a finger along the bottom edge, trying to smile and unsure of whether he succeeds. He glances up toward the Jedi- Luke, he’d supplied, and finds his head turned away, gaze respectfully pinned on the distant stars through the windows of the bridge. His head tilts, birdlike, toward his stoic form, and Din watches the way that the corner of Luke's mouth quirks up in a smile, easy as breathing. 

“Of course.” Luke’s voice surprises him- strong and unwavering, refined in a way that makes him feel rough around the edges. It takes a second for Din to realize that he isn’t being spoken to, and that Grogu has turned in his arms to regard Luke with open, childlike curiosity. The kid gurgles quietly, tilting his head much like Din and giggling all of a sudden. Luke’s smile grows, and he turns then, eyes downcast as he walks over and holds his hands out. “I’ll hold him a moment. Your helmet, Mandalorian?”

Din hands Grogu over with jerky movements, unsure, but Grogu grabs onto the folds of Luke’s dark cloak, settling down and getting comfortable. Din stoops, scooping his helmet off of the floor and hesitating once again. It’s- not allowed. For him to put it back on, to pretend, but Luke waits patiently, gaze averted so as not to look. The crawling on the back of his neck overpowers the logical part of his mind, and he slips on the helmet, sighing as the lock snaps into place, sealing around his jaw and equalizing the pressure inside. Din feels like he can finally see again, vision tinted by the visor, and he drags in a breath. The modulator in his helmet distorts his voice, making it rougher, but it’s a comfort to hear the feedback from his own voice rather than the echoing silence of the bridge. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Walk with me a moment?” Luke finally looks up, blue eyes curious, and Din stands under his scrutiny as he looks over the contours of the helmet. Each look is a brand on his skin, knowing that whatever Luke is looking for he’ll find. Din dips his head toward the door, motioning, and Luke turns in a swish of fabric, hopping easily over the discarded pieces of the dark-troopers that his saber had cut through like butter. Din skirts around them, kicking a few pieces out of his way, and stares helplessly as Grogu peeks over Luke’s shoulder, giggling happily at the way that Luke boosts him a bit higher. His little hand waves, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily, and Din feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. 

“You’ll protect him?” Din asks, not expecting the way that Luke stops and turns to him, blue eyes steely as he holds his hand out. Din reaches out automatically and Luke grips his forearm tight, pulling him a bit closer, Din biting down on the rising panic to shove away, to put distance between him and Luke. 

“He’s my student now, Mandalorian. My life without him is forfeit.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.” He replies, uncomfortable with the thought, but Luke only laughs, as if seeing the way that Din’s thoughts mirror that sentiment so close. 

“He’ll be safe under my care, Mandalorian. That I can promise.” Luke nods his head, releasing Din’s arm and dropping his hand. They continue their trek back to the hanger, where an old, battered x-wing idles, an R2 unit poking out of the top. Its head piece swivels toward them on approach, whistling merrily at the sight of Luke coming back. Luke pauses by his ship, turning and considering Din for a moment as Grogu balances on his shoulder, a tiny hand gripping a handful of Luke’s sandy blonde hair tight. Luke doesn’t seem at all concerned, and doesn’t wince even when Grogu stretches to touch the side of the ship, pulling on his hair. “Have you said your last goodbyes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Din stands, awkward under Luke’s observant gaze, and Luke sighs softly. He waits a moment more, as if expecting Din to speak before hoisting himself up onto the wing of his ship before slipping into the open cockpit. Grogu holds on tight as Luke climbs, and he disappears from view momentarily as Luke pulls him down off his shoulder and into his lap. Grogu pops back up once the cockpit has lowered, sealing them in, and Din raises a hand, waving weakly as Grogu wags his little arms in goodbye. Heat burns at the back of his eyes as the ship maneuvers back and out of the airlock, momentarily drifting unanchored before the ship turns with a deft movement and zips off, disappearing rapidly into the inky black of the sky. 

The others find him there, standing so close to the airlock that one stray movement would send him plunging into the cold crushing abyss of space. He doesn’t move when they approach him, though his fingers twitch toward the holster of his blaster on pure instinct alone. 

“Hey, Boba’s on his way. Once he gets back we can take off, get back to Nevarro.” Din doesn’t reply, and his head jerks toward Cara when she places a hand on his upper arm. “The kid’ll be fine, Mando.”

“I know.” He looks back toward the airlock, ignoring the heavy sigh that Cara lets out. He knows that Grogu will be fine- that was his quest, after all, to deliver him to his kind, but the signet on his arm, the vicious, graceful curve of a mudhorn seems like an empty promise now. He’s a clan of one again, with his kid gone, and he doesn’t know what to think about that. What he’s supposed to do, now that he has no home, no clan, only a broken creed left for him to cling to. He’s nearly knocked over when Boba comes sailing into the airlock, the waves from his engines buffeting Din in forceful waves that push him further away from the air lock, displacing him. 

Cara and Fennec stand off to the side, well away from the landing area, and only move closer when the door to the ship drops, allowing them access. Din is the first one in, stalking up the small ramp and climbing with smooth, determined movements up and into the cockpit where Boba lays, strapped into his chair. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Din swings himself up into the adjacent chair, laying back and strapping himself in. The last thing he wants is to be down below, with others who will drag words out of him he doesn’t want to say. Boba though, is silent as he slips back out of the hangar bay, calling out a warning for the ladies to settle before he tips, taking off like a shot. Din watches the stars shoot by the glass of the cockpit, hands itching to take the yolk from Boba and make them go faster, further and further away from the cruiser and Bo Katan and the memory of holding his child for an instant before losing him again. 

“Where’s the kid?” Boba’s voice is low, melodic compared to his, and still it takes him off guard whenever he chooses to speak. 

“I didn’t come up here to talk.”

“Too bad, Mand’alor.” Din jerks in his chair, the restraints digging the plates of his armor mercilessly back into him. 

“Do not call me that. I’m not-”

“You carry the darksaber.” Boba points out, head turning toward him, and Din’s hand reaches to pull the handle of the saber from his belt, staring. He’d tried to hand it over to Bo Katan, didn’t want the responsibility, but she’d refused. He’d have to be defeated in battle in order for her to take it, to truly rule, and she hadn’t seemed inclined to try while they were stuck in the bridge of a ship she found useful. Maybe she had less of a death wish than he’d first been led to believe. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“I told you I didn’t come here to talk.” Boba hums next to him, unconvinced, but Din sits resolutely beside him, turning the darksaber over and over in his hands, memorizing the pattern etched in the dark hilt. The longer he stares, the more he finds that he does want to talk. “A Jetii showed up. I let him take the kid.”

“Which Jetii?”

“He said his name was Luke.” Din catches the way that Boba’s hands tighten around the yolk, the ship jerking forward a bit with the extra pressure, and he lets out a sharp breath, relaxing. “You know him?”

“Might have captured him a time or two.” That draws a startled laugh out of Din, and he can practically hear Boba grinning behind his helmet. Din finds himself smiling back, but it falls quickly, fading as he looks over his shoulder for Grogu, remembering that this isn’t his ship, and that he’s gone. Din turns back, hoping that Boba didn’t notice, and presses back into his seat as they slide into hyperspace, headed for Nevarro. Boba reaches up, clicking on the autopilot, then unbuckles himself, turning his chair to face Din fully now. Din unbuckles, mirroring him, though he can’t quite meet his gaze.

“I broke the Creed.” Boba crosses his arms over his chest, bobbing his head in a gesture that tells Din to go on. He feels like he’s choking, the smooth fabric of his bodysuit pulling in tighter and tighter, and he gasps in a breath before he finds the words to speak. “I took my helmet off.”

“Who saw?” The bounty hunter in front of him is a quiet, deadly force, and Din can feel the simmering rage that so mirrors his own. But while Boba’s is noble, turned toward whoever saw, Din’s turns inward, toward himself. Toward the weakness that had him break his creed not once, but twice. For his inability to let go, to leave that day that he’d dropped the kid off with the Imperials. 

“The kid. A few Imperial soldiers.”

“Are they dead?” Din nods, and Boba relaxes a bit. “That leaves your ad’ika. Did you claim him as your own?” Din looks up then, helmet raising, and his eyes close despite knowing that Boba can’t truly see him. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Grogu. He’d said it so long ago, when the signet on his armor was still fresh and gleaming, and hadn’t looked back since. He’d been tasked with a quest by his Armorer, one he couldn’t ignore, but this had been- different. Grogu had brought a light and a purpose to his life that he hadn’t had since he was a child, since he’d sworn the creed and let the helmet seal around his jaw, hiding his face away. 

“Yes.” Boba doesn’t say anything else, but when Din opens his eyes Boba is still watching him, as if the answer lies in front of him. 

                                                              -*-

Nevarro is just as Din had left it- the lava flats still bubbled and shivered with heat, and dust crusted every inch of anything that wasn’t uncovered. The town was better, happier, the air less oppressive now that the Imperials had been driven off and Karga had taken over to straighten the city out. Cara seems relieved to be back on solid, familiar ground, and she heads off to find out what’s been going on, leaving Din to wander the market by himself. He watches the crowd for sneaking hands or hidden weapons, but nothing serious has happened on Nevarro in months, and Din isn’t quite sure what to do when faced with a crowd who doesn’t want to kill him or steal bounties right out from under him. 

He’s beginning to get used to people finding him in places, because he doesn't jump when a hand claps across his back in a friendly pat, merely turning and tilting his head at the sight of Greef’s graying beard. “Karga.”

“Mando, good to see you again. Here to reconsider the guild?”

“If I am?” Karga grins at him then, squeezing his shoulder and ushering him through the crowd and away from the main bulk of the town. 

“I’ve got a job lined up, if you’re inclined to take it.” 

“Reward?”

“Something you’ll like.” It’s willfully vague and Din doesn’t like it at all. Karga seems to know because he sighs, exasperated, and pulls him along when Din begins to lag behind. “Let me show you the reward before you complain.”

“Is it beskar?”

“No, but something valuable.” Din follows along after a moment to consider, and Karga leads him out to the docks, weaving among the ships to a spot at the back of the yard. All of the ships have crews milling around them except for one, and Din stops short at the sight of it. “I figured you’d need a ship, after what Cara said happened to the last one.” 

“I-” He has to be seeing things‐ before him is the Razor Crest, metal hull gleaming faintly in the gray light of Nevarro's suns. Karga extends a hand, a small piece of metal in his palm, and when Din takes it he can tell it's the chip to the steering grid, which leaves the ship unable to be flown when taken. How in the hell he found another Razor Crest is beyond Din- he didn't think there were anymore.

"You won't get anything else for the first job, but I figure this is a start." Din looks over at Karga, unable to say a word, but Karga only inclines his head toward the ship. "Get settled. I'll bring the puck along later."

"Right." Karga leaves him with the ship, and Din stares, dread and excitement swirling in his gut in a deeply unpleasant mixture of emotions. He bounds up the ramp in two long strides, having waited long enough, and ducks inside, letting the bay door close behind him with a smooth hiss. The lights don't turn on yet, won't until Din gets up into the cockpit and registers his signature into the computer, but Din can navigate the ship in the dark even without his helmet. 

Or so he thinks. 

The ladder to the cockpit is about three inches too far to the left and his helmet clangs uncomfortably against a pipe hanging just low enough to catch him in the forehead and make his ears ring on impact. He swears colorfully, hauling himself up into the cockpit and dropping down into the pilot’s seat. At least here he can see with the light coming in through the viewport. His eyes are drawn across the control panel immediately, mapping the buttons and finding the slot that the steering chip slips into, plugging it in with a faint click and watching as the computer boots up under his hands. Logging himself as the sole owner and user is easy enough, synced to the machinery at his wrist, and the ship comes to life under his hands with little coaxing. A giddy kind of excitement lodges itself in his chest, and he can’t help the stupid little giggle he lets out when he flips a couple of switches, the engines roaring to life on either side of him. 

He doesn’t mean to, but Karga didn’t tell him not to, and he’s taking off, inching the ship up into the air without a backwards glance. The yolk is more sensitive than he’s used to, and his ascent is a bit jerky before the muscles in his forearms can adjust, but he levels out, laughing again and taking off like a shot. 

He rockets through the atmosphere faster than he should, but the computer adjusts for him and his heart pounds in his ears, a staccato symphony. He feels like a teen again, having just gotten his first chance to fly solo, and he can feel the g’s dragging at him as he whirls in exaggerated loops and spins, testing out the responsiveness of the ship and finding it both familiar and better than ever. The ship is lighter, not so heavy with all of Din’s extras like the carbonite bay or his supplies, but that’ll change eventually. For now Din shoots through the stars, riding toward nowhere and only turning around when a comm clicks, Karga’s voice echoing in the cockpit. 

“Having fun up there? I’ve got the puck and some basic supplies, when you feel like landing.” 

“Thank you.” Din breathes, voice cloaked in awe, and he hears Karga laugh over the comms before he disconnects. Din’s landing is much smoother than his takeoff, and Karga is waiting for him when the bay door drops open and Din steps out, grinning like a fool behind the mask of his helmet. The eager anticipation of having a ship, of flying by himself is tangible, and Karga helps haul the supplies on board, ducking underneath the pipe and snorting to cut off a laugh when Din hits his head. Again. 

Din huffs angrily, the sound warping into an odd metallic growl, and he stalks off to find tools, coming back and using a bit of strong wire and will power to hoist the pipe back up into the ceiling where it belongs. Once that’s done he surveys what Karga has brought him, holding his hand out for the puck and tracker. “Alive, as usual.”

“Might be a bit bruised. No carbonite bay.”

“Bruised is alive.” Karga agrees, slipping around the boxes of supplies to observe Din’s quick fix. It’ll keep him from hitting his head, at least. “Spend the night on the ship before you take off. I’ll have the lads refuel you for the trip.”

“Thought I wasn’t getting anything outside of the ship.”

“You have a tab.” Din chuckles softly, bobbing his head in a nod, and Karga smiles at him smugly. “When you’re done with this job, I’ve got more for you. As few or as many as you want.”

“Thanks.” He means it this time, truly, and Karga leaves him to settle in for the night. Once the bay seals shut, trapping him in the low light of the fluorescents Din allows his shoulders to slump. This ship is the same but wildly different, and Din needs time to adjust. The refresher and sleepbay on this one are bigger, wider, and there’s actually room for what looks like a small shower that collapses into the wall. He has less storage, but he’s going to rip out half of it for the carbonite bay as soon as he can afford it, so he isn’t worried as he packs away the filtered water and rations that karga supplied him with. 

Once, and only once he’s gotten everything into place does he reach for the clasps of his armor, letting the segments fall away from him. He tucks the armor neatly into a cubby underneath his cot, hidden from view of anyone who might snoop, and his blaster is left on the shelf running the length of the wall in the bay. Din sits on the end of the cot, breathing slowly to calm himself and ease the odd, barren feeling that crawls over his skin. This is his home, and will be for the foreseeable future, so the longer he sits there, just breathing, the easier it gets to relax. Until it’s habit more than anything to reach up and release the seal of his helmet, slipping it up and over his head. He doesn’t open his eyes just yet, letting his other senses adjust, and when he does he has to blink rapidly, waiting for his vision to dim. 

Taking off the helmet had always been a debate- how long was too long before it was considered against the Creed? How long could he chew on a ration bar, or trim his beard, or stand in the shower before the shame of what he was doing caught up to him? Staring down at the dull grey reflection of his helmet now though, it isn’t shame that trickles through him. It’s bitter, twisting sadness brought on by the echo of a small hand on his cheek. Of eyes crawling over his face in an enemy base while the rest of them were completely unaware of what they were seeing. Din’s grip tightens on the helmet, the hard edges digging into his fingers, and he hurls it as hard as he can against the wall with a shout, hands shaking and the metallic clang reverberating through the empty space of the living bay. 

“Fuck. FUCK.” Din leaves the helmet on the floor, collapsing back onto the cot and burying his face in his hands. Here, in the solitude of his new ship, Din allows himself to cry, dragging fingers through his hair and not caring at the way it stands on end. Grogu’s absence echoes through the ship louder than any noise Din could possibly make, and the walls feel oppressively small around him, trapping him in a world of his own making. He feels rubbed raw, foolish and weak at the way he misses him, but it isn’t a weakness, not truly. The Foundlings were important, vitally so to Mandalorians, and Din had taken Grogu as his own, his clan of two. Din allows himself to cry until his eyes and throat are raw, and only then does he slink to the refresher, taking a quick, cold shower before tucking himself into bed. 

                                                          -*-

Din is up and in armor by the time the workers come to fuel his ship, and he’s out of the port minutes later. He goes through his bounties on autopilot, falling into a routine as familiar as breathing. The work keeps him blissfully busy, and the less he’s on land, the less time he spends stopping to think the easier it gets to ignore the panicked, anxious worry that gnaws at his stomach, twisting and tying it in knots at night when he’s trying to sleep. He pays off his tab on Nevarro and quickly builds his stock of weaponry, watching when his carbonite bay is installed. He debates testing it on one of the workers just to see that it works beforehand, but he’s got a bounty on hand already and he can stand to be a bit more patient. 

His ship's responsiveness doesn’t dwindle with the added weight, much to Din’s delight, and he actually finds that the engines are just… Stronger. Hardier than his last ones. He doesn’t refer to it as the Razor Crest, despite that being what it is, and he goes months without a name until Cara finally snaps and demands that he either come up with a name or just suck it up. In the effort of laziness Din relents, and the Razor Crest is brought back again. 

He’s stuck at light speed, traveling from Tatooine to Nevarro when a light flares on his holo, just a soft red button that flashes slowly with a new message. Din hits play, hardly paying attention, since Karga is sending them constantly, and jerks in his chair when a soft, firm voice so totally unlike Karga’s plays through the cockpit. 

“Do not share this with anyone.” Luke’s face, half concealed beneath his hood stares sightlessly into the chamber, and Din’s heart pounds in his chest when he begins to rattle off coordinates. He punches them into the computer as fast as he can, listening to Luke repeat them two more times before his recording cuts off and the image of him fades. It’s a planet on the very edges of the universe, far out in a sector Din has never even heard of, and Din is relieved that his bounty is on the way. 

He puts the bounty in carbonite as soon as he can and takes off, following the coordinates and pacing the length of the cockpit all through the suspense within hyperspace. He tries to calm down, to remind himself that he knew this wouldn’t be forever, but when the planet finally comes into view, with vast stretches of water and forest and desert Din’s heart is nearly bursting through his beskar. He slides into his seat to prepare for his landing, and finds that the coordinates are deep in the forest, and he’ll have to land further away. He spots a familiar x-wing, faded red stripes slashed down the side, and carefully lands next to it, snagging the steering chip and trodding down the ramp.

He has no clue where to go, especially once he breaks into the forest, but there's a path worn into the grass, and when he ticks his visor over to another channel Luke’s bootprints flare to life in front of his eyes. He follows them, ignoring when they loop back a few times to ward off other less talented trackers. His trek through the forest is short, and he sweeps the area as he steps out into a clearing that dips into a valley. When Luke had said temple Din hadn’t been expecting…. This. A large, ancient city sprawls across the valley, buildings of dusty brick towering among the trees and overgrown pavement. Din doesn’t have the slightest clue which building they could be in, but it doesn’t seem to matter as something tingles across the back of his neck, an awareness that wasn’t there before.

Din whips around, hand on his blaster, but nothing but wind and trees greets him, and that same cool tingling tugs, insistent. Din finds his feet following the feeling without knowing exactly why, leading him down into the valley and past building after crumbling building. Most of them look unstable, like a stray wind strong enough will knock the whole thing over, but the deeper he goes the more the buildings change from rough hewn stone to something more like the glass and steel that Din is used to seeing among civilization. 

