Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There was a heavy silence amongst those who stood on the bridge of Gideon’s Light Cruiser. All around them, multicoloured lights and switches blinked telling them the status of various systems maintaining their flight. Large rectangular transparisteel ports looked out into the inky black of the galaxy ahead of them; stars and planets in the sector were reduced to mere pinpricks of light that would take a jump to hyperspace to reach. It was at times like this, listening to the gentle footfall of the hooded figure and the whirring of his droid as they left, that a sentient could truly feel alone in the vast emptiness before them.

Bo-Katan thought that must be what Din Djarin felt as she watched the Jedi carry the tiny kid out of the room to, presumably, wherever he’d docked the X-Wing he’d arrived on. That hadn’t been something she’d expected to happen. Where had the Jedi even come from, and how did he know how to find them? Not that it mattered now, she supposed. He was gone, and the kid was too. But that hadn’t been the only shock of the last few minutes. In the dim light of the bridge, made all the duller by the deep greys of Imperial cruiser design, she could see Din Djarin with his helmet off. The man who had aggressively proclaimed her ‘not Mandalorian’ after she removed her helm on Trask, had now removed his own. 

Her heart nearly stopped in surprise when he did it. Instead of witnessing the emotional goodbye he’d given the kid, she’d been too busy looking at the tantalising new glimpse of the man who kept everything under wraps. The soft curve of his ear, the deep brown of his helmet-matted hair, the warm tan of his skin. All things she would have never known about him if that Jedi hadn’t waltzed in and offered to take the child. A child mere moments before Din had thrown himself in front of to protect from Gideon’s blaster fire. Her own leg throbbed from the blaster injury Gideon inflicted in his last act of desperation to escape them. Kriffing mudscuffer. She hoped he rotted in the cells of the New Republic.

Gideon aside, her mind kept returning to the fact Din had willingly removed his helmet.

Bo didn’t fully understand Din’s unyielding devotion to the Creed. For her it had always been attached to the Mandalore of old - in their legends and histories; something for the ages - certainly not a set of rules and values that she would have considered relevant to the lives of Mandalorians now. Nevertheless, as she watched him replace his helmet, the shield of the man beneath the beskar firmly back in place, Bo knew the sacrifice Din Djarin had made to allow the kid to see that part of him. Would his Covert even take him back? she briefly wondered. Bo knew how hardline the Children of the Watch were, they were a splinter of the Death Watch after all. If he’d been raised by them, then their Way – for want of a better word, she thought with a wry smile – would be the only one he knew. Had Din Djarin risked the only life he’d ever truly known to keep a child that wasn’t even his own flesh and blood safe from Imperial forces like Gideon? 

Bo watched Din take in a shuddering breath and then leave the bridge, the door hissing shut behind him. Briefly, she’d wondered if before he’d left he would have tried to offer her the Darksaber again. She knew he’d meant well with his offer to hand it straight back to her but it simply couldn’t work that way. Gideon’s triumphant laughter still echoed painfully in her mind. She and Din had both been tricked by the one man who sought to wipe out Mandalorians once and for all. Allowing Din Djarin to simply hand over the weapon without a fight, a true fight, would delegitimise her claim on it again. She’d lose everything she’d worked so hard to rebuild after the Purge. He simply didn’t know what he’d offered her. No. It had to be won legitimately. She would have to defeat him somehow. Bo knew she would have to think of a way to force him to fight her for it. Then that way, maybe they’d both recover some of their lost pride. 

Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took her several moments to realise she’d been staring at the door through which he’d vacated the bridge. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the woman who’d been introduced as Fennec Shand eyeing her with a faintly amused look, and Bo had to wonder why. Surely everyone here felt as she did? After all, they’d all known him longer than she had. Wouldn’t they too be a little curious about what he looked like? A voice from her side startled her out of her reverie. 

“You’re going to have to challenge that idiot zealot for the saber, you know that right?” Koska’s voice was hard and brokered no argument. 

She took a deep breath in, ignoring the pain in her leg and the limited control she still had left over her temper. “I am aware of that, Koska,” she said as she gesticulated frustratedly. “What would you have me do? Chase after him and force him to fight in the corridors after what we’ve just seen him do?”

“It’d be a start.” 

“Don’t start this,” Bo snapped, her head rapidly turning towards the other woman in anger. “Djarin’s not going anywhere right now and the Darksaber is, at least, no longer in Imperial hands. If you give me some time I can think of a way to get it back without the need for further strife. Let me at least try.”

Koska shrugged with a semi-disgusted look on her face. “On your own head be it, Bo. The Nite Owls won’t wait forever, especially if you don’t put up a fight for it.” She sighed irritably. “He’s just one guy! Gideon had Imperial forces behind him and you’ve pursued him relentlessly. But one look at Djarin and you’re hiding from the fight. What’s different about this guy?”

That wasn’t a question Bo could answer. Truthfully, she didn’t know what it was that prevented her from simply chasing him down through the ship and challenging him for it. The man infuriated and intrigued her in equal measure. He was so forthright in what he did and how he decided to do it that it was maddening to her, but at the same time she respected him for it, even envied him. What she wouldn’t give to be able to make decisions with such unwavering certainty in her convictions just as he did. She admired how he stuck to his principles and hadn’t even tried to exact revenge when she’d reneged on their deal to save the kid. He would have been well within his rights to do just that, but he’d kept his cool and allowed it to play out. Not many sentients she knew would have done the same. If Bo was frank and open with herself, she knew that he was more Mandalorian than many who followed her.

“I don’t know,” she eventually said quietly.

“Well I’m going to secure the rest of the ship and then get us out of here,” Koska huffed, grabbing her helmet and making her way towards the same door Din had left through. “You can figure out whatever’s going on with you and fix it before we meet up with the rest of the fleet.”

Bo helplessly stared after her friend as she departed the room, briefly flinching when the door hissed shut behind her. This wasn’t how this was all supposed to have gone down. Djarin was supposed to have his kid, Gideon was supposed to be dead and not just unconscious, and she was supposed to have the weapon with which she could retake her homeworld. How had it all gone so wrong?

Someone cleared their throat.

“If you guys are gonna get out of here, mind if we do too?” the woman Djarin had introduced as Cara Dune said as she cuffed the unconscious form of Gideon on the floor. “Don’t imagine you want to have this heap of bantha dung on your ship for longer than is necessary.”

Shaking her head, Bo gestured to the body of her nemesis. “Do what you like with him, he’s no concern of mine anymore.”

“Better get the ship ready, then,” Fett muttered as he and Fennec made to leave the Bridge to head to Slave I. “I take it you don’t need any help bringing your quarry, Dune?”

Cara hoisted the bound and lifeless body of Gideon over her shoulder like he was a sack of grain and said with a grin, “Nah, he’s nothing I can’t handle.”

So that’s that, Bo thought to herself. These people had waltzed into her life, knocked it wildly off course, and now they were leaving her to clean up the mess. It’d likely be the last time they ever crossed paths. They’d go to their corner of the Galaxy and she’d go to hers. She’d never see any of them again - never see Din Djarin again. Wait. Were they just going to leave without him?

The three of them were almost through the door when she called out, “What about Djarin?”

Cara huffed a laugh, an expression of confusion on her face. “What about him?”

“Aren’t you going to tell him you’re leaving, so he can join you?”

“These two are heading back to Tatooine and I’m gonna hand Gideon over to the New Republic,” the other woman shrugged nonchalantly. “No idea what Mando’s gonna do. He’s in no mind to deal with anything, so I was just gonna leave him with you. You’re both Mandalorians after all. If he needs us, he can reach out.”

Bo was incredulous. “You’re just leaving him here?”

“Mando’s a big boy. He’ll manage without us just fine. He did it before the kid and he’ll do it again.” The way Cara looked at her told Bo that there wasn’t going to be a discussion. Fett, Shand, and Dune really were just going to leave without saying a word and she was the odd one out for questioning this. Well, if that’s how they want it to happen, then so be it, she thought grimly. Some friends Djarin had.

Despite his clear disrespect in using her title, Fett’s voice was serious as he spoke. “Din Djarin is an honourable man, Princess. Right now, he’s hurting for the kid. Have some decency and don’t fight him for that stupid weapon. It will not bring you peace.”

His parting words hung heavy in the air as the door hissed shut behind them, and Bo found herself entirely alone on the Bridge. She turned, mindful of the injury to her leg, which twinged in pain, to stare out of the long transparisteel port that was behind her. The darkness that stared back at her alongside her reflection was almost mocking. It was as empty and adrift as she felt; her face sat amongst it as a testament to how alone she was right now. What was she going to do?

Djarin.

She’d seek out Djarin and ask him where he wanted to be taken. On the journey they could figure out a way for him to give up the Darksaber. Preferably in a way that didn’t compromise the way she needed to gain it from him and that also didn’t cause him to come to considerable harm. Memories of Gideon’s triumph over her before the Purge caused her stomach to roil with nausea. She’d only done what she thought was right to secure the safety of her people and she’d paid the price for ever trusting an Imperial to keep their word. Djarin had inadvertently suffered the same fate when he won it. She knew she should take a leaf out of Satine’s book just this once and not bring about more bloodshed to further the Mandalorian cause. Silently, as she stared out into the blackness, she hoped her sister was proud of her.

Taking in a deep breath, Bo turned and walked towards the door that led her to the rest of the ship. She could do this. She could. The hallways were dimly lit and quiet as she strode purposefully down them. Glossy black tile and ovoid wall lighting were a feature of Imperial design she detested. Still, she had to admit that it probably helped the interminably stupid white armour of the Stormtroopers stand out better. They could probably see who they were shooting at in these conditions. It might even improve their hit rate.

