Beautiful Butterfly

“The rest, as they say, is history,” Amara said softly. “He’s been through so much. He deserves nothing but the best—and to have good things to happen to him.”

“I’d say something good already has,” Din replied.

Amara raised an eyebrow in question.

“He’s been blessed with an amazing mother, Ara.”

Despite herself, Amara blushed. “You’re just trying to suck up, Roe.”

“You really can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“I don’t know, Roe. Try again—we’ll see.” Amara laughed, keeping her eyes on Roe’s T-visor. The blush still lingered on her cheeks.

Before Din could respond, the dashboard began to beep. Amara broke eye contact and turned her attention to the controls. “We’re coming up on Felucia.”

“That was quicker than I expected.”

“Well, the refuelling station wasn’t that busy, and it’s only a couple of hours from there to Felucia.”

“True.” Though Din suspected time flew because he’d spent it listening to her voice.

“Ready to find your quarry, Roe?”

“Ready to follow instructions, Ara?”

“Bring it on, Roe.” She grinned at him, then turned her focus back to the dash as the stars outside slowed—the ship dropping out of hyperspace.

Din shook his head as they entered the landing sequence. How did I end up with someone like her? She was a walking contradiction: kind yet snarky, nurturing yet fierce. And absolutely formidable.

—— *** ——

Felucia's terrain was thick with bioluminescent forests and wild vegetation. Neither of them had been to the planet before. After a few minutes of scanning, they found a clearing large enough to land. The ship touched down smoothly, and Amara powered down the engines and locked the controls.

Without hesitation, she stood and made her way to her weapons cache. With practiced ease, she began putting on her leather armour corset. It wasn’t bulky, but strong and well-crafted—tough enough to stop a vibroblade or absorb blaster fire. The dark brown leather hugged her curves, and up close, Din could see the intricate design woven into it—a story etched into hide.

Din stepped beside her, eyeing the craftsmanship. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“That’s beautiful,” he said. “What is it?”

“An armour corset made from krayt dragon hide. Stops blades and blaster fire. It was a gift from some Tusken Raiders I helped out about a year ago.”

Something clicked in Din’s memory. “Any chance those Tuskens were near Mos Pelgo?”

Amara gave him a curious look. “Why?”

“I know some tribes out that way.”

“You’re friendly with Tuskens?” she asked, intrigued rather than skeptical.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but most aren’t. People call them savages and other names I will not utter. Even though Tatooine is their land and we’re the invaders. I do my best to make an effort with them; show my respect to them whenever and however I can. It’s the least any of us can do.”

Din nodded, everything she said echoed his own values. “They’re ruthless—but they’re honourable.”

Amara smiled. “Exactly. Yes. In answer to your question—my gift came from some Tuskens near Mos Pelgo.”

Din smiled behind the helmet. Tuskens rarely gifted anything to anyone they didn’t respect or admire, the fact they gifted her such beautiful and valuable workmanship. That told him more about Amara than she ever could with words.

Kriff. What was happening with his stomach? It felt like butterflies were flapping around in there. Was he getting sick?

His train of thought derailed entirely when he looked past her—at her weapons cache.

His eyes widened.

Her weapons were beautiful.

She strapped on a pair of vambraces that matched the corset’s design, then pulled out a rifle.

“Is that…” Din trailed off.

“An Amban rifle? Yeah.” Amara smirked. “My prized possession—well, one of many. And remember, you agreed not to use any of my weapons.”

“Yeah, but had I known…” He sighed. He missed his own Amban rifle. Just another reminder of the Razor Crest.

Next, she grabbed a sheathed sword. The scabbard looked like black leather with an inscription stitched in the same dark material. Din couldn’t decipher it before she secured the blade across her back.

Then came the vibroblades—dozens of them, each one slotting into hidden holds on her corset, perfectly placed for easy access. She was efficient. Fast. It took her less than three minutes to suit up, fully armed and dangerous.

“You ready?” she asked, looking every bit the warrior she was.

Din took a beat to find his voice. “Ready,” he managed. His brain said focus, but his eyes were still locked on the sheer array of cool gear. Maybe she’d let him practice with some of it. Not use it, technically… just practice.