Din breaks out into a square, an old, stagnant fountain in the middle, teeming with frogs and moss and bugs. His attention catches on the small green child sitting on the edge, giggling with delight as a frog floats in front of him, just out of reach. 

“Grogu.” 

Din’s voice breaks saying his name, and he laughs wetly, disbelief plain along the lines of his body as the little one whips around, dark eyes wide with surprise. At the sight of Din’s armor shining in the light he squeals, scurrying to climb down off the edge of the fountain, little legs carrying him as fast as they can toward Din. He drops to his knees, ignoring the way the stone bites at his joints as Grogu crashes into his chest, babbling and cooing and little hands grabbing at the leather straps across his chest. Din laughs, near dizzy with relief, and he lifts Grogu a bit higher, letting Grogu grip the concave edges of his helmet, shaking it lightly, impatiently. 

“Later, Grogu. Not now.” Grogu frowns, little brow furrowing, and Din grins despite himself. “I missed you, kid. Have you been good?”

Grogu croons happily, and he looks back as Din looks up, watching as Luke sits on the edge of the fountain. He’s still draped in black, but the long cloak is gone, and the rest of his clothes are form fitted, hugging his frame, and Din finds that he’s much more delicate than he first expected. There’s an undeniable strength in his posture, a certain poise that Din doesn’t see in many people anymore. His sandy hair is a mess, strands whipping in the wind, but Luke seems unaffected, crossing his legs at the knee. “He missed you too. Quite loudly, I would say.”

“Did he cause trouble?” Luke laughs, a rich, decadent sound, and Din stands, moving closer. 

“No more than any trainee. He’s stubborn, when he wants to be, but he’s learning.” Luke reaches out, tugging on the end of Grogu’s ear affectionately and smiling when he grabs his finger, holding on. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The thought of not showing up, of not seeing that Grogu was fine months later seems so wrong that he never even considered it. 

“There are a thousand things within this universe that no one can change should they get in the way.” Din snorts, rolling his eyes, and Luke grins ruefully, the waxing poetics dropping from him as he leans back to regard Din with a full body sweep of his eyes. “That and you’re a busy man.”

“He’s my priority.” Luke dips his head in a nod, acknowledging the fact, and his eyes flick over Din again, a pale eyebrow arching just so. 

“And what about your throne, Mand’alor? Have you made any progress with the darksaber?”

“How do you-”

“Grogu told me. He talks about you. A lot, I might add. And especially about the way you saved him from the saber itself.” Luke doesn’t move, but his head cocks to the side, regarding Din with an expression he doesn’t have the time or energy to pick apart. “You have it still, don’t you?”

Din nods, shifting Grogu in his arms and pulling the saber from his belt. His thumb finds the button easily, and the blade extends with a soft hiss. The blade itself is coal black, a seemingly never ending abyss, but the edges glow with an unearthly white sheen, reflecting in shattered images across the beskar of Din’s armor. The blade unnerves him, makes his skin crawl, so he extinguishes it and tucks it back into his belt as quickly as he can. He expects Luke to say something, some stupid Jedi nonsense, but instead he watches as Luke’s eyelids flutter shut, skin gone pale and body slumping backward. Din swears, lurching forward to catch the front of Luke's shirt to keep him from tipping back into the fountain and drowning.

“Hey, Jetii-” Luke’s hand comes up, gripping Din’s wrist tight, and Din is once again struck by the urge to pull away and put some distance between him and the other man. The urge fades quickly when he hears the noise that Luke makes, soft and pained, and Din shakes Luke’s hand away. He sets Grogu down on the ground gently before slinging one of Luke’s arms around his shoulders, hauling him to his feet as the Jedi sways unsteadily beside him. “Hey kid, lead us home.”

Grogu makes a soft noise that Din hopes is a yes and begins tottering away, leading them deeper into the city. Luke is still near incoherent against his side, stumbling along and head lolling forward onto his chest, and the sight makes Din’s stomach clench with nerves. They pass through the rest of the city and out along the other side, climbing the hill and disappearing into the forest. He wants to turn back, to insist they actually go to where they’re staying, but occasionally Luke will suddenly lurch to one side, guiding them, and they come across a small cabin tucked away in the woods before too long. There’s a sprawling garden teeming with verdant plants tucked away behind a fence, and when Din ducks inside Grogu runs straight to the toys sprawled by the fireplace. Din deposits Luke unceremoniously in the first chair that he sees, but Luke doesn’t complain, groaning softly and slumping. 

Din doesn't have the faintest clue about what’s going on, but he busies himself with tearing through Luke’s things until he finds what Din surmises to be some kind of herbal drink, standing impatiently in the small kitchen as the water boils. By the time he’s gotten everything situated Luke seems well enough to drink, though Din refuses to hand him a cup of scalding liquid. Luke’s face screws up at the taste, and Din didn’t add anything extra, but the smell alone seems to help, and soon Luke’s hands come up, covering Din’s and blue eyes focusing tiredly on his visor. 

“I can hold it.” Din gives him a hard, disbelieving look and Luke snorts, taking the cup from his hands and proving that he very much can manage on his own now. He sips at the drink slowly, lips twitching at the taste, and leans back in his chair, watching the nervous way Din’s fingers twitch, ready to catch the cup just in case. “I’m fine, Mand’alor.”

“That didn’t look like fine, Jetii.” Din’s voice is scolding, annoyed, and Luke huffs a small laugh.

“That was an- anomaly.” 

"An anomaly." Din repeats, voice flat and unamused. Luke is supposed to be protecting and training Grogu, and he's just watched an anomaly debilitate a trained Jedi, so he isn't feeling particularly warm when his next words come out demanding. "Explain. Now."

"Lightsabers are attuned to the Force. The Force retains… echoes of memories, good or bad, and the bad ones can be- rough." Din draws in a breath to interrupt, but Luke shoots him a look that makes his mouth pop shut, teeth snapping together faintly. "The darksaber is old, and mostly aligned with the Dark."

"Mostly?"

"There have been good, just rulers who handled the blade. Their influence lingers."

"That doesn't explain your reaction."

"I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of the memories from the blade. It won't happen again, I can promise you that." Din wants to point out that as a supposed Jedi Master he should have been ready, but Luke's cheeks are pink with embarrassment already and twisting the blade needlessly would just be cruel. 

"You're expecting me to take the blade out again?"

"Someone has to train you in its use."

"I don't need you to-"

"How many other lightsaber users do you know, Mand'alor?" When Din says nothing Luke nods his head, draining the rest of his drink and standing to take care of the cup. "We'll begin in the morning, after breakfast."

"I didn't agree to anything, Jetii." 

"But you will. The bedroom on the left is yours. I'm just down the hall if you need anything." Din watches him walk away, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and he turns to Grogu, frowning. Grogu looks up, sensing Din's attention, and he toddles over, stepping on Din's foot and raising his arms high. Din leans down, scooping him up and standing.

"Guess that means we better get some sleep, huh?" 

Din carries the kid with him as he heads into the empty bedroom, glancing around. It's pretty barren, as far as bedrooms go, but there's a bed, a dresser and a small crib for Grogu tucked near the bed. If Din hadn't been invited, he would have thought that Luke could see into the future. Well, he's not entirely sure he can't do that as a powerful Jedi. Din sets Grogu down on the bed, knowing he'll just crawl out of the crib right now, and reaches for the clasps of his armor. He's- not entirely sure he wants to take it off, since he hardly knows the man sleeping across the house, but Grogu trusts him and that speaks volumes for his character. Grogu, while a child, distrusts almost as badly as Din does, and the fact that he's not constantly watching Luke is a testament to his comfort. Grogu reaches up toward him, brown eyes big as saucers, and Din sighs, stripping out of his armor but keeping the bodysuit on. It's the best compromise he can manage right now, and he hesitates for a second before deciding that he's already taken it off around the kid, he might as well be somewhat comfortable. 

The room is dim enough that he can open his eyes right away, and when he lays back the kid ambles up, patting his nose and pulling a handful of his hair. Din allows his exploration, watching the way that Grogu's face lights up when Din tries to smile at him. He laughs quietly when Grogu settles down next to him, tucking his little head against Din's neck and pressing his back along the length of Din's shoulder. He should put him in the crib, it's there for a reason, but he missed him more than he cares to admit to himself and so what if he falls asleep, his child curled up in the crook of his neck, snoring away?

                                                       -*-

Din is woken up by the sound of the door opening. His first instinct is to grab for his blaster, the second his helmet, but Luke's voice stops him in his tracks.

"You could have woken him up, you know. Or opened the door by yourself." There's a brief pause, and though Din can see Luke's hand on the knob he can't see any other part of him. "No, that's not a frivolous use of your powers, that's practice. No, I'm not going into his room. Wh- Grogu-!" 

Din can't help himself- he laughs at the shocked, appalled squeak that Luke lets out, slipping his helmet onto his head and letting it seal tight. "You can stop hiding."

"You're decent?"

"You'll have to find out." He hears Luke chuckle, a soft sound that zips up his spine, and Din resolutely ignores the feeling in lieu of shrugging back into his armor. He's securing a pauldron when Luke finally slips into the room, gaze carefully averted, and Din shivers when something races up his spine, pooling around his neck and going not further than his helmet. The feeling fades quickly, and only then does Luke look up, grinning as usual. 

"Did you sleep alright?" Din snorts, tugging the strap across his chest tighter and lifting a leg one at a time to secure the plates on his thighs. 

"Fine. Not going to pass out again?" Luke groans at the mention, as if he'll never live it down, and Din smirks behind the safety of his helmet. 

"I told you it wouldn't happen again. Test me if you want." Luke folds his hands in front of him, meeting Din's eyes through the helmet and waiting patiently. Din tilts his head, debating, but the saber stays tucked away in his belt as he slips past Luke, pauldron brushing against his arm. He hears Luke mumble something to himself before turning on his heel to follow them out, and Din jerks forward, catching the knife that's floating in the air and dragging it down despite the way whatever holds it up fights him.

"Hey kid, easy on the knives." The strain stops suddenly, and Din goes to shove it back into the small block, turning to pin Grogu with a look. His child merely coos, tilting his head until a large ear brushes the floor, and Din sighs heavily. "You don't practice with dangerous objects, that's how you lose an eye."

Grogu gurgles, obviously unhappy with the scolding, but Din stands his ground, crossing his arms. "I've seen you lift a mudhorn, I'm sure your toys aren't a problem."

"Do you hear him?" Luke's voice breaks their staring contest, and Din glances up, tracking Luke's movements through the small kitchen as he begins to pull things out. All of it seems plant based, but that doesn't bother Din much, and if Luke isn't a hunter then he shouldn't expect much in the way of meat. If this planet even has wildlife to hunt. 

"Hear what? The noises?"

Luke stops for a moment, a faint, calculating look on his face. "You were answering him." 

"I was just- talking to him." Luke hums low in his throat, resuming his work at making breakfast and occasionally catching fruits or ingredients out of the air. It seems a common enough occurrence between the two of them, and Din sits back to watch just what Luke will allow. Occasionally a slice of something will float over to Grogu, which Luke either does or allows, and sometimes Luke will laugh or shake his head, shooting Grogu a look that Din doesn't understand. 

Din slips the saber from his belt while Luke is occupied washing something, and his thumb hits the release, angling it so it doesn’t take out the leg of the table or screech over his beskar. Luke’s whole body shudders, shoulders twitching madly, and Din watches, breathless, as Luke turns slowly, blue eyes bright with anger and lips pressed together.

“That was uncalled for, Mand’alor.” Din flicks the saber off again, lifting his shoulders in a shrug and trying not to sound too smug.

“You said to test you.”

“Twenty minutes ago, maybe.”

“Test is useless if you’re expecting it. The outcome changes.” Luke opens his mouth to say something, frowning, but Din lets the blade sing to life again and Luke chokes on his breath. His reaction is lessened, just a tensing of his shoulders and shake of his head, and this time when Din extinguishes the blade he tucks it away. “See?”

“Yes, I do.” Luke’s tone makes something burrow its way into his heart, and he isn’t sure he likes the feeling. Luke stalks over to the table, setting a plate down in front of Din and and one in front of the chair next to him. “Eat, then meet me outside.”

Din isn’t going to eat, not with Luke nearby, but Luke carries his own plate outside, disappearing into the yard and leaving Din more confused than he was before. He waits for Luke to come back in, for the door to open or a head of blonde hair to move past the window but he doesn’t, and Din feels stupid sitting there while Grogu digs into his breakfast. He pops the seal on his helmet, sliding it up just enough to take a bite before slipping it back down. 

Luke is not a good cook.

Din has had worse though, and he tucks it away dutifully, knowing he’s going to need the energy for whatever the Jedi has planned for him. Once he’s managed to get his breakfast down and cleaned Grogu’s hands off he secures his helmet and ducks outside, sweeping the area and finding Luke at the treeline, sitting cross legged with his eyes shut. Meditating. Din stops a few feet shy of him, watching the slow, even way that Luke’s chest rises and falls with his breath. He finds himself following along, dragging in deep, slow breaths, holding it, and then letting it out slowly. The longer he stands there, breathing in tandem with Luke the more a sense of calm crawls into his bones, settling him and making his muscles feel loose and slippery. 

“Breathing was the first thing my master taught me, and it’s the first thing I hope to offer you.” Luke gestures toward the ground next to him and Din takes it without hesitation, tucking himself down onto the ground with far more grace than his armor should allow. Grogu squirms out of his arms, moving to sit in front of them rather, little hands clasped together in his lap as he closes his eyes. Din glances between the two of them as Luke’s eyes close again, and while Din follows their breathing, relaxing, though he doesn’t close his eyes. Instead he watches the serenity that passes over his child’s face, the way his ears droop down a bit as his tiny breathing evens out. “Close your eyes, Mand’alor.”

Din squeezes his eyes shut at the command, tensing, but Luke hums approvingly and Din relaxes again. Or tries to, but he’s focusing too much on the slow, even inhale of Luke’s breath and the way power oozes from him in every exhale, shivering in the air around them and sticking to him like a cloak. It’s… Distracting, to say the least, and by the time Luke finally rises to his feet Din is wound up all over again. Luke leads Grogu a safe distance away from them, Grogu sitting down obediently and staring at them with those dark, bottomless eyes. 

“We’re a little close to the building.” Luke raises a brow, lips twitching in a smile, and he draws the lightsaber from his belt. It whirs to life with a quiet hum, green blade lighting up Luke’s robes in swathes of muted color. Din’s hand strays for his blaster automatically, but Luke shakes his head sharply and Din grits his teeth. 

“Draw, Mand’alor.” 

“I told you we’re-” Din leaps back as Luke lunges, lightsaber screeching along the front of his chestpiece. 

Their first lesson begins that way, Din uselessly dodging and ducking to avoid Luke’s sword and Luke coming at him with singular focus. Din’s arms burn from blocking the impact of Luke’s swings, and he shoves forward with his forearms, pushing Luke back. Luke doesn’t let him breathe or rest, left hand reaching out and fingers closing in a tight fist. A sickening feeling of being touched yet not touched wraps around him, cold and imposing, and Din’s feet skid through the dirt as Luke drags him forward. 

“Draw your saber.” Luke’s voice is a near growl now, and as the grip around him loosens Din wrenches the hilt free from his belt, the starlit blade roaring to life in Din’s hands. Luke’s face twitches uncomfortably, but Din’s heart is pounding in his ears and he slashes forward, as if wielding a club or a spare piece of pipe meant to bludgeon. Luke bats the strike away like he would an infant’s swing, and Din’s blade rises to block Luke’s this time instead of letting the blade scorch across his armor again. “Good! You aren’t using a stick, it’s a sword, treat it like one!”

“A sword is a stick!” Din shouts back, ducking under a blow and swinging upward. Luke ward's off his attacks with little difficulty, and as Din continues his attacks he finds that the saber feels more like an extension of himself than before. Much like his staff, he only needs to lean into the natural weight of the weapon and efficiency of his training, strikes evening out and blade singing in his hand. Din drops to the ground in a tight crouch, drawing himself in before his blade spears out, the tip sailing for Luke as Luke's blade hisses along the length of Din's, unable to parry. His blade connects with Luke’s thigh in a shower of stars, Luke staggering backward with a cry. Din straightens up immediately, eyes widening, but Luke’s leg is whole and undamaged, Luke rubbing at it for a moment before he looks back up at Din. 

“Force shield. Knew you’d land a blow eventually, when you decided to participate.” 

Din is storming forward before he can stop himself, fist twisting in Luke’s clothes and hauling him closer. Luke raises his hands, fingers splaying wide in supplication, and Din feels his breaths scraping out of his throat, fast and raw. “You tell me, Jetii, before we do this again. You-” Din can feel his hands shaking, and he can feel his anger pulsing against his forehead and up into his hair, hot and buzzing. Luke’s eyes are wide, impossibly blue and Din’s stomach flops and it’s too much, too soon, and his hand drops as he takes a couple of steps back. “I- have to go.”

“Where?” Luke doesn’t try to dissuade him, instead straightening his clothes and tucking his lightsaber away. 

“I have a bounty to finish.”

“Okay.” Luke’s tone is too accepting, too soft, and Din doesn’t have anywhere for his rage, as misplaced as it is, to go. “We’ll resume your training when you come back.”

                                                         -*-

Din is only two days late getting back to Nevarro to drop off the bounty and the puck, and when he steps into the building that Karga has set up as his base there’s a metallic laugh that sounds to his left. 

“Told you you didn’t need me.” 

Karga looks visibly relieved at the sight of Din standing in his office, and Din’s head tips to the side at the sight of Boba sprawled in the chair by the desk. Din tosses the puck onto the table, bobbing his head in a nod. “Fought pretty hard.” 

“Is he dead?”

“Sleeping in carbonite.” Karga nods, snapping his fingers toward a man lingering at the back of the room. He scurries out, probably to go collect the bounty, and Din swipes the money off the table that Karga offers. Din’s attention turns to his armored friend now, and he finds Boba watching him already, head tipped to the side inquisitively. “Fett.”

“Mand’alor.” Din scoffs- as if Luke insisting on the title while they were alone wasn’t bad enough. “Karga here was about to send a search party.”

“You’re hardly a search party, Boba Fett.” Karga splutters, denying it, but Din huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What do you have?”

“A couple of escaped convicts, a debt skipper. Interested?” Din nods, accepting the pucks and corresponding trackers. They're scattered across the system, will take a couple of weeks at least, and Din is grateful for the distraction once again. He knows, has seen that Grogu is safe and dare he say happy, so he can stop being so worried all the time, right? 

Din restocks at the market before retreating back to his ship, coming up short when he sees Boba, head tilted back as he admires the ship. "I never got to see the other one."

"They're the same." Is all Din says, slipping past him and up the ramp. He's got supplies to put away, paths to track, and no time for Boba Fett and his musing. Boba's musing though, seems to have all the time in the world for him, and he sits atop a crate, watching the way that Din organizes and reorganizes the same shelf. 

"Hey, leave it."

"I'm-"

"Fidgeting. Get your metal ass over here, I brought you something." Din turns slowly, wary of anything that Boba might have brought him, but he's holding up a metal container that's warm to the touch, even through the leather of Din's gloves. When Din cracks the lid steam temporarily fogs his visor, and Din stares down at the food contained within. Chunks of meat and veggies soak in a sauce that even with his helmet on Din can tell is nuclear red. "You don't have to eat now. It should stay warm a while."

Din looks up at Boba, as if debating, and reaches back to unlock his helmet, slipping it up over his head and tossing it onto his cot without looking. Boba dips his head down for a second, face turned away, but Din grunts and moves to sit next to him. "Thanks."

Boba is much nicer to his helmet, merely setting it down beside him, but Din is already digging in, devouring the meal before him. It's been ages since he's had anything truly flavorful, something that makes his nose run and brings tears to his eyes, and he savors the white-hot burn that coats his tongue. It's the best thing Din has eaten in weeks, and he scrapes the dish as clean as he can just to ensure he doesn't miss anything. Boba seems just as enthusiastic about the meal, though he passes off what's left of his to Din once he's had his fill, and watches as Din polishes that off too.

