omega!Eddie Is a struggling musician trying to make it big, but no one wants to sign an omega for a metal band. Everyone knows omegas belong to the pop genre, or so the small minded people would like to believe.
Eddie doesn’t give up though. He keeps pushing, keeps sending in demos, keeps waiting for his chance. And one day he gets it when the well-known record label calls him to meet up and discuss a possible deal.
Except the alpha he meets up with is a creep and a predator and attempts to force Eddie into sexual favors in exchange for a contract. He tells Eddie that no one will believe him if he tries to snitch, that he’s a big deal in the company and friends with the owner’s son. He gets really pushy but Eddie fights him off and storms out of the room only to bump into some other alpha who is instantly on alert at Eddie’s distressed scent.
Eddie is still jittery and pissed off and starts ranting at this alpha about the sort of business they run and about creepy predators and how he refuses to suck knot just to get his music signed on. The alpha frowns at this, tells Eddie to wait by the reception, and disappears to where Eddie just escaped from.
A few minutes later security rushes past, and a few minutes after that the second alpha returns with a split lip, a growing bruise around his left eye, and bloody knuckles. He smiles at Eddie though and informs him that if he would like to press charges then he would happily help him with that, but that in any case that man no longer works for the company.
Eddie is confused and a little nervous now that his anger has settled some and explains that the other man said that he was friends with the owner’s son, causing the alpha before him to give him a strange look before grinning again.
“Don’t worry,” the alpha says. “I know the son as well and he wouldn’t let a creep like that work here if he knew what was going on. Now, how about we listen to that tape of yours and see if, if you’re still interested, you have a future here at Harrington Harmonies.”
The alpha pauses for a moment, holding out his hand with a sparkle in his eyes that makes Eddie’s gut clench. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
Summary: Niragi brings up Chishiya's past in front of Mira and Kuzuryu
(TW: Attempted SA, harsh language, slight violence, misgendering/transphobia)
Chishiya walks through the beach with Kuina, following her as she talks to him about the plan to take Hatter’s cards. “If we can get those new players to join our plan, we can definitely use them to our advantage.” She says, looking over at Chishiya. Chishiya nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
The two walk over to the bar, Kuina orders a whiskey. She takes the drink and takes a sip. She looks over to Chishiya, “You want a sip?” She offers. Chishiya shakes his head. Kuina continues to sip.
Chishiya glances over at Niragi, who was harassing Mira, as usual, licking his lips as he moves closer to her.
He glances back at Chishiya, who was still staring. Chishiya notices his eyes looking at him and stares at the at the ground. He walks over, stopping in front of him. “Hey, princess.” He teases, leaning against his gun. Chishiya continues to look at the ground.
Kuina wraps her arm around Chishiya’s shoulder protectively. “What do you want, Niragi?” She asks, firmly.
Niragi smirks. “I just want to talk to Chishiya, is that a crime?” He asks, innocently. He snatches the half-empty drink from Kuina and takes a sip. “Thanks.” He says and winks at her.
Kuina glares at him. “No way, you must think I’m crazy if you think I’m going to leave him alone with you.” She snaps, moving closer to Chishiya, who’s still looking down.
Niragi scoffs. “He’s a grown up, he can have a discussion on his own, don’t you think?” He looks at Chishiya and lifts his chin up with his fingers to make him look up at him. “Didn’t your mommy teach you that it’s rude to not look at someone while they’re talking to you, girly?” He laughs.
Chishiya tenses up, his face turning a dark shade of red. He shoves Niragi’s hand away from him. “Don’t touch me.” He warns. Niragi rolls his eyes, still smirking. Chishiya looks over to Kuina. “Don’t worry, Kuina. I’ll be fine.” He reassures her.
Kuina stands there for a moment before sighing. “If you’re sure." She leans down and whispers in his ear, “If he pulls any shit, you come right to me. Okay?” She asks, but the request sounding more like a plea.
Chishiya nods. Kuina gives Niragi a glare before walking off to go hangout with An by the pool. He crossed his arms. “So, what do you want?” He mutters.
“I saw you staring.” He teases. “You see something you like?” He asks, sticking his tongue out to show the smaller boy his tongue piercing.
Chishiya swallows nervously, averting his eyes. “No, weirdo.” He murmurs, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say felt a little bit turned on.
Niragi took note of his eyes and took it as a sign to step closer. “Are you sure, princess?” That’s what immediately turned Chishiya off, the name "Princess". He hated being called feminine names, especially that one.
“Fuck off.” He glares, shoving Niragi away.
Niragi stumbles back, quickly regaining his balance. He shoves Chishiya against the wall harshly. He grabs Chishiya’s arms and pins them to the wall. “Listen, you little shit. You don’t get to be a prick just because you feel like it.” He snaps, making Chishiya shake. “Now, you’re going to shut up and listen to me, got it?” Chishiya stands still, too scared to move or respond. “Good.” He moves in, kissing Chishiya’s neck, dragging his piercing against his skin.
Chishiya lets out a whine, tears pricking his eyes. His heart beats faster as Niragi moves his mouth lower. “See? You like it.” He whispers in his ear, moving his hand under Chishiya’s hoodie, gripping his waist tight enough to leave marks. He bites down on Chishiya’s neck, leaving a bleeding mark on it. Niragi feels a tap on his shoulder. He takes his mouth off Chishiya’s neck, turning his head around to see Kuzuryu standing behind him.
“If you boys are going to do this, you should go to a room.” He said. He looks over at Chishiya as he looks back at him, his face flushed and tears in his eyes. He pulls Niragi back, making him let go of Chishiya.
Chishiya fall to the floor, his legs giving out underneath him. Kuzuryu went over and squatted next to him. “You okay, kiddo?” He asks, firm but compassionately. Chishiya nods, holding back tears. Kuzuryu stands up and turns back to Niragi. “Can you explain what was going on here, Niragi?” He asks, standing in front of Chishiya.
Niragi started to respond before Kuina interrupted him. “Shiya!” She yells, running over to him. She sat next to him, lifting his head gently to see the marks on his neck. She stands up, stomping over to Niragi. “What the hell did you do?!” She yells.
Kuzuryu puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Kuina, it’s okay. I’ve got this.” He tells her. Kuina takes a step back, crossing her arms.
Niragi groans. “We were just having fun. No need to get all protective.” He laughs bitterly.
Mira walks over to them. “Everyone okay over here boys?” She asks, her tone light.
“Oh my god, everybody mind your own god damn business! I’m just having fun with Chishiya!” Niragi snaps.
Kuzuryu looks over at the black haired boy. “We wouldn’t need to tell Hatter about what’s going on, would we?” He threatens. “You know how he feels about harassment, Niragi.”
Mira goes over to Chishiya, handing him a water. “Here.” She says gently. Chishiya thanks her and takes the water.
Niragi huffs. “Yeah well, you guys at like I’m the villain here, but at least I don’t kill children.”
A sharp silence fills the air.
“What did you just say?” Kuzuryu asks quietly. He turned around to the sound of Chishiya’s sobs, finally letting tears pour down his face.
“It’s not my fault.” Chishiya choked out through tears.
Niragi smirks. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what all the parents said after you murdered their children." He laughs. Kuina was about to hit him before Kuzuryu beat her to it with a swift punch to Niragi’s face that ripped his eyebrow piercing out. Niragi let out a pained yell, holding his face with his hand as blood dripped down his hand. "Fuck! You fucking bitch!" He screamed as he picked up his gun.
Mira put a hand on the gun. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. It won't look good for you if you shoot one of the Hatter's closest allies." She warned.
Niragi shoves her hand away before retreating back to the bar.
Kuzuryu turned back to Chishiya. “You okay, kid?” He asks.
Chishiya nods, attempting to stand up wobbly legs. Kuzuryu goes over and helps him up. “Thanks.” Chishiya mutters.
Kuzuryu nods. “Of course, now come sit with me and Mira. Your friend can join us if she wants.” He offers, looking at Kuina. Kuina nods and sits with the others once Chishiya sits down.
With the others protecting Chishiya, he felt that things might not be so bad for anymore. He sat in the comfort of his friends and he felt safe, just for now at least.
Chapter Summary: And I’m fading away, you know, I used to be on fire. I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be. -Halsey
Word Count: 13,734
Author's Note/Chapter Warnings: The chapter title comes from the Halsey song ‘Angel On Fire’. This chapter is dark. Tags are updated. Chapter warnings are: attempted SA, angst like whoa, mental breakdown, disassociative disorder, PTSD. Please proceed with caution. MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY (for reals)
Chapter 12: Angel On Fire
Mando’s words resonated inside of her—Stay. Here. Those two words echoed through the hollow shell that housed what was left of her as she replayed their last interaction on an eternal loop.
Nothing made sense anymore. Everything that she knew, everything that she believed for the last five years, had been based on a lie. With those two words—Stay. Here. Mando had left and decimated her in the wake of the bomb he dropped.
Stay. Here.
There was nothing left.
There was nothing left, and it was all her fault.
Her mind spun as it tried to process this new information. Evidently, it was ill-equipped to make sense of this revelation, leaving Alaina unmoored and floating through her memories of the past.
Yes, there was sand and grit under her hands from the ground of the hangar. Yes, her cheeks were wet with tears. Yes, Peli was nearby having a discussion with her pit droids. Yes, there was Grogu, who had wedged his tiny body under hers so he could try to see her face. Yes, her Mandalorian hallucination had returned, trying to provide, albeit awkward, comfort, but he was trying in his own way.
Alaina was aware of all of this, but she wasn’t there. She had left hangar three-five.
She was on the Razor Crest.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing to the white blanket, “it’s the first fall of snow on the Crest this season.”
No, that wasn’t right. Besides, those words were pointless now. Mando never needed that clean slate in the first place.
She needs to find that memory. Stay. Here. She needs to replay it, analyze it, and live in it.
Her mind rewinds past Sorgan, painfully skipping over the memory of creamy white skin tangling with tanned skin and broad muscles, pleasure, and the moon.
Her memories come to a jarring stop, and Alaina is back on the upper deck of the Crest with her dislocated shoulder, wearing a white hospital gown, snarling at the Mandalorian, “Just know that I’ll never forgive you.”
“I never said I did it for your forgiveness. I said I did it because it was the right thing to do.”
Her mind keeps going, searching for that one particular memory.
Unfortunately, there are five years of memories between the last time she stepped off the Razor Crest and when she returned to the gunship. Some memories from the last five years are too painful and all-consuming to skip over, forcing her to relive them.
Her memories glitch, and she is thrust back into the lab on Nevarro.
Penn is frantically trying to save her from General Graven. She can see his panicked face as he attempts to pry the General’s hands from her throat. With a snarl, General Graven finally let her go, allowing the burn of oxygen to return to her lungs.
Penn instantly fell to his knees, trying to assess the damage. “Lainey,” his concerned voice floated in her ears as she struggled to stand up.
“I don’t know why Gideon is still bothering with her,” Graven huffed, absently wiping his hands on his pressed uniform.
Penn is oblivious to her Mandalorian hallucination, holding her against his armored chest as if the figment of her imagination could protect her from the other two men in the room.
“Because—” Penn attempted to start, but Graven wouldn’t let him finish.
“Because you’re nothing,” Graven snarled at her, not bothering to let Penn finish whatever feeble explanation he was about to give.
And she believed it.
Her imaginary Mandalorian was having none of it. He silently spun her to face him and held his balled-up hands in front of his helmet, looking like a boxer preparing to strike. He was telling her to fight.
“Look at her,” Graven laughed. “Her brain is already gone. She doesn’t even know where she is.”
Mando shook his head at the man’s words, brought his gloved hand up to his neck, and drew a line across his throat with his index finger. Kill him.
Alaina turned back to the General, and Mando marched by her side as she approached him.
Graven smirked at her, “What are you going to do to me, little girl?”
Mando raised his fists again—Fight.
Alaina acted on instinct—She raised her hand to rest it on the General’s cheek, earning her a snarl.
Everything stilled inside of her. There was nothing but her and General Graven in that lab on Nevarro—
The orders flow through her lips, and for the first time in years, she feels the snake of her former powers rattle against the confines they had been trapped in. They surge through her, winding and twisting into her words, “You’re going to turn around and walk in a straight line. You are going to keep walking. You will keep walking, and you won't stop for anything.”
Graven’s ice-blue eyes glazed over, and his snarled face relaxed as he listened to her speak.
Alaina nodded at him and removed her hand from his cheek, severing their connection.
Graven nodded, and like the good soldier he was, he made an about-face and began his final march.
“You did it,” Penn whispered, watching in wonderment as Graven continued doing as she instructed. “No,” he continued when he realized Graven was heading to the open hangar bay carved into the mountain overlooking the lava flats. “Alaina, stop this,” he pleaded, grabbing her arm.
Alaina watched as the silver-haired General kept walking. The first drop of blood fell from her nose onto the floor. The bright red liquid stuck out vividly in her memory, dulling the other colors.