They closed their weapons caches in sync. Amara pressed a button on her wrist gauntlet and the ramp began to lower—only to be met by a wall of humidity that hit like a slap in the face.

“Did you know it was this humid here?” 

Din shook his head. 

“Great. My hair’s gonna be a mess.” Amara started braiding her hair back from her face. By the time they reached the bottom of the ramp, she’d secured the braid. She tapped a sequence into her gauntlet, and the ramp sealed shut behind them, followed by a beep. “Before I forget…” she said, pulling another wrist gauntlet from her pocket. “Ground defences are armed.” She grabbed Din’s hand and clipped the gauntlet onto his wrist. His skin tingled beneath the glove from her touch.  

“Without that, the defences will activate and kill you—quickly,” she said with a raised brow. “You have to wear it. Always. I’ll show you how to disengage the defences and open the ramp while we walk.”

“Understood.”

“Great.” She cracked her knuckles. “Let’s light it up.”

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Din and Ara sat on a couple of crates near the ship at the refuelling station. It felt good to stretch their legs, even for a short time. The station was quieter than usual, which suited them both just fine.

Din leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, absorbing every word Ara shared about her encounter with Adi. To put it plainly—he was speechless. She willingly put herself in danger for a child she didn’t know. Handed over credits without hesitation, simply because she saw someone in need. Fought off two men with the kind of ferocity and clarity most warriors only found on the battlefield. And she’d done it all without expecting praise.

Part of him wished he’d been there—to see her in action. Another part wished those men were still alive… so he could finish what she started. Fifty credits? They went after a child over fifty credits. Vile. Cowards of the worst kind. Who knew how many others they’d hurt?

His thoughts were interrupted by shouting near one of the other docks. Just another impatient pilot arguing with a mechanic. Din turned his gaze back to Ara, who leaned back on the crate, arms behind her propping her up with her eyes closed, enjoying the breeze.

“How much did you end up paying him?” he asked.

“A little over a hundred credits,” Ara replied, eyes still closed. “But I would’ve paid a thousand if it meant he could’ve felt even a moment of safety.”

Din nodded in quiet understanding. He would have done the same for Grogu. But even with that, he couldn’t stop the uneasy thought creeping in: No one is that kind—not in this galaxy. She had to be hiding something.

—— *** ——

"Alright,” Amara began, ticking points off on her fingers, “let me make sure I have this right. You’ve lived on the street for about a year and a half. You usually pickpocket tourists or people who clearly don’t belong on Tatooine. You’ve made yourself a little corner here that’s—impressively—safe and clean. Before that, you were in an orphanage, but you left because it wasn’t safe… and frankly, I don’t blame you. I would’ve left too.”

Adi nodded, confirming everything she’d summarized.

“Did you always live in the orphanage?” she asked gently.

He shook his head.

“What happened?”

Adi pulled his knees tighter to his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “My parents… they weren’t the greatest, you know. When they were sober long enough, they did try their best to show me they loved me—I think. But they loved spice more. Day before my seventh rotation… I woke up, and they were both just…” His voice broke.

“Sweetie…” Amara's heart clenched, she didn’t want to ask but she needed confirmation. “Did they die?”

Adi gave a slow nod, his  eyes glassy.

“Oh hun, I’m so, so sorry.” She moved forward carefully, her every movement deliberate. She didn’t want to startle him or make him feel unsafe. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I barely remember my mother, but the pain—it lingers.”

Adi didn’t say anything. Tears began to stream freely down his face. Amara reached out slowly and cupped his cheeks, her thumbs gently brushing away the tears.

After a long, quiet pause, she spoke again.

“Okay, little one, I have an offer for you. You don’t have to say yes.” He looked up, surprised by the softness in her voice. “The way I see it, you’ve got three options as to how your life is going to go,” she continued. “Option one: you stay here, continue to live on the streets. I check in on you, come back to Tatooine from time to time to make sure you’re alright. But let’s be honest, this life will eventually lead you into dangerous territory—jail or worse.”