Though she kept searching, she hadn’t turned up any sign of him. Din Djarin had a knack for not being found when he really didn’t wish it. The roar of a Firespray attack craft engine departing the landing bay, the brief sound of the pulse it made as it jumped to hyperspace and then the silence that followed before the Cruiser itself lurched slightly in its own jump told Bo that Djarin had missed his chance to leave with the others. He was stuck with her now whether he liked it or not, but she kept seeking him out as the wound on her leg throbbed painfully.

Eventually, she searched one of the inner corridors where the crew bunks were supposed to be. The first few cabins turned up empty, but on her fourth try the dim light of the corridor caught the silver of unpainted beskar as the door hissed open. Sighing, Bo hit the pad for the lights, illuminating the room with a harsh blue-white glow. Din was lying on one of the bunks on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling above him. At first, he made no sign of having even noticed her presence. He simply didn’t move. It was only when she sighed, folded her arms, and leaned against the wall next to the other bunk that he spoke.

“Considering it took you this long to find me, it should have occurred to you that perhaps I didn’t want to be found.” There was a petulant tone to his voice that made her want to smile. It reminded her of the small boy he must have once been - the one now hidden beneath the beskar he wore.

“Yes, well, I would have left you to it under normal circumstances, but your companions have departed and that means you’re stuck with me for a while I’m afraid.”

Bo had thought that the news might surprise or even anger him, but he didn’t react. The only sign he was even alive beneath that helmet was the slight twitch of his gloved fingers where he had them resting over his stomach.

“They had no obligation towards me,” he said flatly. “All debts had been paid.”

“That’s a rather sad way of looking at things, Djarin.” She knew the life of a Bounty Hunter was lonely and nomadic, but she’d never seen someone so quick to resign themselves to having served their purpose and thus no longer of use to people. It made her heart clench with sadness. Was that truly how he saw himself?

He sighed, “It’s practical.” There was a pause and his fingers twitched again. “Call me Din, not Djarin.”

“Why?”

“Sounds weird when you say it.”

The frank honesty of his confession threw her off balance slightly. They’d not known each other that long, but he felt uncomfortable enough with her using his last name to ask her to stop. Well, if that’s what he wanted…

“Okay, Din -” she said his name slowly, allowing it to roll across her tongue, familiarising herself with it. “- since your friends have abandoned you, and your ship was destroyed, is there any place you’d like us to take you?”

His helmet tilted towards her. The first true movement he’d made since she’d entered the chambers. Having the black of the visor concentrated solely on where she stood unnerved her. “My Covert.”

“Where’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Bo pushed off the wall and walked towards him with a sigh. “Very helpful, Din.”

“I can’t tell you because they’re in hiding,” he said with a grunt as he levered himself up to a sitting position, allowing Bo to take a seat beside him. “For as long as I’ve been with them, we’ve been hiding out in towns or on uninhabited planets from those who would hunt us down.”

Bo nodded, smoothing her hands over her thighs. It seemed like the Children had gone much further underground after they splintered from the Death Watch and the Purge had further compounded their isolation from the rest of Mandalorian society. If this were all Din had ever known it would certainly explain why he acted the way he did. Bo knew the Children to be particularly harsh, especially on those who broke their rules.

“How would we go about getting around that?” she asked quietly, toying with the hole in her flight suit where the blaster wound she’d taken was visible. “I don’t want you to be rejected by your Covert simply because someone else had to bring you home.”

His helmet tilted towards the ceiling as if in thought. “If we were to take a smaller ship and I entered the coordinates before we made the jump to hyperspace, then I could reassure them that you were unaware of the precise location and you could leave me there without strife.”

“We could take my ship once we rejoin the fleet,” Bo agreed. “It’s much smaller and only needs me to pilot it. Would that be acceptable?”

She felt his helmeted gaze directed at her as he nodded before he tilted his head down and focused on a spot on her thigh. Bo was about to call his actions into question when a gloved finger passed over the bloody tear that hid the injury beneath.

“You should get that looked at,” he murmured, spreading the tear wider so he could get a better look at it. The wound wasn’t too bad, she supposed. She’d had worse. “Blaster burns can get infected easily if not treated quickly.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, doctor,” she said with a small smile at his quiet attentiveness. Bo knew he was already aware she couldn’t possibly have failed to notice she’d been injured, but the obvious care, even for someone he didn’t know very well, was touching. No wonder the kid had been so reluctant to leave him if this was how he behaved in private. Bo felt hesitant to leave him herself at that moment.

His visored gaze raised to meet hers and she felt something catch in her chest. “Din will do.” His voice was low through the modulator. “I don’t think I’ve ever earned an advanced degree in the medical field, Princess Kryze.”

Stars, even the deadpan joke made her stomach feel like it had Sriluurian butterflies in it. Bo knew she needed to get away from him and back to her duties before she did anything that compromised her.

“Call me Bo. I don’t need another impertinent Mandalorian calling me Princess.”

Kriffing idiot! she chided herself. The words had just slipped out without her even meaning them to.

She had no idea what he saw when he looked at her, but his helmet tilted slightly to the side as if he contemplated whatever expression she’d failed to keep from her face. Bo felt pinned in place by his gaze until he quietly uttered, “If that is what you want, Bo.”

Staring at him slightly open-mouthed, it took her mind several awkward moments to come back online. By the time she was aware of herself, his helmeted head had tilted further to the side as if in concern. Dank farrik, she must have looked like a gaping fish! Bo stood up abruptly.

“Yes, well, that is what I want, Din,” she said rather rapidly, trying to cover her embarrassment. “So I’m going to take your advice and…” She gestured distractedly at her leg. “…Get this injury looked at…and…other things…”

Bo’s mouth snapped shut as she realised she’d been rambling. Looking at him, even with the shield of his helmet, she could feel the eyebrow he must have raised beneath it at her strange behaviour. Oh, it was definitely time to get herself out of there.

“Uhh, so if you need anything I’ll be on the Bridge, or if you just stay here, I can bring you something to eat?” She was rapidly losing control of her composure. “It’ll be a few days before we reach the rest of the fleet, so you might as well settle in these quarters so I at least know where to find you.”

“I’ll stay here,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Bo.”

Nodding and wide-eyed, Bo-Katan Kryze hit the keypad on the wall next to her and fled the room. At least if she put some distance between Din and herself, she might be able to think clearly. That’s what she told herself, at least.

Din watched the door hiss shut behind her. He hadn’t been expecting that. Bo-Katan Kryze certainly wasn’t what he’d expected her to be. Outside of the mission, she seemed a little ill at ease, or at least unsure around him. Gone was the cocky woman who’d squared up to his challenge with the burning fire of a fight in her eyes and what was left was a woman he felt was as lost as he was.

Sighing, he turned and laid back down on the bed, hands clasped over his chest. It had been a kriffing long day and it seemed the fates kept wanting to kick him when he was down. The comm on his vambrace still displayed the messages he’d received from Cara right before he’d heard Slave I roar out of the Light cruiser’s landing bay:

Giving up the kid was unwise, Mando. Who knows where he’ll go now.

It was best for him. My work is too dangerous. You know this.

You know what else I know? Trying to give the weapon you won from Gideon back to that Kryze woman was foolish. The power you have! You could have an army of Mandalorians following you instead of scrounging for credits Bounty Hunting for a cult.

Ruling is not what I want. The Darksaber belongs to Kryze and I’ll find a way to give it back to her. It’s not a weapon that should be in the wrong hands.

More fool you. I guess leaving you to your lost fate is quite fitting. Fett informs me that there are rumblings about your Covert being out near the Glavis Ringworlds. Do with that what you will. See ya around, Mandalorian.

He hadn’t bothered to reply to her. There were very few people Din had considered even close to being what most sentients would refer to as a friend, and Cara had been on that list. He’d thought he could at least rely on her to be somewhat loyal to him, considering what they’d been through together, but that seemed to have been a waste of his hard-earned trust.

This was the Way.

At his hip, the Darksaber felt like a heavy weight. Kriffing Gideon had tricked him, and now he had the thing Kryze – no, Bo – most desired in the Galaxy. How could he have been so foolish as to not have seen Gideon’s plan for him? He’d walked right into the trap and become a useful idiot for the Moff’s further destruction of Mandalorian culture. Din was surprised Bo wasn’t angrier with him. She has every right to be, he thought to himself, nose wrinkling in annoyance under his helm. Why hasn’t she attacked me for it?

Koska Reeves certainly would if she was given the chance. He’d passed her in the corridors of the ship as he searched for a place to lay low for a while. The sneer on her face and the way the arm she had her vibroblade strapped to flexed as she made eye contact with him, had Din seeking out refuge as far away from the woman as possible. At first, he’d sought out an unused command post as a place to hide out until they’d got to wherever it was they were going, but the environment hadn’t been right for the melancholy he’d felt. Coming across the quarters for the troops who would have been stationed there served him much better. Here, Din could lay in the dark and think about the events as they’d happened. About the kid.

The kid.

With a deep breath in, he fought to keep the tears from falling again. Watching the Jedi walk away with him had been one of the hardest things he’d done since his parents had put him in that cellar and told him not to move. The kid needed – no – deserved a place to grow up safely. The life of a Bounty Hunter was no place for a child so talented and inquisitive as Grogu. Din knew it had been the right thing to do, even as the tears rolled down his cheeks, pooling cool and uselessly in his ears before leaking out into the soft inner material of his helmet. The people the kid was with now could help him and nurture his growing powers better than he ever could, and yet there was now a hole in him where the kid used to be. Something about caring for the little guy had started to heal the long-festering wound in him left there by the brutal deaths of his parents.

Companionship. A sense of belonging.

Family.