“Alaina!” Pershing yelled, jumping in front of her. “You can’t do this. You can’t kill him. Stop this before it’s too late!”
“This is your fault,” she told Pershing quietly as she stoically watched the man take another step closer to his death.
Her memory is now black and white except for her blood. The blood from her nose turns into a steady trickle. The bright red of it was stark against the colorless memory. Her own blood painted her memories in a striking vermilion hue.
“Alaina, please…”
But it was too late.
It was too late for General Graven, Penn Pershing's consciousness, or Alaina’s soul as Graven took his last step and toppled over the edge of the building.
Alaina turned to look at her hallucination. The Mandalorian nodded at her and held his fists up to his helmet one final time.
Fight.
Watching her life in reverse was odd—the things that stood out and those that didn’t.
Other flashes of her time on Nevarro flicker as she searches, but nothing stands out quite as poignant as the first time she took a life.
Here, she thought, when her mind returned to the Razor Crest.
Five years ago.
On Nevarro.
Stay. Here.
She watched the scene unfold as if watching it for the first time.
Mando’s gloved hand caressed her calf as he spoke. His words were soft, soothing, and confident.
Stay. Here.
How different would her life have been if she’d stayed put? Would she be settled on some planet? Would she have a family? A purpose?
“Snap out of it, Blondie!”
Alaina was rudely returned to the present in the blink of an eye.
The heel of her hand and her knees ached where she hit the ground. Her eyes burned. It felt like someone had cracked open her chest and ripped her heart from the hollow cavity.
Peli had pulled her up to kneel on the ground, and the shorter woman held her up by her shoulders.
Grogu grabbed her hand and tugged on her fingers.
Alaina could feel them there but could only see her favorite hallucination, which had finally returned to her.
The Mandalorian from five years ago stood behind Peli in his brown armor and beyond tattered cloak. There was something menacing about this former version of the Mandalorian. He wasn’t shiny and new. He was battle-tested, worn, and damaged.
Like her.
He looked at her over the mechanic’s shoulders and raised his fists to his helmet. He was trying to tell her to fight.
Alaina slowly shook her head, causing Peli to look behind her. Then, when the mechanic didn’t see what she saw, she looked back at Alaina with a frown.
Mando kept his fists raised, not accepting her answer.
Alaina felt a tear leak from her eye.
The invisible string she’d felt that had connected her to Mando for the last five years pulled taught and snapped.
A warm, late afternoon breeze came through the hangar, gently caressing her cheek as it whispered in her ear, “He’s coming.”
Her hallucination raised his fists at her again, but she directed her head to the sky, watching the suns race past the hangar's walls to the horizon.
Let him come.
There was nothing to fight for anymore.
If he was being truly honest with himself, the first time he felt the tiniest hint of that cord in his chest was five years ago.
Alaina had challenged him to a fight and won. She brazenly straddled his chest and pinned his arms at his helmet because he was too stunned to do anything after she’d used her magic powers on him. Then, with her emerald eyes sparkling in amusement, he felt the first inkling of a tickle in his chest. He shouldn’t have allowed her to tell her story; he should have excused himself from the hold, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there and listened to the ballerina, Alaina Corra, tell her story.
He’d been professional, more or less since he’d brought the woman on board. He’d ensured her wounds were treated, he got her out of her wet clothes and warmed her up before she could add hypothermia into the mix, and he had remained professional the entire time. But now, he was listening to her talk, and there was this unknown feeling in his chest, and for the first time, he allowed himself to really look at the quarry and realized how beautiful she was.
Maybe it was her beauty, her wit—maybe it was the woman’s story, but the seed of doubt had been planted.
And then she went and called him a karking Imp, and he tried to douse the tiny flicker of doubt that had taken up residence inside him. It wasn’t his job to meddle. It wasn’t up to him to play the judge and jury. His job was to collect a quarry and then return it for a profit. It shouldn’t matter what happened to said quarry once he returned it and collected his payment…
The Mandalorian watched Greef Karga get up from the table and head to the bar to order himself a drink.
Unfortunately, that seed of doubt never left, and against his best judgment, he put in motion his plan to save the ballerina.
The dingy Nevarro cantina was packed, and there was a queue at the bar, giving Mando precious minutes to make arrangements before his boss returned.
He looked to the table next to him and nodded to the teal and white Togruta cargo ship owner sitting by herself, nursing a drink over an empty plate of food.
The woman caught his eye and nodded back at him.
“You got room for some more cargo?” he asked, nervously tapping his fingers on the table.
The woman narrowed her gaze as she studied him. “What kind of cargo?” She was undoubtedly wondering what kind of cargo a bounty hunter would be looking to use her services for.
“Small, keeps to itself,” he said and paused. “Mostly,” he added on, and the smuggler smirked. “Dangerous, though. Will put a target on your back.”
The Togruta studied him, and Mando held his breath. The cargo ship owner was known around the guild. She had a puck out on her. It was a low reward (intentional by Karga). It was so low that it was not worth turning the woman in. Besides, there wasn’t a single member of their guild who was going to turn in the woman who frequently smuggled slaves out from their owners and delivered them to freedom. She knew how and where to take them to start their lives over, which is just what Mando needed.
“Not worried about the target on my back,” she replied, and the Togruta’s eyes slid to Karga. The guild leader’s back was to them while he waited for his drink at the bar. “But I am worried about upsetting the status quo.”
“I’ll handle Karga,” Mando said.
“There’s a price tag to my services—”
“I’ll pay your price. Do you have room for more cargo,” Mando interrupted, pressing the woman for an answer before it was too late.
The smuggler nodded, and Mando let himself relax. “Have your cargo to me by sundown,” she instructed. “If you’re not there by the time the sun fully sets, I’m gone.”
Karga turned from the bar to head back to rejoin Mando at the table.
The Togruta cargo ship Captain took another sip of her drink, going back to ignoring the guild leader and bounty hunter sitting next to her.
“One of these days, Mando,” Karga began as he retook his seat. “One of these days, I’m going to get you to join me in a celebratory drink!”
Mando sighed and tossed three of the four pucks he had across the table to the guild leader. The fourth he hung onto.
Karga smiled as he began shuffling his bag of jobs to let Mando take his pick of the next round.
“We need to talk about the last puck,” Mando finally started, holding Alaina’s puck for Karga to see.
“What’s there to talk about?” Karga questioned with a smile. “You got the girl, and now a big fat reward is coming your way!”
This was it. With a steadying breath, he said, “She’s dead.”
The smile dropped from Karga’s face, and the man stared at him dumbfounded. “What do you mean she’s dead?” he asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
Mando sighed. “I mean, she’s dead. It was storming. She put up a fight. We were on a rocky cliff, and she slipped and fell while trying to run from me. Slammed her head into a mountain.”
“Shit,” his boss growled, slamming his drink back.
Mando pulled the velvet green cloak out of his bag to show Karga the blood-stained hood. “If she wasn’t dead by the time she hit the ground, the river she slid into took care of the rest of her. I tried to save her, but she slipped out of her cloak and bag when I grabbed for her, and the river swept her away.”
Karga ground his teeth, “There’s no reward for proof of death.”
“Then there’s no reward,” Mando shrugged.
Karga sighed and leaned back in his chair, “I was looking forward to that commission.”
Mando cocked his head, irritated by Karga’s admission.
The Togruta at the table next to them got up and gave the guild leader a nod as she left the cantina.
Karga put on a fake smile and raised his drink to the striking teal Togruta, “You be sure you stay out of trouble, Taal!” he yelled after her.
The cargo ship captain, Taal, turned back to give the guild leader a wink before she sauntered the rest of the way out of the bar.
Karga’s fake smile dropped and was replaced with a deep frown from learning that his portion of the cut from Alaina’s reward had just washed away in a river on some backwater skughole.
“Can I just pick my next jobs?” Mando asked, eager to return to the Crest to prepare Alaina for what would come next.
“Oh, you can pick them,” Karga answered, pushing the options at him. “But you’re staying until you explain to the husband that you killed his wife.”
Mando sighed, “Not my fault she crashed head-first into a mountain. Besides, you’re the guild leader. Don’t we give you a sizable cut of our payouts for you to deal with the bureaucracy?”
“Mando, when we’re talking about a reward in this price range, and you killed some poor doctor’s wife, you have to deal with the fallout.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbled, standing up from the booth and grabbing a handful of pucks at random without looking.
Unfortunately, Karga also stood up while Mando was strapping his Ambam rifle to his back. “Oh, no, Mando,” Karga called after him. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
Mando continued to ignore the man as he started to leave, barely giving his boss a second glance. “You’re not the only one relying on that hefty commission,” he grumbled, hoping to get Karga to drop it. “The faster I get back out there, the faster I can make up for the lost income,” he finished, heading out of the cantina.
Karga’s heavy footsteps could be heard stomping behind him. “I don’t think you realize the possible repercussions of this, Mando,” the man barked as he followed him through the decrepit town.
Mando clenched his fists. “What repercussions? You, of all people, know it’s not possible to bring every bounty in warm—”
“That’s why I came to you for this one,” Karga argued angrily.
“Accidents happen,” he countered. “There was a storm, and we were on a cliff. She slipped, hit her head, and slid off the cliff.” Mando stopped in the middle of the road, forcing Karga to slam into his back at his abrupt stop. He spun on the guild leader, taking the man by surprise. “You’ve never been this upset about a mishap with a quarry before,” Mando pointed out, carefully eyeing the man before him. “What’s so important about this girl?”
Karga squirmed in front of him, obviously struggling with whether or not to tell the truth. “It’s not about the girl,” he finally admitted through clenched teeth. “It’s about whose footing the reward,” he sighed.
Mando’s heart rate picked up at the man’s words. Green eyes swam in front of him. “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been lied to by your Imp friends,” Alaina had taunted him. He hadn’t lied to her when he replied, “I’m not friends with Imps.” But now, Karga was shuffling in front of him, and Mando realized that Alaina hadn’t been lying.“I just assumed they were your friends since you were taking credits from them.”
“Who. Is. Footing. The. Reward?” he seethed, needing to hear the truth from his boss with his own ears.
Karga sighed, “There may be a slight connection with the Empire.” Mando’s fists clenched tightly at the man’s words. “Look, I’m sorry, Mando!” he tried apologizing. “I didn’t realize it at first. I met with the doctor, and he wasn’t wearing any uniform. Nothing seemed suspicious. He just truly seemed concerned about his wife!” Mando scoffed and shook his head. “He did! The man came here distraught, and I knew just the man for the job. Someone who would handle the job discreetly and quickly and probably one of my only hunters who wouldn’t do anything unsavory to the woman. It wasn’t until I got the downpayment that I realized it was all in Imperial credits, wired from an Imperial account.”
“Karga,” he growled.
He needed to get back to Alaina—now. Too much time had passed, and he still needed time to tell her what would come next and get her to the smuggler’s cargo ship.
“I know,” the man tossed his hands up. “I know, and I’m sorry. The contract was already signed, and the payout was going to be worth it. But he’s going to be here any minute, and I’m not going down for killing some Imp’s wife.”
Mando cocked his head and took a menacing step forward, “But you have no problem putting that on your best hunter?”
Karga shook his head, “I didn’t say that! I just… I’m sorry, alright. I just think it would be best if we told the man together. I just wish you had more than some of her personal belongings. Not sure that will be enough to prove her death.”
Mando searched his mind for anything of Alaina’s he could use. Usually, in cases where he had to bring the quarry in cold for various reasons, he at least had a head, or an appendage, or something—
“I have a chunk of her hair,” he grumbled, not looking forward to telling Alaina that she was about to lose a hefty portion of her honey-blonde hair.
“Hair?” Karga asked skeptically.
“She had a lot of yellow hair. It was in a braid that got snagged on some rocks,” Mando fibbed, hoping Karga wouldn’t try and poke too many holes into his explanation. “I left it on my ship.”
“Well, let’s go get it!” the man bellowed.
“I’ll return it to you, but then I’m leaving. You made a deal with the Imps; now you have to deal with it.”
Mando spun to stalk back to the Crest, and his teeth clenched when he heard Karga stomp his feet in the dirt behind him.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Mando,” Karga said from behind him. “No offense, but I think you’re just angry enough to take off and leave me hanging.”
“Maybe that would teach you not to make deals with Imps,” he shot back.
Mando looked at the entrance to the town as he approached it. There was no way he could hide Alaina or keep her quiet if Karga made it to the ship. He racked his mind for ideas or possibilities as he crossed the threshold to the lava flats. His best option would be to get Karga to wait for him outside and hope that he could get Alaina to stay quiet—
Panic swelled inside him at the sight of the Crest’s ramp open. Those mudscuffers had forgotten to close up his ship again.
He was about to reprimand Karga for the shoddy help he used when a shock of yellow peered out from inside his ship, forcing his feet to a screeching halt.