Adi was listening, eyes fixed on her face.

“Option two: keep pickpocketing. You’re clever, but eventually, you’ll steal from the wrong person. Again—jail or worse.”

A beat.

“Option three: you come with me. I adopt you as my son.”

Adi’s eyes widened. He looked like he couldn’t decide if this was a cruel joke or the first good thing to happen to him in years. “Wait—you’d… adopt me? Why … w-why would you do that?”

Amara smiled. “Kid, my conscience won’t let me leave you here by yourself. I’ve always wanted a son, but life just never lined up that way. If you say yes, I’ll do my best to look after you, protect you, teach you, love you like my own. That’s a promise. However, if you do this, I have rules”

Adi’s voice cracked. “Whatever it is—I’ll do it. I promise.”

“Hold up,” she said with a chuckle. “Before you agree, you should probably hear the rules first.”

He nodded quickly, eager.

“Okay. None of these are negotiable, got it?”

He nodded again.

“First, you go to school. You do your homework. All of it. When you’re not in school, you’ll be with me learning whatever I can teach you. If there’s something else you’re interested in—a hobby, a class, friends—you tell me. I need to know what you're doing—even if it’s dangerous, I want to know—where you're going, who you're with, and how long you'll be gone. You ask permission before making plans. If I say no, it does not mean maybe, or asking again ten minutes later. It means no.”

Adi gave a serious nod, his young face already lighting up with hope.

“When you walk out into the world, you represent both of us. You represent our family. So you carry yourself with respect.” She looked into his eyes, her voice softer now. “Is that acceptable to you?”

Adi didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and threw his arms around her. Amara held him close, burying her face into his shoulder, and whispered, “Welcome home, Adi.”

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“He stole from us!” the dumber one protested.

"How much?"

"What?!" barked the taller hunter.

"How much did he steal, dumb-dumb?"

"It doesn't matter," the first one growled.

"Yeah, it's the principle of the thing," the second added, puffing up.

Amara rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another galaxy. "Seriously? You’ve got bounties on your heads and you’re focused on a little kid? For you to draw this kind of attention, he must’ve stolen a lot. So tell me, how much did he take? A thousand credits? Two? Ten thousand? Come on, impress me."

The shorter hunter muttered something.

"I'm sorry, I don’t speak mumbleese."

"I said sixty!” the taller one yelled.

“Sixty? As in sixty thousand?”

“No. Dumbass. As in sixty credits!’

Amara blinked as she looked at . "You were about to beat a kid half to death over sixty credits? Did I hear that right?"

They both nodded.

"Wow. Who knew times were so tough for so-called 'legendary hunters,’ who have the death sentence in three systems that you’re losing your mind over fifty credits? That’s not bounty hunter energy—that’s washed-up thug energy."

"Girl," the bigger one sneered, stepping closer, “if you don’t walk away right now, I’m gonna enjoy makin’ you scream for me."

She tilted her head. "Yeah... you really don’t look like someone who could make anyone scream. Or do much of anything, to be honest. Pretty sure you're missing more than just the brain in your head."

"You little—!"

He lunged, although he didn’t get far; a vibroblade sliced through the air and embedded itself straight into his chest. He didn’t even make it to his second step. He dropped to his knees, then fell face-first into the dust of Tatooine.

The other hunter froze completely shocked by the reaction time of this tiny woman at the entrance, didn’t know what to do, if he moved towards her, she could easily kill him, as easily as she killed his partner.

Amara stepped toward him slowly, closing the distance her blade would need to travel. Her voice stayed even.

"I’m giving you one more chance. Walk away—or lie next to your friend. Ask yourself: is fifty credits worth it?"

The remaining hunter’s eyes darted between her and the kid. He gritted his teeth.

"Fine!" He turned toward the boy with a final snarl. "If I see you again, kid, not even she’ll be able to save you."

The kid just nodded, his body still trembling. He couldn’t believe she’d stepped in. No one ever did. Not here. Not on this planet.

"You chose wisely," Amara said, cool as ever.

The bounty hunter headed toward the alley's exit. 