"Me'vaar ti gar?" Boba's mando'a is different than his, rougher, and it takes Din a second to realize what he's done. 

"Ass." He scowls, discarding the containers before leaning back against the sloped wall of the Crest and answering. "The Jetii sent me encrypted coordinates so I could see the kid."

"So you went, obviously. But why come back?" Din hesitates, glancing at Boba, and he's both relieved and strangely disappointed that Boba doesn't seem to be staring. Din thinks on it a moment, what he wants to reveal, and decides the truth, all of it, would be best. 

So he tells Boba- every detail he can remember aside from the planet's location and anything that might give it away to a more well versed traveller. He recounts the stupid, weak way relief has made his legs wobble when he'd seen Grogu again for the first time, the joy at seeing his son again, and eventually the conversation turns to Luke. His kindness, the contented way he laughs and smiles as if the entire world hasn't done him wrong already, the obvious care he harbors for the child in his care. The stupid smug way he smiles, the odd way that Din feels whenever he stares too long. How, in the day and a half he was there, Luke had driven him up the wall but also seen him in a way that most others didn't, like he could read him from across the room. He tells him about their first fight with the sword, and Din can feel his hands begin to shake as the anger bubbles to the surface. He doesn't have a way to explain why he's so angry, just that he is, but Boba is frowning.

"Jetii have always been secretive. It's not in their nature to share information."

“I could have killed him.” Boba snorts, picking his helmet up and turning it over in his hands. 

“He wouldn’t put himself at that much risk.” That… Is a good point, one that Din hadn’t thought about outside of fighting. No one he’s ever fought with, sparring or otherwise, has ever fought like they weren’t trying to kill each other. All of Din’s anger seems to slough off of him, and his shoulders slump, pauldrons weighing heavily against him. “When are you going back?”

“What makes you think I’m going back?” Boba pins him with a look, eyebrow raised, and Din looks away, tips of his ears burning. He feels far too exposed without his helmet, but it feels more like a relief to be able to breathe, to let his eyes sting with the brightness of the lights inside the ship. 

“You don’t run. Not once you have a plan.” 

The fact that Boba is right is irritating, and Din’s brow furrows as he thinks. The longer he sits there, debating himself, the more and more he realizes that he does have a plan. It’s stupidly simple, hardly even worth being called more than a thought, but it’s all that Din has, so it’ll have to be enough. Boba knocks his elbow into Din, shoving, and Din focuses back on the bounty hunter.

“Give me the pucks.”

“You’re not stealing my bounties, Fett.” Boba scoffs, rolling his eyes and holding his hand out.

“We’ll split it. Now get yourself ready.” Din stares him down, eyes narrowed, but Boba doesn’t relent until Din presses the pucks and trackers into his hands. Din rises to his feet at Boba’s insistence, grabbing his helmet from his cot and slipping it back on over his head. The fit is snug as always, and Din adjusts to the weight of it easily, climbing up into the cockpit to power the engines up in preparation for him to leave. The coordinates are still in his computer, primed and ready, and Din isn’t sure whether it’s the thought of flying or Grogu that makes his fingers itch to grab the yolk and take off. Din’s comm crackles in his helmet, making him wince, and Boba’s voice rumbles into the tiny space. “Get going, Mando.”

                                                            -*-

Din feels like an ass walking back up to Luke’s small cottage. Like an ass, and a coward.

He shouldn’t have left Grogu, left Luke the way that he did. He didn’t have any real reason to be mad and shame burns across the back of his neck when he stands just outside the door, debating on whether or not to knock. He's got a pack over his shoulder, more to prove that he's here to stay than anything else when the door swings open wide, knocking against the wall. Grogu's little form stands just out of the way of the door, hands raised, and Din smiles despite himself.

"Hey kid." Grogu giggles, hurrying over to his father and squeaking happily as Din sweeps him up into his arms. Grogu doesn't go for his helmet this time, instead jostling his chest piece with little hands. "Okay okay, cool it. I'm staying, alright?"

"Uh?" The child jostles his chest piece again and Din sighs, stepping inside and wincing when the door slams shut behind him. At least Grogu is practicing. 

"No, we're not going to get frogs, I know you just ate." There's absolutely no way he can tell other than the plates on the counter, but Grogu's pout only confirms what Din suspected and he tugs lightly on Grogu's ear. "Can't con a con man, kid. Where's your master?"

There's a sound from across the room and Din looks up as Luke leans against the doorframe, hair a mess and brow raised. "Yeah okay, you don't like that, but I don't like Mand'alor." Luke's brows go up, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and Din isn't quite sure what the look is for. "My name is Din. Din Djarin. If you're going to call me anything, it better be that."

"No Mand'alor?" Din wrinkles his nose, though Luke can't see, and is rewarded by Luke laughing, grinning crookedly and finally shoving off the doorframe to walk closer. "No Jetii then either, Din Djarin."

"Just Din."

"Just Din." Luke agrees, amusement coloring his words. "You said you were staying?"

"If you'll have me." Din… probably should have asked first before assuming, but Luke reaches out, gripping his bicep in a friendly embrace and drawing a bit closer. 

"He's your home as much as he is mine." Din glances down at Grogu, who's begun dozing in his arms, and then back up at Luke. The hand clasped around his arm sears through the layers of his bodysuit, but Din craves the warmth from it. 

"I'm cooking." Din blurts out before he can help himself, Luke grinning in response. 

"Grogu likes my cooking."

"Grogu eats frogs." 

"He has refined taste." Din snorts, trying to hold back a laugh, and Luke squeezes his bicep lightly before finally dropping his hand. "Are you tired?"

"No." He's not sure why the question, but Luke's eyebrows twitch up for a moment before a sly smile overtakes his face. He regrets saying no.

"Meet me outside in five minutes." Luke sweeps past him without further preamble, leaving Din to do as he's told, tucking Grogu away in his crib and making sure he doesn't wake when Din slips out of the bedroom. He leaves his pack on the bed along with his jetpack, wanting to shed as much excess weight as he can. He has a feeling he's going to need as much agility as he can get. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to take off his armor and risk getting cut to pieces by Luke’s lightsaber though. Because that’s exactly what Din is expecting when he gets outside, watching the way that Luke lazily rotates his wrist, letting the blade whirl through with the movement. Something warm heats in his stomach at the sight, and he draws his own saber, letting the blade flicker to life. Luke’s eyes flick up as the blade hums in Din’s hand, eyes tracing over the blade itself and then up and down Din once. 

“You didn’t react.”

“The blade is used to you now, and reflects more upon your feelings than the memories within.” Din shifts on his feet, uncomfortable at the thought, and Luke waves him over, further away from the building. “I haven’t been forthcoming about certain aspects of my abilities, and it upset you.”

“It didn’t…” But Din can’t finish the sentence, and Luke’s face droops in something sad. 

“When we fight I’ll have a shield up, like the one you saw before. It’ll keep me from being injured by your saber, like your beskar does for mine.”

“The blows will still hurt.” Din’s arms had ached for a day after their first clash, but Luke shrugs, smirking now.

“That’s part of the training. No fun if there aren’t bruises.” Luke reminds him so much of his trainers as a child then that he can almost imagine Luke in beskar, wielding a quarterstaff and laughing when a blow knocked him on his ass. “Ready?”

Din snaps from his reverie, and their training begins anew. Luke drives him hard, using whatever tricks and skills he has at his disposal, but Din matches him beat for beat. While his skill with a sword is subpar compared to Luke he catches on quickly, and he’s battle honed in a way that makes reading Luke’s next moves as easy as breathing. 

More often than not he finds himself sprawled in the dirt or thrown off into the trees, head spinning at the impact and every muscle in his body protesting at getting back up again. He never stays down for long, Luke extending a hand to help him up as many times as he knocks him down. Half the time that hand is used to yank Luke off balance and launch a counter attack, but Luke expects it, rolling in the dirt with Din and swinging madly until the invisible fingers of Luke’s power catches at the back of Din’s armor and sends him flying again. 

While Grogu and Luke train in the living room, lifting toys and chairs and practicing breathing, Din hunts. There’s plenty of wildlife to track, and plenty of meat to cure and use in cooking. Cooking with actual spices and flavor, which Luke insists is too much half the time, and not enough the other half. Din knows he’s complaining just to get a rise out of him, but it works every time, and Din watches, satisfied one night as Luke chokes, cheeks flushing and eyes watering. Din grins beneath his helmet, laughing when Luke glares at him and gulps down a mouthful of water to try and wash away the taste. Luke still complains, but after that he’s much more careful about just how red the food is that particular day.

Din is also the one to go on supply runs when they get low on the things Luke can’t grow in his garden or Din can’t hunt, and he takes a few bounties while he’s out, just to tide him over while he’s away. Luke tells him to take care of how he uses the darksaber, but Din hasn’t had the heart to tell him he doesn’t use it at all outside of their training. Most people don’t look too kindly on their bounty run through by a sword and encased in carbonite. The darksaber still unnerves him, for as much as he uses it at home- at Luke’s. 

Din has been away from home for two weeks too long when he finally makes it back, nursing a couple broken ribs and his own wounded pride. His last bounty had been a better fighter than he’d expected, and had gotten a good shoulder ram in the space right under Din’s left arm. It makes carrying the supplies he’d brought back a pain in the ass, and he drops them in the doorway, rolling his shoulders back to try and ease the tension pulling at his ribs. Luke’s blonde hair pops out of the back room, a smile on his face, and Din’s heart kicks up a notch. It had been doing that a lot lately, and Din isn’t stupid enough to ignore what it means. He just… Doesn’t act on it. 

“You’re home late.” Luke eyes the sky through the open door behind Din, already illuminated by the planet’s three moons.

“Your tea is impossible to find.” 

“Sure, blame it on me, like you weren’t out joyriding.” Din scoffs, but he’s partially right and Din’s silence only confirms it. Luke’s footsteps are quiet as he pads across the living room, and above that he can hear Grogu, snoring away. He’s much, much later than he expected to be, so he keeps his voice hushed to avoid waking Grogu in the room next door. “Did you have fun?”

“Mhmm.” The door closes with a soft click behind him, and Luke joins him in hauling the supplies to the kitchen, where Luke unpacks and tucks them away under Din’s careful eye. Luke knows by now where everything goes, and he makes quick work, leaving his tea out. Din has already put water on to heat, and he rolls his shoulders out again, pain lancing down his side. He hadn’t bothered to waste the money on a bacta patch- Grogu and Luke were just as good at healing, if not better, and Din is already beginning to heal on his own anyway. 

“You’re hurt.” Luke’s voice is accusing, and Din turns, biting back a yelp when Luke’s hands come up, pressing into his sides. He shies away from Luke’s right hand, trying to lessen the pressure, and Luke frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s nothing.”

“They’re pretty broken, Din.” Din laughs, wincing when that proves to be a mistake, and Luke’s fingers go for the latches of his armor. Din takes a step back, shaking his head, and Luke frowns again. “Let me help. Please?”

“I can undress myself.” Is all Din says, working in quick, efficient movement to shed the pieces of his beskar. Once he’s left in his bodysuit Luke looks to him for permission, Din nodding once and letting Luke get close again as his hands stray over Din’s chest. Din makes a noise, as if to tell him that’s not where it hurts, but Luke shushes him softly, eye slipping closed in concentration as his hand hovers over Din’s left side. Din chokes on a cry of pain when Luke presses his hand down, Din’s ribs shifting,  snapping neatly back into place. Luke holds onto Din, keeping him steady as he pants, head spinning with the pain. “You could have warned me.”

“That changes the outcome.” Luke’s eyes open, glancing up at him, and Din finds himself leaning forward for no reason at all. Din’s forehead bumps against Luke’s, just the barest pressure, but Luke smiles, leaning up to press into the embrace harder and laughing when Din’s hand comes up to cup the back of his neck. “Though sometimes it doesn’t”

“Luke?” Din feels the echo of Luke’s curiosity more than he hears what Luke says, and his lips quirk inside his helmet. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Oh, we’re having a moment?” Din pulls back with a groan, muttering under his breath, but Luke chuckles softly, left hand coming up to catch the cheek of Din’s helmet. His thumb smoothes over the ridge of Din’s metal cheekbone, and he goes up on his tiptoes to press their foreheads together again. “I didn’t understand how this could be a substitute at first.”

“What?” Din’s head is foggy with having Luke so close, and his eyes close behind his visor. He doesn't need his sight at the moment anyway, not to stare down the slope of Luke’s nose. 

“This is your form of a kiss, right? Since you don’t take your helmet off.” Din hums in affirmation and Luke continues, leaning his whole body forward. Din hisses faintly at the soreness still lingering in his side, but Luke’s hand smoothes over him, sweeping it away with another gentle pules of what he insists isn’t magic. “It never seemed like it would be enough, but… It’s nice, being close to you like this.”

Din finds himself smiling then, chest tight and overflowing, and he pulls back, opening his eyes. Luke follows him, not wanting to be separated, but Din places a hand on his chest. “Luke.”

“Hmm?”

“Close your eyes.” Luke’s eyes slip shut immediately, and Din takes a step back. Luke seems to mourn the loss of his warmth, but Din is about to do something wildly stupid and he wants to go quickly before he loses his nerve. “Keep them closed.” 

Luke hums, reassuring Din that he will, and Din allows his helmet to unseal, sliding it up and off his head. He sets it down with the rest of his discarded armor as gently as he can, but Luke’s breath hitches at the noise, and Din can feel the unspoken question that radiates from him. He doesn’t answer, not right away, slipping his gloves off so he can feel the silky strands of Luke’s hair when he cups the back of his head. Luke draws in a shuddering breath at the touch, eyelids fluttering, and before Din can talk himself out of it he places the softest kiss he can against Luke’s lips. Luke’s whole body is a razor wire against his as Din draws the other man closer, kissing him with firm, even pressure. Luke’s thoughts pound through him in time with his racing heart, flooding his brain as Luke’s lips move against his, parting and tongue flicking out to trace the seam of Din’s lips. DinDinDinDinDinDin- wanna touch-

Din can hardly tell what thoughts are his and what thoughts are Luke’s, and he drops both his hands to where Luke has grabbed onto the front of his suit. He tugs lightly, Luke releasing his hold and fingers curling around Din’s. Din hums, bringing Luke’s hands up and bumping his knuckles against his cheeks. Luke lets go of Din’s hands immediately in lieu of cupping his cheeks, and Din gasps against his lips, skin blazing with each touch of Luke’s shaking fingers. He traces over his cheeks, down along his jaw, and one hand slips into the flat mess of his hair, dragging through the strands and eventually grabbing a fistful at the back of his head. 

It’s- overwhelming, to be honest. Luke is hot and insistent against him, pressing forward, crowding into his space, and Din really feels like he’ll drown in it. Din’s hands wander, lingering on Luke’s waist before he makes a decision. Luke is all wiry muscle, but Din doesn’t have any trouble hoisting him up, sitting him on the counter and listening as his armor goes skidding to the other side, a smaller piece, either a pauldron or thigh plate tumbling off. Din doesn’t care, not when Luke’s thighs press around him and his hand is in his hair. Din delights in the way that Luke shudders when he laps at the roof of his mouth, teasing over the sensitive area and humming at the taste of him. Luke’s fingers twitch uselessly in his hair, tugging at the handful he’s slowly tangling. Din pulls away reluctantly, panting and neck bowing as he leans back into Luke’s hand, chasing the sensation. 

Luke presses their foreheads together, skin to skin now, and seems just as affected as Din, breathing ragged and fingers trembling when he reaches up to trace over Din’s cheek again. Luke’s other hand combs through Din’s hair, occasionally snagging on a tangle, and Din twitches every time, fingers clenching against Luke’s sides. “We are having a moment.”

Din huffs out something between a laugh and a moan when Luke tugs particularly hard at a nasty tangle, whole body shuddering against Luke’s. Din peeks his eyes open, expecting Luke to be staring at him, trying to sneak some kind of glance, but his eyes are firmly shut, lips red and a flush sitting high on his cheekbones. “Ruined it.”

Luke laughs, bumping their noses together and sighing out a soft breath. “Where’s your helmet? As much as I could kiss you all night, we do need sleep.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Din-”

“I’ve been thinking about it. No living being other than one in my clan should see my face. Grogu, he’s-”

“One of your clan.” Din nods, glancing over at the metal reflection of his helmet before looking back toward Luke. 

“But you are too.” Din admits quietly, idly bunching the fabric of Luke’s shirt in his hands. Anxiety spikes in his gut, twisting it, but Luke smiles, radiant and happy, knocking their foreheads together again. 

“Do you want me to?” Din nods, a slow and hesitant dip of his head, and Luke hums, tipping his chin and slotting their lips together in a soft kiss. By the time that Luke pulls back Din’s head is pleasantly fuzzy, and when he opens his eyes and sees Luke looking back he doesn’t cringe or shove him back. His heart leaps in his chest, but Luke’s eyes are soft, adoring and so much bluer without the visor dulling the color. “They’re brown.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes.” Din raises a brow, as if that really should have been a given, but Luke rolls his eyes, leaning back a bit and crossing his ankles behind Din’s legs. “I didn’t even know if you had eyes.”

“I don’t. You’re hallucinating.” Din deapans, trying to keep his lips from twitching up into the smile he’s fighting off. Luke only shrugs, nodding as if it makes sense. 

“I’ll take hallucination Din. He’s yummy.” Din wrinkles his nose, scowling, and Luke laughs, leaning forward to kiss the wrinkles away just because he can. 

[detroitbydark]

Characters: Hound/OC

Summary: when life (or Thire) gets him traffic duty, Hound makes the most of it.

Warnings: None

A/N: I shouldn’t be starting a new work. I really shouldn’t. I also shouldn’t have decided to write a oneshot, talked to @skdubbs and have four chapters plotted out.

This does take place in the Fox and Mouse verse (around chapter 6 if I remeber correctly).

————

“From Kessel to Kijimi, this is Nuna Skii flying you through the dark hours of the night. I’d like to give a shout to-.”

Hound hunches forward over the handle bars to the GAR issued speeder. Traffic Ops. Kriff.

It would teach him to make a bet with Thire. Then again, how was he to know that the Commander actually had it in him to bag the cute little secretary that took up guard duty outside of his office door.

Obviously not Hound.

The ARF Sargent sighs before turning the radio up. He’d rather be back in his barracks with his massiff at his feet than clocking for speeders and traffic violations. It wasn’t that it was below him it was just… well it was below him. He didn’t go through recon school to be looking for our of date tags.

At least he got to listen to his favorite radio show.

“-and more of that sweet jizz music coming from Dantooine as a special favor to my boys in the 332nd”

Nuna Skii’s show on Independent Republic Radio was a favorite of many a trooper. Overnights were osik but the sweet smoky sound of her voice and the frequent shoutouts - often laced with innuendo - were definitely one way to pass the time. And if her voice was stored in the spank banks of half the troopers in the GAR? Well, that was just an added bonus to her show.

“Just you, me and an empty sky lane tonight, eh Nuna?” He asks the radio.

“How about we take another deep dive into an absolutely delicious track, yeah?”

“You could sell me some ocean front property on Tatooine and I'd pay top dollar. Hit me with it, babygirl.”

He only does a handful of stops and doesn’t write a single ticket for the next six hours.

———

She was so karking tired. Like, tired was an understatement. Half-dead might be more correct. She needed atomic grade caf or a bed to pass out in immediately. Glancing at the near stalled traffic in front of her, Nuna can’t help but think she wasn’t going to get either anytime soon.

The joys of working nights.