No, his mind screamed at the girl, and Mando clenched his teeth. He’d told her to stay on the fucking ship, and now she was about to blow her cover. His feet began moving on their own accord, taking large steps as he headed toward the ship, ignoring Karga trying to match his pace.
Someone he didn’t recognize stepped out from behind the ship, wearing a stark white uniform, and his heart stopped as he watched from a distance as the stranger grabbed Alaina and slapped a pair of cuffs on her. When the two stormtroopers appeared from their hiding spot, his heart restarted.
“You son of a bitch,” Karga muttered. “Please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Karga’s stunned voice said from beside him. The man turned to glare at him, “I thought you said she was dead!”
He didn’t have time for this. Mando broke out into a sprint, “Hey!”
“All right, suns are down. Time to ride, Mando,” the annoying voice of the wannabe hunter ordered, pulling him from his daydreams from years gone by.
Mando had yet to be able to calm his twisted, angry soul.
He had never intended to reveal to Alaina that, at the zero hour, the ballerina had convinced him not to turn her in. She had convinced him that if there was even a sliver of a chance that she was right, and this had all been a setup so the Imps could get their hands on her magical powers, then he had an obligation to make sure the Empire never got their hands on her.
Unfortunately, Alaina’s rash behavior had ended her chance at freedom before it began.
That wound had cut him deep.
Every time he revisited that day, he found a different way he could have approached the situation that would have likely ended with the ballerina escaping.
But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Now, five years later, he had to deal with the fallout of both of their actions from that day.
But he had meant it when he said he couldn’t watch Alaina continue to repeat her mistakes. Especially now after they’d…
Needless to say, he snapped.
Even now—well into the Tatooine night, he could still feel the panic he felt when he returned to the hangar to find the ship empty without a sign of Alaina or the Child, and every terrible thought that his brain could conceive flooded his thoughts, making him become irrational. He could still clearly see Alaina’s bright green eyes from across the busy Mos Eisley town square, making his anger swell. All he wanted was to keep her safe. He just wanted to keep her locked away from the galaxy so that nothing bad would ever happen to her again.
“Come on, wake up,” Toro Calican said again, kicking his boot.
Mando rolled his eyes. He hated this kid. The wannabe, Calican, had an elitist attitude and genuinely thought he was tough shit. It was only a matter of time before the kid got himself killed. There is a high probability that that will happen tonight since he thought he could take on Fennec Shand.
The kid kicked his boot again.
That was if Mando didn’t kill him first.
“Look at you,” the kid commented. The mock pitying voice he spoke with made Mando want to shove his face in the sand. “Asleep on the job, old man.”
“Kick me again, and I’ll snap your ankle,” Mando growled as he got up to head to the speeder.
“Geeze, I was just trying to wake you up,” Calican bemoaned. “You’ve been crabby since you grabbed that chick back in town.”
Mando stayed low and readied his speeder.
“Thought you would have worked all your anger out on that blonde,” the annoying wannabe hunter continued speaking, and Mando did his best to ignore him, but the wolf whistle the man let out made it difficult to tune him out. “She was hot. Did you know her? Cause if you didn’t, I’m gonna have to find her when we get back and,” Calican stopped to thrust his hips suggestively while he grunted obscenely.
The world faded, and when it returned, Mando had Calican pinned to the sand with his hand wrapped around the younger man’s throat. Calican thrashed under Mando’s larger, heavier body, and his head turned bright red as Mando continued to close his airway off.
Mando’s mind caught back up with him and let the younger man go before standing up.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Calican rasped, clutching at his throat.
Mando straightened his shoulders and gave him a menacing point, “If I ever see you within a parsec of her after this, you’ll wish I killed you here.” Calican’s eyes widened at the threat, and Mando offered the man a hand to get up off the ground and get this over with. The boy studied the offered hand, clearly expecting the Mandalorian standing over him to change his mind, but eventually gave in.
This was why Mando didn’t travel with others. This was why the others he had before Alaina were flings. He didn’t do friends. He didn’t do feelings—For this exact reason. Friends—feelings all complicated things. Those things made it difficult to see what the right thing to do was under all of it.
The cord tugged in his chest, and he growled at the feeling. Calican abruptly let go of his hand, obviously thinking that the growl was directed at him.
Mando wanted to open his chest and rip the damn cord out so he never felt it again.
He would finish this mission, take the girl wherever she wanted, and figure out what to do with the kid.
He would finish this mission and, for once and all, be done with Alaina Corra.
The day faded to night, and the night was now giving way to the twin suns as they slowly climbed back over the horizon, signaling a new day.
The world kept turning, but Alaina hadn’t moved from her knees in the middle of the hangar.
The wind had gone quiet long ago, no longer whispering warnings in her ear, and Alaina welcomed the silence.
Whoever was coming could come.
She deserved whatever was going to happen—
Strong hands gripped her shoulders and shook her.
Alaina blinked at the Mandalorian figment of her imagination kneeling before her. Peli had taken the kid in for the night when it was evident that Alaina wasn’t going anywhere. Not her hallucination, though. Her hallucination had stayed by her side all night.
“You’ll leave me too,” she whispered. Her throat hurt, and her voice rasped, sounding as if she had spent the whole night crying or screaming. She might have done both.
Her hallucination shook his helmet, silently telling her he wasn’t going anywhere. When Alaina didn’t respond, he got up and walked away, proving her point.
It was for the best. Even though her hallucination was nothing more than something her own mind had conjured at her lowest, it was right for him to see her fall apart and shatter into a million pieces that could never be put back together again.
Smack.
Alaina gasped and brought a hand up to her cheek at the sharp pain that blossomed across the right side of her face. She blinked, ready to rip into her hallucination, but he still wasn’t there.
But Peli Motto was.
“Alright,” the mechanic began, crossing her arms across her chest. “Get up,” she ordered.
Alaina could only blink at the stinging sensation left over from the smaller woman’s slap.
“Do you want me to slap you again? Because there’s more where that came from,” she threatened.
“You—You slapped me!” Alaina huffed, staring up at the mechanic.
“And?”
Alaina blinked and finally saw her hallucination come back into view, standing next to the shorter woman who had just slapped her. She glared at her imaginary friend, expecting him to look more perturbed than he did. Her look only made the Mandalorian put his hands expectantly on his hips.
“You’re taking her side?” Alaina seethed, pointing at Peli.
The mechanic’s eyes shifted to her right, but apparently didn’t see the pretend version of the pain in her ass for the last few years—Her hallucination cocked his head at her thoughts, and Alaina rolled her eyes.
“She slapped me!” Alaina told the apparition, but he just shrugged his shoulders.
“Yeah, I did,” Peli agreed. “And I’ll do it again if you don’t get up.”
Alaina glared at the mechanic but made no move to get up off the ground.
“Look, I gave you the night. Clearly, you’re going through some things,” Peli grimaced, vaguely motioning at her with her hand. “But at some point, you’re just gonna have to accept what’s happened has happened, and now you’ve gotta deal with it.”
Alaina kept her glare in place while she stared down Peli. “I have been dealing with it,” she seethed. “I’ve been dealing with it for the last five years! And now I’ve learned that the only person I have to blame for that is me!” she yelled. Her voice cracked, and Alaina struggled to keep from breaking down again.
“Well, at least you have someone to blame,” Peli shrugged, forcing a growl from Alaina. “Look, kid, it’s not my business. Do I have questions about why someone like you and your adorable baby are traveling with a Mandalorian bounty hunter? Sure,” she shrugged again. “But here’s the thing,” the woman began and paused to move her hands to her hips. “You and your kid look cared for. Neither of you have bruises or broken limbs. You both smile. And that tin can genuinely seems to care about you both. It’s a big galaxy out there. I’m the last person who should be judging anyone, but the three of you seem alright.”
The woman’s words cut through her chest, and Alaina couldn’t stop the tears from returning. Mando had done nothing but care for her, and what had she done to repay him?
Anger flared inside her—anger at the situation, anger at Mando for not telling her sooner, anger at herself for being the responsible party.
Her eyes flicked to her Mando, standing next to Peli, back in his defensive position, silently telling her to fight.
“Come on, get up,” Peli grumbled, and Alaina let the other woman help her stand up, ignoring the fake Mandalorian, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone.
Alaina looked around the hangar as she brushed the sand off her knees. The pit droids were all lingering. Some were moving around pieces of equipment, and one was watching Grogu. When the kid saw that she looked his way, he smiled brightly and held his hands out for her.
“I’m sorry I—” Alaina began apologizing but stopped when she couldn’t find the words. “Was he okay for you?” she asked Peli as she made her way to Grogu.
“‘Ole Bright Eyes, there was a perfect angel!” Peli informed her with a smile. “I think he’d eat me out of house and home, but once he was down for the night, he slept straight through.”
Alaina smiled down at Grogu, “Thanks, buddy,” she whispered as she picked him up and squeezed him to his chest. “I’m sorry I disappeared. I just needed time to think.” Grogu blinked at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. “I still don’t know what to think,” Alaina whispered, pushing her head into Grogu’s forehead. “But I have a feeling that this might be the last time you and I get to see each other,” she told him sadly.
Grogu’s smile dropped from his face at her words, and Alaina closed her eyes to block out the kid’s disappointment. A small, clawed hand reached up to touch her cheek, and before Alaina could pull herself away, she was thrown into a sea of images.
Sorgan.
The sight brought her heartache. Grogu showed her their lazy afternoon before… before she took that next step with Mando.
The three of them were sitting on a blanket next to the creek. The afternoon, from Grogu’s perspective, was interesting. Where Alaina just remembered the queasy feeling of uncertainty that laced her veins the entire day, he saw something else.
He saw two friends talking and laughing. He saw Mando relaxed as he lay on the blanket. He saw Mando’s helmet keeping tabs on them when Alaina pretended to chase Grogu up and down the creek bed. He showed her fragments of their walk through the field back home and how Mando’s hand stayed glued to her lower back. He showed her a brief clip of Mando holding him, and his vision was filled with the silver beskar helmet before he turned to see Alaina sitting on the cot, smiling at him and Mando.
Alaina pulled away from the kid and tried to swipe the tears she didn’t realize were leaking from her eyes.
“I know—” she started and stopped, trying to get her emotions under control. “I know that’s how things were, but I don’t think things will be like that anymore.”
Grogu cried and rested a hand on her chest. Alaina kissed his forehead. “I know,” she whispered. “But I messed up, buddy," she tried to explain to the kid but had to stop when her voice choked up. “I just think it would be in everyone’s best interests if I weren’t here when Mando gets back.
Her hallucination reappeared beside her, and Alaina closed her eyes to block him.
She saw signs for public transport ships on the outskirts during her ill-fated journey to the market yesterday. She had hardly spent any of the credits that Peli had given her. She could use whatever she had left to have one of those ships take her as far away as her money would allow. She could find someplace where she could fall into the crowd and slip away, someplace where she could try and start over—alone.
Grogu cooed and patted her chest with his tiny three-fingered hand, making Alaina smile at him.
Her smile slipped when she felt something warm blossom in her chest. The tiny, tattered shreds of the string connecting her to Mando trembled, and her imaginary friend moved in her line of sight to lift his fists back to his helmet again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Grogu, pulling him tightly against her chest. “Stay with Mando. He’ll keep you safe,” she told him, kissing him on the top of his head before she placed the kid back on the ground.
She ignored the kid’s cries and her baffled hallucination as she turned to head back to the Crest to gather her belongings.
Alaina ignored Peli as she stomped up the ramp and immediately headed to her cot. She dropped to the floor to pull her black bag from under her bed and began to gather her meager accumulation of belongings. She grabbed some of her clothes and tossed them into the bag, followed by her pointe shoes. Her hands fell to her hips as she looked around Mando’s ship for the last time. She frowned when her hands brushed against the metal that rested there.
Mando’s blaster and her mother’s dagger.
She pulled the blaster from its holster and studied it. A sigh escaped her as she looked at the silver and black blaster. Gloved hands appeared, and his larger fingers enclosed her smaller fingers around the weapon before they slowly pushed it into her stomach. Alaina blinked and looked up at her hallucination, sadly shaking her head.
“It’s not mine to take,” she whispered, shaking her head as she placed the blaster on her cot.
Her Mando looked at the blaster and then back at her, lifting his fists back into the defensive position in front of his helmet.
“I’m tired of fighting,” she said, keeping her voice in low, hushed tones. “I just want to go—”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Peli barked as she walked up the Crest’s ramp, pointing to the packed bag. The mechanic held an upset Grogu to her chest, but the kid’s cries seemed quiet when he saw her.
“I’m leaving,” she muttered, moving to step around her pretend Mandalorian.
Peli came and stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. “And what, you’re just gonna leave me with your kid?” Alaina rolled her eyes and tried to step around the short mechanic, but Peli refused to let her pass. “You’re gonna leave me with your kid and leave me to deal with an angry Mandalorian when he comes back to find that you took off? I don’t think so.”
“Peli,” Alaina sighed, but the woman interrupted her.