Amara kept her eyes on the bounty hunter, wary of any movement. Once he was far enough away, she turned her head slightly to glance at the kid—and that’s when she saw the kid’s expression twist in horror.

"WATCH OUT! BEHIND YOU!" the boy screamed.

Amara felt the weight of the hunter’s chest slam against her back, his right arm looped around her neck. While his left held her waist, he did his best to keep her arms locked by her sides.

She threw all her weight on to his foot as she slammed her own down—he screamed, loosening his grip. Amara twisted left, slamming her elbow into his gut, then grabbed his arm, flipping him over her shoulder with all her strength. He hit the ground hard. In one swift motion, she drew her blaster, pinned him with her foot against his throat, and aimed right at his chest.

"Wrong move." She pulled the trigger—three shots to center mass. Clean. Efficient.

Silence filled the alley. There was a soft breeze kicking up dust around them. The soft sounds of the market just outside slowly began filtering back into the alleyway.  

The sound of a land speeder going by pulled her out of her post-violence haze. She holstered her weapon, fixed her hair, and walked over to the other hunter’s corpse retrieving her vibroblade. The boy hadn’t moved, just stared at her in complete disbelief.

She cleaned the blade off on the fallen man’s jacket and sheathed it. Her heart broke a little at the sight of the boy’s wide, tear-filled eyes. He looked like he’d aged five years in five minutes. She knelt in front of him, her hands raised.

"Hey. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He just nodded, still unsure.

"You’re safe now. No one's gonna hurt you, alright?"

Suddenly, he launched himself into her arms, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck—so tight she could barely breathe.

"Hey, buddy… still gotta breathe here," she said, chuckling softly.

"Sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder, loosening his grip only slightly.

Amara stayed like that—kneeling on the rough ground, arms wrapped around him, unmoving—until he was ready to let go. She learned a long time ago, kids and even adults would let go when they were ready. Ten whole minutes passed before his arms finally relaxed.

"Come on," she whispered, offering her hand. He took it immediately.

Clearly this was the first time in a long time someone cared for him.  Amara wanted to take him to get a proper meal, but the kid had other ideas; after walking out of the alleyway, he guided Amara to the hangar bays.

He lead her down a narrow alley tucked between two bays. It opened into a small sunlit corner where the twin suns cast a warm glow. It felt cozy, warm, even peaceful.

Her heart cracked when Amara saw where he was living. The makeshift apartment, was clean, impressively so, considering it was little more than an alley and some flimsi flattened boxes used as walls and a roof. Tattered blankets were piled up in the corner. A worn—that was putting it generously— bedroll and a battered lantern sat nearby.

"You know, kid," she said gently, "you’ve gotta be more careful about who you pickpocket."

"I know," he murmured, curling up on his blanket.

"How long have you been on the street?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because someone should."

He looked at her, startled. Green eyes—big, wild, and wary. Loth-wolf eyes.

"Look," she said, crouching beside him. "I’ll give you one credit for every truthful answer. Deal?"

He hesitated.

"Deal."

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Tatooine had always been a place of bad memories for Amara.

It’s where her father had been killed—or at least, that’s what she’d thought for years. It was where he ran his bounty hunting operations, even when he was working for the Empire. She had never intended to return. Not until the rumours. Whispers that he might still be alive.

She needed answers. If he was alive, maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance to mend what had broken between them when she discovered the truth about his work.

Her uncle told her she was better off without him, said he wasn’t a good man. But none of that mattered. He was her father. Maybe not the best man… but he’d been a good father. Kind, warm when he could be, and always tried to show her love in the ways he knew how.

The moment she stepped out of the hangar, she felt it.

Eyes on her.

Amara developed a sixth sense for being watched—a side effect of being both a woman and a rebel. Hyper-vigilance had saved her life more times than she could count.

She scanned her surroundings with practiced ease. And then she saw him.

A scrawny, curly-haired blonde kid peeking around the corner near her ship. Trying—failing—to be discreet.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out about 50 credits. Not much, but enough to catch his eye. She made a show of slipping it into the pouch on her belt, letting the shiny coins glint in the twin suns’ light.