Din had forgotten what it felt like; to care for someone other than himself and to be cared for in return. Something about having the kid along for the ride had made him want to take care of himself. Not take as many risks. Who would have looked after Grogu if something had happened to him? He shuddered to think. The kid was the one who’d reminded him about meal times, or when it was time to take a rest. Now he was responsible only for himself again, Din knew all that would fall to the wayside. He’d end up injured and have to limp back to whatever ship he’d managed to procure for himself, bleeding and broken, before he’d find some cave to spend the night in until it was safe for him to move again.

Squeezing his eyes tightly together, he had to fight down the feeling of nausea at the realisation that to keep the kid safe, to give him something to remember him by, he’d broken the most important tenet of the Creed by which he’d sworn to live his life. The helmet being lifted from his head hadn’t even registered in his mind when he did it. It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to reveal his face to the child, just so he’d know the man who’d been responsible for taking care of him. But now the consequences of that decision weighed heavily on him.

An Apostate. That’s what he was now.

Not that it mattered to the Mandalorians he was with. They didn’t follow the Creed, didn’t share his Way, and thus hadn’t judged him for it. However, once he was reunited with the Tribe, he knew that he would either have to confess the crime he had committed against the people who had taken him in or hold it, keep it secret, and try to find a way to gain atonement without them finding out. Could he do that to them? Lie about how he’d broken the Creed to keep a child safe?

It was certainly tempting. The journey he’d been on, and the people he’d seen, had opened his eyes to new possibilities, new Ways of living his life that he hadn’t thought of until now. He could simply leave with Bo and the Nite Owls, never to return to the Covert to face their censure and ostracization. But it wouldn’t be honourable, he thought to himself, turning over on the bunk. It wouldn’t be how I should conduct myself as a Mandalorian. Closing his eyes he tried to shut out those thoughts.

Doing so must have allowed him to fall into a restless sleep because the next thing he knew he was woken by the hollow ring of a knock to the metal door. Whoever was outside hadn’t immediately walked in, so he rolled over with a sigh and called out,

“You can enter.”

The door hissed open to reveal an awkward-looking Bo-Katan on the other side of it, holding what looked to be a tray with a bowl of hot food, the steam visibly drifted up from it in the cool of the space. Stars only knew where she’d managed to track down provisions from on this behemoth of a ship, heated them, and brought them all the way to him. A remarkable act of kindness considering what he’d taken from her and Din didn’t know how to feel about it.

“I…um…brought you some food,” she said hesitantly as she entered the quarters, gesturing with the tray. “Koska would rather you starve, but I couldn’t have that on my conscience. I brought you into all of this after all.”

When he didn’t say anything immediately, too busy trying to think of a polite response so soon after waking, Bo’s expression faltered slightly. “I intruded, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I just thought you might like…”

“It’s fine, Bo. Thank you,” he said softly as he waved her further into the room.

He watched as she moved stiffly towards the small built-in end table that separated the bunks, placing the tray down gingerly before sitting on the opposite bunk. It was only then that he noticed that Bo had brought two bowls of food alongside two glasses. She intended to eat here with him rather than leave him to his own devices. Did she not know about the rules regarding eating when with a Child of the Watch?

“Got my leg patched up,” Bo said brightly, gesturing to the bacta patch he could see through the tear in her flight suit. “Had to do it myself since there’s no medic, but I don’t think I did a bad job.”

Din nodded; grateful she’d taken his advice to get it looked at. Seeing it had reminded him of a time back when he was still an apprentice learning his trade and he and his mentor had been caught in a fight in some forsaken backwater cantina. They’d escaped with their lives, but he’d ended up with a blaster wound to his thigh in roughly the same place Bo had hers. Pride and the need to seem capable had caused him to hide it from his mentor, letting it fester for days as an infection set in before it became too painful to walk on and he collapsed on a mission. His mentor had pulled him up on it and given him a lecture about the proper maintenance of wounds after a battle. Ever since then, he’d been extra keen to make sure those around him took care of their injuries. You’ll need to start taking care of yourself again, the voice at the back of his mind whispered sadly. The kid isn’t here to heal your wounds anymore. Din winced under the helmet and refocused on the woman in front of him.

“As long as you’re not going to pass out from an infection and leave me in the hands of your friend with murderous intentions, we’re all good,” he said drily.

Bo looked sheepish. “Sorry about Koska. She’s…um…”

“Looking to slit my throat to gain the Darksaber?”

“Well, that’s one of the things she wants.” Bo’s face scrunched up in a way he found endearing, so much so that he smiled beneath his helmet, then mentally had to shake himself to listen to what she was telling him. “Mostly, she wants me to do it so I have the saber again, but unless we fight fair I refuse to do so.”

He huffed a laugh. “I suppose I should be thankful you don’t intend to kill me in my sleep. Did you poison my food instead?”

Bo smiled widely at his joke and Din felt something in his stomach swoop with joy at seeing it. Dank farrik, this mission was messing with his head. Ever since Trask, when she’d saved him from the water and then shocked him by removing her helmet, he’d not been able to get her pretty green eyes and vibrant red hair out of his mind. Informing her she wasn’t Mandalorian had been a reflex to cover for both his surprise at seeing others like him and how his immediate thought had been how beautiful she looked. Din knew he hadn’t been with anyone in a while, too focused on bounty hunting, providing for his Covert, and lately looking after the kid. Was that what was causing this attraction to her? The emotions from losing the kid are getting to you, he chastised himself, trying to focus on the conversation again. You wouldn’t fixate so much on how pretty she was otherwise.

“I promise I’ve done no such thing,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a smile before she gestured at the food. “But I’d be happy to let you watch me test it if it’d put your mind at ease.”

He took a deep breath in, coming to a decision. “No, I trust you, Bo.”

“I’m glad.” A look of relief passed over her face as she said it before a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Though, given everything, you probably shouldn’t.”

Tilting his head regarded her quietly, picking up a steaming bowl, before responding, “Most would consider it unwise, yes. But you haven’t given me any reason to believe you’d harm me. Your friends have, but not you.”

“There’s still time yet to disappoint you,” Bo said quietly as she picked up her own bowl and then looked up at him. “Do you mind if I eat here? I’ll turn around so I don’t see your face, I just couldn’t face eating alone or with an angry Koska.”

“By all means. Just…don’t turn back until I tell you to.”

Part of him screamed at the trust he was putting in a woman he barely knew. To be in the same room as her when his helmet was removed and risk yet another sentient seeing his face would be foolish. Yet as he watched her turn around, carefully enough not to slosh her food over the side, there was a part of him that knew he was safe with her. Bo-Katan Kryze, he reasoned, had more honour and loyalty than most he’d met on his travels. She wouldn’t betray his trust on this at least. Not that it mattered much if she did see, he supposed. If he were already an apostate, he couldn’t become more of one by keeping the helm off. The offence had already been committed against the Creed. Still part of him did care for the Way he followed and it seemed for now that part of him would be allowed to win the argument.

Once he was sure Bo had fully faced in the opposite direction on her bunk, he set his bowl back down and reached up to depressurise his helmet. As he did so he could have sworn she took in a deep breath. Her body straightened as if in anticipation of something before she relaxed as she heard the clink of beskar on the end table. Din rolled his neck slightly, relieved that he could spend some time with the helmet off to eat. With the kid around, it had become rarer that he took it off to consume food, preferring instead to raise it slightly and quickly shovel the food into his face before Grogu did anything mischievous on the Razor Crest. Sighing, he picked up his bowl again and lifted the spoon to his mouth. Tiingilar. He recognised the familiar smell now he was closer. A Mandalorian stew guaranteed to set the mouth of even the hardiest warrior aflame. He hadn’t had it in years. Bo must have made it, he thought to himself as he took his first spoonful, savouring the warmth that bloomed inside him. It wasn’t as if Imperials would have just had this in their commissary.

Her voice was quiet in the room as she asked, “Is it okay? I haven’t had the chance to make anything more than ration packs in a long time.”

“It’s good. Thank you.”

Silence settled over them again as they ate, only the sound of cutlery against the bowls reverberated around the small cabin. Eventually, Bo finished her food first and he heard her spoon clatter against the side of the bowl as she set it aside. He was about to put a final spoonful of the stew in his mouth when she spoke.

“I’d thought your voice wouldn’t have been quite as deep without the modulator.”

Din paused, his eyes flicking towards where she sat with her back to him. Sitting staring straight ahead, Bo’s shoulders were set square and tight as if she hadn’t expected the words to come out of her mouth either. Maybe this mission was messing with her head as much as it was his.

“Is that bad?” he eventually asked before eating what was on his spoon.

Her head tilted to the side in thought, the red strands falling like a curtain he wanted to run his hands through to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. Get a grip, Djarin, he scolded himself.

“No, just unexpected,” she whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “You never know what you’re going to get sometimes.”

There was very little he could think of to say to that as the silence stretched between them. He’d never given much thought to the way his voice sounded to others before and it had been years since anyone had heard it without the static distortion provided by his helmet. It felt odd that this small part of him was now known only between themselves.

Bo let out a sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, I should probably head back to make sure Koska hasn’t piloted somewhere where she can make me take the weapon from you before punting you into the nearest sun.”

“Of course.”

Replacing his bowl on the tray she’d brought, he picked up his helmet from the end table and pushed it back down over his head, sealing it with a hiss. Through the narrow view of his visor, he watched as she turned around very slowly, her eyes gradually meeting his gaze almost as if she’d perhaps hoped that his helmet would not be in place.

She placed her bowl back on the tray and picked it up, shrugging awkwardly. “It’ll be a few days before we reach the fleet. You’re welcome to stay here, just don’t go too far. I might not have accepted your offer to hand over the Darksaber, but please don’t disappear.” Her face displayed a worried look for a brief moment before she schooled it into something more neutral. “I’ll bring you provisions at meal times unless you want to join us in the commissary?”

“I’m sure your friend would rather I didn’t.” He had no doubt Koska Reeves would lie in wait ready to attack the second she heard he was out of the cabin he’d sequestered himself in.