She really did love her job. To be a young holoradio jockey and have a spot on any station on Coruscant was pretty damn amazing but to have it on IRR? probably the single coolest station in the core worlds? It was a dream come true. Most of the time.

A yawn escapes her lips and her speeder rattles ominously underneath her.

“Oh- no, no, no.” She mutters looking down at her gauges. Warning lights flash brightly. She’d just gotten the kriffing thing out of the shop last week. They were supposed to have fixed the thrusters. The bike leans to the right and Nuna feels the tell tale swoop in her stomach from a sudden drop in altitude. It wasn’t much more than a few feet but if it was anything like it was the week before she needed a landing platform. And fast.

The early morning light bounces off the transparisteel buildings around her as she tries to find the nearest safe bet. Her speeder bike coughs once and jerks again, jostling her helmeted head. She sucks in a sharp breath as it pulls hard, dragging her from the skylane and into open air. It’s a struggle to keep the thing upright as she tries to guide it in for a landing on the nearest platform. Lights flash in her rear view.

“Really? Really?!” She hisses to herself as her muscles strain to keep the bike on course.

She manages to land the malfunctioning speeder, the ungainly pile of scrap plopping down with all the grace of a pregnant nerf.

The Coruscant Guard bike, all sleek lines, gunmetal grey and cherry red accents lands feet behind her.

Hers makes one last wheeze and cuts off. The good thing is, she’s wide awake now. No caf needed.

“Ma’am?”

Nuna turns to see the visage of snarling maw cocking it’s head in her direction.

“You ok?”

She swallows hard. It was a known fact within her small circle of friends that Nuna Skii - the real Nuna Skii not the sex kitten holojockey- was absolute mush for a guys in uniform and the one stepping closer was definitely one that would make her heart pump harder if it weren’t already for the adrenaline of a near death experience. If there was a name for kink involving men in helmets Nuna had it.

“I- uh- yeah” she takes a deep breath because now was not the place and certainly not the time, “I’m good”

The trooper's head cocks the opposite direction as he points toward her handlebars. “You know you're ok to let those go now, right?”

A nervous laugh escapes her lips. Her hands feel stiff from the exertion of the landing and she wiggles her fingers, forcing the blood back into them as she pulls them back toward her. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem. Can I see your identichip and registration?”

Nuna gives him a blank stare for half a second, eyes moving almost comically from his outstretched hand and back up to his helmet. His free hand rests at his kama, index finger tapping idly. He’s got to be kidding, she nearly died and he was going to-

“You're going to give me a ticket?” She pulls her helmet off with little fanfare and hangs it from the handle bars. “Really? I nearly died and now I’m getting a ticket?!”

The trooper holds both hands up, “Easy there. No one said anything about a ticket. Just because you broke about three different traffic codes and at least two vehicular safety ones...” he lets the implication of what he’s said hang in the air.”

Nuna pulls the requested items out of her bag and hands them to the trooper with more aggression than needed but, damn it all, she was so tired she could cry and now she had to deal with a broke down speeder. Again.

She watches as the trooper looks down at the identichip and then back to her. Once, twice, three times.

“Is there a problem?”

“You’re Nuna Skii- I mean like the real Nuna Skii?” The tone of his voice has changed and he almost seems… excited?

“Uh yeah, guilty as charged. Listen, is this going to-“

“Say, ‘flying you through the night on IRR.’”

“Is this part of your usual traffic stops?” Nuna raises a brow at the trooper. Really? Did it ever get strange enough. She swings a leg over the seat and moves to stand. Her legs shake underneath her and tall, excitable and toothy holds out a gloved hand.

“Here, let me help you.”

She takes it because falling flat on her face really doesn’t seem like something she wanted to add to her laundry list of problems this morning. When she’s standing at her full height, which was substantially shorter than the solid wall of clone trooper in front her, she looks up.

His hand moves to the back of his helmet and rubs gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound demanding.” He says almost bashful. “It’s just that if-“

She takes pity on him. “From Corellia to Canto Bight, flying you through the night on Independent Republic Radio”

He stands frozen for a moment. Nuna squirms under the unflinching state of his visor until finally-

“Holy Fett! It’s really you! Listen! I- I mean we- the Guard- we’re like your biggest fans.”

The wind whips up through the levels ruffling the hair on her head, deep lilac colored wisps work their way into her mouth and she spits uselessly before reaching up and using her fingers to remove them. “That’s great really-“

Her hands go to her hips. Was this guy for real?

“Hey, I know a guy that does towing. He’s kind of a di’kut but he owes me a favor. I could get your ride towed where you need it. I mean, if you want?”

“Like, for free?” She clarifies.

The trooper looks down at her as if that was a given, “well, yeah.”

“And you want what in return?” Nuna fidgets. This is where the guy becomes a dirtbag and asks for something. He hands back her identichip and registration before reaching up and popping the seal on his bucket. He gives her a lopsided grin as he slips the helmet up his arm. Kriff. He was cute. His dark hair is cut into a floppy Mohawk. A stray curl of it dips down across his forehead and he offers her a lopsided grin. He is about as intimidating as a puppy.

“Can I get a shout out on your show tonight? I mean, the boys are NEVER going to believe this unless you do.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” he seems to think for a moment and his smile becomes toothy, “unless you’d like to give me your number too?”

She can feel the hot rush of embarrassment to her cheeks and hopes he mistakes it for wind burn. She ignores his comment about her number because, this fine specimen was so far out of her league it was crazy.

“So What’s to stop me from saying yes and not doing it”

“Aww come on, please? You wouldn’t do one of your biggest fans like that would you?”

“What’s your name?” She can’t handle the soft puppy dog eyes he’s giving her. It should be illegal for any dude with shoulders that broad to look so cute.

“Sargent Hound of the Coruscant Guard at your service.”

She nearly chokes. Well, that explained the puppy dog eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Sargent.” She says regaining her composure. She looks behind him to the GAR issued speeder. “If you can drop me at my building I’ll call it a deal.”

His smile makes her tummy flutter, “I think that can be arranged.”

——-

“You’re full of it” Rule barks “Osik up to your visor!”

Hound is lounging back on a couch that is not nearly large enough for both him and the massiff sprawled out on it. Grizzer lifts his head, licks his lips lazily and lays back down. Hound scratches around the creature's dorsal spikes and the massiff kicks his back foot happily.

“I told you man. It was her. Identichip verified and everything.

“El-Tee? You hear this?”

Lieutenant Thire looks up from his holopad and the boloball game he was watching, “what?”

Rule is grinning from ear to ear, “Hound here says he helped Nuna Skii out of a bind this morning.”

“I’m not just saying it. I did it.”

Hound explains lazily. He doesn’t tell them about giving her a ride home, pretty sure he broke about half a dozen regs just having her pressed up against his back and her arms around his waist and that was before he dropped her at her building. It was early enough in the day that he doubts anyone really noticed. If they did it was worth it to have her hands clutching at his armor.

Hound had pictured Nuna Skii so many times that the fact that she wasn’t a leggy blonde had come as a shock. What she was wasn’t a bad thing, just different. Short and soft with curves in places he wished he could run his hands all over.

“Prove it!” Ryk laughs as he ambles in, freshly showered and pulling his blacks over his head.

“Should we tell ‘Em Grizz, old man? Or should we just let them eat their buckets when it happens?”

Ryk rolls his eyes as the ARF Trooper chats with his massiff. “You know he’s never going to answer back, right?”

Grizzer looks over his shoulder at Ryk.

“Aww come on man” Hound fusses. One mearty hand moves to scratch under the massiff’s intimidating jaw. Grizzer turns into the touch, nearly purring with contentment. “Just because he can’t speak basic doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand it. Isn’t that right boy. We got our own language, Grizz and I. Smartest mas’ in the whole GAR, aren’t you?”

The creatures leathery tail thumps happily in agreement.

“Don’t know about that but he certainly smells a lot better than the bunch of you.” Thire mutters turning his attention back to boloball and cursing quietly. Ryk lifts an arm smelling.

“Not me! I’m squeaky clean!”

“We’re getting off track here” Rule announces in an attempt to refocus the gathered troopers. “What we need to know is how you're going to prove you met Nuna Skii.”

“Did she sign a ticket?” Thire asks, not looking up. When Hound doesn’t answer Thire looks up.

“She was having a really bad morning-“

“You do know when you work traffic you have to ticket people at least once in a while.”

“Apparently, not the pretty ones.” Ryk cackles.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, vod.”

Ryk rolls his eyes as Hound moves to turn the radio on. Nuna’s show was starting any minute. He hoped she’d come through.

———-

Around and around Nuna spins. The wheels on her roller chair are in desperate need of oil and squeak in protest. Nuna is undeterred as she waits for the next commercial to end. Her producer glances at her through the transparisteel divider and rolls her eyes. Yes, she was a child. No, she would not be apologizing. She grabs a cold protato from a greasy Dex’s bag as she makes another loop. If her fans could see her now. She’s got on an oversized tunic and a pair of dark pants that were probably a little too tight but were way too comfortable for her to care. When she woke her hair wasn’t about to do anything for her so now it sits piled high in a sloppy bun atop her head. She was about as far away from the character she portrayed as she could get.

“On in fifteen Nunz” Tully her producer says. Nuna hurries to swallow her food and takes a big gulp of water.

“And that was the Twi’Three with their latest and I’m Nuna Skii keeping you up all night.” She purrs into the mic. “I think we’re going to go to the comms and take a few calls. Whatcha wanna let the galaxy know?”

“Hi Nuna. Long time listener. I just wanted to say that I love the show but I’m getting really tired of your pandering to clones-“

Nuna mashes the end button with gusto before sighing deeply into the mic.

“Babies and Gentlemen. My lovelies. From 2100 til 0500 five nights a week this is a trooper positive show. If you don’t like it I’d suggest you find something else to listen too. Those yummy boys in white are giving the Republic their all. I don’t see a problem with a few minutes here and there dedicated to them, do you?” She asks sweetly. “It makes me happy making them happy. You know what else makes me happy? New stuff from that Mon Cal band, Ach’tu. Coming at you after this commercial break”

———-

“Maker, I love when she does that.” Ryk groans quietly. “She could put me in my place any day.”

Rule nods, “she could read me the repair manual to my deece and I would die a happy man.”

Thire snorts, “What about you Hound. Got something to say?”

“Yeah man” Ryk lifts his head from where he was resting it against the back of his chair. “What does she look like.”

Hound offers a sly grin, “like a million credits.”

“Long legs? Big tits? You're killing us man” Rule says raising a brow, “unless you don’t really know.”

Hound laughs, “I know vod, but I’m not telling.” His brothers roll their eyes.

“For all my blaster babes and bucket bunnies happily messing with republic property. I salute you.” Nuna’s voice grabs the gathered troopers attention. Thire snorts softly, pretending as if he wasn’t listening. “Along those lines I want to send a special thanks to my new favorite Hound dog out there patrolling the sky lanes of Coruscant. Keep being a good boy and next time we meet I’ll give you a scratch behind the ears.”

The room falls silent except for the low snore of a sleeping massiff. All eyes fall on Hound. His smile says I told you so.

A good boy. Yeah, he could be very happy with that.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Promise You’ll Miss Me

Commander Wolffe x Jedi!Reader, Angst (you read the title)

Summary: You have just achieved the rank of Jedi Knight, but with it comes the additional title of General for the Grand Army of the Republic.  With your new squadron waiting for you on Coruscant, you need to say goodbye to the Commander closest to your heart.

A/N: Not a request, but just something that came to mind and I thought Commander Wolffe would be the best candidate for this story.  And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 1.9 K

    You should have been excited. 

    You were excited.  Years of training and battle experience had paid off and you had now officially achieved the rank of Jedi Knight.

   You would never forget the pride in your Master’s voice after you told him you had passed the trials.  It made you feel taller, wiser, bolder than you had ever felt in your life.  All the same, when you went back to your room that night to sleep an ache had already settled into your heart. 

   Master Plo Koon was the greatest teacher you could have hoped for.  Not only was he wise in the ways of the force, but he was kind; showing a well of compassion to you and others, you had found rare among the Jedi Council.  He shaped you not just as a Jedi, but into the core person you had become.  He was a father to you and idea of leaving hurt more than you thought. 

   You might have been able to bear it.  After all, you could still see him on Coruscant.  If you truly needed guidance, he would never be fully out of reach.  But with the title of Jedi Knight came another; General for the Grand Army of the Republic. 

   You wouldn’t just be leaving your Master behind, but the 104th as well.  All the men you had spent years fighting beside, your brothers in arms, your friends; there was a good chance you would never see them again.  

   You would have your own squadron to lead. Who knew where you would be sent or how long you’d be there.  You weren’t even sure how long this war would last. 

   You understood why, of course.  The Republic had ordered new Clones to the front who, in turn, needed new Generals to command them.  There was no doubt in your mind that your squadron would consist of good men.  But still, the ache in your chest persisted, turning into a stabbing pain when you thought of one clone Commander in particular. 

   You could not help but linger on this pain as you gazed out one of the view port windows into hyperspace. 

   “Comman– Ah, sorry.  General,” a voice called, the very voice you had been thinking of. 

   You suppressed a smile as you turned to find Commander Wolffe standing at attention, his helmet tucked dutifully under his arm. 

   “There’s no need for that Commander,” you said.  “I’m not General yet.” 

   “Well, you will be,” he countered.  “I figured I better start practicing now instead of later.”

   You couldn’t stop the smile at that, allowing the corner of your mouth to twitch upward.

   “Trust me, I’d rather you do it later.”  Glancing behind, you noticed the pair of you were the only ones in this section of the ship.  “Is there something you need?” 

   Wolffe shook his head.  “I just wanted to check on you.  General Plo mentioned you might be needing some company.”

   You felt your cheeks grow warm.  Maybe your thoughts weren't so private if your Master could feel your distress from the other side of the ship.  Still, it was a kind gesture. 

   “I would appreciate it.”

   Wolffe nodded in acknowledgement, taking a spot beside you.  

   There was a moment of comfortable silence.  Another thing you knew you would miss.  You hadn’t met many clones who were as comfortable around Jedi as Wolffe was. 

   “Are you alright, Commander,” he said, in his own gruff, but gentle tone. 

   You let out a sigh.  “Just a lot of changes at once.”

   He nodded in understanding.  “When do you get your orders?”

    “Almost as soon as we land.”

   You weren’t sure, but you thought you caught Wolffe stiffen at your words. 

   “Then this truly was your last mission with us,” he said. 

   Your stomach twisted as you forced your eyes back to the view port.  “Yes.”

   There was another pause.  A sudden emotion radiated from Wolffe, rippling around you in small waves. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it made you feel just a little empty. 

   “You’re going to do fine, Commander,” he said. “General Plo wouldn’t have recommended you for the trails unless he had complete faith in you.  I’m not sure how much my opinion matters, but I think I speak for the entire 104th when I say; any clone would be lucky to be under your command.” 

   You turned to him then to find him staring back at you.  His expression was oddly vulnerable, but there was no doubt in your mind he meant every word he said. 

   “Your opinion matters to me more than you know,” you said, your throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Thank you.”

   His lip twisted up in a small smile of thanks, but quickly faltered as his eye lingered on your features. 

   “But that’s not all, is it,” he asked. 

   You couldn’t lie to him and shook your head. “No.”

   “Then what?”

   You turned away, once again looking out the view port.  “Jedi are not supposed to form attachments.  It clouds our judgement, often rendering us incapable of seeing the greater good outside of the well being of those we care about.  All the same, I know that I have formed attachments and I’m having a hard time letting go.”  

   A swell of emotion caught in your throat bringing the prickling promise of tears to yours eyes.  “I’m going to miss you Wolffe.”

   You could hear the clanking of his armor as he shifted away from you. 

   “You’ll be alright,” he said, dismissively.  “Once you have your own squadron, you’ll be too busy to think of us.”

   “Don’t say that.”

   “It’s true,” he countered, sharply.  “I’m a clone.  There are literally thousands of clones exactly like me spread across the galaxy, each programmed in the same way to do the same thing.  Our job is to be soldiers loyal to the republic, so that you don’t have to worry about us.  So that you can do your job and see the bigger picture.  You’ll forget about us, and me, and you’ll be fine.”

   You stared at him in stunned silence.  The aching in your chest was gone, replaced now with something hot and furious. 

   “No!” you snapped.  “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you ever say that! There aren’t any other clones like you.  Just like there aren’t any clones like Boost or Comet or Sinker or anyone else. You are your own person and there is no possible way I could ever forget you.  Do you think I’m heartless? Do you think don’t feel things like loyalty or love or…”

   You trailed off, unable to get the words out as hot tears streamed down your face.  

   Wolffe looked at you, stunned.  He almost looked like a statue. 

   Desperately, you wiped the tears away, trying to vain to spare what was left of your dignity.  You were so caught up in your own emotions, you didn’t hear the sound of Wolffe’s helmet dropping to the floor. 

   In an instant, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close in a tender embrace.

   Your body reacted in an instant, melting into his touch.  One of his hands found a place cradling your head against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his torso. 

   “I know you do,” Wolffe said, leaning down to speak softly into your ear. “I know it hurts.  Believe me, I know. The only thing I don’t know is what I’m going to do without you.”

   You took a breath, feeling yourself calm at his words and touch.  “I guess that’s something we’re both going to have to figure out.” 

   He let out a sigh before slowly relinquishing his hold. You both stepped back to look at each other, neither fully leaving the other’s arms. 

   Casually, as if he had done it hundreds of times before, Wolffe reached out a hand, and brushed a stray hair behind your ear. 

   In his defense, he had done it hundreds of times, often in the heat of battle and always with the lament that you needed to get a haircut if it was going to keep falling in your face.  But, you weren’t fighting.  There was no teasing remark or something else to cover his true intent. 

   His hand froze, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as if suddenly realizing just how intimate the gesture was.  

   Sensing his panic, you pressed your hand over his and leaned your cheek against his palm. 

   Wolffe stared at you in wonder. Then, cautiously he allowed his thumb to gently caress your cheek. 

   You smiled, telling him silently how much you savored him and this.

   It was the invitation he needed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Your heart leapt, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth starting to spread through your body, but it didn’t last.

   Wolffe pulled away his eyes wide. 

   “Y/N, are you–”

   You didn’t give him a chance to finish as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck so there could be no question. 

   You weren’t sure what came over you.  You honestly weren’t sure what came over him.  Neither of you were the type, and yet the idea of having to leave him drove you over the edge. 

   He responded in kind, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips were rough to the touch, but warm and kind as he tried to convey everything he felt for you in a single gesture. 

   You didn’t know how long you stood there.  All you knew was that it wasn’t long enough before you comm beeped.

   You pulled away with a huff on annoyance, glancing down at your wrist.  

   Wolffe didn’t allow you to linger as he cupped your cheek and pulled you into another kiss.  You held onto him as if that would somehow make the comm stop beeping. He kissed you again, and again, and again, but duty kept calling at an unrelenting pace. Eventually, you both had to admit defeat. 

   “Yes, what is it,” you answered. 

   “Sorry to disturb you Commander,” one of the troopers said.  “The captain wanted me to inform you we’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon and should be landing on Coruscant within the hour.”

   “Yes, thank you for informing me,” you said, feeling a sense of dread in your stomach.  “Tell Master Plo Koon I will meet him in the hanger bay.”

   The trooper gave an acknowledgement and the line went dead. 

   For a long moment, both you and Wolffe were silent.  The room suddenly felt much colder and all you wanted now was to stay in his arms just a little while longer.  But, you each had your duties. 

   “I better go check on the men,” he said. 

   You nodded, allowing him to step out of your hold as he bent down to pick up his dropped helmet. 

   He stood at attention, ever the soldier. You, in turn, straightened with the air of a Jedi Knight.  

   “Goodbye Commander Wolffe,” you said. “I wish you good fortune in the battles to come.”