“Besides, where are you gonna go?” she asked, lifting a challenging eyebrow. “He’ll find you if you stay in town, and if you were even thinking about hopping a ride on one of those transport ships, then you should probably know that there’s only one that comes today, and it doesn’t arrive for hours.” Alaina frowned at the information. “And when it does finally arrive, there is at least a two-hour turnaround time before it takes off. And that doesn’t account for any maintenance if it needs to happen. I’m guessing your tin can will still beat you back before you leave the atmosphere.”
“That’s a risk I’ll just have to take,” Alaina told her. “Besides, you heard him yesterday. He’s done with me,” she reminded the woman, doing her best to keep the waver out of her voice at the memory of his words. “I’m just saving him the trouble. I can handle myself.” She tried to move around the woman, but Peli blocked her exit again.
“What about your broken heating coil?” Peli asked, nodding to the fresher behind them.
“What about the broken heating coil?” Alaina asked, not seeing the woman’s point.
“Well, you wanted it fixed, didn’t cha?”
“I’m not going to be around to enjoy it, and Mando went for years without bothering to fix it, so something tells me he won’t care that it’s still broken,” she retorted.
“Alright, yeah, I hear ya, but what if we fixed it anyway?” Peli asked with a shrug. “A little something for that tin can to remember you by?”
Alaina glared at the suggestion, but something about the fact that every time Mando got to take a warm shower, it would be because of her—
“No,” she finally answered, shaking her head.
“Okay, okay,” Peli started again, getting frustrated. “Just—Just hear me out, alright?” Alaina looked at the mechanic impatiently and crossed her hands over her chest while she waited for the woman to get it over with so she could be on her way. “I’m not saying I’m not gonna let you go,” she continued, and Alaina narrowed her eyes at the frizzy-haired woman. “I just think you need to take a few hours to think about it,” she suggested. “I don’t know your story, but I think what your Mandalorian told you yesterday rattled you to your core, and now you’re being rash by running away from your problems.
“You’re rash,” Mando’s words from… gosh, was that only yesterday? “You’re rash, and you rush into situations when you don’t know all the facts.” He’d used Sorgan as an example, but now Alaina knew the truth. He wasn’t referring to Sorgan. He was referring to her leaving the safety of the Razor Crest and getting herself captured by Penn Pershing.
“And I may be out of line by saying this,” Peli continued, giving her an apologetic smile, “but I don’t think you’re quite all there.” Alaina frowned at the woman’s admission. “I’m just saying that you’ve been seeing and talking to things that aren’t there, and I’m worried that a woman such as yourself in your state would be putting herself in harm’s way by leaving.”
Alaina’s eyes slid to the left to see her hallucination casually leaning against the carbonite machine with his arms crossed over his chest and his right foot propped up against the empty machine. Peli’s head turned to follow her eyes, and when the mechanic didn’t see her imaginary friend, she turned back to give Alaina a pointed look. “I thought you said you weren’t going to stop me from leaving?”
“Two hours,” Peli offered. “You give it two hours; if you still feel the same way after you fix that broken heating coil, I’ll let you go.”
Alaina scrunched her forehead in confusion at the woman’s words. “What do you mean after I fix the broken heating coil? I don’t know how to change a heating coil.”
“You won’t be able to say that in a couple of hours,” Peli told her, in an annoying peppy, can-do attitude. Alaina scoffed as the mechanic grabbed her bag and pushed her toward the fresher with one hand while still holding onto Grogu in her other.
Alaina frowned and looked behind her for help from her Mandalorian, but the man stayed propped up against the carbonite machine. When Alaina glared at him, he lifted his fists to his helmet—fight.
Mando returned to the cliffs on dewback just as the Tatooine dual suns breached the horizon, painting the desert in a bright, vivid orange.
He had approached from a higher vantage point to allow him time to observe how Calican handled being left alone with Shand for the few hours he was gone tracking the large dewback to bring their quarry back.
He was not surprised to find a dead body when he returned.
He was surprised that the dead body was Fennec Shand’s and not Calican’s.
Mando had fully anticipated having found that Shand had managed to escape, killing the wannabe before taking off with the kid’s speeder to take her to freedom.
He frowned at the turn of events, looking from Shand’s dead body to where Calican’s speeder had been.
Why would the kid kill the quarry and take off? He needed Shand to get into the Guild…
The feeling in his chest that he had done his best to ignore for hours flared and caused him physical pain, and he was startled by the sensation. It vaguely reminded him of finding those AT-ST tracks in Sorgan's woods when he initially felt something inside his chest slide into place—instead of something slow and dormant, the cord that had been embedded inside him had snaked itself around every major organ inside of his chest and constricted painfully.
Mando clutched at his chestpiece, trying to figure out what was wrong, but the feeling didn’t go away.
“I don’t know… Do you not feel that?” she asked quietly, bringing his focus back to her again.
“Feel what?” he whispered back, not at all sure where this was going.
Alaina’s mouth flattened, and her forehead crinkled as she looked down at his prone form.
“Here,” she finally said, bringing a hand out from the blanket to point to the center of her chest. “That something here that… It’s like I have something in my chest that keeps wanting to pull me to you. I don’t know if it’s just our history or getting closer to you the last few weeks, but I don’t know… It’s probably stupid.”
Mando felt as if the world around him had just come to a screeching halt. Not because he was confused by what she was saying but because he had felt what she was describing and just brushed it off as him being too close to the situation.
Alaina looked down to fiddle with the hem of her blanket, “I don’t know how else to describe it… but looking back on it now? To have you, of all people, come to me whenever I felt like I was about to break…” she sighed. “It’s like something in here,” she paused to point at her chest again, “was trying to tell me to trust you. It’s like something was pulling me to you. It doesn’t make any sense, I know. I wish I could describe it better. I don’t know, it’s like there has been this… this chain? Cord maybe—”
Mando blanched at her word and moved to prop himself up on elbows so his helmet was level with her head.
“It’s like there has been some kind of invisible string tying us together,” she finished, speaking the words as if they pained her to admit it.
Mando’s helmet whipped to look in the direction of Mos Eisley, and that cord in his chest pulled him to head back. Calican had left his quarry, his ticket into the Guild behind… which meant he was after something with an even higher price tag than Fennec Shand.
Emerald green eyes and green, wrinkly skin flashed in his mind.
With a sharp kick to the dewback’s sides, Mando tugged on its reigns and urged it back toward Mos Eisley.
I’m coming.
Two hours later, the only thing she wanted to fight was Peli Motto.
Two hours later, they hadn’t even started replacing the broken heating coil.
The mechanic refused to start without breakfast and a cup of caf. After procrastinating for as long as she could and eating as slowly as possible, she decided that Alaina needed a detailed explanation of electrical work.
When they finally made it to the part where they replaced the broken coil, Peli described the process in as much detail as possible. She even went so far as to explain how the water system worked on an older ship like the Razor Crest, and the mechanic was surprised it even functioned at all. There was another lecture wasting precious minutes while Peli went on to ramble about why Mando hadn’t just converted to a sonic system and be done with the outdated technology. Alaina tried to zone out, but anytime the mechanic felt like she didn’t have Alaina’s complete attention, she would stop and patiently wait until Alaina rolled her eyes and waited for her to continue.
Two hours turned into four, and Alaina finally left the Crest once the job was done.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and grimaced at the bright sun beating down over the hangar.
Her eyes searched the hangar until they landed on the shaded area in the back where Grogu was napping… and her hallucination sat next to him.
“Doesn’t it feel good to fix something?” Peli asked as she came up behind her. The woman pulled a rag from her back pocket to wipe the grease and grime away. “How about some lunch?” she offered, pocketing the rag. “Wouldn’t be right for me to send you off without a meal.”
Alaina didn’t respond. Her focus was on her hallucination: sitting on the ground, looking protectively over Grogu while the Child slept.
The scene unsettled her. It wouldn’t be out of place for the real Mando to do something like that—sit with his back propped up against the wall while he looked over Grogu… but for the figment of her imagination that she conjured… for her hallucination to act protectively toward someone or something that wasn’t her made her take pause.
Her hallucination turned to look at her as if hearing her thoughts, giving her a fixed look with his helmet.
The sounds faded from the hangar until Alaina could only hear her heart pounding in her head. She was missing something—something important that her Mandalorian was trying to tell her. Her hallucination never spoke or made noise of any kind. Instead, the man relied on actions and gestures to communicate his thoughts.
His gloved hand moved to point at her, holding the point for several seconds before he took that index finger and dug it into the ground.
Stay. Here.
Alaina clutched at her chest.
Next, her hallucination turned to look at Grogu sleeping next to him, blissfully unaware of the invisible Mandalorian sitting next to him. Alaina held her breath when his helmet turned to look back at her.
A gust of wind carried the hot Tatooine desert air through the hangar, ruffling her curly hair as the wind whispered to her once more, “He’s coming.”
Her Mandalorian lifted his fists back to his helmet. He still wanted her to fight, but he wasn’t telling her to fight for her.
He was telling her to fight for Grogu.
He was telling her to stay here for Grogu.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind about leaving?” Peli asked after the minutes of silence ticked by without a response from Alaina.
Her hand came to rest on the hilt of her mother’s dagger, and her Mando nodded.
In the blink of an eye, Alaina startled as hangar three-five came back into focus. The suns had somehow moved from directly above the ship to almost disappear from Tatooine altogether.
“Hey, Blondie!” Peli yelled, snapping her fingers in front of Alaina’s face.
Alaina blinked and looked around, confused by the mysterious time lapse. Not only was it much later than anticipated, but her hallucination was nowhere to be found. “What happened?” she asked as she continued to search the hangar for the familiar dented brown armor.
“You tell me,” Peli countered, resting Grogu on her hip. “You’ve been in some kind of trance for hours. Just been standing there… staring.” Alaina frowned, and her gaze finally settled on the mechanic standing before her. “It was creepy,” Peli finished, looking her up and down with a wary eye.
“Mando?” Alaina asked, already knowing the answer.
“Haven’t seen him,” she informed her flatly. “But you missed your transport ship because of… whatever you want to call what you just did.”
Alaina looked to Grogu, who was looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. The wind blew in warning, forcing Alaina into action.
“Do you trust me?” she asked Grogu, ignoring the confused mechanic for the time being. Grogu smiled at her, and Alaina grabbed him from the mechanic. She marched down the ramp and searched for the perfect place—an empty barrel that had been tipped over was left where she last saw her hallucination. “I need you to be really brave for me, little one,” she whispered, kissing the crown of his green, wrinkly head.
“Hey, what are you doing with the kid?” Peli called after her, following Alaina as she crossed the hangar.
Alaina continued to ignore her, choosing to give Grogu another kiss. “I need you to be really brave and stay as quiet as you can, okay?” she asked Grogu, putting her hands under his armpits to hold him in front of her. “No matter what you hear, stay quiet until Mando finds you.”
Grogu’s mouth quivered, and he reached for her as Alaina placed him inside the empty barrel.
Alaina placed her index finger over her lips and shushed the scared toddler. “Everything is going to be okay, little one,” she whispered, leaning into the barrel to rub one of the kid’s ears. “Stay here, Grogu,” she said, giving the kid one last smile before placing the lid over the barrel to hide him from the hangar.
“Hey!” Peli yelled, angrily spinning Alaina to face her. “What is going on?”
“Someone is coming for us,” Alaina explained, moving out of the small alcove and back into the hangar.
“What do you mean someone is coming for you?” Peli asked frantically as she followed her through the hangar.
“I don’t have time to explain, but you were right earlier when you said something is wrong with me,” Alaina admitted, tapping her head. “Mando has been trying to hide us—” she stopped, closing her eyes, unable to think about Mando right now. “I’m broken,” she confessed, opening her eyes to see a very confused Peli looking back at her. “I’m broken, I’ve lived, but he,” she stopped to point at the barrel where Grogu was hiding. “He is an innocent. He has his entire life ahead of him. I will fight for him to get to live that life. I will fight so they don’t get their hands on him and make him broken like me until my last breath.”
Peli studied her momentarily before saying, “What can I do?”
Alaina smiled thankfully at the woman. “Make sure he doesn’t find Grogu,” she told the mechanic. “And tell Mando… Tell Mando this isn’t his fault,” she nodded. “Tell Mando that I forgive him.”
Peli opened her mouth to say something, but another voice called out across the hold before the woman could speak.
“Word has it,” the voice began and paused until he stepped around the corner of the entrance into the hold. Alaina frowned at the man, recognizing him as the one Mando shoved against the alley wall yesterday. “Word has it, a Mandalorian is traveling with a blonde girl and a kid,” he said as he sauntered into the hangar.
Alaina moved to position herself in front of Peli. “Where is Mando?” she demanded, squaring her shoulders.
The stranger shrugged, “In the desert somewhere.”
Alaina studied the man, taking in his short, black hair, the leathers he wore, and the vileness that radiated from his eyes as he raked them up and down her body. She lifted her chin in defiance, hoping her confidence would squelch the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“You and your kid are gonna be my ticket into the Guild and make me rich,” he told her, taking a step closer to her.