Bait set.

It didn’t take long.

Ten minutes later, while she was heading toward the cantina, the kid bumped into her. Quick apology. Dash off. Smooth. She barely felt him reach into the pouch. she checked and of course he did take the credits, her pouch was empty.

She smiled. Kid had skills.

He took the credits—exactly as she’d hoped. It wasn’t much, but it might buy him a couple meals. And maybe a bit of dignity.

The meeting with her contact was a bit of a bust, and left her with more questions than answers. No solid confirmation about her father, just more frustrating half-truths. She left annoyed and drained, heading toward a nearby rental stall to grab a speeder—

—and there he was again.

Same mop of curly blonde hair, same hungry eyes. But this time he was casing a group of bounty hunters.

Her stomach dropped.

She didn’t even need to guess what would happen next.

Just like before, he bumped into them, and picked their pockets. Unfortunately, this time, though, he wasn't lucky. These guys weren’t the kind to shrug off being pickpocketed. Both bounty hunters turned facing the way the kid headed off, they spotted the kid within seconds. Their cold eyes, somehow turned deadlier. They slowly turned, and began to follow him.

Amara’s stomach tightened as she watched the scene unfold. She knew Tatooine wasn’t exactly the safest or most welcoming place, but there was no way she was letting those murishani wahx'akox'a (bounty hunter scum) get their hands on him.

She trailed at a distance, careful and silent, watching as they caught up to the kid. One of them, the taller of the two, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into an alley.

Her heartbeat quickened as she followed quickly, her boots silent against the gravel. As she neared, she could clearly see everything: the kid was pinned to the wall, one hunter had his fist cocked, inches from the kid’s face—big enough to cave in his entire skull. As she assessed the situation, she realized they were far too deep into the alley for her liking.

The boy was shaking. Terrified. Eyes wide with fear.

Amara stepped forward, calm and deliberate. “Tell me, what does it take for two grown men to beat up a kid?” she said coolly, her voice slicing through the tension. “What’s the matter—feel less like men unless you’re hurting someone smaller and weaker?”

“Mind your own business, bponboi (skank),” one of them sneered, the word dripping with contempt.

“Thanks, but no. A defenceless child is my business.”

“I’d do what he says,” the second one warned.

“Still going with no,” she said with a shrug.

“Suit yourself,” the first one growled, eyeing her up and down with a sneer. “Once we’re done with him, we’ll teach you some respect—show you your real place, bponboi.”

He licked his lips.

Amara didn’t flinch.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said calmly. “You’re both going to walk away. I know that might be hard—you’ll need to fire up whatever’s left of your single brain cell—but you’re going to walk away, and surprise, you might actually keep breathing.”

The second one laughed. “Who the hell are you to give us orders? We’re wanted men. Got death sentences on three systems.”

“Well, congratulations on being a whole new level of stupid. But if you lay one more finger on that boy, I will break every bone in your body. And if there’s a bounty on your heads?” She smirked. “I’ll collect.”

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“Well, what’s done is done. Was she upset? Am I going to have to smooth things over when I get back?”

“I mean... she wasn’t thrilled I forgot. But I think it should be okay.”

“Yeah, well, she probably lost a whole day’s worth of credits. I know your heart’s in the right place, love, but she’s an elderly woman trying to make ends meet—like most people on Tatooine. Okay, here’s what I want you to do…”

“I really am sorry, Ama.”

“I know, love. We’ll fix it.” She shifted her weight, taking on that familiar tone of gentle authority. “Later today—or first thing tomorrow—you’re going to bring her flowers, a box of those fruit tarts she likes from Ms. Winnow’s bakery, and offer her a discount, 10% off, her next calibration … no, let’s make it 15%.”

“…15?”

“15,” Amara confirmed with a nod. 

“Yes, Ama.”

“Alright, love. Listen—we should be in Felucia in about fifteen to twenty hours, depending on the refuelling stops. So far, everything’s running smoothly.”