   “Goodbye General Y/N.  May the Force be with you.” 

   He the turned and marched out of the room.  

   You watched him go until he was out of sight.  Feeling the ache more fiercely than before, you turned your eye to the view port just in time to watch the blue of hyperspace turn to starlines and then to stars with Coruscant floating among them. 

   Millions of people lived on that planet.  Billions more made up the whole galaxy.  It was your duty to think of them all. To keep in mind the greater good. And yet the only one of those billions and billions to occupy your mind was a single clone a deck below. 

   You let out a long sigh as you walked toward the hanger bay. Perhaps becoming a Jedi Knight wasn’t what you were always promised it would be. 

[whirlybirbs]

;   ---   SHATTERED HILT   /   01

summary: ru’kali survives order 66. cal kestis does, too. while cal spends his days on bracca, stripping starships for parts, ru spends her days earning her protection from the empire in the fighting pits on ordo eris; both do what it takes to survive. but, when a wayward quest and a plethora of owed debts lead cal kestis straight back to his fellow padawan -- a once shy girl turned raging fire -- the pit fighter is left with a choice: leave, or spend the rest of her life a pawn in a game much bigger than her. pairing: cal kestis / original female character, ru’kali lof word count: 2k a/n: i cannot remember the last time i wrote something that wasn’t a reader-insert, and i’m not sure how this will do -- feedback is genuinely appreciated on this, since i know i’m mostly a reader writer! everyone loved ru from her intro to my clone trooper squad, which you can read here! 

Ru’kali Lof startles awake to the sound of three loud, rough bangs on the door to her quarters. 

She wonders bitterly, as she blinks up at the ceiling, if she can just ignore the sound. With any luck, they’ll leave her alone and Ru can go back to bed --

Then, the knocks come again. Louder and faster. 

“Rise ‘n’ shine, sweetheart!”

Ru snarls.

Beneath the durasteel door, she can see the long shadow of someone shifting back and forth in their boots -- immediately, the Mirialan, as she stands and throws herself to the door, knows it’s Atticus. The sheer bombastic chaos that follows the bounty hunter swims through the force to greet her before she even opens the door.

When she does, he’s got an arm on the doorframe and he’s leering. 

Atticus Rex isn’t much to look at, nor is he kind nor smart, but he’s muscle -- his head is shaved in a tight buzz, littered with scars, and his muzzled grin is picked clean with a toothpick that hangs from his lips. 

He smells like day-old ale and sweat.

“Where y’ been, Ru?”

It leaks out of him like a jab. She has to restrain the snarl that threatens to leap across her face. Her attitude is sharp and wants to go straight for the Haxion Brood Lieutenant’s throat. 

“Asleep,” she bites, crossing her arms and cocking a hip as she goes to hit the switch and shut the door, “Do you mind?”

Atticus snorts, hand planted on the frame and forcing the door to stay open. 

Ru leans back, peering into her room, to eye the chronometer hanging on the wall. The digits read 1038 -- it’s late, and she’d finally fallen asleep after she’d managed to quiet down the usual roaring river in her mind. Not an easy task. 

"Get dressed,” the Bounty Hunter chirps, “S’ fight night, sunshine.”

--

Fight nights were common.

But, fight nights were Ru fought? Those were rare -- and though she’s sure Sorc Tormo would put her in the ring every night if he could, she’s also aware that to the Umbaran crime-lord she’s an asset. A big asset. A big, money-making asset that draws a big crowd and big bets.

Huge bets.

(The exact kind of bets that got Greez Dritus into this mess in the first place, and by proxy his new-found friend.)

Ordo Eris, on fight nights, becomes more like a city than the cold, lonely, terrible astroid colony it really is. The space station fills with scoundrels and thugs from all across the galaxy who traverse the rocky space around the arena’s hub to get a spot around the ring -- Ru eyes the growing crowd, nearly every attendee with credits in hand, as the lift carries her upwards to the top level of the arena’s loge.

Beside her Atticus flicks the smoldering bud of his deathstick down the shaft.

Speaking of Sorc Tormo, the sleaze ball greets Ru’kali with wide open arms and a devious grin. 

“Ah! My prized warrior princess!”

Ru cross her arms and swaggers forward -- the small rope of lucky beads tied to her sash tinkers as she does, knocking against the chromium smelted hilt of one of her two sabers. One is hers from when she was a Padawan. The other is a recent build and it’s temperamental. Using a stolen, mined kyber crystal is to blame, no doubt.

Master Yoda was right -- the crystals are supposed to pick the Jedi. 

Atticus meanders along behind you. Skulking as per usual.

Ru looks out past the arena to the screens bolted up along the pit. Pale blue eyes narrow tightly, the deep scar over her right eye warping slightly as she does. The broadcast is in the lower levels. Some idiot running around on the walls. Plugging wires in. 

A show, for sure.

Ru raise a brow.

“What’s all this about?” she asks, turning to eye Sorc Tormo.

The Umbaran man is eccentric, to say the least. His facial hair runs right down his chin in one fine line, green in color. That same green, punchy and vomit-reminiscent, echoes in his Canto Bight-esque outfit. Large, pompous sleeves and pants that are three sizes too tight. All green. 

He looks like seventy kliks of bad road, honestly. 

Hell, everyone on Ordo Eris does. 

Ru’kali is no exception -- she’s rougher than she was when she first arrived here. Littered in scars and bitter. The years of pit fighting have settled in her stance and though she’s athletic, she’s a rogue brawler with enough crackling, dangerous rage to power an entire Star Destroyer.

Fighting takes the edge off. Makes her feel less afraid. 

“Well,” the lone, pale fingers of the Umbaran curl around Ru’kali’s pale pink shoulders, nails drumming against the diamond shaped markings there, “I am glad you asked, my dear. We have a special contender for you --”

“Cut to the chase, Tormo.”

The egg shaped head of the Umbaran rolls as he steps away, waving off Ru’s evident irritation; the crime-lord gestures to the screen. “He’s friends with someone who owes me a lotta money. He was carrying this around --”

His fingers snap twice.

“Atticus --”

Ru’kali was not expecting Atticus Rex to procure, from the back of his belt, a lightsaber.

And she certainly wasn’t expecting him to hand it to Tormo and for the Umbaran to ignite it, presenting a glimmering yellow blade. 

The Mirialan’s face falls -- anger bubbles up there, warping the navy tattooed features of her face as she steps forward and yanks the hilt from the hands of the crime-lord.

Her lips twitches.

“What?” she sneers vengefully, “Did he pull this from a corpse, then?”

She has seen another Jedi’s saber three times now in this station. Once on the belt of a traveler who’d laughed in her face and waved the blue thing around, proudly proclaiming they’d bought it off clone trooper for drinking money. The second time, on a bounty hunter -- he’d murdered a Jedi Knight for Imperial credits, kept the blade though. The third, was now. 

Ru could only assume the weapon to be another stolen relic, a ground-in-the-dirt memory of her life before Ordo Eris. This contender probably had no idea how to use it, let alone the life this saber had before now.

A laxidasical wave. “Maybe. Don’t care. But! My sweet, sweet, Jedi -- I want you to kill him. Seeing two saber swordsmen dueling... Goodness, me oh my, that will certainly bring in the money, won’t it, Atticus?”

“Sure will.”

And it does.

--

Cal Kestis is having a pretty shit day.

Not that he’d ever say so -- no, because, sure, it might be terrible and he might be navigating some wild underground dungeon maze, but Cal has BD-1 back on his shoulder and that’s all that matters. 

He’s got a mission, he’s got BD-1, and despite being a little sore, he’s good. All good. Everything’s good. Totally good. 

As he rides the lift to the upper levels of this... place... Cal wonders if he’s gonna eat that sentiment.

The first thing he hears is the chants -- raucous roars of a large crowd. Before him lays a large square space, illuminated by stark spotlights and swarmed with drone droids, each with blinking red lights on their helms to show their recording status. 

It becomes abundantly clear to Cal that he’s suddenly in the spotlight. And, that the itching feeling that he was being watched was correct. 

The redheaded Jedi steps out from under the bay, suddenly exposed to the bright light of the arena. 

Around him on the upper decks are hundreds of people, all clamoring to get a view of him -- the large screens on the sides of the loge show him squinting, raising a hand and grimacing into the light. 

BD-1 gives a worried boowoop. 

“I got a bad feeling about this too, lil’ buddy.”

Suddenly, a holo-projection fizzles in before Cal -- large and tall and to the excitement of the crowd. The man’s appearance is met with a rise in cheers, rolling off the voices of the spectators with thirst for action. 

Sorc Tormo laughs.

“Ah, finally he arrives!” 

The projection waves wildly, spinning about, and Cal watches carefully as this eccentric ego-maniac waves his hand with a grandiose flourishes as he speaks. 

“We had action on how long it would take for you to get here!”

Yeah, well, BD-1 was kinda his priority.

Irritation bites at Cal’s features. The Jedi scowls. His stance is tense.

“And who are you?” Cal calls out, voice rising over the roar of the crowd.

“Ha ha ha! Who am I? I’m Sorc Tormo, baby! I’m the boss of this operation!”

The crowd goes wild at that, whoops and hollers serenading the arena to the tune of the crimelord’s name. A television drone swoops close to Cal’s head and the Jedi side-steps it with a disgusted look on his face. 

“Right,” Cal snarks, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Maybe not you, but to your friend Greezy Four-arms it does! You’ve got him to thank for gettin’ you into this pickle!”

Of course. 

Cere had made a comment off-hand about the pilot’s penchant for gambling -- not that Cal was any stranger to the concept. Back on Bracca, Prauf had muscled Cal into tagging along to a few card games here and there. And though the redhead never partook in wagering his entire week’s pay on precious metals, Prauf had once or twice. On those nights that Prauf lost -- because he always lost -- there was nothing that could lift the Abednedo’s mood. 

Not even a signature Cal Kestis smile 'n’ pat on the back. 

Cal could use one of those right about now. 

“Yeah, well, once I’m finished with you, I will thank Greez,” it comes out just as cocky as it feels -- and maybe Cal shouldn’t had tried the attitude. 

Either way, when this Sorc Tormo guy laughs and waves his hand, proclaiming, “No, no, my friend, you won’t be fighting me...”

Suddenly, the air becomes electric.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the crime-lord turns on a heel, gesturing to the crowd with the all the practiced cool of an entertainer, “Our lovely little guest will be going head to head with our favorite...”

There’s a crescendo of excitement. Cal notices an uptick on the counter on the broadcast screens -- he realize, quickly, that they’re bets and currently, someone named Fropolo’f is betting the most money against him. Real confidence booster that is. 

“Someone get baby his toy! He’s gonna need it!”

His lightsaber is launched from the loge, and the Jedi catches it quickly, igniting it on instinct as his skin crawls in anticipation. The redhead looks around, eyes cast on the crowds of smugglers and thugs lining the balcony.

The wide angle shot of fear on his face is painted across the rumbling arena’s screens.

Before Cal can bite in a retort, the echo of boots on durasteel begins -- coordinated and rhythmic. Boom... boom... boom... boom, boom, boom.

“You know her well -- a pure whirlwind of rage! She’s pink, she’s tatted, she’s daaaaaaaangerous!” 

Boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom.

BD makes a nervous boo-weeeeeeeep as the pace picks up. Cal swallows, gloved fist tightening nervously around the hilt of his glowing, golden blade. Green eyes dart around the square expanse of the arena, trying to get a gauge on where this opponent might appear from --

“Give it up for our girl...”

Boomboomboom, boomboomboom. 

“RUUUUUUUU’KALLLLI!”

The roar is deafening. 

Suddenly, the paneling in the floor separates, and from it emerges --

“...Ru?”

Ru’kali Lof is suddenly staring face-to-face with a ghost.

Her stance, wide-set with double blades humming in a hot white, seems to crack when she finally sees the face of her opponent.

She’s a handful of meters away but she’d know that flash of red hair anywhere.

Cal Kestis.

Cal fucking Kestis.

Oh, this is bad. 

This is really bad. 

[certifiedskywalker]

Saving You - Anakin Skywalker

For as long as you had known him, Anakin Skywalker had a knack for getting into trouble. Whether it was on a mission or through the words of the Jedi Council, Master Skywalker always seemed to find himself in hot water. Luckily for him, you always seemed to be ready to run to his aid at a moments notice.

“Do you ever tire of this General?” You glanced over at Commander Cody as the clone spoke. His voice was distorted slightly by the helmet, but you could still detect the hint of sincerity in his question. With a smile you turned back to the viewing port.

“War is tiring, Commander. Yet, everyday, here we stand.” “I wasn’t talking about the war, Master L/N.” “I know, Commander,” you sighed, “the answer remains the same.” The clone nods and turns to brief the platoon that was accompanying you on this mission.

You picked up on their murmurs, their voiced wonderings of the rescue. Blocking the noise out, you closed your eyes. A rush of wind rustled your cloaks, pushing your hood off of your head. The Force, like the clones, joked about. It teased you with the location of your mission; it knew you all too well. Many times before had you used the Force to locate Anakin. Sometimes it was similar to the situation surrounding you in the present moment. The reckless Jedi Knight had gotten himself captured, wounded in some fashion and needed your assistance. Like a trained hound, you came to his call; but it wasn’t obedience that pulled you towards his side.

No, it was something more. Through the years of shared training, of learning side by side, you and Anakin had bonded. Your Masters had sensed hints of it in your younger years but by the time you had both passed the Trials, there was nothing that could be done. Despite the rules the Council set, you and Anakin were one. It was far from what was considered traditional, as it was the need of the beast. The Jedi were strict in their teachings and even more strict with punishment. In order to hide your relationship, you and Anakin had to control yourselves. Much to your luck, Jedi training centered around discipline. In public, you held yourselves together. Any hint of affection that passed between you and Master Skywalker was read as platonic. There were those risky stolen glances and those rare lingering touches that snuck undetected. Those were the moments you cherished. It was those moments that gave you a taste of what it could be like. Public displays of affection, while frowned upon by the Jedi, had always been a source of curiosity for you. To have someone hold you that way for others to see; to have someone kiss you so openly. You imagined it must be exhilarating. Sadly, it was not in the cards for you or Anakin. It was through the Force where you gave him that reassuring peck; simulated a comforting hug while meters away; or held his hand despite being in your separate quarters. Part of you felt like you were merely imagining it. That those touches were manifested in your mind alone. Then, as if sensing your doubt, you would feel Anakin reach out. His strength in the Force would wrap around you, calming your worries. Now, the Force acted as your guide to him. You can almost see his form, tied up against a wall. Ahsoka’s presence is lost to you, the young girl must have escaped. At least, that is what you hoped. The outline of his being seemed to pull your towards it as you ordered the ship to land. The clones beside you jostled about while the Force kept you steady. “Master L/N, is he-”

“Follow me, Commander. Let the Force guide you.” You jumped from the troop carrier and, brandishing your lightsaber, darted inside the cave. Darkness enveloped you and the clones that trailed after you. Reaching out once more, you sensed Anakin’s crumpled form. “Be weary, whatever took him calls this cave its home.” “Roger that, General,” Cody said, gesturing to a portion of his troops. The group split then, with four troopers heading to the left and the others to the right. “Look out for Ahsoka Tano as well,” you added, “I do not sense her but I doubt she would leave her Master without helping him.” The commander nodded before following one the groups that had splintered off. With your troops sent out, you kept your pace and took the middle path alone. Using your saber as a source of light, you were able to make out two doors. “Anakin,” you whispered, reaching out with the Force once more. With its power, you felt yourself being pulled by the heart towards the left. “There you are.” Quickly, you made your way towards a large chamber. The air was musty, almost like the physical atmosphere of the planet had changed within it’s thick walls. If it wasn’t for the man chained against the wall, you would have taken notice of the other details that were etched into the stone surroundings. However, like always, Anakin blinded you. “Anakin,” you said as you rushed towards him. Falling to your knees, you cupped his face. “Anakin, please. Wake up. Please.” Your fingertips traced over his cheekbones to his chin as worry dripped from your words. Something must have struck Anakin in his unconscious state, because his eyelids fluttered as you spoke. “Y/N? Wh-what are you…” His bright blue eyes met your gaze, taking in your features as if it were the first time he was truly seeing you. His wrists jerked against the chains as he attempted to reach for you. Sensing his need, you stood up and bending the Force to aid in your effort, broke his bindings. Anakin fell to his knees before you and you knelt down before him. “I’m saving you,” you teased. Despite the humor in your words, sincerity and love oozed from your tone. The smallest of smile started in the corner of Anakin’s lips. As you felt yourself smile too, you brushed his long hair away from his face. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” “Y/N,” Anakin said, his voice still hoarse as he held you still. You stopped your attempt to stand and stared into his eyes. “What? Are you hurt?” “Just,” Anakin never finished his thought. Leaning forwards, he captured your lips with his. You felt the worry in your chest release as his lips melded to yours. His gloved hands cupped your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. Anakin’s nose nuzzled against your own as you moved your lips against his own. A small hum sounded from deep within his throat. “Well you must be fine. You’re still as dramatic as ever,” you said between breaths when you managed to pull yourself away from Anakin’s lips. “But we should really get out of here before-” As you spoke, you helped Anakin stand. Before you could finish your thoughts, your eyes landed on Ahsoka. Anakin’s apprentice stood with her hands curled against her hips as she stared at the two of you. You could sense her shock and worry, even without the aid of the Force. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized that Ahsoka had witnessed the kiss. “Ahsoka,” Anakin started but she merely raised a hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, turning away from you both, “we can talk about it later. Commander Cody is waiting. We handled the creature.” You glanced at Anakin as the Togruta girl walked away, her lekku swaying with her gait. His blue eyes held a saddened glimmer in them, his regret readable as it showed across his face. “I wanted to tell her….one day…” Your brow furrowed at his hurt, wishing you could do something to ease the pain. “Anakin, she would have known eventually.” “I know,” he whispered, turning his face away from you. You straightened, lifting him up slightly as his left arm was wrapped across your shoulders. At the movement, he turned his somer gaze back to you. You leaned up, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “She’s right, we can talk about this later. I want to see you truly safe first.” Anakin nodded at your words, the hints of a smile playing at his lips. He admired your wisdom and your strength, wishing he possessed both as you do. Even when he was chained, Anakin’s thoughts were always of you, never himself. He longed to see you again, he knew he had to. He had something to tell you. “I-I love you, Y/N,” he replied. A wave of heat washed over you when his words hit your ears. You turned to him in shock, eyes wide and full of something Anakin couldn’t place. He had imagined it was fear, maybe even anger. While your ideals fell beside his own, Anakin knew you held the Jedi Order in high esteem. Betraying their teachings about love...he was unsure about how you would react.

In the moment you smiled and leaned in to kiss him once more, Anakin knew everything would be alright. You saved him in more ways than one. “I love you too, Skywalker.”

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Empress' heart (Empress!Rey x Reader)

Request: I really love your work and I was wanting to make a request for Empress!Rey if that’s okay! I was thinking of something for a second part to “You Matter to Me” but in this one, she is working on winning the reader’s trust back since the incident and she wins it in the end after she finds the reader badly injured in the snowy forest and rescues her as she helps to heal her injury.

Words: 1,745

A/N: I've been trying to finish my drafts but things get in the way. Anyway, thanks for requesting I hope you enjoy this little thing.

The weather was cold, the air hitting your skin made you shiver but it was worthy, the view had no comparison: high snowy mountains in the distance, a dense forest below them, the bright fresh snow contrasting with the deep green of the tall trees. It was a really breathtaking landscape and the new Empress palace had the perfect location to observe it.

“You’ll freeze out here.” you heard her soft voice as she stood next to you on the balcony. Rey gave you a smile.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you asked her contemplating the snow falling, moving in rhythm with the wind.