“Sorry, buddy, you’ve got the wrong hangar,” Peli told him, moving around her to look at the younger man with a look of disgust. “There’s no babies here, so I suggest you move on.”
The man’s wandering eyes stared at Alaina before they finally settled on her chest, and he gave an empty grin before saying, “But there is a blonde girl.”
Everything happened in the blink of an eye—Peli lunged for the stranger, taking the man by surprise. She was small and quick, but he recovered from his shock quickly. He dodged her punch and responded with a fist of his own, crashing into the woman’s cheek and sending the mechanic flying.
“Peli!” Alaina cried.
She ripped her mother’s dagger from its place on her hip and went after their attacker. The blade scraped across the man’s neck, drawing blood. The stranger’s eyes flared in anger and came after her. He attempted to disarm her with a kick, but she dodged it and swiped at him with the dagger again but the man blocked her easily and knocked the dagger from her hand, leaving her defenseless.
Alaina blinked at her empty hands.
She wasn’t defenseless. These hands used to be able to move things. Just her words and these hands killed an Imperial General.
Alaina growled and flung her hands at the man, calling on her powers to return to her. To just let her feel them one more time and throw her attacker into the wall or across the planet, but nothing came.
The harsh bark of laughter taunted her, and her eyes flicked up just in time to see the man’s foot hurtle toward her. Alaina tried to step back but wasn’t fast enough, and the man’s boot sent her reeling. Her back hit the ground, and the air rushed from her lungs on impact. Alaina tried to pull the air back into her chest but could only flounder and gasp.
The man jumped on top of her, straddling her hips, and tears pricked her eyes when he ground his pelvis into hers while he laughed. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy you,” he sneered, sticking his tongue out of his mouth while he smiled down at her.
Alaina tried to grab for any scrap of skin she could find, but the man kept evading her.
The man snatched her wrists, pinned them to the ground, and leaned over her until their noses were touching. “What do you say we teach the Mandalorian a lesson?” he asked her before his lips came crashing down into hers.
Alaina’s breath returned to her, and her eyes went wide as she struggled to get away, but when the man wouldn’t budge, she found the man’s lower lip and bit down until his blood poured from his lip into her mouth.
The man ripped his mouth from hers, staring at her with wild eyes. “You bitch!” he screamed, backhanding her as punishment for her defensive attack.
Alaina gasped at the force of the strike. Her head had turned painfully to the side, and the hangar blurred while nausea rose in her stomach.
Concussion, she thought as she looked around the hangar, confused when she no longer felt the man’s crushing weight on top of her. The world tilted on its axis, making bile rise in her throat.
The stranger was back to Peli, tying her up.
Her eyes briefly flicked to the black barrel where Grogu was hiding, and she said a silent prayer that Mando would find him quickly.
A shadow fell over her, and her unfocused eyes looked up at the man towering over her.
The man swiped more of his blood off his lower lip as he looked down at her. “How mad do you think the Mandalorian will be if I take off with his girl and his ship?” he asked her with an evil smirk. “At least I’ll have you to entertain me on the way.”
Alaina’s eyes closed, and she let the tears come as she felt herself being lifted from the ground.
When she opened them again, her hallucination stood there, watching as this strange man carried her up the Crest’s ramp. She lifted a hand toward him, and he raised his hands to his helmet.
Her limbs felt heavy as she lifted her hands to the stranger's face, and she screamed.
Mando stormed into hangar three-five, chest heaving from sprinting the rest of the way to Alaina and Grogu.
Alaina’s blood-curdling scream could be heard from over two streets away. Too late. He was too late to save them. Panic gripped him as he frantically looked around for any sign of them but found none. He blinked at the surprisingly quiet hangar, but the hair on the back of his neck raised in alarm, warning him that everything was not okay.
His helmet swiveled quickly as he took in the hangar. The mechanic, Peli, he thought her name was, was bound, gagged, and propped up against the wall. She looked at him with wide, panicked eyes before exaggeratingly throwing her head toward the Razor Crest.
Mando’s helmet stalled when he saw Alaina’s mother’s dagger left forgotten on the ground between the mechanic and his ship. The serpent’s emerald eyes glinted in the moonlight, but the sight of red blood coating the blade made his chest clench in fear.
“No!”
Mando’s helmet snapped to look at the ship after hearing Alaina’s strangled cry come from inside. His fists clenched at his sides after hearing Alaina, and he silently marched toward his ship, stopping to grab Alaina’s dagger on the way.
He was on high alert, every muscle poised to attack as he silently walked up the ramp, stalking his prey in the dark.
“This why he keeps you around, huh? A little something soft and sweet to come back home to?” Toro Calican was speaking. The man’s back was to him, and he had Alaina pinned against the floor near the back of the ship. Her hands were on his face, keeping him away from her while the rest of her body thrashed fruitlessly under him. Calican was kneeling between her spread legs and had her dress pushed up around her hips. “Maybe I should take a page from his book. Keep you around instead of sending you back to the Empire.”
Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Mando could tell she was crying. “You’re going to let me go,” she told him, trying to sound brave through her tears. “You’re going to let me go, and you’re going to walk out into the middle of the desert—” her words cut off as her voice cracked as she struggled to speak through her tears.
Mando watched as Calican actually let her go. His body became rigid, and the upper half of it sat up straight.
Mando had seen enough. He had been right when he thought that he would be the one to kill the wannabe bounty hunter. If only he had done it a day ago, he could have saved Alaina from this. He sheathed the beskar dagger and strode across the ship in five silent steps.
Mando grabbed Calican by the back of his neck and ripped him away from Alaina. The man had a distant, far-off look on his face once he had been pulled to his feet, and Mando blinked in confusion and then looked down at Alaina on the floor, his confusion growing when he saw her glaring intently at the man with blood trickling down her nose. “Alaina?” he whispered, confused by the situation.
Alaina blinked and snapped out of whatever trance she was in. Her emerald eyes widened when she saw him standing over her with her attacker in his grip. Her face crumpled, and she sagged back to the floor, turning her head to look away. He turned to look back at Calican, who was blinking as if he were confused about how he got here, and then when the man saw the Mandalorian, the wannabe hunter gave him a smug, taunting smile—taunting the older hunter that he had made it onto the Mandalorian’s ship and had forced himself on his crew.
The man opened his mouth to say something, but Mando moved his hand to the front of Toro’s neck, squeezing tightly before slamming him back into the wall, forcing a satisfying choke out of Calican’s lips.
Mando observed the man, noting that those lips were bloodied and bruised. His heart stopped when he realized that the man hadn’t received those injuries from being punched. The indentions, the punctures… no, he wasn’t punched, he was bitten.
“Alaina,” Mando started darkly, turning his helmet to look at the crying girl curled in on herself on the floor. Alaina refused to look at him, but from his angle, he could see a glimpse of blood that coated her chin. More blood than what just came from a nosebleed. “Did he go any further?”
“I didn’t!” Toro wheezed from under his choke hold.
“I didn’t ask you,” Mando reminded him, tightening his grip around the man’s neck. “Alaina?”
Alaina sniffled but finally shook her head.
Mando felt relieved to see that—Relieved to see her responding at all. He had told her to stay here… and then he left her defenseless and was almost too late to save her.
He couldn’t think about those thoughts right now. After. After he handled the situation, he would let the thoughts consume him. But now… now he needed to ensure that Toro Calican never put his hands on another soul ever again.
“And the kid’s okay?” he whispered, hoping that Calican hadn’t somehow passed Grogu off to a waiting friend.
Alaina nodded again, and he closed his eyes in relief.
“I told you,” Toro wheezed.
Mando turned his helmet to look back at the man he currently held in a chokehold. He welcomed the anger as it washed over him. He embraced the calm that it brought as he cocked his head at the man.
He gave the man a nod, acknowledging him. “Which means you’re lucky,” Mando said, making Toro relax as much as one could in his situation. “That means I kill you quickly,” he finished darkly.
Toro opened his mouth to argue, but Mando snapped, bringing his other hand up and stabbing Alaina's dagger into the side of the man’s head.
Once the light left the man’s eyes, Mando let him unceremoniously fall to the floor, knife still sticking out of his head.
Mando ran to Alaina, dropping to his knees by her side, and rested a concerned hand on her shoulder. She cracked the moment the leather of his glove touched the ripped fabric of her shirt. Alaina scrambled to get up off the ground, and once she made it to her knees, she flung her arms around his neck and clung tightly as she pressed her face into his neck. Mando wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him while she sobbed into his neck.
Her gasps for air were muffled by her lips being against his cowl, but she did not attempt to move her position. “I made sure—I made sure Grogu was hidden,” she told him between cries. “I could feel he was here for us. He didn’t see the kid. I hid him in one of the barrels out there.”
“Shhh,” Mando soothed her, rubbing his hands along her back. “You did good,” he told her, nuzzling his helmet to the side of her head. “I’m glad you’re both okay. Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t…”
“N-No,” she stuttered.
“Good,” he rushed out, relieved to hear that. “I need to free the mechanic and tidy up. Are you going to be okay?”
Alaina squeezed his neck tightly, and Mando responded by squeezing his arms tighter around her waist.
“The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can leave,” he murmured, clutching her as tightly as possible.
Gods, he’d almost been too late. He’d told her to stay, wanting her safe, and his order almost let her be… he couldn’t even think the word.
“Alaina,” he murmured again when he hadn’t gotten a response from her.
Alaina finally nodded, and Mando rose to his feet, keeping her in his arms as he stood, bringing her body up with him. Once her feet were on the ground, he slowly released her and moved his hands to rub her arms. She refused to look at him. Her head hung low, defeated, her face blocked from his view with her curtain of blonde curls.
Mando hated the way his insides twisted painfully. He hated the way she looked defeated—broken. He raised a cautious hand to cup her cheek. Alaina lifted her watery green eyes to stare at his helmet. “Come sit,” he ushered her to the sleeping alcove and encouraged her to sit on the mattress. She went with him compliantly; her green eyes started to lose focus, and he could see her shutting down. He rested his helmet on her forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay? And then we can go wherever you want.”
Alaina stared blankly back at him.
“Wherever you want, Tranyc,” he tried again, but his only response was a hollow, vacant stare.
He gently pressed his helmet into her forehead before turning to take care of the mess.
Mando grabbed the dagger by the fanned rawl's hilt and yanked it out of Calican's head. He used his cloak to wipe the blood from the beskar blade before he tucked it away in his belt for safekeeping. He grabbed the body and quickly tossed the worthless carcass out of the ship before heading down the ramp to find the kid.
Peli looked relieved when she saw the dead body hit the ground, and Mando went to her first to free her of her confinements and cut the rag that was used to keep her quiet.
“Thank the Maker!” she sighed in relief, scrambling to stand up. “Blondie is okay, isn’t she?”
Mando hesitated and looked back at his ship. “She will be,” he replied, not entirely confident in his words. He looked back to the mechanic and asked, “Where is the kid?”
The mechanic whistled, and the assembly of pit droids came out of hiding in the shadows. “Get in there and get the place cleaned up for them,” she ordered, pointing at the open hold of his ship. Mando didn’t even have it in him to argue about the droids being on his ship, not if they would save some time by cleaning up the pool and streaks of blood left from Calican.
He followed the woman as she walked to a nearby alcove to a black barrel and pried the top open. The kid looked up at him and gave him a lecture using a series of sounds. Mando clearly understood that Grogu was less than impressed with his confinement.
“Come on, kid,” he said, reaching into the barrel to pick him up. The kid continued spitting and babbling nonsense to him, and all Mando could do was nod at the toddler as he accepted the kid’s tongue-lashing.
He walked to the dead wannabe hunter and yanked the purse of credits off of him before tossing them at the mechanic.
Peli opened the bag and raised her eyebrows, impressed by its contents, so Mando assumed that was enough to settle their remaining debt.
“Hey,” Peli called out after him, and Mando stopped at the ramp to look back at the short, frizzy-haired woman. The woman frowned and rocked back and forth as if she were debating on whether or not to vocalize her thoughts. “Before—” she began and sighed. “Blondie put up a heck of a fight,” she told him, nodding at the ship. “I don’t think she thought she was gonna make it.” Mando’s eyes closed at her words. “She told me to tell you that this wasn’t your fault.”
The words cut through his beskar armor straight to his heart.
“She said somethin’ else too, but I think it’s best that come from her,” she said, giving him a nod.
Mando’s eyes opened, and he stared at her, wondering what in the galaxy Alaina could have said that the mechanic didn’t feel comfortable repeating.
The two stared at each other, and the short mechanic gave him a quick, dismissive nod. Mando nodded back, turning to enter his ship. The mechanic’s pit droids came stumbling out, carrying bloodied rags and disinfectants as they passed him, tripping over each other in a race not to be the last one on board.