There was that small smile again. “Of that, I’m sure you’re right.”

With that she swept out of the room, the door hissing shut behind her, and Din sighed in relief. Bo had only been kind to him so far, but he sensed that the inherent tension of his current ownership of the Darksaber would eventually boil over into an argument that would see both of them at odds with one another. Taking the saber and unclipping it from his hip to hold it in his hand, his thoughts were muddled when it came to how to give it back to her. Fighting her wasn’t something he wanted to do. There had been enough fighting and he knew, just as he assumed she did, that if she were to challenge him for it, then he would not give his all. It wouldn’t be honourable for either of them. The little he knew of her at that moment told him that she would only take it back in a fair fight, so he would need to think of another option. It wouldn’t follow her Way, as different as it was to his.

Din turned the weapon over in his hands. It felt as heavy in them as it had at his hip. Like the weight of a burden, he had never asked to carry, forced upon him by the fates. Reattaching it to his belt Din resolved to be rid of it one way or another. He would find a way to give it back to her.

The assembled Nite Owl fleet looked rather insignificant compared to the giant ship Bo flew in on. Kom’rk class fighters dotted the tree-lined landscape in front of them, her own Gauntlet easily identifiable amongst them by its blue and yellow Kryze banding. Her Nite Owls were busy with their usual routines; maintaining their beskar, running through training drills, and teaching each other new techniques that could help them in any upcoming battle. They were content for now, but she knew as soon as they saw Din Djarin with the Darksaber instead of her, then they’d end up as angry with her as Koska.

Her friend still wasn’t speaking to her except for the occasional update on their current course and destination time. Bo had never known Koska to be this angry with her. Even through all they’d overcome, the situations they’d faced together, it had to be this that caused her to talk about casting her aside. All this anger simply because she wasn’t willing to murder a man who’d done nothing wrong to regain the Darksaber. The others would likely take Koska’s stance once they found out. Worries about how she would explain the situation to them in a way that didn’t make it seem like she had given up had plagued her over the last few days. So much so that she’d largely kept to herself, except to bring Din his meals, just to try to think of a way she could get the Darksaber back before they arrived.

She hadn’t succeeded.

The only way she could think of to win it back in a way that would satisfy her followers would be to fight him properly – to harm him – all in pursuit of a weapon he didn’t even want in the first place. She would fight him for it, she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to harm a man who had not sought to harm her. Even if he did fight her, she knew he’d give it up too easily to simply let her win, and in her heart, she knew that wasn’t an acceptable outcome either. It wouldn’t be winning the Darksaber fairly. Not according to the rules that had been set out.

Din himself was somewhere behind her. He’d not said a word since he’d joined them both on the bridge about an hour ago. Not that she’d expected him to. Koska wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence, and unless she told her she could fight him there was very little chance of them ever interacting. For her part, she’d not spent a lot of time in his company after the first night. When she brought him food the following morning, his voice had been gravelly like he’d cried recently, and he’d once again made no move to sit up. Thinking he probably didn’t need her hanging around, she’d left him to his own devices. Now though, she really wished she’d spent more time talking through the possible outcomes for when they arrived at the fleet. Din was a capable warrior, she’d witnessed that herself, but she didn’t think he was prepared for the open hostility he would encounter once they disembarked.

Or maybe he was, she thought to herself with amusement. In the short time she’d known him she’d already seen him knack for upsetting those around him and simply not caring about the consequences if they didn’t align with his own wants. In some ways, she admired that about him. To be forthright in his opinions and able to go through life without the responsibilities of being the one who had to lead. It made him honest. Something she couldn’t necessarily say about herself.

Turning slightly towards Din, so he’d know her words were directed at him, “When we disembark, I’d like you to stay as close to me. My Nite Owls are not going to be too pleased to see you with the Darksaber at your hip, and they’re going to be even less pleased to know that I allowed Gideon to beat me again.”

“And if there’s a fight?”

Bo turned fully towards him then, finding his helmet cocked to one side thoughtfully. “Hopefully it won’t come to that, but you should be prepared for every eventuality.”

“If I were them and discovered the last Kryze had been dispossessed of the claim to the weapon yet again by Moff Gideon I’d slit his throat where he stood.”

She sighed heavily. “Koska, don’t start this again.”

“What?” Her friend’s voice was incredulous. “You know he doesn’t want the weapon and any one of the Nite Owls out there wouldn’t hesitate to incapacitate him so you could take it back with ease.”

“That is not how we do things.”

“Maybe it should be. At least then we wouldn’t keep getting screwed over by kriffing Imperials!”

Gritting her teeth, Bo had to fight against starting this argument with her again before they’d even left the ship and been confronted by the rest of the Nite Owls. It wouldn’t do to have this play out twice in quick succession. “Land the ship and let’s get this over with. Trust me, I’m not looking forward to having this conversation with them either.” Motioning to Din, she began to make her way off the bridge. “Walk with me. It’ll be better if they see you standing by my side with the saber than have you slink off and pretend you don’t have it.”

“As you wish.”

The walk through the ship was long, punctuated by brief jolts as Koska attempted to land a ship far larger than she was used to piloting, but there was a comforting soft bump that told Bo she’d finally managed it. Din was silent by her side the entire journey towards the gangway that led off the ship. His heavy footfall was in time with hers as they walked in tandem through the corridors, the lights glinting off his beskar. Part of her felt almost uncomfortable to have her helmet under her arm instead of wearing it like he was. A ridiculous thought. She didn’t follow the Creed as he did and yet it felt slightly disrespectful to be not wearing it in his presence. Mentally, she tried to shake herself. Letting Din Djarin get to her like this wasn’t part of the plan and there were far more important things to deal with at present.

Bo hit the pad to begin the lowering of the gangway, revealing the gaggle of Nite Owls waiting for them, Axe Woves clearly visible at the head of the crowd. Oh, this was going to go marvellously, she sarcastically thought to herself. That much was obvious from the moment their smiling faces, made bright by the idea of having a Light Cruiser in the fleet, fell as their eyes landed on Din and the Darksaber at his hip.

“I hope you’ve got a good explanation for this, Kryze,” Axe called out, gesturing at Din. “You’ve clearly got one over on Gideon, but the Zealot is still with you and if I’m not mistaken that’s the weapon you’re supposed to have hanging from his hip.”

Muttering and nods of agreement from the others told her that she was already losing this battle for the explanation. Axe had clearly taken on a far more authoritative position since she’d been away and, evidently, the others had been listening to whatever tales he’d told them about Din and Trask. This was going to be far more complicated than she’d anticipated.

“Gideon is in the hands of the New Republic and we have his ship,” she announced to the assembled Mandalorians. “However, he deceived us and possession of the Darksaber inadvertently passed to Din Djarin. I am still working on a way to return it to my possession.”

As Koska appeared at her side, Axe made a noise of displeasure. “Oh excellent, the Zealot from the Watch has the power to wield the weapon of our ancestors and is currently our Mand’alor. Is his first decree to make us all wear our helmets? I can tell you what I think of that…” He reached for his blaster, pointing it directly at Din.

Din wasn’t too slow off the draw either. His blaster was out of its holster before she’d even had time to blink and was pointed directly at Axe’s unprotected head. Dank farrik this had got out of hand so fast and she had no idea how to resolve any of it in a way that would suit everyone. Stepping between them so that she could block their aim, Bo gently touched the vambrace on the arm Din had extended towards Axe. “Din…” His helmeted gaze turned slightly towards her. “I’d like you to go to my ship. It’s a Kom’rk fighter but with yellow and blue banding that marks it out from the others. Should be over in the eastern quadrant of the fleet.”

He breathed in heavily, his hand flexing around the grip of the blaster as he contemplated her words. Bo waited patiently for him to make the decision. If he wanted to start the fight now and shoot Axe, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. But the Din Djarin she’d come to know in such a short time wasn’t as hot-headed as Axe Woves – he could be reasoned with. Starting a fight was in no one’s best interests. Din sighed again and lowered his blaster, holstering it before he flew off in the direction she’d told him the Gauntlet was. Internally, Bo heaved a sigh of relief that he’d listened to her. Without him there maybe she could knock some sense into the rest of them.

“Oh, I see how it is, Kryze, ” Axe taunted, holstering his own blaster as the others around him began to disperse now there was to be no immediate fight. “You’ve taken that fanatic in as a kind of pet you can order around.”

Her head whipped towards him. “Watch your words, Woves.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? He’s bent to your will very easily. I half wonder if you’ll do the same for him.”

Koska stomped down the gangway from where she’d been quietly observing to put herself between Axe and Bo. “Kriff off, Woves. I just spent three days on that ship with them and I can tell you for certain nothing like that happened. We’re working on getting the Darksaber in Bo’s hands. So, in the meantime, haven’t you got something more pressing you need to be doing than insinuating she’s sleeping with that shiny idiot?”

Sneering, Axe looked between the both of them before deciding the argument wasn’t worth it and stomped off in the direction of the main camp. Bo closed her eyes, grateful that Koska had chosen to defend her and send Axe on his way. If there was one person he never wanted to pick a fight with it was Koska. That didn’t mean, however, that the matter of the Darksaber had been forgiven and Bo knew that now they were alone her friend was going to give her a piece of her mind again.

“You might not have fucked the zealot, but you haven’t found a solution to this situation yet.”

Ahh…there it was.

“No, I haven’t,” she replied, exhaling a breath. “I want to fight, but I know he won’t put his all into it and I’ll win it too easily.”

Koska scoffed. “Easily? Just beat him into the dirt and take it from him anyway! If he’s just going to roll over, you might as well just let him have it and take out all your frustration on him.”

“He’s not Gideon,” she retorted, offended that her friend would even suggest taking the easy way out of this. “Din Djarin didn’t seek to acquire the Darksaber and you know this. We were all pawns in Gideon’s plan to deceive us just so that he could cause further disquiet between the few Mandalorians that are left.”