“It is.” she told you catching some snowflakes with her hand “Such a shame they melt away so soon.” she said. "What you think about this place, Y/N? You like it?" She asked a bit serious.

"It certainly better than the old one." you told her, Rey analyzed your words and features carefully as she did ever after the incident, she didn't want to hurt you in anyway so she was carefully with both her words and her actions. "It's a beautiful palace, Rey" you said sincerely.

She gave you a tiny smile and nodded.

"Consider it you're new home." She said. You looked at her for a moment, you could get used to that place and this softer side of her.

"I'm supervising some things on the other side of that mountain today" she said gesturing over the nearest mountain. "I want you to come with me, Y/N." She said in a rather imperative way but corrected herself instantly "I mean, would you like to come with me?" She gazed at you waiting for an answer, begging you with her beautiful eyes to accept.

You chuckled at the sight of the powerful Empress Palpatine begging you to accompanying her, only when she was around you she was this soft, this humble and this authentic.

After the incident she tried to be careful, gentle. Afraid to ruin things between you again. Despite her best attempts to hide it you noticed her doubting every time she reached to take your hand and pulled you closer, small little actions that meant so much.

"Yes" you finally said "I'd like to see more of this place." A wide smile curved her lips.

"Great!" She said "I will order to prepare everything for our departure as soon as possible." she told you already walking back to the inside of the room leaving you alone in the small balcony.

Moments like this with her reminded you why you fell for her, for the vulnerability she showed you and the kind side of her that no one else had ever seen. And though she did everything to win your forgiveness, the memory of that day warned you maybe you should trust her completely, as much as you wanted she was still a dangerous woman.

****

The flight was short but the windows of the small ship let you admire the vast forest of the planet, you even discover some frozen lakes that would be a perfect place to swim in warmer season, Rey agreed with you sitting in her throne like seat in the small ship, she assured you the weather was warmer in different times of the year so and she insisted to take you to the most beautiful lake once the snow melt away. It was still weird that this whole planet was hers.

The pilot landed gracefully on a platform in the side the mountain and as soon as you arrived a troop escorted you and the Grand Empress Palpatine inside. A general bowed his head when she saw her.

“Imperial Highness” he greeted “We’re delighted with your presence, I’m in charge of this facilities. You arrive just in time for my weekly report, I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with our advances.”

“Well then, general” she said “Lead the way” She started walking behind the man and noticed you standing in your place. “Y/N, you coming?”

You were amazed with the place, a base built inside a mountain with only a platform to land a few ships. You had to admit whoever built this was good doing the work, an impenetrable base within this big mountain. And yet, your favorite part was the platform, suspended in the air just held by a few beams, it had the most breathtaking view at both the frozen landscape and the abyss under it.

“You wanna stay” she said when she found the way your face seemed to shine with excitement the more you looked around. “Fine, I’ll be back soon.” she said.

“Thank you” you said giving her a brief hug.

“I want an escort looking after her” Rey ordered the general and with a move of his head four troopers stepped closer to you. “Proceed now. general.” she said finally follow him as he guided her through the place.

While the ruler of the new growing Empire was gone inside the building you stayed in the platform contemplating the horizon and enjoying the way the cold wind hitted your face.

“Ma’am, careful. You’re too close to the edge” a kind soldier told you only then you realized you were in fact a few feets away from the end of it. You took a last look at the precious picture in front of you.

“You’re right” you said walking towards him and the rest of the stormtroopers custodying you. You sighed. “Better get inside. Is there a warm place where I can wait for the Empress?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am” He nodded “You’ll be comfortable in level 23. We´ll take you there.” he said.

Nodding you started your way inside the mountain. You haven’t even left the platform when a small ship emerged from the abyss and opened fire aiming directly at the only visible entrance. Instinctively you dropped to the floor in a desperate act to protect yourself from the blasters.

The stormtroopers that were protecting you shot their own blasters towards the enemy’s ship as they kept calling for reinforcements. A hatch opened revealing a whole battalion of troopers ready to run into the battle and you smiled when you notice Rey was leading them. Her concerned gaze met yours for a moment but then the first bomb dropped shaking the ground beneath you.

“Y/N!” she rushed to help you.

The second bomb hitted the metal beams that barely held the floor still to the side of the mountain. You met Rey’s terrified gaze as she ran has fast as she could to rescue you but it was too late, within a second the platform dropped to the abyss.

******

Slowly your eyes flutter open as you felt yourself becoming conscious again lying on the snow covered ground of this ancient forest, between the tall trees you glanced at the top of the mountain where just minutes before you stood, it was a long fall.

Trying to move you felt your body aching in pain, weak and sore. You noticed then the pain in the side of your ribcage, taking a look you saw the open flesh and the blood running, the crimson liquid staining the bright white snow. If the fall hadn’t kill you this big wound sure would.

The pain in your body got replaced with a terrible sensation of coldness that spreaded from your wound to all your body, the snow falling over you made you only shiver more in pain. Then there was warmth, a pair of warm familiar arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into her embrace.

"Rey" you mumbled recognizing her touch, her scent, her warmth.

"I’m here” she murmured “I’m here, Y/N. Hold on." she said with a deep concern in her voice "You'll be fine" she told you "just hold on."

You looked up at her, Rey had her eyes closed as some strands of dark hair fell over her concentrated face, a solitary tear running over her face as she kept you close to her. She sighed one last time before placing her hand over your hurted skin and after a few seconds you felt something happening in your body, an energy flowing through every inch of you that slowly calmed your pain and provided you warm when you felt your body freezing completely. An unknown yet familiar sensation, the Force.

Rey stayed focused on her task, eyes closed all the time until the moment your wound started to close for your surprise, the running blood ceased and the open flesh seemed to reconnect itself coming back together and then it was completely closed leaving no mark behind.

After staring amazed at the side of your body you finally met Rey’s warm loving eyes, unable to talk she just gave you a slight smile as the tears pooled on her eyes.

"Y-you came to save me" you murmured, you felt a lot of emotions, confusion mostly, why would her even care to save a girl she had stated before was useless to her, the Empress on the new order. "Why?"

"Because I've discovered how much you mean to me” she murmured “I love you, Y/N" she silently cried caressing your face and holding you in her embrace.

"When did you discovered this?" you asked.

"Since all my decision started to revolve around you" she told you. So it was truth, after all those times suspecting she was in love with you, spending time with her and knowing the girl behind the intimidating ruler of the Empire "Since I couldn't think of life without you in it, Y/N”

And you loved her too, more than you could possible say. This, her final act of devotion and affection, meant the world to you, allowed you to fully trust in her now and finally let you completely fell for her.

Finding not enough words to express her the way you felt about her you propped up a little and gently guided her to meet you lips.

“I love you, Rey" you murmured on her lips once the kiss was over, delighted with the feeling of her soft lips on yours.

She looked at you with such tenderness before leaning again to capture your lips in a loving kiss. There was not need of words, just the two of you holding each other close, you felt her emotions, her feeling for you. She really cared about you. You had a place in the Empress' heart.

Tagging: @1-800-depressedlesbian , @xgaygremlinx

(In case you want to be tagged for specific things or everything I write, just let me know)

[vintagedaydreams]

Knives Out Imagine Part Three

Detective Blanc x Female Reader

This is the END! Thanks so much for reading! I enjoyed this little story – hope you did too!

Warnings: Spoilers!!, mention of death/suicide/murder, language, suggestive themes at the end, innuendo and such because, I’ll say it again, suspenders!!

((On a side note, did anyone else know which Murder, She Wrote episode it was after just the two seconds on screen?? …because I did and I’m not sure how I feel about that. 😊 ))

@joalsglasses  @yo-skeletons  @elroymarvelous @bella-maria2018

  You were just putting the finishing touches on your lunch, when you heard a loud knock at your cottage door.

With an expectant grin, you headed over and opened it, revealing Benoit who looked…upset?

“That family,” he growled out, as he pushed his way into your cottage, though he squeezed your arm with a gentleness that belied his apparent irritation as he swept past you.

You felt a flush sweep across your face and you quickly shut the door before turning to face him with what you hoped was a nonchalant look.

You failed. That damn man was going to be the death of you.

Not only was he ranting about the family, his voice deepening and accent thickening in such a way that you honestly weren’t listening to what he was saying as much as how he was saying it, but he had also discarded his suit jacket and was currently rolling up his shirt sleeves in jerky, frustrated movements.

Hot damn.

If you thought you were red in the face before, you must’ve been fire engine red by now. You subtly reached up to make sure you weren’t drooling. ‘Cause you pretty sure you were.

“…don’t you think?” you tuned back in to hear Benoit ask. You blinked at him, wide eyed and quite mortified that you’d been checking him out rather than listening to what he was saying.

“I don’t...I mean, I wasn’t…I—what was the question?” you stuttered out. Benoit looked you over, brow furrowed, before his eyes suddenly took on a devilish glint and you swallowed thickly as he seemed to stalk his way over to you. You couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled down his torso as he moved, feeling your mouth dry up at the sight of suspenders.

The ‘last of the gentleman sleuths’ indeed.

“Now, I wonder what has caught your attention so much that you missed the entire conversation,” Benoit murmured, his voice a husky tone you had not heard before. You felt your entire body tingle as you realized how close he was. Every time you breathed, your chest brushed his slightly and you just knew your face was red once again. If it had ever stopped being red to begin with.

“(Y/N)?” Benoit purred, breath ghosting over your lips. You gulped, staring up into electric blue eyes, but unable to say anything. You weren’t honestly sure what would come out of your mouth if you did try to speak anyway. Probably something incredibly embarrassing.

“Well,” the detective suddenly grinned after a few more moments of silence, looking all too satisfied with himself, “since a conversation seems to be out of the question for the moment, how about lunch? Do you have something here, or should we go out?”

Benoit took a few steps back and you suddenly felt able to breath again. Nodding somewhat absently, you gestured to the kitchen and you were gifted with a dastardly smirk before Benoit brushed past you and headed into the kitchenette. 

You released a shaky breath and closed your eyes once he disappeared into the other room.

Yup. The man was going to be the death of you.

Thankfully for your already shaken frame of mind, Benoit seemed to behave himself for the rest of the afternoon.

Lunch passed pleasantly, and you were able to actually make intelligent conversation, (even with suspenders and forearms on display across the table from you), and you were ridiculously proud of yourself for that.

Instead of eating and dashing, as you were a bit worried he’d do, Benoit stayed in your cottage for hours after lunch. You both spoke through the entire afternoon, though not really about the case. Instead, you spoke to get to know each other and you found that you actually had quite a few things in common.

Which didn’t help the crush that was growing at an alarming rate.

Benoit finally called it a day when you couldn’t keep your yawns to yourself anymore. It was early, but you hadn’t slept much the night before, thanks to the man in front of you plaguing your thoughts. Ever the gentleman, Benoit left when he saw you beginning to nod off, letting himself off and locking the door behind him.

You slowly got ready for bed, before collapsing onto your mattress. You were exhausted, but exhilarated at the same time. You didn’t exactly know what was going on between you and Detective Blanc, but you were looking forward to finding out.

--------

The next morning found you once again up a ladder, but this time, you had it leaning against the house, and you were working on cleaning up some of the climbing ivy that covered parts of the building. Wouldn’t do for it climb right over windows or into gutters.

“Good morning,” you heard from the foot of the ladder and you looked over your shoulder to see Benoit standing there, thankfully all covered up in his heavy wool sweater jacket.

“Good morning,” you returned with a grin and a nod. “What brings you here this early?”

“I was hoping to steal some of your time again, (Y/N). If you can spare it.”

You turned as much of your body as you could without falling off the ladder to look down at him.

“What do you need, Benoit?”

“Someone to bounce ideas off of again. I need to talk this all out and I was hoping you could help with that. If you can concentrate today.”

You gaped at the playful smirk that stole across his face and your face heated.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “yeah. Yeah, I can help you out, Benoit. But if it’s okay with you, can we continue outside today? I need to get this done.”

You actually didn’t need to get this done, at least not today, but you were not going to let that man get you both inside and distract you so badly this time. You’d show him that you could still concentrate and keep up with his conversation! …You just wouldn’t mention that the only way you could do that was if he was in about three layers and outside in 30-degree weather.

You were so screwed.

“Of course,” came the amused response from below you. “Whatever you need.”

You bit your lip hard on that one. Whatever you need, indeed. Boy, was that list growing steadily and it all involved the man beneath your ladder too. But best to derail that train of thought before you lost your concentration again.

“Now, there’s a piece to this puzzle that I’m missing, (Y/N),” Benoit began, and you used all your admittedly limited concentration to follow along with everything he said. You could daydream, (and ogle the man), at a different time.

As Benoit began recapping all that had happened, both at the will reading and before, you actually stopped working and turned back to face him as best you could.

“Wait, wait, wait. So Marta was his beneficiary? Harlan left her everything?”

“Yes,” was the simple reply, blue eyes looking at you carefully. You suddenly threw your head back and laughed.

“Oh, I am so sorry I missed that! I bet that absolutely killed the rest of the family! How’d they take it?” you asked eagerly. Finally! Ol’ Harlan took his blasted family down a few hundred pegs!

Benoit gave a chuckle and dutifully played back the family’s reactions, his grin growing wider each time you laughed delightedly.

“Oh, I hope she kicks them all out and leaves them with nothing,” you sang as you turned back to the ivy. “They certainly don’t deserve any more than that!”

“I would hope so too, but I have a feeling she’ll help them out.”

You snorted as you tore off a few branches of ivy and tossed them down, “Yeah, wouldn’t surprise me. Marta is such an angel, I love her. But she’s too damn nice. But, enough about that. Sorry to interrupt. You were saying?”

Benoit kept up his talking, sometimes repeating the same thing over and over, but in different ways as you kept working, sometimes moving the ladder to get to another section. Listening to it all from his point of view, you agreed.

Something was off; there was something missing. But unfortunately, you had absolutely no idea what. When you told Benoit as much, he smiled and assured you that you were helping immensely, just by letting him bounce ideas off of you. Even if a few of them were so ridiculous, they made you laugh again. But you secretly suspected that was his ploy all along.

Benoit was right in the middle of spinning another crazy scenario when his phone went off. After a brief conversation, he raised a hand in farewell to you and started running back to the driveway, still on his phone.

You watched him go with a furrowed brow, worried. That worry increased when he practically peeled out of the driveway, but you turned back to you work once he was out of sight.

Hopefully, he’d tell you when he returned.

------------

It was later that afternoon, much later, when Benoit returned, this time with Marta in her car. Neither one seemed to notice you as they went right inside and you went back to your work in the yard.

You desperately hoped that everything was okay. Neither one had seemed in a good mood and you hoped it had nothing to do with whatever made Benoit leave in such a rush that morning.

You zoned out as you worked, mind running in circles about what could have happened, and what was happening right now inside, and you jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Spinning, you saw Trooper Wagner looking at you somewhat worried.

“Miss (Y/L/N), are you alright? I called your name a few times, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, face flushing. “I was lost in thought.”

Trooper Wagner looked like he was going to question you further, but shook his head slightly before saying, “Detective Blanc would like to see you inside, if you can.”

You blinked, surprised, but stood, brushing yourself off and followed Trooper Wagner inside and back into the Knife Room.

To your surprise, there was only Benoit, Detective Elliot, Marta and Ransom in the room. You threw Ransom a confused look, though he didn’t see it since he was sitting, facing away from you.

Why on earth was that prick here? You were honestly surprised he hadn’t cut and run. Then again, if Marta had gotten everything… Oh dear.

You tuned into what Benoit was already revealing, this time having no problem concentrating on what he was saying, though you did notice in the back of your mind that he was once again jacket-less with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

The more Benoit revealed, the more disgusted and horrified you became. Ransom…he did that? To his own grandfather? And poor Marta… He tried to frame her and then used her when that didn’t work and all for…

And Fran? He’d taken out Fran too? Because she saw what he was doing and...oh, Fran. Why didn’t you just go to the police? Ransom may have been a trust fund baby, but he was so much stronger than her. And he not only attacked her but again framed Marta? Good, sweet Marta?

You felt anger thrum through you suddenly and you desperately wished you had bashed Ransom over the head with a shovel years ago. There was plenty of property, plenty of places to hide a body and no one would have been the wiser. They would have assumed he was just off and doing his own thing, not that he’d been taken out by one of the ‘help’.

It was no less than what that bastard deserved.

A shout brought your focus back to the present and you watched, wide eyed and horrified as Ransom jumped at Marta, knife in hand. They collapsed on the floor together and you shut your eyes, sure you had just seen the only good person involved with this awful family murdered by the self-serving, greedy, pretentious little shit.

You were not sure you could take another death. Definitely not Marta’s!

Ransom’s soft exclamation made you tentatively crack an eye open and you collapsed on the seat next to you in sheer relief when you saw that Marta was alive and okay. Shook up, but okay.

Heart beating widely, you closed your eyes again, leaning back in the chair as you heard the Detective and Trooper take Ransom into custody.

This was all a bit much for you. And Marta! Poor Marta, to be going through what she did. To think that she had thought she was responsible for Harlan’s death all that time… Why hadn’t she come to you? Asked for help? Tried to tell you what was going on?

You snapped your eyes open to look at Benoit. When did he know? When had he found out that Marta was a ‘good nurse’ and it wasn’t her fault? Hell, when had he found out what had happened? As of this morning, he was apparently missing a very important piece to all this.

Benoit caught your eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head, gesturing slightly to Marta.

You nodded back. Right. Marta definitely came first. You’d, hopefully, get questions answered later.

Heaving yourself off the chair, you slowly approached her, still laying on the ground.

“Marta?” you murmured softly, registering that Benoit moved back to the other side of the room to give you two space, without leaving.

Brown eyes shot to yours and Marta was suddenly up and wrapping her arms around you, still shaking.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! I didn’t want to worry you, and I thought maybe you might blame me, even though it was an accident and then Ransom helped me get away from the family and he tricked me into telling him what I’d done and he seemed so genuine and I thought that I could trust him, and—”

“Marta,” you interrupted, “Marta! Stop, stop talking. It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m not mad at you. I wished you would have come and talked to me, yes. But I understand. That was… a lot for Harlan to put on you, even though he meant well. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just,” you pushed her away slightly so you could meet her eyes, “know that I would not have blamed you, okay? You heard Benoit. You’re a good nurse. And even if you had accidentally mixed up the medication, it would have been an accident. You are the best thing that’s happened to Harlan in forever. Never forget that. Okay?”

Marta sniffed, nodding, before pulling you back in for a hug.

“I didn’t do anything with him,” she blurted suddenly after a few moments of silent hugging. “I don’t know why he left me everything but it wasn’t like that, not like they all suggested.”

You barked a laugh, feeling more lighthearted than you had since Harlan’s death.

“Marta, I certainly know better than to think that there was anything between you and Harlan other than friendship. He left you everything because the man knew you’d do good with it and that his family was not worth their weight in shit.” Cue a snort from Benoit’s side of the room. “Please, Marta. Don’t take anything they say to heart. They’re a bunch of jealous, selfish, greedy assholes and you’re so far above their league. You’re a good person, Marta. That’s why Harlan left everything to you.”

You gave her a smile, standing up before reaching down to help her up.

“Now, come on. Let’s go get something to drink to settle both of our nerves, okay?”

You looked over your shoulder at Benoit as you and Marta left the room and he gave you a nod and a smile.

Good. Hopefully he’d come and find you at your cottage once you had Marta all settled.

It didn’t take as long as you thought it might, getting Marta set up with a blanket and some coffee. You gave a small smile as she chose Harlan’s mug, “My House, My Rules, My Coffee”, and you hoped the rest of the family would see it. Not only was it Harlan’s favorite mug, but the house was now Marta’s. Beautiful irony.

Oh, you sincerely hoped that she kicked them all out on their rears.