Alaina was still in shock in the alcove, unaware that the ramp had closed behind him. Mando walked to her and set the kid down at her feet. He put her head between his hands and forced her to look at him. Even though her head was looking up, her green eyes were glassy and unfocused with tears, and Mando wasn’t sure what, if anything, she was actually seeing.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb as it rolled down her cheek.
Alaina didn’t respond.
“Keep an eye on her,” he instructed Grogu, who seemed to understand what he was saying and latched onto the bottom hem of Alaina’s dress.
Mando took the rungs of the ladder two at a time and launched himself into the cockpit to get them off the desert hellhole they had landed on.
Soon, they were up in the air, and Mando put the Crest in hyperdrive with no real destination in mind. It was just for the safety of the hyperdrive channel.
Mando removed his helmet and let it fall to the floor, then raised his gloves to rub his weary face.
He’d made an absolute karking mess of everything.
He’d promised Alaina that he would protect her, and she’d almost been…
He slammed his hands down on top of the console with an angry growl.
He couldn’t keep failing her. She’d been through too much, and he couldn’t let any more be his fault. He’d take them somewhere quiet to regroup, and then…
Then, they would make serious plans to get Alaina situated somewhere safe. Once Alaina was safe, he could focus on finding the kid’s people, or maybe even the Jedi, if they still existed, to take him in.
Then, they could all just move on with their lives.
He ignored the painful tug in his chest at the thought of his companions leaving and plugged in coordinates for their next destination—a small, quiet moon just on the other side of the border in wild space. He’d encountered the uninhabited moon a few years back and found solace in its beauty once. Hopefully, he could share that with Alaina and the kid, giving the two of them one last pleasant memory of him.
Once the ship was headed toward their destination, and the alarm was programmed to alert them when they were approaching, Mando grabbed his helmet from the floor. He stared at the heavy beskar piece, buffing a scuff out of the side with his sleeve before putting it back on and heading back down to the hold.
Alaina remained motionless, sitting stoically on the edge of his mattress with her feet dangling above the ground. Grogu’s hand still clutched the bottom hem of her dress, and he looked at Mando with large, pleading eyes. When Mando made it to his two companions, he took a moment to study Alaina, trying to quell his anger with a detached view as he looked over her injuries.
There were traces of a bruise blossoming across her right temple. The tiny stream of blood that had come from her nose had long since dried and caked to her face, ending at her upper lip. Her bottom lip and chin were covered with that piece of shit’s blood from when she must have bitten his lip when he forced himself on her.
His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to reign in his anger.
“Alaina?” he whispered, searching for any sign that she had heard him. Her face remained vacant, and her normally expressive eyes were empty and bloodshot. He sighed and forced himself to relax. “Alaina, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he suggested, keeping his voice low and calm, even though he wanted to do nothing more than go back to Tatooine and punch the corpse of Toro Calican until there was nothing left of him.
Alaina made no indication that she had heard him.
He shuffled around the hold, keeping one eye on Alaina as he started to gather his old tunic, which Alaina had taken to sleep in, and a canteen of water from next to her cot. Grogu looked nervously between him as Mando returned to their struggling friend.
Silently, he went to work cleaning her face. Unable to find a rag nearby, he grabbed his cloak, poured water over a small portion of the edge, and began to gently dab at the blood on Alaina’s chin and nose. She didn’t so much as blink as he cleaned her face. The dull green eyes physically pained him, and he wished she would snap out of her dissociative state and cry, fight, or something just so he could see the spark return to her emerald eyes. Once he cleaned her face, he examined the bruise on her temple a little closer, but it didn’t appear as if she suffered any fractures.
“I think we could use some rest,” he said, hoping for a response, but not surprised when he didn’t receive one. He held up the tunic in front of her eyes, but still nothing. “I don’t think you’d want to stay in those clothes,” he said, pausing to look over the ripped, tattered green shirt and dress. He knelt before her, untying her laces to work her boots off first. Grogu rested a tiny hand on his glove and then pointed up to Alaina. “I know, kid. She’s gonna be okay. She just needs some time.” Grogu’s ears flattened, and Mando felt as dejected as the kid looked.
Once her boots and socks were removed from her feet, he stood back up and bent over so his helmet aligned with her head. “I’m going to take your dress off. Stop me if this makes you uncomfortable.” When Alaina remained frozen, he sighed and eased her off the alcove's edge.
Alaina was pliant in his arms. Nothing more than a doll to be positioned as he untied and removed her dress and slid the green tunic he’d gotten for her back on Sorgan up over her head. Now she stood before him wearing only her breastband and underwear, and his helmet flicked over her body, looking for any signs of external injuries that needed to be addressed. A shock of black and blue was already cracking in the middle of her abdomen, and if he looked hard enough, he thought he could make out Calican’s footprint in the middle of her stomach.
“Kriff,” he muttered when he realized that she must have taken a kick to the gut.
Quickly, he grabbed the kid and placed him in his hammock above them. He gently pushed Alaina back to his mattress and helped her lean back. Once she was on her back, he began palpating her abdomen, checking for any indication of internal bleeding or organ damage. Alaina’s unfocused gaze didn’t move from staring at the ceiling. Her abdomen briefly tensed when his fingers began prodding her, and he relaxed his examination, not wanting to cause her any additional pain. Thankfully, he didn’t find anything to indicate that she had any internal bleeding, but he would check again later.
He tried to move her, but even though her eyes were open, she was nothing more than a limp shell of herself. Mando continued to murmur words of comfort and praise as he dressed her in his old tunic. He didn’t know what he was even saying; he just hoped that something would make its way into her mind. Once he successfully got the tunic on her, he eased her back to the mattress.
Mando undid the magnetic clamps holding his armor in place, leaving it in a messy pile at the foot of his sleeping alcove. He toed his boots off until he was dressed in only his helmet, flight suit, and gloves.
He cautiously climbed into the alcove and, after a brief shuffle, had Alaina situated with his sole pillow and flimsy blanket on one side, leaving him with just enough room to have the other half if he turned on his side.
“Alaina?” he whispered, caressing her arm with his gloved hand, but received no response from her.
Alaina stared blankly at the ceiling, completely unaware of her surroundings.
“My mind would always conjure you up whenever I needed a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on.” Her words from Sorgan echoed through his troubled mind. “Can I hold your hand? At least until I fall asleep?”
Mando ripped his gloves off and shucked them out of the alcove. His fingers tentatively grazed down her arm until they found her hand. Slowly, cautiously, he entwined his fingers between her smaller ones, hoping his actions comforted her.
A sad coo from above pulled Mando’s attention from Alaina. He found the kid looking down at his friend with large, sad eyes. With a sigh, Mando moved to grab the kid, bringing him down to join them.
“Come on, kid,” he whispered and twisted his free arm so he could reach above him to grab the small toddler by his shirt, placing him between them. Grogu immediately crawled away from him and onto Alaina’s chest. He watched with a sad smile as the kid stroked her cheek, knowing he needed to be gentle with her.
Mando brought their joined hands under his helmet and brushed his lips across her knuckles, but not even the shock of feeling his lips or the overgrown scruff on his cheek could pull her from her mind.
With a sigh, he laid back down on his side, resting his helmet on his arm as he watched Grogu drift to sleep, sprawled across Alaina’s chest.
“We’re here for you,” he whispered in the alcove, gently squeezing her hand. “We’re here. Just let me know if you need anything,” he said before going quiet, hoping that the woman next to him would find sleep at some point.
He wasn’t expecting a response, but his heart fluttered, and the cord in his chest jumped when she squeezed his hand back.
🐍 End Act 1 🐍
Author's Note #2: Ooof. I'm okay. Everything is fine 😢 Let's move on to our healing era, shall we?
*something was wrong with how Lucifer was with Adam this time, he wasn’t being loving like he usually was, he seemed to be putting his desires over making Adam happy, he just stormed over to Adam and started to rip off his clothes, it was when the kiss with a bruising amount of force which caused Adam to cry out in pain did it hit him, he smelled sulfur the man’s breath*
Adam: Satan.
Satan: I came to get what I deserve.
*Adam hated hearing Satan use Lucifer’s voice, but then Satan roared in pain when an arrow of angelic steel hit his shoulder, Adam kneed Satan between the legs and got away from him, Satan went to his archangel form while pulling the arrow out of him, Adam then saw Eve with a bow and arrow along with Lucifer in his demon form*
Lucifer: Stay the fuck away from Adam!!!!!
Eve: Go near Adam again and the next arrow is going in your heart.
*Adam glared at Satan and before he could talk himself out of it he beat Satan until the Sin of Wrath flew off, he stumbled to the bathroom and put on a baggy shirt and sweat pants, he couldn’t believe that Satan almost did that to him, he let out a surprised sound when Lucifer picked him up*
Lucifer: Don’t blame yourself, the only one at fault is my fucking brother, you will always be protected.
*Lucifer carried him to the bed to lay Adam between Lucifer and Eve, the two just comforting him and saying words of love while Adam sobbed*
Fadel is tired.
He’s had a long day, made even longer due to Style and his damn antics.
He can’t even seem to drink a beer and enjoy himself at a fucking bar without the other man showing up.
But it’s fine. It’s…fine. Fadel has dealt with worse. He just needs a moment to breathe before he does something stupid, like reciprocating his ridiculous touches and flirtations. Because Fadel is only human. A human that jerked off just two nights ago thinking about Style and his stupid mouth and his stupid fingers and stupid fucking neck that….
Yeah, he needs a moment.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he tells him, leaving his jacket on the seat, and then slips away to splash water on his face and take a few deep breaths in order to calm himself down.
But by the time he’s done talking himself into not finding Style attractive again, he notices that the man isn’t alone where he left him. There’s a sharp jawed man in Fadel’s spot, chatting Style up.
Fadel's first instinct is to walk away. The mechanic has been a pain in his ass for weeks now, so he shouldn't give a shit about someone hitting on him. In fact, he should probably give the bastard a free meal for taking his focus away from Fadel, but then he notices something strange.
The man leaning into Style's space isn't alone.
There's another guy with bleached hair and a bad neck tattoo watching them closely from a table away, eyes trained on where Style is gripping the bar as his suitor runs a hand along his arm.
Style bats it away and even from this distance Fadel can hear him say, “I'm flattered, but no, thanks.”
The guy isn't deterred, though. He just smiles sweetly and says something else that has Style shaking his head before he abruptly stands up. Bad tattoo guy rises too when Style starts to walk away and reaches out for him as he stumbles forward.
He catches Style easily. “Careful there, Nong.You’re lucky I was here.”
Style doesn't even say thank you, he just tries to step away from the guy, but almost falls again, movements uncoordinated as he pulls out of his grasp.
Now, Fadel has been watching Style most of the night and the menace has only had three drinks at most. The last one he'd been sipping on, he had left at the bar to accost Fadel on the dance floor, but then he'd retrieved it when he'd followed Fadel to his spot at the other side.
Had these guys been here then?
He tries to remember, brain flipping through all of faces he's seen since he walked in, but he just can't place them. He'd been too focused on Style and how he'd brought Fadel's hand to his neck, and how hard he had been flirting to pay attention to the other patrons.
“Shit-what are you doin-” he hears Style mutter as the first guy materializes next to him. and then suddenly he's gone, disappearing into a throng of people.
Fuck.
A part of Fadel starts to panic because all the signs of Style being roofied are here. He left his drink. He's slurring his words and unsteady on his feet and not just one, but two men were right there, ready and waiting for him to stumble.
And Fadel…
He knows where this leads.
So, he quickly pushes his way through the dancing crowd to find the man before he ends up another statistic.
If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!
Well, would you look at that. I miscalculated. Okay, now there'll be only one more chapter to finish this bit off. Again, not sorry, though. There’s some serious cuteness with Wrecker in this one that I felt like my earlier writing with him just didn’t quite capture.
Also, this chapter deals briefly (it'll be more prominent in the next one) with some heavy subject matter regarding SA and victim blaming. There’s a happy ending coming, but far too often that’s not the case. Friendly reminder that being attacked is never your fault, and asking for help is the bravest, hardest thing to do, but it’s so, so important. Be kind to yourselves.
Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 3 - continuation to Flinching
Flinching – Med OC&TBB
Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming - aside from a couple paragraphs here and there, this one's much fluffier than the others
WC: 2,629
It was a strange thing. The cot in the medbay was no different from the ones in the bunk room: same too-thin mattress, same flat, unsupportive pillow, same scratchy blanket, but there was still that unshakable sense of ‘this isn’t my bed’ teasing those very first hints of awareness slowly dragging me from the edge of sleep. Something about that subconscious understanding seemed to make me even more reluctant to wake, savoring those fleeting moments of comfort from the gentle intimacy of feeling safe enough for this ultimate show of vulnerability to another.
Because I did feel safe. Nestled in those military issue sheets rich with that familiar scent of someone I could so nearly remember even in the haze of sleep, I felt no lingering fear of who else might be nearby, no dread of being found unprepared nor worry that there was some terrible danger lurking just beyond closed eyelids. Still, there was something… some quiet sound easing me from that treasured safety… a voice whispering my name.