Adi looked away, his gaze falling to the floor. He couldn’t explain it, but his anxiety had been growing all day. That’s why he kept busy with the pod racer—distraction was easier than sitting with the worry.

“Please be careful, Ama. I don’t… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Adi,” she said softly. He didn’t look up.

“Adi, my dear, please look at me.”

It took a moment, but finally he raised his eyes to meet hers. She gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster.

“Nothing’s going to happen, love. You’ll see—by the end of the week, we’ll have found our quarry, and we’ll be on our way home. Besides, don’t forget—I’ve got a big, bad Mandalorian watching my back.”

She smiled again, doing her best to hide the pang in her chest. She knew exactly why Adi was so anxious. The last time she’d left on a flight like this, Ca’tra hadn’t come home. And she had come back with more bruises and stitches than she cared to count.

But this time was different.

“Okay, Ama,” Adi whispered. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me?”

“Always, my adi’ka,” she said gently. “I will always come back to you. No matter what.”

Adi finally smiled, even if it was a small one. “Thanks, Ama. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Adi.”

The comm disconnected. Amara leaned back in the chair, resting her chin in her hand as she stared at the space where Adi’s face had been a moment ago. Her thoughts drifted, like they always did after a call with him—straight back to that day. The one that would replay in her mind for the rest of her life.

The promise she just made: She meant it with every fibre in her being. She would make it back to her son, even if she had to claw her way out of hell itself.

A soft throat-clearing behind her, startled her.

“You called him adi’ka,” Din said gently.

Amara quickly wiped her eyes and turned slightly. He stepped into the cockpit, taking the seat beside her.

“Do you always eavesdrop on personal comms?”

“Sorry,” Din said. “I came to say thank you again for breakfast… and grab your plate.”

“That’s okay. I was just talking to Adi.” She exhaled slowly. “Still, you probably shouldn’t listen in. You might hear something you don’t want to.”

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but her face betrayed her—the sorrow still lingered behind her eyes.

“You’re mumming me again,” Din teased.

“And you’re acting like a child again, Roe.” A smile began to pull at her lips, though her gaze stayed forward.

“So… adi’ka, huh? That’s Mando’a. How do you know it?”

“Oh, I don’t really speak it,” she deflected quickly. “I just know the odd word here and there.”

Not quite a lie… but certainly not the whole truth. After all, she understood Mando’a far more than she let on. 

Babeh spoke it fluently, and Ca’tra made a point to fill in her education, taking every opportunity to whisper sweet nothings in Mando’a with beautiful precision into her ear, knowing it would get a rise out of her. Alright, yeah, she could hold an entire conversation in the language. But Roe didn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

“Yes, but how do you know it?” he pressed.

“Great Boba,” she answered. Din didn’t know why, but that name made something twist in his gut.

“And Adi… you said he was adopted?”

“Yeah.” Amara smiled softly. “It’s been six years now. Hard to believe. I found him when he was nine.” She chuckled a little, the memory lighting her face. “I can still remember that day, like it was yesterday. I had come back to Tatooine for business, with no idea I’d end up calling it home. But here we are.”

“Where did you find him?”

She leaned back in her seat, her voice taking on a storytelling cadence. “I just stepped outside the hangar where my ship was docked, and I noticed this scrawny, curly-haired, wild-looking blonde kid loitering near the mechanics’ bay…”

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Din woke to the smell of caf and something grilling, meat of some sort.

His stomach growled—loudly. Yeah, it was time to eat.

The bed he’d just gotten out of? Beyond comfortable. In fact, it might’ve been the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept in—more so than the one at Boba’s palace, and definitely better than the bunk on the Razor Crest.

Thinking of the Crest made his chest tighten with a flicker of melancholy, but then he glanced back at the bed. He just couldn’t get over how comfortable the bed was, what was it? The mattress? The linens? Or… maybe it was the rare sense of trust he felt. Strange, really. It had barely been a week and a half since he met Amara, and yet something about her calmed him.

Why do I trust her this fast? he wondered.

He didn’t know the answer. But for the first time in what felt like years, he’d actually had a proper night’s rest.