You slipped out to your cottage once Marta was set. She looked like she may need a little bit of time to herself to come to terms with all that had been revealed just a half hour prior. It was a lot to take in. She had a lot of guilt that she had been needlessly carrying around, thanks to both Ransom and Harlan. She needed some time to get her head on straight.

And you? Well, you were actually going for something stronger than coffee after that.

What an absolute mess. A tragedy of errors. Oh, Harlan, you theatrical idiot.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the whiskey and a glass out of your cupboard. Usually, you mixed it but right now, you needed it strong.

You had just lifted the cup to your lips when your cottage door opened and Benoit walked in.

You didn’t have a chance to do more than blink at him before he was right in front of you, gently taking the glass from your frozen fingers and setting it down on the counter.

“What—”

Your back meeting the kitchen wall behind you cut off your sentence and you stared wide eyed at the man pressed against you, his arms bracketing you in on either side.

You were pressed so close to him, you could feel his chest move with every breath and a full body shiver ran through you. His blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he noticed.

Shit. And he wasn’t even showing off his suspenders this time!

“Tell me if I’m wrong, (Y/N), but I think we have some…chemistry between us that I’d like to explore further.”

Your mind blanked out for a moment as he dipped his head; you were sure he was going to kiss you. Instead, he brushed his lips across your cheek to your ear and hello, erogenous zone you didn’t know you had.

“What do you think?” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your ear as he spoke.

What did you think? You thought that your brain just short circuited, all thoughts about the case completely deserted you, because the only thing you could focus on was his scent, the feel of his chest pressed against yours, and the fact that his lips were not on yours right now. Why weren’t they on yours?

Your heart skipped a few beats as you felt his lips pull up into a smile.

“As much as I’d like to take your silence as you being swept away by my presence,” he said teasingly, and the small part of your brain that was still semi functioning scoffed – the bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you! – “I’d much rather hear it from your lips, sweetheart.”

A small sound escaped you, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. That accent murmuring in your ear and a pet name? This man was going to be the death of you!

His low chuckle reverberated through you. “Not quite what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”

Deliriously, you found yourself certainly hoping he’d take it. And you. Here will do just fine, thanks.

Benoit pulled back just far enough to be able to see your face and he chuckled again. Probably at the dazed look on your face. Were you drooling again?

“Now, Y/N, before we go too much farther, how about dinner, hm?”

You blinked, desperately trying to get your brain to reboot. After all of that, he was suddenly talking about dinner?

“…What?” you managed to get out after a moment.

Blue eyes twinkled at you. “My momma always taught me to treat a woman to dinner first, Y/N. Preferably more than one.”

You must’ve had some doozy of an expression on your face because Benoit actually laughed and then cupped your face. “In this case, I think that Momma will be content with just the one. What do you say? Dinner first?”

Your brain suddenly jumped back into gear with a vengeance. The sooner you two had dinner then the sooner you could—

“Let’s go!” You ducked around Benoit and bolted for your jacket in the other room, the man’s laughter following you the whole way.

Sure, sure. You’d do dinner first.

But only if you couldn’t convince the man otherwise on the way into town.

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 13 Interrogations

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Hello everyone! Here is chapter 13, as promised! There are some references to torture in this one, so be aware of that, and Kylo Ren does hurt someone while interrogating them, which is described in the story.

In your mind, three things happened at once: the sound of the blaster shot echoed in your ears, a scream pierced the air, and the impact, not from the plasma bolt, but from the general, sweeping you into his arms and pulling you out of harm's way. His hand cradled the back of your neck to protect your head, and you hit the floor, the weight of him pressing against you, shielding you from the attack. The room was silent for a moment. All you could hear was the general’s breathing, heavy against the skin of your neck.

Outside your line of sight, chaos erupted. You nudged Hux gently, and he paused before rolling off of you, his other arm still warm and firm around your waist behind your back. You managed to stand, pulling him to his feet as well, and then adjusted your dress; the neckline had slipped dangerously low from your tumble, and your cheeks went red, although the general pretended not to notice, shielding you delicately from view. The crowd was frantic, people fleeing towards the exits only to be cut off by Storm Troopers who were blocking the doors to stop anyone from escaping. It was protocol for any attempted assassinations. 

Assassination. God, was that something you’d have to worry about now? The plasma bolt hovered in the air, only a few feet away from the podium where you had been standing, a grim reminder of what could have happened if the others had not acted so quickly. You searched the room for Ren and found him standing by his seat, the strain of exertion clear in his posture, and you knew that it had taken considerable effort for him to stop the shot at such short range. He couldn’t hold on anymore, and the plasma bolt collided with the wall behind the stage, the sound of it echoed by a cry from the guests, who had now stopped their futile dash to the doors and instead turned back to see what the hell had happened.

Phasma had subdued the shooter on her own, taking his blaster, removing the helmet from his head. It wasn’t one of your Troopers; you had never seen the man before in your life. He was handsome, in a morbid way, with black hair wild and messy from the helmet, and sharp cheekbones—a face carved from stone. The look in his eyes was anything but stony: his face was full of an unfettered loathing as he looked at you from across the ballroom. “Get him out of here,” Phasma ordered, and two Troopers materialized to escort the impostor third out of the room through the now silent and waiting crowd. All eyes turned to you. 

This would be a defining moment; you had to react carefully. If you ran now, if you showed any fear, it would be the start of a reputation that would follow you throughout your career in the Order. It would find its way to the Resistance, to the HoloNet, would echo around the galaxy into the waiting ears of every potential enemy and supporter. Would you be known as nothing more than a young, silly girl in a low-cut dress who fled at the first sign of trouble? Never.

“It seems at least one person thinks that my speech has gone on too long,” you began, smoothing your skirt and hoping to look at ease, as if attempts on your life happened every day. A few people tittered nervously at your joke, and you relaxed, growing more confident in your decision, “perhaps we should move on to the dancing?”

The small transport was terribly cramped, the tension stifling as you, General Hux, Ren, and the prisoner made your way back to the Finalizer. In a fit of uncharacteristic indulgence, Hux removed his suit jacket and tie, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, hoping to make himself more comfortable, but it was without success. The party was over now, and the guests—while a little nervous—had recovered quickly, dancing and socializing as they were accustomed to at other parties where no one’s life was threatened. You had played off the ordeal incredibly, and Hux was impressed. He had watched you closely the rest of the night as you participated in the festivities with enthusiasm, charming everyone in sight, the whole room enamored with the young, new and brave lieutenant general. He, too, had tried to focus on the party, and even though it had been difficult to resist the powerful urge to run off to somewhere safe with you in tow, he had managed. 

It seemed that Pryde had been thinking the same thing. Multiple times during the evening, the general had found Pryde watching him, shooting daggers with his venomous gaze, as if it had been Hux’s fault that you had almost been shot instead of the opposite. He had ignored the looks rather well, but they left him with a creeping chill. 

And still, an even stronger feeling lingered, one that both embarrassed him and thrilled him to his core. The moment he tackled you to the ground should not be the one stuck in his mind, but it was, replaying over and over again, slower each time, more detailed. He had no way to know what it had looked like from the outside, but inside, it had felt . . . breathtaking, in the best way, like you were falling in slow motion, the fabric of your skirt wrapping its way around his legs, as if you were diving into a bed of rose petals and not to the cold and unwelcoming floor of the ballroom. He imagined it was like the cover of those romance novels he had always been fascinated by but had never been brave enough to pick up. He couldn’t forget the sensation of his hand at the back of your neck, like it was made to hold you in just this way, and the look on your face as he stared into your eyes: no trace of panic, almost serene, but holding something deeper beneath the surface, as if you were about to ask a question he had been longing to hear and he already knew that the answer would be yes.

You were sitting next to him in the transport, still dressed for the party as well. It was small, with few seats, and Ren was standing up against the wall. You looked at the prisoner with a casual curiosity and the man stared back with venom.

“Would you like something to drink?” You spoke to him, your voice light, almost friendly, and he said nothing in response; there was a gag over his mouth, but he nodded after serious thought. Standing from the couch, you grabbed a canteen from nearby and moved to sit beside the would-be killer, but Ren grabbed you by the arm as you scooted past him, stopping your approach.

“You can’t be serious.” He had taken the mask off now that you were in a private setting, and his face betrayed more than just worry under Hux’s scrutiny. It made the general nervous; how had things between the two of you changed so quickly? Was it really so dangerous to leave you alone with him? Hux would have to deal with that problem later.

“What’s he going to do, Ren?” you asked, attempting to pull away, “He’s cuffed and there’s three of us. If he tries anything, just kill him.” You moved towards the bench again, but Ren gripped your arm tighter, his growing frustration matching your own. Both of you turned to look at Hux expectantly, hoping for support. The general was at a loss for words; seeing that Ren expected Hux to side with him was much too strange.

“Let her talk to him,” He said, shrugging, and a victorious smirk splashed across your face. Ren let go of you, but he made his fury at the general apparent, huffing and glaring, leaning back against the wall with passive frustration. You ignored his whining and sat by the prisoner, gently untying the gag and taking the back of his head in your hand, lifting the canteen to his lips for him to drink. 

“What’s your name?” you asked softly, as swallowed the water. He looked at you curiously, but made no response.

“Who sent you?” You asked again, your voice so low and calm and terribly at odds with the situation at hand that Hux had to clench his jaw to keep from speaking. The prisoner nudged the canteen away from his face roughly when he finished, and stared at you, licking his lips and looking reflective. For a moment Hux thought that the man might speak, and he leaned forward to listen, watching as the man moved closer to you as if to whisper a secret, and then without warning, spat in your face.

Hux was out of his chair before you could stop him, the loud smack echoing against the durasteel walls as he slapped the prisoner with the back of his hand. The man tried to shield himself with his arms, still cuffed in front of him, and you looked to Hux, your own hand raised in warning, pressing into his abdomen to keep him at a distance. He stopped, the heat of your fingers burning into the skin of his midriff, and the unspoken communication between you sent a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s fine, General.” You spoke calmly, but there was a warning look in your eyes as you wiped the spit off of your cheek with the back of your hand. Hux couldn’t move, torn between the need to demonstrate his trust in you and the intense desperation to protect you from further harm. It seemed that you recognized his internal struggle, and your hand moved from his stomach to his side, your thumb tracing a wide half-circle across his midsection, your hand still firm, but gentler now, comforting.

“It’s fine, Armitage,” you said quietly, and the sound of his name from your lips tipped the scales for Hux. He found his seat again, while Ren’s glare burned into the side of his head.

“Tell me who you’re working for,” you tried again, addressing the prisoner.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he said, his voice a low rasp, and he stared up at the ceiling of the transport, his cheek red where Hux had hit him. 

“Fine. Have it your way. Let’s try this instead: stop me if I’m wrong,” you turned to face him, observing him carefully, and the man watched you, surprised, “You’re not Resistance, I don’t think. They have no reason to target me, especially with how many high-ranking officials were in that room. I’m sure I’m pretty low on their list.”

“There are lots of others who might want to hurt the Order though, and they’re usually willing to pay. You’re probably a bounty hunter, but not a very good one, it seems. Most guild bounty hunters are trained vigorously; training that includes instruction to refuse food and drink in the event of capture.” You paused to look at the man pointedly, and his face contorted in rage, but you continued on.

“That means that you’re probably hiring yourself out independently to people who don’t know any better. The First Order has many enemies, but most of them are committed to the guilds, despite the higher rates. I’m guessing that you were contracted by someone low on funds and desperate to make a name for themselves, a young businessman of some kind, or maybe a fledgling politician?” You stood from the bench, hands on your hips and your head cocked to one side, like you’d just puzzled out a difficult riddle instead of discerning the details of a complicated murder plot.

“So, how did I do?” You asked, and the man roared in anger, launching himself at you, tackling you to the ground and reaching for your throat. Before Hux could react, a loud bang echoed through the ship as the man flew into one of the durasteel walls, pushed from his attack by Ren, who ran to your side and helped you to your feet. The prisoner made no move from where he lay, conscious, but only just, a thin streak of blood running from the back of his head down his neck.

“I’ll assume that means that I’m correct,” you addressed the prisoner, your chest heaving from the exertion of fighting him off, “and I’d like to remind you that the next time you’re being interrogated, I won’t be in the room with you. It will be one of them-” you gestured behind you, to Hux and to Ren, “and they will not be quite so kind.”

The next morning, Ren studied you silently as you walked with him down the hallway. You were in your new officer’s uniform, wearing your greatcoat on your shoulders and sipping from a cup of coffee. You were headed to the interrogation room to meet the general, who was questioning the prisoner. Well, you, Ren, and your new shadow were headed to the interrogation room. Hux had assigned the Storm Trooper to your security detail as soon as you had disembarked from the transport the night before. He came highly recommended by you and by Phasma, one of your most promising students, and apparently he wasn’t going to leave your side, no matter how much Ren glared at him. Ren was very suspicious of the Trooper; had Hux asked him to report on your activities? Ren wouldn’t put it past the general to spy on you under the guise of protection.

You seemed fine, not at all disturbed by the events of last night, but Ren had lost sleep, terribly troubled, not by the shooter but by something that appeared to him even darker: the true nature of your relationship with Allegiant General Pryde. He had wanted to ask you more, outside the watchful eyes of General Hux, but now with the Trooper following your every move, having any time alone with you felt next to impossible. The three of you entered the observation room, hidden from view behind one-way transparisteel. It was a cramped space, and Ren shifted closer to you, glad to have an excuse if he accidentally made contact.

You watched Hux as he questioned the prisoner, and Ren watched you. You were impassive, almost bored as you observed, despite Hux’s intense technique. There was a reason the general went first in interrogations: Ren could pry information out of anybody, but it was much easier once the general left them broken. You shifted from one foot to the other, leaning against Ren gently, and he could feel the press of your arm against his through your greatcoat. He removed his helmet with one hand, feeling strangely warm in the cool air of the observation room. His mouth was dry, but he turned to you, his curiosity overcoming his hesitations.

“Could I ask you something . . . personal?” the words tumbled from his lips, and you turned to him, confusion lining your face.

“What did you want to know?” You seemed a little amused, and Ren immediately turned away. Were you laughing at him? How embarrassing. Seeing his reaction, you studied him curiously before turning to the Trooper, who sat silently against the wall.

“You’re excused, FN-2187.”

“Lieutenant General, I’m sorry, but General Hux told me-”

“I’ll speak with the general if he has any problems, but for now I’d like you to wait outside.” The Trooper shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but ultimately turned and walked out the exit.

You removed one of your leather gloves, and held your bare hand out to him, an understanding smile on your face. “Would this make it easier?” 

Ren felt himself coming apart. Your perception of him was unmatched; no one had known him like this before. He removed his glove, placing his hand in yours, amazed that something so simple could feel so right.

You faced away from him again, and closed your eyes, allowing him access to your thoughts, which he took in rabidly. What did you want to know? The same question, but the nuance was entirely altered. It was the purest form of connection—no walls to hide behind, no subtle gestures to interpret, and if Ren wasn’t careful, he knew he would give away everything.

The words still wouldn’t come, so he sent images, impressions: his view from behind you, when the general had mentioned the Prydes before the party, and then at the dinner, the feeling of your hand tugged from his after the allegiant general had looked at you so harshly. You stiffened.

“What is this about, Ren?” you stared down at the floor, shrinking yourself, tendrils of hair falling from behind your ears and into your face. Ren wanted to brush them back, but his hand was still in yours, and he wasn’t sure if you’d offer it again if he let go.

“What happened to your parents?” For a moment he didn’t realize that he had said anything at all until you pulled your hand from his, flinching away from him like you had been burned. Your heart rate spiked, adrenaline rushing through your veins in response to some unseen threat.

“What?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can feel it,” he said to you, hands up to show you that he wasn’t a threat, “I know that something happened to them, something you’re not telling me . . . you can trust me.” His attempts to quell your fears fell on deaf ears.

“The Prydes raised me as their own, gave me everything I could ever wish for. They were kind to me,” your hand ghosted to your throat, subconsciously, the hint of your necklace chain peeking out from behind the collar of your uniform. He could feel the sincerity in your words—but there was something else there too, looming large and oppressive in your mind. You were trying to protect him. He could feel it.

Ren chose to back down, afraid of driving you away from him, especially now that he had gotten so close. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, turning away, closing off his connection to your thoughts for a moment and allowing you to breathe. You straightened yourself out, replacing the glove on your right hand, symbolically shutting him out with one small gesture. Once you were back in control, you responded.

“It is difficult for me to talk about my family. I was too young to be without my parents when they died. The Prydes did everything they could for me, but I still feel their loss constantly. I’m sure you understand?” Ren nodded, reticent. The door behind you opened, and General Hux stepped in, replacing his own gloves on his hands and shrugging his greatcoat onto his shoulders.

“Why is your guard outside the door?” He asked, and Ren rifled through his thoughts. So the Trooper was meant to spy on you. Or, more accurately, on Ren. He hadn’t expected the general to stoop so low.

“I don’t need a guard, General. I’m fine! Who’s going to kill me aboard the ship?” You were exasperated, but amicably so, a soft warmth for the general’s concern in your chest pushing out your fear from before. Fear that Ren had caused. The thought made him a little sick.

“You can never be too careful, Lieutenant,” Hux addressed you, but his eyes were on Ren. Should Ren tell you about Hux’s scheming? He weighed the potential outcomes in his mind, trying to predict how you would react.

“You act like there’s never been a price on your head,” you mumbled, too cavalier about this whole situation. Hux chose to ignore the comment and addressed Ren instead. 

“The prisoner confirmed that the Lieutenant was correct about the nature of his employment, but wouldn’t give me the name of his patron or the reason they selected her as the target.”

“Your turn,” you said to Ren as he replaced his helmet on his head. There was an awkwardness in the way that you spoke to him, and it seemed unlikely that you’d forget the conversation about your family any time soon, but Ren was more determined than ever to show you that he was worthy of your trust, that he could protect you.

The interrogation room was cold, icily so, and Ren felt the chill through the many layers that he wore. The prisoner was restrained before him, his face distorted in places from the swelling, a trickle of blood running down his nose.

“Tell me about your employer,” Ren started, tuning into the thoughts of the man before him. His mind was heavily guarded, even after the general’s interrogation, an impressive feat.

“Tell me about the girl,” he responded. Even as beaten as he was, he still managed to look above it all, running his tongue over his upper lip, smearing some of the blood across his face. Ren paused. A small light blinked red near the exit, a sign that you could hear anything happening in the other chamber of interrogation room through the comms channel. Ren shut it off with the force, nervous at the thought of you listening in.

“What do you want to know?” Ren asked, keeping track of the man’s pulse, prodding for the weak spots in his mind. He knew that if he kept the conversation casual, the prisoner might let his guard down, keep the most important information close to the surface.

“She single?” he asked, with a laugh and then continued, “I know that you like her,” and Ren’s fists clenched at his sides, “you’re a very easy man to read. Is that why you wear the mask?” He was taunting him openly, and Ren momentarily lost sight of the prisoner’s thoughts as the anger crept in.

“Who hired you?” Ren asked more forcefully, and the man flinched, his whole body seized with the effort of keeping his mind closed.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He was struggling to speak between gritted teeth, but the words kept coming, “Who would have thought that someone like you would have such a soft spot?” He laughed, and Ren strengthened his hold on the man’s mind, no longer searching for answers, hoping only to hurt him. Desperate to get him to stop.

“Seems foolish, to me at least. A girl like that is not easily satisfied, if you know what I mean.” Ren could not avoid understanding the innuendo, deep enough in the man’s mind to see exactly what he was implying. The prisoner was breathless, struggling against the restraints, but laughing still, thwarting Ren’s attempts so easily. 