Her friend huffed in annoyance but said nothing, so Bo continued.

“You know how Gideon came into possession of the weapon in the first place. You know why I gave it up. I tried to save us all and he betrayed me.” She took in a deep breath, shaking her head. “How would it make me any different from him to face off against an opponent who is already at their lowest after giving up the child he cared for?” Bo knew Koska was right. Din would not give his all in the fight and she could win it easily. But that wasn’t how she wanted to win it back. It wouldn’t be honourable or right. No, if the weapon was meant to be hers, she wanted to gain control of it in a legitimate fight.

Rolling her eyes, Koska folded her arms and raised a condescending eyebrow at her. “If you’re so worried about fighting him, then you should have just slit his throat while he slept. He’s a Child of the Watch after all. There’s no reasoning with a guy from a cult.”

“You honestly think I could have overpowered a man like that as he slept? He’s armed to the teeth and would have killed me before I even attempted it.”

“At least you would have attempted something. ”

Koska’s retort stung. Did her friend truly think the saber meant that much to her that she would just murder an innocent man simply to gain control of it? It pained her to realise that in the pursuit of their goal, Koska had seemingly lost sight of her own humanity. She had to find another way.

“I’ll seek him out,” she suggested, desperation edging into her voice. “Perhaps I can challenge him to a duel. That way I can fairly fight him for it in a way we both consider honourable.” She looked at Koska directly, making sure her friend understood. “But it is contingent on his agreement.”

Bo watched as Koska rolled her tongue around her mouth in thought before she finally said, “You can try, but on your own head be it.” She started to walk off leaving Bo staring helplessly after her before she called back, “Though you actually might want to try fucking him. Seems like you’ll get better results, but if it gets them then who cares? Even still, you better get it back or you’ll find yourself with only the zealot for company very quickly.”

Bo rolled her eyes in frustration and set off in the direction she knew Din and the Gauntlet to be; the eyes of the assembled Nite Owls following her every move. She wondered if she could get him to agree to a dual with certain rules: he would have to put in the effort, but it would not be a fight to the death, and they would not try to harm one another. It was the only way she could see it playing out. There was a part of her that didn’t even want to suggest it. Din Djarin was clearly a kind man under that gruff exterior he put up as a shield and a strong warrior too.

If she was honest with herself, he was a better Mandalorian than some Nite Owls who still claimed fealty to her. Days ago, when they’d verbally sparred aboard the Imperial ship, she felt a tug of attraction towards him. That tug made her want to get up in his face and force a reaction out of him when she knew she shouldn’t and a physical fight would likely make it worse. Bo wasn’t sure whether it was his forthrightness or lack of care for her Kryze name and station, but part of her was set aflame every time she was in his presence. You haven’t even seen his face, the voice at the back of her mind scolded her. The attraction is purely a physical reaction to stressors, don’t let yourself be overcome by it. Bo hated that the rational voice was right; she was too worked up by events and her body was looking for an outlet. Din Djarin just happened to be its focus for the moment.

Stomping up the gangway, she made her way into the ship, pausing only to place her helmet and gloves in the cockpit and check the systems before she set off in search of him within. He wasn’t that difficult to find. Staring morosely at his hands, his bare hands she noted with some surprise, Din was sat in the small mess she had aboard the ship; his thumbs tumbling idly over one another as if in deep thought. The Darksaber was on the table in front of him alongside his gloves, mocking the pair of them silently. As she approached him, Bo stared down at this new part of him that had been revealed; the same warm tan skin she’d seen when he took his helmet off days ago that made her want to take it from him now. She wouldn’t, though. No matter how much she desired to see what the kid saw, to see the face of the man who’d taken everything from her, she wouldn’t disrespect him like that. It would make her as bad as Gideon if she ever attempted it.

“I take it your friend suggested murder as a viable option again,” he said flatly.

She sighed, “More or less.”

His helmet tilted to one side and then the other as he slowly stretched out his neck. “That’s not an advisable course of action, Bo.”

“Mhm, you’d kill me before I even got close, even if you were sleeping.”

“This is the Way.”

That made her laugh a little. Din, she’d noticed, had a habit of using the phrase in a variety of different ways. Sometimes sarcastically, sometimes in resignation, but this one was new: smug agreement. Bo walked up to the table directly in front of him, tapping her fingers lightly on the surface. “Yeah, I figured I wouldn’t be able to. There’s a reason you have the reputation you do, Din. I’m not enamoured with the idea of finding out exactly what you’re capable of doing.”

“Then what would you have us do?” His question was asked as if the whole sordid affair was boring him, and it irked her a little.

Shrugging, she replied, “I have no intention of harming you, but we need to resolve this. Would you accept a duel?” His head turned towards her, visor staring at her intently, so she pushed forward with her proposal. “I want to make this a fair fight, something that doesn’t compromise either of our principles. It needn’t be to the death, just simply to submission. However…” Bo looked at him seriously. “…I would need you to give your all in a fight between us or it will never convince my followers.”

Din hung his head. “I cannot accept those terms.”

“What?!”

Oh, she was going to kriffing kill him. He’d been offered what was probably the best way out of their situation and he wouldn’t take it!

“It is not honourable –” he continued impassively. “– to fight and injure someone for a weapon I do not want. So I would not give my all in such a contest. I simply want to return it to you.” His hands balled into fists as he visibly tried to temper his frustration. “I would not be able to give you the fair fight you need and you know any victory over me would be hollow. You’d know the second you won easily that I’d have let it happen. I simply want to return it to you and be on my way.”

Bo wanted to scream.

“It doesn’t work like that you fool! You cannot simply hand it over! Fight me for it fairly and we can both be rid of one another!”

His voice was hard. “No. Fighting fairly risks you never retrieving the weapon from me and you know that.”

“My people will not follow me if you simply hand it over. The Darksaber must be won by the defeat or submission of the other party. Those are the rules laid out by our people.” Bo knew her voice reeked of desperation, but she needed to make him see reason. He couldn’t be this stubborn not to see that others had rules they lived by too.

“I will not fight you on your terms, Bo-Katan Kryze. You will take me to my covert and I will leave this weapon with you.”

At his words, her patience snapped. She was done trying to reason with him. She was done trying to make him see the harm that had been caused. It was time for her to stop playing nicely and hit him where it hurt. “The way in which the Darksaber is won means as much to me as your ridiculous Creed does to you. Just because you’ve broken yours doesn’t mean you simply have the right to break mine too.”

That got him.

Din was out of his seat and into her personal space before she could even blink. The set of his shoulders was angry, his helmet tilted menacingly towards her and she tilted her own defiantly up at him. It was like on the Imperial’s ship all over again and a thrill slid through her, sparking deliciously down her spine, and pooling low in her belly. This way lies only ruin, her mind screamed at her. You’re playing with forces of which you do not have full control. But she wasn’t listening to reason.

He hadn’t said anything, but she could hear his rapid breathing, harsh through the helmet’s modulator.

“Loth-cat got your tongue?” she taunted, stepping even closer to him. “Or do you finally understand what you’re dealing with here?”

Without warning, she watched as he took two deep breaths in before he reached up and depressurised his helmet, lifting it off his head and placing it on the table beside them. Dank farrik. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she suddenly found herself staring into deep brown eyes.

If Bo could have pictured the man beneath the helmet, she would not have been able to picture what was before her. The mop of dark hair on his head was matched by similarly coloured facial hair, neatly trimmed into a moustache and light beard that framed his face in a way that made her stomach flip. He was older than she thought, the lines around his eyes and mouth told her he was perhaps only a few years younger than herself, but he wore them well. She was staring far too intently at the way the light of the room played out across the planes of his cheeks and nose when he spoke.

“Is this what you wanted?” he said, low and dangerous in such a manner that made her knees weak at the way she could finally pair his voice with a face. “To provoke me enough to see the face of the man who is in possession of the thing you desire the most?”

She couldn’t answer him. Too busy staring into his eyes now their faces were only inches apart. There was an anger in them, obviously given their current circumstances, but behind that lay a sadness that made her heart clench. The kid, she supposed, but evidently something more too. She knew she shouldn’t have provoked him like this, yet now she had him she was fascinated by him entirely. Mudscuffing hells he was handsome. Distractingly so.

Oh, you’re for it now, her traitorous mind whispered with glee as she fought to control her breathing. How was she supposed to fight a man who her body told her she’d be much better off fucking?

Bo wasn’t alone in mapping a face. She could feel Din’s newly de-visored eyes mapping her own in return, carefully flitting over her features until his gaze came to rest on her lips. Without the barrier of his helmet, she could see very clearly what he was thinking as his eyes darkened and his breathing sped up. There was no defence mechanism against the emotions playing out across his face for the man who’d worn a helmet nearly all his life. He was laid bare before her and it made her want.

Testing him, she slid her tongue out from between her lips, wetting her bottom lip slightly. The thrill that went through her when his eyes darkened further, tracking her movement, was indescribable as they both leaned forward towards the inevitable. His bare hand slid around the back of her neck as she angled her face towards his, mouth parted and millimetres from his own; each daring the other to make the first move. In the end, she didn’t know who broke first, but his lips were on hers as his hands grasped desperately at her. Her own reached out to tangle in his hair as they kissed in a mad tangle of teeth and tongues, groaning into each others’ mouths as their frustrations boiled over.

Stars what was she doing? Bo couldn’t really answer the question she’d posed herself as the man who held her nipped at her bottom lip, sliding his tongue into her mouth as she moaned her appreciation. He wasn’t particularly well coordinated with his kisses, something he must have only had limited experience with given the helmet she supposed, but he was certainly good at taking direction from her as she used her hand to tilt his head to a better angle, feeling the delicious scrape of his beard against her cheeks.