“…hmm.” The nearly whimpered grumble caught in my throat before noting the feeling of that warm touch carefully shifting against my shoulder.
“I know, but you’ve got to get up.” I knew that deep, smoky voice, mind seamlessly matching it to the comforting scent surrounding me, and that moment of recognition was enough to rid me of any nagging need to respond. He was safe, and he was near me, so there was nothing worth worrying over enough to even bother opening my eyes.
“Come on, Doc; need you to wake up.” My body rocked softly beneath the gentle movement of his hand, succeeding only in drawing the beginnings of a frown to my face, knees tucking absently to my chest as though I might hide from him with such a minimal gesture, but the movement came up short, blocked by something warm. My eyes opened just enough to confirm Hunter was sitting on the edge of the bed mere inches away from me.
The shuffle of limbs was a subconscious thing, body shifting forward beneath that driving need for closeness. Arms unfolding from where they’d been tucked against my chest, I vaguely felt myself reach for him, hands slipping around his waist with just enough force to drag me against him, torso absently curling around his hips before letting my head sink back down with a contented huff of breath. The nearby sounds of barely restrained laughter were a distant concern, unimportant as I eagerly felt myself drifting again.
“Doc,” Even his voice lit beneath a breathy chuckle, stealing himself for a moment before shaking me with slightly more force. A frustrated moan broke through drawn lips, arms tightening stubbornly before forcing my eyes into a reluctant squint.
“H’nter… hmm?” The nearly senseless mumble earned fresh snickers that helped pull me closer toward some degree of true awareness.
“We’re almost to Kamino. Figured you’d want to get dressed.”
“K’mino?” Confusion dripped from uncooperative lips. Kamino should still be a full day and a half out.
“Mhmm – you were pretty out of it for a while.” He replied, humor softening the teasing lilt of his voice. Finally, my mind began to catch up to what lay before me: to the tautness of his lips as he tried to fight back a grin at how I clung to him; to the less restrained smiles on Wrecker and Echo’s faces where they stood leaning against Tech’s bunk; the slight hitch to Crosshair’s brow as he watched with that silent judgement that would have brought a deep blush to anyone with even a fleeting breadth of shame to be found for such things, but I merely let out a quiet groan, arms slipping carelessly from Hunter’s waist as I rolled begrudgingly onto my back.
“Kriff… ‘m sorry; didn’t mean to hog your bed.” His hand shifted to rest lightly in my hair before musing it just long enough to earn a heatless glare from me.
“As soon as Echo suggested it, I knew I wasn’t getting it back this trip – it’s fine.” He dismissed lightly. Arms stretching over my head, I arched my back with a deep, leisurely inhale, willing away some of that lingering drowsiness from the limbs.
“How long before we land?” There was still a slight mumble to my words, but only just.
“Long enough to clean up if you’re quick.” He replied as he pushed himself off the bed. A sigh escaped me with the weight of what those words really meant. Just a few fleeting moments before I had to report that Master-Sergeant to the proper channels – before I had to present the pictures of my body to strangers showing those sickening bruises marring skin meant only for the gentle caress of a lover. I’d have to recount each aspect of our interactions leading to his attempted assault for them to determine if I’d in any way contributed to my own suffering; if I’d unintentionally invited his advance thus somehow earning the blame and judgement more so than the man himself.
“You’ve been asleep for a while. Think you can eat something, first?” There was a deep concern underlying words that wanted to be an order. Dragging my hand roughly over my face, fingers just tangling into hopelessly disheveled hair, I shook my head, stealing one more controlled breath before answering.
“Maybe after.” I didn’t look at him as the whisper escaped me in something too close to a plea. I heard his slow sigh, and felt my teeth catch the inner flesh of my lip to keep from giving into that desire to simply sink further into his mattress in some vain hope to disappear.
“Alright.” He agreed quietly. Brows drawing together, I finally pushed myself up, legs dragging over the edge of the bed, and I tried not to notice their gazes wonder over the residual hints of sickly yellow marking flesh so near to being fully healed from the second skin of bacta I’d been lathered in. Hunter’s hand automatically settled against my shoulder blade, anticipating the way my head swam in those first few seconds.
“I’m fine.” I mumbled without looking at him, but, when I pushed myself to my feet, the way the room spun made my jaw lock against a shuttered breath, and I found myself grateful for how quickly his other hand settled around my arm. Teeth grinding as the episode slowly quelled, gaze pointedly locked on the flooring beneath us, I gave a little nod and he hesitantly released me.
“I think a couple hours in the sonic sounds like a pretty good idea.” I said through a loose smile that I knew fell frightfully short of fooling any of them. “Let me take care of washing your sheets when we land – as a thank you.” I added, glancing up to where the Sergeant still hovered nearby. The deadpan look he shot me drew a chuckle from me. It was quiet, but it was earnest, and I let it grant me some glimmer of strength as I started toward the refresher.
-
During the few times I’d found myself on Kamino with my previous squad, I’d become used to shinies ducking out of the way in a show of reverence; respect. With Clone Force 99, they still shuffled out of the way, but it was from a resentful fear instead of the awe the elite commandos surrounding me deserved, and I couldn’t help the distain I felt from each sneered glare as we passed by. Despite their claims that such things no longer bothered them, those men were supposed to be their brothers. I don’t think I’d ever find myself truly believing that such mistreatment could ever be overlooked.
In that moment, however, I knew that the passing stares meant nothing to Hunter or the others, marching strides moving with dangerous intent as they escorted me through the maze of hallways. They’d fallen into the defensive pattern so naturally, I’d barely noticed until seeing a flash of confusion in the brief glance of one of the nearby regs. It felt like I was headed to my own execution, dread redoubling with each step. I hated it – hated the anxiety that sent my heart racing; hated the darkness drowning us in that wretched silence; hated the expectation that this was the appropriate emotion given what had happened, and I eagerly leaned into any whisper of blatant rebellion from that norm that I could find.
“You guys wanna lighten up a bit? Someone’s going to think you’re taking me to the brig.” Hunter glanced over his shoulder, almost surprised to find the textbook formation surrounding me. The way his helmet tilted forward held an abashed hesitation before consciously loosening his shoulders and falling back to walk beside me instead.
“Beware the dangerous medic-gone-rogue formerly of the elite Clone Force 99, whose devious plot to overthrow the GAR was discovered in the nick of time by the squad’s own brilliant pilot, Tech. After a grizzly battle full of death-defying feats, the evil medic was successfully subdued and brought to a swift justice.” The others stopped halfway through the overplayed narration, and even those emotionless buckets couldn’t hide the matching, deadpan looks. The teasing chuckle just picked up by my mic was the perfect balm for the tension reverberating between them.
“If Tech gets to be the one who found yuh out, I wanna be the one to bring yuh in!” Wrecker suddenly added, and I had barely a moment’s warning before he darted forward to throw me over his shoulder, wrenching a squeal of laughter from me.
“No! You can be my secret partner! No one would expect it!” Hunter’s head dropped hopelessly into his hand as his brother gasped in excitement at my words. Needing no further encouragement, Wrecker hoisted me up to sit hazardously atop his shoulder, and I had to cling to his helmet to keep from falling backwards until he locked a hand around my shins to steady me, body seizing in barely silenced giggles.
“Join us, Echo! They’d be no match with you by our side!” I called, hands motioning eagerly toward him, but he merely stared at me with the same exasperation as Hunter.
“We’d be unstoppable!” Wrecker goaded, but I’d already turned my attention to the final member, letting myself fall back to drape down the massive clone’s shoulder to face Crosshair. The sharp set of his shoulders and slight tilt of his bucket was all the answer I needed.
“Wrecker, I… I don’t think we can count of Crosshair joining us, either.” The façade of sorrow was lost amidst the relentless laughter breaking my words.
“Enough, you two.” Hunter nearly groaned. Still laughing, I tried to pull myself upright, but, between the still present ache and uncontrollable giggles, I only made it halfway before collapsing again.
“I… I can’t.” I admitted, beaming smile still evident in the words. The force of Crosshair’s helm falling against his gloved palm gave a notable click before he stepped forward and, hand slipping quickly beneath my back, shoved me upright so Wrecker could help me slide back down to the pristine floors.
“You done?” The Sergeant asked, but I could just catch the faintest smirk in his voice. I quickly snapped up into a salute.
“Yes, sir! All of my schemes have been unveiled, and I’ve seen the error of my ways! I ask only that all punishment befalls me, and Wrecker be spared.” He didn’t move, and I pushed my helmet up just enough to let him see the glee in my eyes and the coy smile still toying with my lips. His heavy sigh rang clearly through the comms as he turned and continued the trek through the unending halls. I shot Wrecker a toothy grin before settling my helmet back in place and following him.
What mirth my antics had brought vanished the instant we reached the final hallway, body coming to a sharp halt. It had been easy to briefly forget the impeding trial, but, with just a few fleeting meters to go, it was suddenly far too real. The others waited in perfect silence for several seconds, but even the heavy weight of their gaze meant nothing amidst the panic threatening to burst through my chest. Echo was the first to move, treading softly to my side.
“Are you okay?” Part of me wanted to laugh at the futility in whispering over an open mic, but I couldn’t quite manage that.
“Mhm.” I hummed quickly, mind straining to control my breath lest that tremble steal through me before even reaching the door.
“It’s okay not to be.” He added, voice dropping until it was only just audible through my helm’s speakers. With a stillness, I didn’t think myself capable of in that moment, I turned to look at him, grateful for the darkness of the visor shielding him from the despair I knew filled my eyes.
“No, it’s not.” His shoulders sank at my words, “not yet,” but he said nothing more as I gently reached forward to slip my hand around his, fingers tightening for just a beat before releasing him and forcing myself to continue forward.
The door opened just before I’d reached it, and I was shocked to see the telltale orange embellished armor of Commander Cody step out before me. Without missing a beat, I quickly fell into a proper salute.
“At ease.” He dismissed quickly, attention resting on me only briefly before turning to look over the squad following at my heels.
“Just her.” Those words threatened to rip that fleeting sliver of control from me, ice flooding my veins.
“What?” Hunter asked, taken aback, “No – we’re staying with her.” I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him, knowing the futility of his retort.
“Not for this.” There was a quiet apology in Cody’s voice that finally broke me, body yielding beneath the fine tremor, and I felt the slew of curses burn atop my tongue.
“Why?!” He nearly barked.
“Because you and your squad aren’t going to like what she needs to say, and this is going to be hard enough on her without you lot making it worse.” Again, I found myself mentally remarking on the uselessness of whispering into an open mic, as though that might prevent my speakers from repeating his words even as they rang clearly through everyone else’s, and I scowled at the simple knowledge that I was fixating on that because it was safer than trying to come to terms with the fact that I would be facing this nightmare alone. The Commander remained perfectly still; attention locked on the seething man behind me.
“Hunter, I’ll be here the entire time… Nothing’s going to happen to her.” There was no point to dragging this out, but I knew what haunted even the thought of us being apart so soon after what that man had done, and I needed to do something to at least try to make this easier on them. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, but, turning just enough to see him, I managed to raise my hand to settle lightly around Hunter’s arm. He let his gaze fall almost reluctantly to watch my head bob in a small nod, and I felt him deflate beneath touch. He looked pointedly to the commander for several tense seconds before turning to me once more.
“We’ll be in the barracks when you’re done.” He whispered, and the regret in his words threatened to ruin me. With a final nod, I let my hand fall back to my side.
“I’ll escort her myself.” Cody promised before guiding me those final steps to the door.
Next Chapter
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy
Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy
Additional Tags: Bloody Valentine 2024, Day Two, Attempted Sexual Assault, Not between mains
Series: Part 2 of Bloody Valentine 2024
Summary:
If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!
Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 4 - continuation to Flinching
Flinching – Med OC&TBB
Warnings: Summarized attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming. The first half is heavy, not gonna lie, but there's nothing explicit.
WC: 3,052
Back rigid, arms locked tight at my side, I stood at attention in perfect stillness; that relentless tremor of earlier anxiety overruled upon finding one of the most well-known jedi masters seated before me in the relatively small room, a curved desk lying between us with a chair clearly intended for me already pulled out expectantly across from them. I'd expected the soothing visage of General Shaak Ti, already familiar with the kindness in those dark eyes from fleeting interactions with her while meandering through Kamino’s labyrinth of halls, but General Kenobi’s presence took me by surprise.
“I hope it’s alright that it’s just the four of us. Given the unfortunate nature of this, I thought you might be more comfortable with fewer participants. If that's not the case, though, I'm sure we can make an exception.” Kenobi started, voice flowing in a gentle cadence that would have calmed anyone not trained to use it themselves.
“This is fine, General.” The automatic response was just shy of sharp, nerves tightening around my throat. He studied me a moment before letting his attention shift briefly to his datapad.