Ren gave in to the anger, letting go of all his pointless self-restraint, and plunged into the man’s mind without sense. The prisoner screamed in pain, but Ren ignored it. Clawing through a mind this way was dangerous, but he could not stand the alternative. If the prisoner kept talking this way, he’d kill him. The door flew open just as Ren found what he wanted; you and Hux ran in, followed closely behind by the Trooper. 

“What the hell happened?” Hux yelled, looking between Ren and the prisoner. The man was unconscious now, his breathing rapid and shallow. Low, wretched moans escaped his lips, and he twitched like he was having a terrible nightmare. Ren ignored Hux, turning to FN-2187 instead.

“Contact the captain. Tell her the prisoner is ready for his execution.” The Trooper left immediately, glad to be far away from Ren’s wrath. You and Hux stared at him, wide-eyed, surprised. Waiting.

“I’ve found the name of the target. Call a meeting.”

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​, @ddaeing​

[thejollyroger-writer]

To Serve and Protect - Chapter 6

a/n: this chapter took way longer than anticipated, but y’all have been so incredibly patient with me and my new lovely daughter, so I’m very proud to finally bring you this chapter, which -- as a surprise to us all, myself included -- is actually not the last. 

SUMMARY: Detective Killian Jones has been investigating a stalker-turned-murderer for months by the time he goes home from the bar with Emma Swan. But when he thinks he sees the very man in question outside her apartment, can he separate his feelings for her and his need to keep her safe?

TRIGGERS: well, this is a fic about a serial killer. mentions of violence and death, with some physical violence/whump. as always, if you need me to discuss this further for you to be comfortable, message me. – rated teen

Prologue // Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 // Ch. 5 // Ch. 6 on AO3

-- -- -- -- 

Henry is unsurprisingly quiet during their ride to the hospital. She tries to ask him about what happened, tries to get some sort of answer out of him, but he seems as nervous as she is, staying completely silent. 

When they pull up to the hospital, she only has more questions, because the parking lot is filled. 

With police cars. 

More police cars than she thought Storybrooke had, honestly. 

Because they’re not all from Storybrooke, she realizes. Some of them are only marked “Maine State Trooper,” some of them from other towns Emma recognizes from around Storybrooke. And then, she sees one from Boston. 

What the hell happened here? 

She walks past them all, past the officers that line the hallways, both uniformed and not. Past Graham outside Killian’s hospital room. And right up to Killian, wide awake in his hospital bed. She’s glad he’s okay, glad he’s awake, but she also really wants to hit his arm, wants to find an outlet for her anger even though she knows it should be anyone but him. 

“What the hell, Killian?” she says, trying not to yell and not quite succeeding. “What the hell happened?” She closes the door behind her, stopping Graham from following her into the room. She can’t deal with Graham right now, can’t deal with anything until she can wrap her head around what happened. 

If that’s even possible.

Killian sighs, desperation in his eyes begging for her to come closer. “He showed up at the hospital, we think for Felix’s body, but he got here much too quickly if he came all the way from Boston, so now we’re thinking he must have been closer anyway and may have been a part of this whole thing from the start. Apparently he didn’t expect me to have protection, though, because I think his goal was to kidnap me, though it’s also illegal to bring a firearm into a hospital, no matter who your father is.”

None of what she just learned surprises her, but it also doesn’t change the question on the tip of her tongue: “Where is he? I want to see him.” 

Killian holds his hand out towards her. “Please, love, just… can it wait until tomorrow? Give everyone the night to figure out what the hell we’re going to do.” 

There’s something he’s not telling her. For a moment, her anger rages. All she wants to do is question him, ask him to explain what the fuck has been happening, but between Killian’s outstretched hand and the pleading in his exhausted blue eyes, she gives in and fills the rest of the space between herself and the hospital bed, her shoulders rising and falling with a slow breath. And then another. And then she meets his eyes, the same sparkling blue she remembers so vividly from the night they met. The same eyes that she has been drawn to since the first time she met them, and the same eyes that have, somehow, been honest with her the whole time. 

And this moment is no exception. 

“Do you think we could both fit on this stupid hospital bed?” he mumbles, pulling Emma down for a kiss. 

Finally — finally — she smiles. “I think we can at least try.” 

It takes a little finagling, but they figure it out well enough. They may not be comfortable, but they’re together. 

Safe. 

-- -- -- --

Killian had hoped that having the night to sleep would change her mind, but it doesn’t. Though they both wake up refreshed in the small space of the hospital bed, he can tell there’s a myriad of questions sitting on the tip of her tongue just waiting to come out. She sits silently outside while he gets his bandages changed, not forcing any of her questions on Graham, says nothing as the three of them make their way down to get breakfast, but their table is as far as she makes it. 

“I want to talk to him.” 

There’s no need for explanation. They both know exactly what she wants, but neither of them want to tell her that they’re not comfortable with it. 

“Emma,” he says softly, looking around the cafeteria before reaching across the table to cover one of her hands with his. “I don’t—” 

“Oh, come on,” she says, her voice filled with anger, not even letting Killian finish. “If nothing else, I deserve this. Felix killed people, tried to kill me, almost killed you. Felix never acted on his own, so this all has some connection to Neal and all I want to do is ask him why.” Finally, she notices that he’s shaking his head, and she turns to Graham, who can’t even bring himself to look at her. “Don’t deny me this. Please.”

“Listen, Emma, you don’t understand—” Killian tries, but Emma cuts him off again.

“Believe it or not, Killian,” Emma says, not even trying to hide the anger in her voice. “It’s not up to you.” She stands up angrily, almost toppling her chair to the floor. “I don’t need your permission to do anything, so whether you’re joining me or not, I’m going to talk to Neal.” 

In her storming away, she misses the glance Killian and Graham share, the screaming in Graham’s eyes, but his hand as it stops the elevator door from closing stops her rage in its tracks. 

“Emma, listen,” Graham says, stepping in the elevator beside her. 

But listen she doesn’t, rolling her eyes as Graham holds the doors open for Killian, moving much slower than usual with his IV attached. 

“I’m not taking no for an answer. I hope you know that. I hope you both know that.” 

“It’s more difficult than that. We have to—” Emma doesn’t miss the nervous way he gulps, the way his eyes never leave Killian once he comes into view, even once he steps into the elevator with them. “When we get back to Jones’ room, we have to talk about this.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Killian reaches down to take her hand, which catches her off guard. 

But not nearly as much as when he speaks. 

“He’s dead, Emma.” 

She freezes. Every muscle in her body — her heart — even the rushing of her blood through her body. Everything stops. Between Killian’s confession and the stopping of the elevator, she almost collapses. 

“You had to tell her here?” Graham asks, which only makes the world spin around her a little faster, and Killian must sense her unease, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her out of the elevator. 

“She wasn’t going to stop arguing with us.” 

This… just makes her angry. This time, she does punch him in the arm. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been keeping this from me? Both of you?” 

“I didn’t know how to tell you, love,” Killian tries, his voice soft as he reaches for her hand again. 

She doesn’t take it, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s not an excuse. You could have told me. You could have told me on the phone when you called, you could have told me when I got here, or at any point this morning, and you decided not to.” 

Neither of them have anything to say, apparently, silently walking down the hospital hallway on either side of her. 

Rightfully, she’s angry. That’s an understatement, really; she’s far more than angry, a whole slew of emotions that she’s so overwhelmed by that she can’t possibly articulate them all. Even she doesn’t notice the tears streaming down her cheeks until she sniffles, which catches the attention of the men flanking her who, until now, were trying to avoid turning their attention to her. 

“Swan,” Killian whispers, trying to wrap his arm around her waist, but she shakes her head.

“I can’t—” she starts, pushing his advances away, and she speeds up her walk to move ahead of them. “I just need some space.” 

It’s the last thing she wants, really, to be alone, but she knows that she needs space from the two of them. There’s a possibility that she’s never been more angry in her life, even with the man who sent her to jail for his own crimes — a man who is now laying on a slab in the morgue in the basement of the hospital. 

A man whose death should not have been hidden from her. A man whose death she definitely should have been told about instead of lied to, treated like a child, too fragile to know the truth. She needs to talk to someone, someone she trusts, someone she can vent to knowing that she won’t be judged for being angry at Killian and Graham, because she knows they were doing what they thought was best for her, whatever kind of masculine, overprotective bullshit that is. She needs—

She raises her eyes from the ground, taking her anger out on the door at the bottom of the stairs and out into the lobby, and finds the answer standing by the exit, arms crossed over his chest as he stares out the front window. 

“David?” 

He turns around, eyes wide as if seeing Emma is the last thing he expected. But then he smiles, and she feels a little better already, some of the weight somehow lifted off her chest. “Hey, Em.” 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, though the answer is pretty obvious.

“I decided to come down and check on you, see how everything is going.” 

“And you’ve just been… standing by the window, hoping that I come downstairs?” She manages a half-smile, even with the anger that’s still surging through her veins. 

David, of course, laughs at this, leaning back against the large window. “No, no, I called Graham when I got here and he said you were on your way down anyway.” 

This makes her smile grow a slight but barely noticeable amount. “That… makes much more sense.” 

“So, tell me, what’s going on? What happened last night?” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, but all Emma can do is shake her head. 

She just needs to get out of the hospital for a bit, away from the sickening antiseptic scent and the headache-inducing phosphorescence and the thought of what happened here the night before. “Can we get out of here? Even just outside?”

David pushes no further, agreeing immediately with a vigorous nod. “Of course. I hate hospitals. Let’s go grab a coffee down the block.” 

At this, Emma finally feels relieved enough — relaxed enough — to actually smile at her brother, especially once they are through the doors and out into the fresh morning air. 

At first, she says nothing, not even sure where to start, or how to say the words she knows she has to say. But David doesn’t push her, just walks slowly beside her with his hands in his pockets and his eyes turned down save a patient glance at her every few steps. 

Until, finally, the silence and the words racing through her mind get the best of her, and she has to let them out before she explodes. 

“Neal showed up at the hospital last night,” she says, refusing to raise her eyes from the pavement. “Graham said he was probably here for Felix’s body as his next of kin, but he showed up much too fast to have been in Boston, so they think he was here already. But instead of going to the morgue, he tried to attack Killian, which didn’t go over too well considering he’s a police officer and was guarded by the entire Storybrooke force, plus a few troopers that Graham called in for back up.” 

The words stop as David holds open the door to the small cafe, unsure whether she should continue now that she could be overheard by another patron. But the only other patrons are two state troopers sitting in one corner, their hushed words shared as whispers as they both lean across the table between them; and Lily, the barista, who takes out her headphones when she notices the door has opened again. Emma pauses the story as they order their drinks, waiting until they are seated together at the opposite end of the room as the troopers to continue — and to say the words that she finds lodged in her throat when she is ready to start again. 

“They shot him. Killed him. Graham said he came armed, which was really a stupid decision on his part, to bring a gun into a hospital filled with cops, and normally I would be surprised that he made a mistake that stupid, though I can only imagine how off the rails he went when he learned Felix was dead. And that’s assuming he’s anywhere near as level-headed today as he was when I knew him, which I seriously doubt.” 

“Oh, Em,” David says softly, reaching across the table to rest the tips of his fingers on her arm. 

Surprising even herself, she manages a small laugh under her breath as she shakes her head. “But that’s — that’s not even the worst of it.” Until the words start pouring out of her mouth, she wasn’t even convinced that she was going to share this part with David, but once they start, she is both unable and unwilling to stop them, hoping that letting everything out at the same time will aid in her feeling better. “They lied to me about it, hid the truth from me until this morning. Both of them, Graham and Killian. Graham told me he was there, but it wasn’t until just a few minutes ago, really, that they decided to finally tell me the truth, the whole story, the fact that he’s dead. Killian didn’t even sound convinced that he wanted me to know in the first place, just kept refusing when I asked to talk to him.” 

She hangs her head in defeat, in anger, trying to keep everything from rushing back over her all at once. Takes a sip of her hot chocolate. Waits for David to find some sort of response, to analyze and rationalize all the information she just laid on him the way he always seems able to do — she can tell by the low knit of his eyebrows, by the slow scratching of his left hand through his three-day scruff while his right index finger taps against his coffee cup. 

“I know that anything I say will just be something you’ve already told yourself through your anger over all of this: that they were just trying to protect you, to keep you calm and free from worry—” 

She almost feels bad, cutting him off, because he has always been the most level-headed and the calmest of them all, and this situation has already proven no different. “I would have been far less worried if they told me he was dead instead of leading me to believe he was locked in the single Storybrooke jail cell, which he certainly would have viewed as a joke after the cells and prisons he’s found his way out of his whole life.” 

At first, David just nods. He knew this, too, of course. “Well, I don’t have to tell you that Killian cares about you. Graham, too, though in more of a sisterly way. And they don’t know Neal and his history the way you do, so they probably thought that it would be easier for you to learn that he was dead after you got some rest, especially after the stress of last night.”

She sighs, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. Because he’s right. Of course he’s right, it really isn’t that much of a surprise. “So, what am I supposed to do?” she whispers, her eyes turned down to her mug. “I just stormed out on them, and now I’m just supposed to go back like that never happened?” 

In place of an answer, David wets his bottom lip, his eyebrows high on his forehead. Emma already knows the answer. 

Now she just has to go do it.

tagging: @shireness-says​ @kmomof4​ @thisonesatellite​ @let-it-raines​ @wellhellotragic​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @stahlop​ @teamhook​ @snowbellewells​ @carpedzem​ @pepperspotts​ @imlaxdris71​ @gingerchangeling​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @kday426​​ @scientificapricot​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @galadriel26​​ @jennjenn615​​ @therealstartraveller776​​ @nightskylover​​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @kristi555 @nikkiemms​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @withheartfulloflove​​ – if you want to be added or removed, please let me know

[basenji18]

Cloaked

For  bellacardoza16. Destro tries to give Baroness some points on disguises.

“...these sensors here...and...aye.”

At Destro’s final touch, her arm disappears. Baroness jumps.

“Did that hurt?”

“No.” She gives a little laugh. “No, it startled me.”

She moves her arm back and forth. From the shoulder up, her arm swings, but everything below the elbow is invisible.

No, not quite invisible. Just at the edges, the air looks wrong. Only enough to tip off someone already looking for it, but as she curls and uncurls her fingers, there’s a definite shimmer to the air.

“It’s like you’ve bent the light around it.”

“That’s the essence of it. Liquid fiber optics. As close to invisibility as you’ll find, short of actual magic.”

Baroness focuses on a spot a foot away from her face, marveling at her invisible hand.

“Cloaking that’s effective on the human eye as much as on radar,” she muses. “We could march a thousand android troopers up through Times Square, and the only thing people would notice would be the noise.”

Invisible fingers press against Destro’s chest. His tie slips out of his jacket and floats in the air, waving like a dancing cobra. Baroness laughs like a child. Destro slides his own hand down his tie and grasps a handful of air that feels like warm fingers.

“A concept, my dear. But so far the technology has only been applied to human suits.”

She stops playing with his tie and looks surprised.

“’Been applied’? This wasn’t in the prototype you showed me before?”

“Aye, it was. An earlier model.”

“Why didn’t I see it then?”

Playful pouting. She runs her visible hand up and down her missing arm, looking for the sensors.

“The controls for that version were located in the lower half of the helmet,” he explains. “And you have what we in the armor business call, ‘a delicate little lady skull.’“

He slips down and presses the sensors by practiced feel. Her arm blips back into view.

“Your jaw didn’t come down low enough to activate it.”

She gives him a wry look, but can’t hold it long. The grin is back as her shows her the buttons, and she flips her arm off and on a few times.

“Here:”

He manipulates the flat sensors, flush with the rest of the fabric, woven of nanocrystals, soft as microspun cotton. The natural silvery tone goes invisible, then comes back blue, red, green, striped. He scrolls through a few basic geometric patterns. Baroness purrs in delight. She follows his motions, getting the hang of the controls. She settles on black that fades to bloody red at her fingers. The ferocity in her smile raises the hairs between Destro’s shoulder blades, but brings a matching smile under his mask.

“Wonderful...But why?” she asks. “Isn’t invisibility the best camouflage? Why the rest?”

She touches each of her bloody fingers one at a time against the tip of her thumb. He’s going to have to let her shoot something to get rid of the excess energy.

“More traditional camouflage may help if the optics become battle damaged. As I said: this is for human use. There’s times it’s too crowded to barrel around unseen. Invisible people can’t hail taxis. Or ambulances. Better to change a face and fall off the radar completely.”

“We have biovipers and android troopers. The ninja can take care of himself. What human troops are you expecting to cloak?”

He lifts her gaze away from her hand with a finger under her chin. He strokes her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the curve of her eyebrow.

“I’m working on suspending the cells in a silicone solution that mimics skin. I know you don’t like contacts, but - “

“Wait a moment.”

She shakes out of his hand.

“You want to cloak me?”

“You’d be very comfortable. You’ve felt the fabric. The silicone is merely a stopgap - “

“People pay Cobra good money to be associated with this face. You want to hide it?”

Her smile is still there, but her eyes are sharp.

“I don’t want your pretty face shot off.”

“Who is going to?”

“Nastya. You know the Joes are getting closer.”

Her mouth turns into a hard line and her eyes go flat and closed off.

“I’m handling it.”

“I know ye are. And I just want ye to be safe doing so.”

“And this will keep me safer than a laser rifle?”

Both of their accents thickening with emotion trying to stay hidden.

“This gives you another option. A way out, a safe retreat - “

The look she flashes him. He holds up his hands as if warding off a physical strike.

“An option,” he repeats. “To change your face and walk away. If you need to.”

“And you’d know all about hiding faces.”

Her words smack like a blow and stun the both of them. She claps her non-gloved hand over her mouth, but the venom is out. Their wide eyes meet, but neither one can speak. She breaks first, turning, tightening in on herself like a fist. Half of him wants to comfort her distress; the other half is stunned cold.

“Ya...ya ne...I didn’t...”

Mean it? I’m sorry? What’s the right word here? What’s the accurate word here?

She nullifies the glove from its bloody colors to its neutral grey. She starts to tug it off, but it’s difficult with both hands shaking. She wilts, empty fingers like decaying flower petals, her hand still stuck in the glove’s wrist, other arm holding herself. Her voice is thick. She doesn’t look at him.

“I wish I hadn’t said that.”

She risks a glance around her glasses frames.

“I’m sorry.”

He softens, and when he moves to help her out of the glove, she doesn’t back away. When her hand is free, she falls into his hug. She’s a full head shorter than him, and smushes her words against his chest.

“There’s no retreating from this. The Commander is impatient. He has threatened to replace me.”

So that’s it, is it? He strokes her hair.

“Nastya, you’ll always have a home with - “

“Nyet.”

She brushes away his attempt at comfort. Wild eyes, magnified by glasses look up at him.

“You know what happens to people who get replaced.”

Destro’s stomach drops at the memory of hard muscles pulling him down a giant gullet. He pulls her close until her bones creak and breath hisses out between her teeth, but she doesn’t complain.

“I have to fix this,” she says. “I have to fix this. No running. No new faces.”

He lets up the pressure, but cups her head and presses it back against his chest, over his heart.

“Aye. Aye, alright. But if you ever need to, run. From the Joes, the Commander. Anything. Just run, and I’ll come get you. And this will help.”

They stand that way, leaning against each other until the tension eventually drains out of them. She turns her face into his palm and kisses it. Dark eyes grin slyly between his fingers.

“Would you still love me if I had another face? Or would you prefer it?”

“I love ye for your personality.”

A bark of laughter.

“Now I know you’re lying. My personality is terrible.”

“Nonsense. Ye’re a ruthless, power-hungry she devil. I adore ye.”

She laughs and he joins her.

“But I do like your face.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow, this got long. Hope this was something like what you wanted.

A few years back I went to a horror con and got to try on a really cool mask with a movable jaw, but I couldn’t get it to work. The guy apologetically said it was because of my delicate little lady skull. XD We can’t have cool helmets.