In the kitchenette, Amara moved with quiet purpose. She’d brewed a strong batch of caf and was finishing up a hot breakfast. She knew Din wouldn’t eat in front of her—no Mandalorian who followed the Creed would—so she plated two servings: one for him, one for herself, plus enough extra in case he wanted seconds.

She remembered how Ca’tra skipped meals, he would have a breakfast that was big enough to hold him over until dinner. Maybe Roe was the same.

Either way, she’d make sure he had food and space. She planned to eat in the cockpit anyway—she needed to call Adi. Just as she was setting down the last plate, she heard his door slide open.

“Morning, Roe.”

“Morning, Ara.”

“There’s caf over here,” she said with a smile, not looking up from the plates. “I’m not sure how strong you take it, but I made it the way I like it—hopefully that works for you. There are eggs, roasted veg, and grilled bantha meat. I plated some for you already, and there’s plenty more if you want seconds. I know some people skip lunch, so I figured better to have extra.”

She finally turned to him. “I’m going to eat in the cockpit—gonna comm Adi. Feel free to eat whatever you want.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Din replied. “You can stay in the common room. I’ll take mine to the cockpit.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t mind,” Amara said with a casual shrug. “When I cook, I never just make food for myself—unless I’m totally alone. And like I said, I was planning to call Adi anyway. Eat up. Don’t be shy—there’s plenty. I won’t be coming back for seconds.”

“Thank you,” he said, a little softer than usual.

She gave him a small nod and disappeared into the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind her. Din stared at the meal she’d left behind.

No one just… did this. Not for him.

There had to be something off. People didn’t treat strangers this kindly unless they wanted something. Maybe she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

Or maybe… maybe she was just a good person.

—— *** ——

“I’m glad you were able to work on your pod racer, Adi,” Amara said, smiling warmly at the screen. “But I gotta ask… why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t look guilty.”

“Adi.”

“Ama, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t look guilty.”

“Sweetie,” she said, her voice getting that mom tone, “I know you. You look guilty. What did you do?”

“Do?” Adi’s voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know what you mean…”

A low, amused “Hmmmm” came from offscreen.

“Gregor.” Amara called, “You know something. Come on, spill it—what did he do?”

“Go on, tell her!” Gregor shouted to Adi, offscreen, clearly enjoying himself.

Adi hung his head and sighed. “Okay, I may have… and Ama, honestly, this is not my fault—”

“Adi, my love…” Amara pinched the bridge of her nose. A headache was forming. “Just tell me what happened.”

“I may have gotten sidetracked working on the pod racer…”

“Sidetracked is an understatement,” Gregor muttered in the background.

“Sidetracked?” Amara echoed, not even trying to hide the edge in her voice.

“I may have forgotten we had an appointment with Ms. Denau to recalibrate her moisture evaporator.”

Amara groaned and shook her head. “Adi… seriously?”

Adi’s face crumpled in guilt. His mother didn’t yell; that almost made it worse. He knew the pinched nose and the head shake meant he’d disappointed her—and that always hit harder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You know better, Adi,” Amara said gently. “Especially when it comes to Ms. Denau. She barely gets by. Those evaporators are how she earns her credits.”

“I know, Ama, I’m sorry,” Adi said. “Gregor reminded me, and I did get to her place, but I didn’t finish until about two hours before the suns set.”

Amara let out a long sigh and looked at him through the screen. Regret was written all over his face. One thing she had to give Adi—he was a really good kid. But what made her love him even more was his genuine remorse. He always felt awful when he disappointed her.

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“You and Boba…”

“Ha! Yeah, you’re right on that one.” Amara burst out laughing. “Definitely not your business. But go ahead, I’m curious—what is it you actually want to know?” She kept chuckling to herself.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Oh!” That caught her off guard. People usually asked why she chose Boba, or what made him different from other men—not how long they’d been together. The truth was, very few people knew the true nature of her relationship with Boba. Only those in their inner circle truly understood, and that was for her and Adi’s protection. If Boba’s enemies knew the truth, they’d never be safe.

“Boba and I aren’t together.”

“You’re not?!” That came out way too fast—and way too excited.