“Your squad offered a few… opinionated reports.” He risked only the lightest touch of humor in the statement. My brow quirked at that. A few? I’d known Tech reached out to the commander but hadn’t thought any of the others bothered adding their own report.
“It’s clear they care deeply for you, and I believe we have you to thank for ensuring this is handled through the proper channels rather than resolving the issue themselves.” General Ti added with a knowing smile, and I was glad for the cover of my armor shielding the blush creeping up my neck but cursed the ease with which the mic picked up my tiny huff of laughter, teeth immediately locking around my lip to silence it.
“An effort we very much appreciate.” Kenobi murmured. “From our understanding of what happened, I’d much rather his punishment be public – a reminder that such actions have no place in the Republic.” I felt the shift as vividly as if I’d just stepped into the icy waters of some forgotten lake; pleasantries were over. Their regretful expectation weighed heavily in the air around us, both pairs of eyes finding a sympathetic resolve as they watched me.
“Please,” Kenobi motioned toward the chair, “You’re welcome to take your helmet off if you’d like. We understand you recorded images of your injuries before tending them?” I stared at the offered seat for a beat too long, limbs frozen in a final moment of rebellion against tearing at wounds that hadn’t yet begun to heal. Air held trapped in burning lungs lest they hear how near to breaking I was, I forced myself across those few steps and sat stiffly before them, movements almost robotic as I stripped myself of that precious layer of concealment, unable to fully restrain the longing way my eyes watched my own hands set the helm atop the desk before finally meeting their gazes absent that cover of impenetrable transparasteel.
I knew the reason behind the sudden darkness in Kenobi’s eyes, the carefully restrained pity in Shaak Ti’s, and my jaw ground against the deep urge to turn away from them, to hide the ugly yellows still just tinted with purple that swelled over almost the entirety of the left half of my face, the thick lines of fresh scar tissue splitting my lower lip and stretching across the bridge of my nose.
“You should see the other guy.” There was a touch of disdain in my voice that I couldn’t help but let out, expression carefully blank as I pointedly returned their stares. Without giving them time to respond, I slipped the datapad from my waist, tongue darting out nervously to wet my lips as I blindly opened the file containing the collection of images I tried violently not to look at before passing the device across the table to them. It was Shaak Ti who reached out to take it, glancing only briefly at the screen before letting those dark eyes return to mine.
“I am sorry to ask this – I truly am… but would you tell us what happened?” She whispered, voice a quiet melody amidst the wretched stillness awaiting my answer. “No detail is too small. The more we know, the more we can help.” My gaze dropped once more to the gleaming white of my helmet, lingering over the strip I’d had to paint over after being pulled from my last squad at the heartbreaking understanding that I couldn’t wear their colors anymore.
I didn’t try to drag my attention away from that pristine surface again, barely noting the emotionless words trying vainly to tangle against my tongue as I recounted every moment I’d spent with the mercenary chosen to lead that mission. I told them of my quiet attentiveness in the briefing just prior to landing, of the seemingly pointless chats I’d found myself in with nearby soldiers but never directly with him, in the offhanded quip I’d made after their effortless victory of my job being the most difficult among them.
I didn’t pause as I spoke of him calling out to me just before I’d reached my room, the not-so subtle request for a medic’s attention and my equally unsubtle refusal. I recounted his every movement as though reading from an instruction manual, ridding even the tone of my voice of anything near to the panic I’d felt; the shock and rage and terror. I recounted each blow he’d landed with the same emptiness as I did when describing mine, the final kick to his knee that granted me enough time to dart through my door and engage the lock; how I’d kept myself trapped in there for the three days it took Hunter and the others to reach me, and the speed of my flight to reach the Marauder in hopes of avoiding even seeing the merc as I fled.
There was little comfort in the quiet that finally fell between us. I could feel them watching me, feel the tightness in their jaws as they forced back their own opinions to remain as outwardly impartial as possible. I expected nothing less, now awash with the dread of awaiting their judgement, terrified that they might disregard what had happened to me in favor of the military worth of a man capable of such success, or worse, that they’d feel my verbal attempts to dissuade him had been insufficient and that he held no fault for his actions.
The hiss of my datapad being pushed slowly across the table toward me finally drew my attention back to Kenobi. There was no blame in his eyes, and that, at least, granted me some small whisper of relief. Still, I found myself holding my breath, almost reluctantly returning the device to my waist.
“You must feel quite betrayed right now.” He offered quietly, and I felt myself cringing at whatever apologetic line he had prepared, “That was a man awarded a position of power by your superiors – an oversight that should never have happened. I understand-”
“With all due respect, General, I don’t think you do.” Soon, I would find myself horrified that I’d interrupted him. Soon, just thinking about the blatant disrespect of what I’d done would send my heart racing. Soon… but, as I met the crisp blue of his eyes, I didn’t shy from the title or power he himself seemed to disregard. I saw the pain he felt for me, the sincerity of his regret, and I spoke to him without reservation of rank or standing. “Having someone you’re supposed to trust do something like that… I hope it’s something you never have to understand.” My voice was soft. I didn’t blame him for this, but I needed to make sure he knew the weight of my words, the responsibility sharing them with him placed on his shoulders.
“I was lucky. I was able to fight back, and I have the support of my men to help me through it. But you’d be a fool to think this was his first time, and you’d be a greater fool to hope it’ll be his last.” He didn’t balk at the threat of insult, and I didn’t doubt the depth with which he felt everything I’d left unspoken; the dread that my words would go unheeded, the rage and guilt of what might happen if they did… the desperate plea for them to honor the horror of reliving that night that they might ensure it never happens again. He said nothing as his head dipped in a nod, and the sorrow he managed to portray in that simple gesture quieted me.
“If that’s all, Generals?” I asked, and I could hear the exhaustion finally creep into my voice. Kenobi’s gaze softened with a sympathy I wanted to balk at, but the gentle kindness in those eyes stilled even that.
“Of course. Thank you for trusting us with this. You’re dismissed… Cody?” Without another word, the commander nodded and stepped forward to lead me from the room.
-
“That was well spoken.” He didn’t look at me as he said it, posture still every inch the visage of quiet power the Marshall Commander was renowned for as he walked at my side. “I’m sorry there was any need for this at all, but I’m impressed with how you’ve handled it.” I almost replied, throat already shifting around a quip about how that made it all worthwhile, but the words died well before being granted speech, gaze merely falling back to the path before us.
I’d spent the walk trying to let my mind wander about nothing, ignoring the suddenly interested looks of nearby clones at my change of companion, tried not to hear their whispered theories or teases before the slightest shift of Cody’s helmet sent them scurrying. It was done. I’d fulfilled my part to the fullest. Now all I could do was trust the jedi, and hope…
“Ma’am, if you wanted to take some time to recover from this,” It wasn’t until we’d nearly reached that final stretch of halls that he finally spoke again, “I can promise no one would think any less of you for it. General Kenobi already suggested paid medical leave. He also mentioned offering you a transfer.” My body froze, foot still hovering mere inches above that meticulously polished tile. “I know Hunter and the others had nothing to do with what happened, but going through something like that… it can alter the dynamic of a group, make it harder to move on.” I could barely force breath through the sudden mass in my throat, shoulders aching from the tension coursing through them.
“You don’t have to answer now, but the offer to rejoin your old squad is there.” He shifted to continue forward, but paused upon realizing I made no move to join him. Did he note the sudden harshness of my too-deep breaths? The way my hands had balled into fists? With a painfully controlled motion, I slowly removed my helmet once more, this time driven with the intention of letting him see every ounce of my emotion – the utter fury burning through my eyes and the rage just twisting my lips into the beginnings of a scowl.
“No.” I didn’t grant him the respect of ‘sir.’ Not after what he’d said. “If I leave now…” The tense words just managed to growl through ground teeth, “do you have… any idea what that would do to them?” His head lifted, and I couldn’t tell if it was out of insult or shock, but I didn’t care. “I leave, then it doesn’t matter what anyone tells them – they’ll blame themselves even more, and I will not let that happen.” Fingers straining against the rigid plastoid tucked under my arm, I stole a half step toward him, glare burring into the empty darkness of his visor. “They get enough osik from every kriffing reg in this force-forsaken city! You’re the only clone I know whose name doesn’t make them shut down. Do not do that to them.” I stole several tense breaths, granting myself a few seconds to find some echo of calm before letting my tongue slip over my lips and willing some of that rage to settle.
“I love my old squad.” I told him, voice dropping into something nearer to a whisper. “I would kill and die for them in a heartbeat… but they don’t need me.” I hated the subtle plea just bleeding into my words but couldn’t bring myself to force it back. “This is where I’m supposed to be – this is where I want to be.” I was begging him. “Don’t take me away from them… please.”
He was still for a long moment, broad shoulders dancing beneath the subtle movement of unhurried breaths, and it was hard to imagine that there was a person under the impassive image of armor and stillness before me, that there was a man of flesh and blood, and I felt a brief flash of fear. Would the simple existence of my emotional attachment be all the justification he needed to submit a transfer? Had I sealed my fate in my very attempt to avoid it?
I didn’t move as he finally broke the painful stillness, mimicking my earlier gesture in the slow removal of his own helmet. He wasn’t looking at me, gaze staring blinding that the floor just beyond my boots as he tucked the awkward piece of armor under his arm. When he let that strangely familiar face find mine, it was with a deep reverence that left me frozen, struck by the tension in his jaw; the crushing weight in eyes I’d seen a thousand times in a thousand faces, each carrying a lifetime of experiences and hopes and fears that left them all unique in stunningly beautiful ways.
“Thank you.” That was it. He said nothing more before returning to the anonymity of his bucket and continuing down the hall. I hesitated mere seconds before quickly moving to follow him.
Echo tread through the door well before we’d reached it, and I felt the fond smile pull at my lips the instant his golden eyes seemed to sweep over me in an instinctive search for injury before turning to greet the commander standing beside me.
“Everything settled?” He asked, voice deep with an anger I knew would be slow to fade. Cody nodded, arms absently folding behind his back as he addressed his brother.
“Take care of this one, Echo. She’s worth holding on to.” The shock that wrenched my gaze back to that orange-streaked bucket drew a chuckle from the intimidating clone that left me even more taken aback, lips just falling open in a gasp as the man turned and began his trek back as though nothing had happened.
“Well, you made an impression.” He teased, and I couldn’t dismiss my relief upon seeing that smirk on his pale lips.
“I… I guess?” I stammered, unsure how to respond to the commander’s words. Blowing out a deep breath, I tried to let the events of the past hour fade into the background, attention shifting away from the steadily retreating figure. “I hope you guys didn’t get into too much trouble without me?” His grin grew, nodding over his shoulder with a nearly threatening silence. Lips bunching against a whisper of uncertainty, I tread lightly behind him into the barracks. And I instantly stilled.
“W… what’s all this?” I asked, gaze shifting between the handful of small canisters littering the large table normally home to countless piles of electronics and half-broken gear. Hunter stepped forward at my question, a glint of something too raw to risk naming shining in those eyes.
“Paint.” He stated simply, allowing just a moment for my confusion to begin to shift into a tentative understanding as Wrecker moved to join him, beaming grin stretched across his excited face. “If you’re going to be on this squad, it’s time you look the part – make sure everyone knows who they’re dealing with if they try to give you trouble.” My jaw ground against the way my breath suddenly hitched, shattering as my brows pinched together over eyes burning beneath that first flood of tears. “If you want?” He added, only just letting it drop into a question.
In a burst of motion, I threw myself forward, arms latching around him with every ounce of strength in me, body shaking with some indistinguishable mixture of sobs and laughter. He’d only just begun to recover from the sudden attack, hands hesitantly moving to settle against my back when I released him to charge Wrecker with the same burst of adoration and gratitude. He didn’t share even an ounce of Hunter’s surprise, instantly crushing me against him in an unrestrained embrace, deep chest shaking with his own booming laughter.
After several unsteady breaths, I tried to turn my attention to Echo, but Wrecker’s arms held me fast, and a flood of giggles burst through the smile stretching across my face. I didn’t have to look to know it was Echo’s hand that reached up to settle fondly against my shoulder. When he finally set me down, the initial fit of manic glee was quelled into something quieter, gaze turning to find Tech and Crosshair in turn.
“Thank you.” The words threatened to break, just escaping in a whisper. Tech responded with the briefest hint of a smile, while Crosshair offered only a short nod before letting his eyes drift quickly away from mine. Hunter ruffled his hand through my hair, and I readily shot him a squinted glare, but stilled as he leaned over me, lips near enough to just feel brushing against my ear as the quiet rumble of his voice murmured almost silently between us.
“You forgot about Rex.” Those barely audible words sent a fire blossoming up my neck, cheeks instantly flushing deep red. With a quiet chuckle, he merely stepped back toward the awaiting supplies and, flashing a knowing smirk, offered me a paint-covered brush. With a helpless scoff, I let my lips pull up into a grateful smile and stepped toward him.
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