Sucking on his tongue, she felt him moan against her lips as he spun them around to lift her up and sit her on the table, shifting his helmet and gloves to one side and knocking the Darksaber to the floor with a clatter. The sound caused them to pull apart, both breathing heavily, mouths red and kiss swollen, eyes dark with a need they both felt. Bo felt like she’d lost control of herself. The reason for their fight was long forgotten. She didn’t even care that it had been so carelessly swept aside in pursuit of the man who now stood between her legs. All she wanted was him. Spreading her thighs further, she cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth back to hers, whimpering as he put up no resistance, tongue sliding effortlessly into her mouth as he laid them back on the table and settled his weight over her.

Hands began to wander over bodies and under beskar as they lost themselves in their kiss. His hand cupped her neck before sliding into her hair, running through the strands as he held still while his lips devoured her own. Bo could feel the hard length of him against her centre as she raised her legs to bracket his hips, sliding her hand down his back and grabbing his ass to thrust against him, which drew a deep groan from his lips as his hips rolled against her desperately. In retaliation, she felt his hand sneak down her neck, then beneath her chest plate and flak vest, grazing against the bottom of her clothed breast before rubbing his thumb over where her nipple peaked through the material in a way that had her writhing against him, kissing him for all she was worth.

She had just begun to work on the lower fastening of his flight suit, taking deep pleasure in the way his hips stuttered and he moaned against her mouth when the comm on her vambrace blared to life. Din jumped back from her as if burned by a flame thrower they both knew they had at their disposal. She watched as he stared at her helplessly for a few seconds before he grabbed his helmet and gloves and fled the room, disappearing further into the ship.

Sighing, she sat up and ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair before she opened her comm. A single message from Koska: I’m outside. Do you have it yet? Bo knew there was no way she could put this off. She had to face whatever fate had in store for her. Jumping down from the table she made her way towards the ship’s gangway dazed and shaking from her encounter with Din. What would have happened if Koska hadn’t interrupted them? Would she have let him take her there on the table in her own ship?

I don’t know why you’re even asking that question, the voice in her head taunted. You know you would have let him do anything to you if only he’d kept kissing you.

Bo gritted her teeth and tried to pretend that the voice wasn’t right.

Descending the gangway, she found Koska standing at the bottom of her ship, arms folded and foot tapping with impatience. This wasn’t going to be easy, and with the way Koska’s eyes scanned over her face, clearly seeing the evidence of Din’s attentions to her as she made a noise of disgust, Bo knew she was screwed.

“So you fucked him?” The words were spat out in anger.

She shook her head.

“Then what?” came the incredulous reply. “You wouldn’t fight him, so you tried to seduce him for it? Please tell me you at least thought about killing him before you submitted to that zealot.”

Bo sighed. “He won’t fight me for it. At least not honourably. He’d let me win and my claim to the Darksaber would be tenuous at best considering my history with it. The only option left is to win it from him fairly and he won’t give me that.”

“So you’re giving up and letting him keep it?! Just kill him already, Bo-Katan!”

“No!” The vehement way she shouted her refusal surprised both women. Tears sprang to her eyes as she fought to control her emotions. “He doesn’t deserve that fate. I refuse to do it.”

Koska’s face curled into a tight sneer. “Well, I hope you can live with yourself Bo-Katan Kryze, because this won’t go down well with the rest of the Owls. Mark my words; you’re through.”

With that Koska turned on her heel and stormed off into the darkness that had fallen over their camp. Bo watched her go helplessly. There was nothing that could be done. No way of resolving this without committing an act that would see her fall further from grace and she simply couldn’t abide it. Striding back into the ship, she hit the panel to raise the gangway and took a last look at the fleet’s camp in the distance. She knew this would be the last time she saw them. No doubt Koska would relay what she’d failed to do to Axe Woves and he would decide to leave with the fleet before first light. However, she simply couldn’t kill a man in cold blood for something that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t honourable. Returning to the mess, she saw the Darksaber still lying on the floor mocking her. Bo picked it up, feeling its weight in her hand before she placed it back in the centre of the table and walked to her quarters. She would face the consequences of her actions come morning.

When Din woke, he stared at the ceiling in the cabin he’d bunked down in for the night. At his side, his helmet rested on the end table, the dark T of the visor felt like it was judging him for everything that had occurred: the challenge, the argument, the kiss. The Creed he’d tossed so casually aside again. He’d broken it. It didn’t matter that it had already been broken, he should have kept to it when he replaced the helmet after the kid left. But one look from her and it had been all too easy to cast that rule aside once more. He groaned, screwing his eyes shut, his hands balling into fists. How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t even thought about the consequences of removing his helmet during their argument, he’d simply just done it to prove…

What had he even been trying to prove? That he didn’t care for rules now? That he wasn’t the arbitrator of her downfall? That he was just a man beneath the beskar and not the unreasonable monster she’d made him into? All that had been summarily pushed aside when he looked at her face for the first time without the impairment of his visor. Her eyes were greener without the dark tint, fine freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, the scar on her forehead clearer, and the curve of her lips more prominent. He’d felt rooted to the spot with the sudden desire to possess her, to make their fight into something they could both win. Then her tongue had peeked out, his cock had twitched traitorously, and then there’d only been the need to consume her.

He'd lost himself in it – in her – as they’d raced towards the inevitable together. Even when they’d broken apart briefly, he hadn’t considered stopping. The way she’d looked at him with hooded eyes and kiss swollen lips, it had been so easy to fall back into it alongside her. He wanted to do it again even now. It had only been when her comm had blared, reminding him of the outside world and the rules he lived by that he’d fled.

Once in his cabin, he’d chastised himself for letting his emotions about the kid allow him to be drawn into an argument with her. The kid and the kriffing saber were the only things he had thought about in the days leading up to their rejoining with her fleet. Thoughts of Grogu mostly made him feel like a hole had been punched through him, such was the scale of the loss, but he truly had tried to think of a way to give her back what she wanted. A duel he’d readily agree to if he knew she would best him. Bo-Katan Kryze was a strong warrior in her own right, but he knew deep down he would beat her in hand-to-hand combat. Gideon was a fierce opponent but if he had bested her to gain control of the Darksaber, then there was a high chance he would too. The only option would be to simply let her win the fight; an offer she had been very clear she could not accept. Their options were either mutual destruction or a festering stalemate, and Din truly didn’t know which was worse.

Sighing, Din sat up and rubbed his eyes before sliding his helmet over his head. He would have to face her despite all that had occurred between them; she was his only way out of this whole mess. Exiting the cabin, he made his way towards the mess. There, sat in the centre of the table he’d lain Bo across, was the Darksaber as if it had never clattered to the floor. She must have put it back there, he thought to himself, picking it up and turning it over in his hands before clipping it back onto his belt. Even when presented with a perfect opportunity to take the weapon and run, she hadn’t done it and had kept to the code she lived by. Din saw something of himself in her. A steadfast stubbornness to follow the rules of their lives as Mandalorians despite how they differed from one another.

Walking through the ship in search of her turned up no sign of life until he headed towards where he knew the gangway to be. It was down, a gentle breeze blew into the ship as he rounded the corner to walk down it only to find her sat at the bottom staring out. She didn’t move as his boots made heavy footsteps down the gangway and when he reached the bottom he could see why. Where yesterday there had been a sea of Kom’rk fighters, dwarfed by the Light Cruiser they’d arrived in on, today there were nothing but empty fields with small dark patches where campfires had been extinguished.

Her followers had deserted her.

Din looked down at her. Bo’s face was impassive as the wind whipped her hair about her ears. Nothing outwardly in her expression would have given away what she was feeling, but he could see signs of it if he looked closer. The slight redness to the rims of her eyes and a drying track mark of a fallen tear on the side of her face told him more than she likely ever would about how she felt at that moment.

“This is what we have wrought,” she said harshly, still staring out to where her fleet used to be. “Our inability to find a solution has cost me everything.”

Guilt twisted in his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“We were in an impossible situation, Din,” she sighed as she rubbed her hands along the plates that covered her shins. “Neither of us would compromise our principles. They won’t follow you with it because you’re a Child of the Watch, you’re not one of us.” She bowed her head in sorrow. “They wouldn’t follow me without it because I couldn’t kill you in cold blood, you didn’t deserve that.”

“So, what do we do now?” He knew there was somewhere for him still to return to, but what about her? His conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave her alone like this.

“I can take you to what remains of your Covert if that is what you still want. From there we can part ways.”

Bo’s voice was small, lost. The cocky and confident woman of only a few days ago lost along with her fleet. All this over a weapon? he thought to himself. What kind of Way tied a person’s worth to their wielding of such a thing?

What kind of Way never permits a person to show their face? the voice at the back of his mind taunted him.

“That would be our best course of action. There’s nothing left for us here.”

Holding out a hand for her to take, he clasped hers in his own, pulling her to a standing position. Up close, Din could see how her eyes were bloodshot and briefly wondered if she’d lain awake the whole night knowing that her followers would leave. Her gaze quickly averted from his as she let go of his hand.

“I’ll need you to be my navigator for this if we’re to seek out your Covert without revealing their location,” Bo said as she stared into the ship, her voice sounding far away. “There’s a rough location for them, I take it?”

He nodded, “Fett mentioned something about the Glavis Ringworld. If we head there, I might be able to seek out clues to their exact hideout.”

“This is the Way,” she whispered sadly before trudging back up the gangway and into the ship.

Following her, Din hit the panel to raise the gangway and prepare the Gauntlet for take-off. Silently he wished that there were more he could have done to save her from the path he’d forced them to walk together. He’d doomed himself to keep the kid safe and doomed her with his refusal to fight fairly for the weapon. Even if they parted, he would still be in possession of the saber and she would be left with nothing. Not even a Covert or Clan to return to. Din had heard her say she was the last of her line and he had no doubt she meant it. Bo-Katan Kryze was as alone in the Galaxy as he was. Sighing he made his way towards the cockpit. It was going to be a long journey.

A day or so later, the gravity-fed loop of the Glavis Ringworld came into view as Bo dropped the ship out of hyperspace and prepared to find a place to dock the ship. Din surveyed the landscape before them. The star at the centre of the ring was small, but the light it gave off was bright and powerful. No part of the surface of the space station wasn’t bathed in the sunlight, only tempered by shades that had been built that seemed to move in a cycle that Din assumed gave them some sort of artificial day and night cycle that would regulate the lives of the sentients who’d made it their home.

“Where do you think we should start?” Bo asked, not turning her head to face him, too busy entering the required codes to request the ability to land at the station.

He tilted his helmet in thought for a moment before he responded, “The industrial areas. If the Armorer survived the attack on the Tribe on Nevarro, then she’ll require a cryo-forge to continue her work.”

“Your Covert has someone who can work beskar from scratch?” The tone of her voice indicated she was at least a little impressed with his revelation. “I thought we lost all those with that ability during the Purge.”

“Not all,” he said softly. “I’ve been taking bounties for years to bring credits and any spare beskar home to the Covert. She would use it to make armour for the Foundlings we’d brought into our group.”

Having finished providing the station with the requisite information to land, she turned to him. “A true community spirit. I’d say I was envious, my Nite Owls certainly wouldn’t have been as productive, but there’s still that helmet rule I don’t think I could live with.”

He shrugged, “It’s not so bad if everyone does it. You forget that you’re not seeing faces when you’ve never seen any of them in the first place.”

The only response he got was a light hum, which he couldn’t figure out the meaning of. Would she be okay with living her life as he did, and if so, could he ask her to stay with his Covert? At least then, he reasoned as the ship made its slow descent towards the ring’s surface, she wouldn’t be alone.

Hours later they were deep into their search in the industrial sector of Kolzoc Alley with very little sign of anything that might lead them to his Covert. Din knew Bo was frustrated; the increasing drag of her footsteps behind him and the deafening stony silence told him enough. In the beginning, she’d been talkative enough, even going as far as to wear her helmet out of respect for those she might encounter. He appreciated that. She might not have followed his Way, but she respected him enough to abide by the rules of his Covert. Many others would have simply made a crude gesture and continued on their way, but she had suggested she should before he could even advise it. A gnawing feeling of guilt for having told her she was not Mandalorian had formed in his gut. Din knew he should apologise for that at some point but now wasn’t the time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something down an alleyway, a symbol he recognised, and he made a quick turn into it, listening as Bo’s footsteps hurried to catch up with his sudden movement. ‘Smithing & Cryos’, a dingy sign above one of the doorways read as he walked, scanning the environment for further clues. The archways above him were tall and grey, streaked with dirt and grime in a way that told him this wasn’t a well-cared for place. Pockets of light beamed down from the sky where it could peek through the steelwork, casting shadows on the old metal crates and other debris that lay scattered in all corners. Bo hadn’t said a word as she followed him. The only sign he had that she was still with him was the splash of a second pair of footsteps through the pools of condensed run off from the numerous steam vents. It was only when he reached one door in particular that he saw it: a Mythosaur scoured into front of it. The sensors in his helmet told him this was Mandalorian in origin, that only the vision settings in their helmets would pick up the signals to display it correctly, but he had to know for sure.

“Lift your helmet,” he instructed her. “I need to know if what we’re seeing is visible to others or not.”

Bo nodded, depressurising and lifting her helmet so that her eyes were visible in the dim light. “No, it’s not visible without the helmet. What does it mean, Din?”

“It means we’ve found my Covert.”

Hitting a button on the panel next to the door, it hissed open, and with one quick look at Bo, he stepped through into the darkened rooms beyond. Immediately, he was hit by the familiar smell of a cryo-forge in full working order. As he walked further into the room the temperature rose, so much so that he felt the beads of sweat form at the base of his neck beneath his helmet. Turning to Bo, he nodded. The Armorer was here, or at least very close by.

Walking further in, he had to adjust the vision settings on his helmet slightly. The room was extremely dim. Shadowed recesses formed wherever he looked, large pipes ran down from the ceiling and fed into others that went who knows where, and the steel walls rusted slightly from where the steam had corroded them over the years. A cryo-forge was lit near the centre of the room, the blue flames roared steadily though it’s Armorer was still absent. Another figure wasn’t, however. Paz Vizsla’s large form loomed from the shadows; the lighting against his beskar made him look more droid than human.

“I did not know if I would see you again.” Vizsla’s modulated voice held a note of surprise. “Though it appears you are not alone.”

Din nodded, motioning for Bo to stay behind him. “Thank you for saving me on Nevarro. I am sorry for your sacrifice.”

“It is no matter, there are three of us now. You will find yourself with no shortage of work.”

He was taken aback. Only three? Had his flight from Nevarro with the child really caused so much damage to the Tribe? The guilt Din felt was immense. He’d left them to defend themselves, purely so that the kid would no longer be in danger from Imperials, they’d died defending that decision and he’d returned to them an apostate. If he revealed his transgression then there would only be two of them unless others were still scattered somewhere.

“That is not the only thing Din Djarin has returned with.” The Armorer’s voice was as calm and composed as ever, ringing out in the small space as she stepped out from the shadows and into a small sliver light, the gold of her helmet glinting in it. “There is also a weapon at his hip and Bo-Katan Kryze.”

Paz’s head whipped towards her and, instantly, Din felt a surge of protectiveness over Bo. She wasn’t here to cause any problems, merely to deliver him home. He stood in front of her still and Bo made no move to come out from behind him, evidently seeing it would be easier if she let him deal with his people first. Unclipping the Darksaber from his belt, he held it out in front of him.

“That is the weapon of my ancestor,” Paz stated with surprise. “How came you by this? I thought it had long since been lost.”

Din sighed. “Moff Gideon was in possession of it. When I defeated him in combat it came to me.” He paused, looking back at Bo whose helmeted gaze was firmly fixed on Paz. There was a story there, he thought. “I have no desire for this weapon. We need to figure out a way to return it to Kryze.”

“If she has lost it then it is not hers to regain.” Paz’s voice was hard as he squared his shoulders. Behind him, Din heard Bo take a step forward, but again she said nothing. “You have won it fairly, Djarin. The Darksaber is in real Mandalorian hands again.”

Walking further into the room, the Armorer beckoned him forward. As he reached her, she held her hand out and he placed the saber into it before she turned it over in her hand and ignited the blade. The dark black of the blade was outlined in white, humming rhythmically as she tilted it this way and that, inspecting it. Once she’d had her fill, she shut it off and handed it back to him.

“The Darksaber was created by Tarre Vizsla when he became the first Mandalorian to also become a Jedi,” she said matter-of-factly. “It remained with him until his death when it was returned to the Jedi temple. During the wars between Jedi and Mandalorians, Clan Vizsla retook the weapon and it remained in their hands until Pre Vizsla of the Death Watch lost in battle to Darth Maul.” She paused looking over to where Bo stood silently behind him. “Something your new companion knows all too well.”

Din turned to Bo, who stood stock still, her fists clenched at her sides. Had she been part of the same Death Watch that had branched into his Covert?

The Armorer continued, “After that time, it passed through the hands of several Imperials, each losing it in battle to the other, which our legends say is how it must be won. At some point, it was gifted to Bo-Katan Kryze instead of being won by Creed, she who is undeserving has wielded it and laid claim to rule Mandalore. Her rule ended in tragedy and brought a curse to our homeworld.” Another pause. “She handed it to Moff Gideon and brought about the Great Purge leaving Mandalore laid to waste and its people scattered to the four winds. The woman who stands next to you is a cautionary tale for those who seek to wield it.”

At her words, Bo surged forward next to him, anger laced through her stance. “I did not simply ‘hand it over’ to him. After the Night of a Thousand Tears, our people were being desecrated by Imperial forces. Gideon told me that if I disarmed the spared cities and surrendered the Darksaber to him, he would stop the destruction of our homeworld.” He watched as she took in a shaky breath. “Stupidly, I believed him. He took the weapon from me and completed the Purge. I’ve spent every moment of my life since hunting him down to revenge our people and take back what he stole from us.”

Silence fell over them like snow on Hoth. That hadn’t been what Din had expected Bo to say. Was that why she’d been so hellbent on hunting down Gideon to the point that it had nearly killed her? She had tried to save Mandalore but instead inadvertently brought about its destruction, thus dooming herself and their people to be forever separated from their homeworld.

“If that is true, Bo-Katan Kryze, then perhaps you are more of a fool than I have previously given you credit for,” the Armorer said steadily. “But I do not believe you would lie about such a thing to protect yourself.”

Bo inclined her head. “I would not. Din Djarin and I boarded Gideon’s cruiser to save the foundling that was in Djarin’s care. We defeated Gideon, who is now in the hands of the New Republic and the weapon passed to Djarin.” She hung her head. “As a result, my followers have deserted me.”

Din prepared himself to ask the Armorer for her permission for Bo to join them. He couldn’t leave her alone in the Galaxy after everything he took from her. She didn’t deserve that fate. However, the Armorer’s next words dashed those hopes.

“It is unfortunate that you are an apostate. Had you not removed your helmet and shown your face so freely to others in the past, I would have invited you to join us.” She turned to Din. “As the Foundling is not with you, I presume you have completed your quest?”

There was a twinge of sadness in his gut at the mention of Grogu. “I handed him over to the Jedi. He should be safe amongst his people now.”

“This is the Way.”

The familiar words were meant as a dismissal. A conversation complete. But to Din, it didn’t feel like their business had concluded. There was still the matter of returning the Darksaber to Bo. She would have to leave them now and go off fates knew where in the Galaxy to live her life in solitude due to his actions. After everything that had happened between them, he couldn’t conscience that happening to her. He still had to right the wrongs. There’s still the matter of your helmet, his mind taunted him. If Bo-Katan is an apostate, then so are you. Steeling himself, he spoke again.

“I still must return the Darksaber to Bo-Katan. We must find a way that doesn’t result in more bloodshed between Mandalorians.”

Paz scoffed. “You would still give it up to an Apostate? Maybe the Darksaber belongs in someone else’s hands.”

“Maybe?” Din’s guard was immediately up. He knew that tone of voice and it never led to anything good. Paz was looking for a fight.

“It was forged by my ancestor, founder of House Vizsla.”

Din tilted his head in warning. “And now it belongs to me. I will do with it as I see fit.”

The Armorer had retreated to a corner of the room, evidently having read the warning signs of Paz’s behaviour. Bo, on the other hand, he noticed, had made no such move. Her position was guarded, but coiled to strike. He wondered, briefly, if her time in the Death Watch with Pre Vizsla had soured her towards his Clan. It would certainly explain why she was so defensive around him and why Paz was so keen for her not to regain control of the weapon. But the fight that Paz was angling for would not be with Bo but himself.

The sound of a vibroblade being unsheathed with a soft snick drew his attention back to the man in front of him. Paz’s fist was balled, the shield at his wrist was engaged and glowing, as the blade on his other hummed and shone in the light.

“Then I challenge you for it, Djarin.”

Din barely had time to ignite the Darksaber before the other man was bearing down upon him, vibroblade raised to strike. Beskar sizzled and sparked against the blade of the saber as Din brought it down against the other man’s vambrace. Unlike his blasters and pulse rifle, the Darksaber felt cumbersome in his hands when it should have cut through the air with ease. He wielded it wrong and he knew it, but there was no time for recriminations.

Stumbling backwards as Paz threw him off, Din tried to regain his footing before the next blow struck. He gripped the hilt of the blade with both hands and raised it as Paz charged forward with his own blade extended. There was a clang as the blades met, followed by a scrape as they slid together and then fell apart. Din struggled with his balance as the heaviness of his blade forced him to start forward as if to fall, as Paz darted to the side.

They fought like that for a while. Each traded blows that made their beskar sing. But there was no sign of either one of them gaining the upper hand. Din knew it was because they’d trained alongside one another. They knew each other too well. Could anticipate each other’s next move so quickly that they were often in position before the other had the chance to ready themselves for the blow.

Soon, Paz’s blade was cut in two. No match for the might of the Darksaber. But where Din had won out, he also lost. His sluggishness with the blade allowed Paz to kick him down to a lower level in the room, landing awkwardly on his back, the blade slicing at his calf causing a searing burn. He cried out in pain. As he did so, Paz jumped down to where he’d fallen ready to begin their fight anew. Through the pain, he watched Bo rush to the edge to witness the next part of their fight, while the Armorer appeared more slowly; apparently keen to allow the two Mandalorians to fight it out amongst themselves.

Briefly, as Paz picked him up and slammed him into a wall, Din wondered what would happen if he lost. Would Bo attempt to fight Paz for control of the Darksaber? She was a fierce warrior, and fully capable under normal circumstances. But Paz Vizsla was far larger than she was and Bo was still sporting weakness in her leg from the injury Gideon had inflicted. Din had no doubt that with the other man’s strength and determination Bo would lose to him and then lose her life for the weapon she so desired. A fight with Vizsla was a fight to the death. Din knew that unlike if he had fought Bo, he had not gone easy on Paz, and yet the other man still almost had the upper hand over him.

The wind was knocked out of him as Paz threw him against the wall again, so much so that the Darksaber tumbled out of his grip as he fought to breathe. Releasing his grip on him, Paz allowed Din to slip to the floor as he bent down to retrieve the fallen weapon. Breathing heavily, Din could do nothing as Paz raised the Darksaber above his head and ignited it, the glow of the black blade shone heavily over the blue and yellow of his beskar.

“Fate has returned this blade to me and my Clan,” he proclaimed loudly. “Now I will wield it to seal Djarin’s demise.”

Somewhere through the buzz of pain that clouded his mind, Din swore he heard an anguished cry from Bo. Instead of focusing on that, he quickly lurched to the side avoiding the killing blow Paz had launched at him, and flicked out his vibroblade. As fate would have it, Paz could not wield the Darksaber without considerable sluggishness just as he had been unable to. The other man’s larger size and strength were no match for the weapon he wielded. Evidently, it needed to be in experienced hands.

Din seized his opportunity. Rolling to the side, he aimed his vibroblade at the gaps between Paz’s beskar plates, stabbing quickly, causing the other man to cry out in pain and attempt to swipe at him with the Darksaber. But Din was too quick, evading the manoeuvre, taking another swipe at him before he was able to kick at the hand that held the weapon, forcing Paz to drop it. The Darksaber clattered to the floor as Paz dropped to his knees, and Din wasted no time. Gripping Paz in a headlock, he raised his vibroblade to the other man’s neck and waited for his submission.

When Paz hit the floor with his hand, the Armorer declared, “Din Djarin has bested Paz Vizsla in a dual and retains control of the Darksaber. The matter is settled.”

“It is not settled,” Din called out, shoving Paz away from him, picking the weapon up from the floor before he limped back to where Bo and the Armorer were. “It still needs to be returned to Bo-Katan.”

“If you will not fight her for control, then the matter is settled,” the other woman said sternly. “She cannot remain here as an apostate while you decide the best course of action. There is no room for those who break the Creed. Bo-Katan Kryze must leave Din Djarin. Unless you have removed your helmet while separated from us, you shall remain with your people.”

Guilt consumed him. There was nothing for it.

“Then I must leave alongside her,” he declared. “When I bade farewell to the Foundling, I removed my helmet so that he would know my face.”

The Armorer’s head tilted slightly. “Is this true?”

“It is.” There was no point in lying now.

“Then you have become an Apostate to the Way of the Mandalore, Din Djarin. You must leave us.”

“Just like that?!” Bo cried out, stepping forward to defend him. “You would cast him out for saying goodbye to a child he risked his life to save? Is there no way back from this?”

The Armorer crossed her hands in front of her stomach, assessing the anger in Bo’s stance. “You do not follow our Way, Bo-Katan Kryze. You do not understand our Creed. Atonement can only be found in the Living Waters on Mandalore, a place that is cursed by your actions. Din Djarin can never atone and thus can never return. This is the Way.”

Din looked between the two women as the pain from the wound in his leg throbbed steadily. Bo’s fight for him was admirable, but it wasn’t one she could win. He knew the rules of his people and he had willingly broken them. Had he not been asked, he likely would have tried to keep it hidden for longer as he worked towards a way to atone. But as it was, he had been unable to lie to the woman who had been his guide on the Way. Din supposed he should have felt more sadness at the prospect of being separated from the people who had taken him in, but with the pain in his leg and the still gut-wrenching loss of the kid, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for it.

“We must leave, Bo,” he said quietly, touching her arm as she still stared at the Armorer. “I have broken the rules of my Tribe and I accept this. It is useless to fight.”

“No! This is wrong. They are your family.”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. We must go.”

Holding out an arm to her, she immediately took it, looping his arm over her shoulders to help him walk. Din didn’t look back at the Armorer as he limped out of the Covert’s hiding place and back out into the alley. This was the path he’d chosen for himself. In defence of Bo-Katan Kryze and the kid, he’d lost everything himself. Now he and Bo were two Mandalorians adrift together in the Galaxy, cut off from their people due to the steadfast adherence to rules that made no sense to either of them.

By the time they made it back to the Gauntlet, the pain he was in was almost unbearable. He hadn’t even protested when Bo unceremoniously dumped him into the navigator’s seat and then disappeared in search of a medkit. Taking deep breaths in, he breathed through the pain until she returned, hissing when bacta spray was applied to the wound before relief set in as the skin began to knit itself back together. Removing her helmet, Bo regarded him with sad eyes that a hidden part of him was glad he could finally see again.

“We’re now both without our people.” She bowed her head. “I am sorry, Din. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

He sighed. “I will find us somewhere to go. There are people I can contact who might have accommodation for us while we figure things out.”

“No,” she said softly, her fingers picking at a loose thread on his flight suit as if trying to distract herself. “I know what you’ve lost today. If you were a Foundling taken in by the Children of the Watch, then you likely have nowhere else in this galaxy to go.”

“I will manage.”

“But you don’t have to,” she insisted. “I’m a Kryze. There are still places in this galaxy I can return to. Come with me to my home on Kalevala until you figure out what your next moves will be.”

“Bo…”

She sighed, standing up to place her helmet on the console of the cockpit. “I know what you were thinking in there. You were going to ask them if I could stay with you and your Tribe. Even after everything, you still tried to right the wrong you’d committed against me. Let me do the same for you.” Touching his pauldron, she looked more determined than he’d ever seen her. “Neither of us have anywhere else to go now, and at least my castle won’t have you sleeping on the floor in some forgotten backwater where anyone could attack you.”

“Do I have a choice?” His tone was light, trying to break the tension of the past few hours. Of course, he was going with her. He still had to return the weapon to her and find atonement for himself.

A small smile spread across her face as she sat down in the pilot’s seat and began the procedures for take-off. “I’m glad you see it my way, Din.”

He settled into his seat as the Gauntlet shot through the atmosphere of the Glavis Ringworld, the unusual space station quickly becoming smaller as they flew off. As the coordinates appeared on the navicomputer in front of him, he accepted them, plugging them into the system and listening to the hum of the hyperdrive as it kicked in and they shot off towards their destination.

Kryze Castle, here they come.