Why is he so shocked by that? Amara thought.

Why am I so shocked by that? Din wondered. Maybe he’d misread things... or misunderstood what Boba meant when he said he was in love with her.

“No,” she said again, calmer. “We’re not together. Don’t get me wrong—we love each other. We’d do anything for one another. Probably kill anyone who threatened us.” She turned her focus to the control panel, feigning interest. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Fennec would have something to say about who Boba got involved with.”

“Why would Fennec care?”

Amara’s head snapped up. Oops. Definitely wasn’t supposed to say that. Just because she could see what was clearly brewing between her father and Fennec didn’t mean they wanted anyone else to. Knowing those two emotionally stunted warriors, they probably thought no one noticed their feelings at all. Still… the look they exchanged in the garage had been intense. Maybe things were shifting.

“Oh, um… nothing. I misspoke. Forget I said that.”

“Ara… come on.”

“Nope.”

“Araaa.”

“You’re worse than one of those gossiping washer women.”

“Amara,” Din said in a sing-songy tone.

“Listen, Rogue, it’s not my story to tell.”

“I can respect that,” he said with a nod. She wasn’t involved with Boba. Interesting. But she had said she still loved him. There was clearly more there than met the eye.

“The ship’s on autopilot,” Amara continued, shifting the subject. “It’ll take us two rotations to reach Felucia. We’ll stop to refuel at a station nearby. Once we’re there, you can decide how we approach the job. I’ll follow your lead. But of all the places this joker could hide, Felucia’s a smart choice. He’s clearly no fool.”

“What do you mean ‘us’, Ara?”

“As in you and me. As in—I’m coming with you.”

“I work alone.”

“Yeah, yeah. Mr. Lone Wolf Mandalorian. Heard it all before. But here’s the thing, Roe: my ship, my rules.” She turned toward him, locking eyes with his helmet like she could see right through it. Seriously, did this woman have x-ray vision?

“Fine. Your ship, your rules. But my quarry. That means you do what I say, when I say it.”

“I can live with that. But that also means you don’t get to use any of my weapons.”

“Pfft. Like I’d want to.”

A smirk spread across Amara’s face. “Oh, Roe... if you only knew.” She chuckled, already looking forward to his reaction when he saw her arsenal. “Come on. Let me show you your room.”

Din followed her down the corridor, just off the common room and near the exit ramp. When she opened the door, he was surprised at how… comfortable it looked.

“There are fresh linens on the bed,” she said. “Extra sets in the drawers under the bunk. There’s a private refresher—it’s small, so don’t go knocking yourself out. I’m not hauling your naked butt off the floor if you fall. There’s also a three-compartment storage unit in the wall for clothes, armour, and personal items.”

The bed was an actual, standard-sized bunk—not a cot. There was even a small desk. The compartments weren’t huge, but serviceable. He glanced around, doing the math.

“I don’t think all of my weapons will fit in here.”

“Oh no. You don’t keep weapons here. This is for personal stuff. I’ve got a weapons cache you can use.”

“My weapons are my religion. They don’t leave my sight.”

“I get it. But the cache has a custom lock—only you’ll know the code. And it’s way bigger than those three little compartments.”

Din turned to face her so fast she thought he might have broken something.

“You mean I get my own weapons locker?”

“Yeah. Follow me.”

She led him to a panel diagonal to his room, in the same hallway as the exit ramp. As he looked around, he realized there were five more panels just like it.

“These all weapons lockers?”

Amara smirked. “Maybe. That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

She opened the locker. “You can store most of your arsenal here. If you need more space, let me know. Like I said, until this arrangement ends, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded. “Alright, I’m off for a nap while I can still get one. You might want to rest too. Or explore the ship a bit. There’s a datapad in the common room with some holo-vids if you’re into that. Just remember—my room and Adi’s are off-limits. They’re the two closest to the common area. And if you’re curious, the carbon-freezing unit’s just down the hall near the engine room.”

She turned to go, but paused. “Oh—before I forget. To reset your room or the cache’s lock code, enter four zeroes, hold the last zero for five seconds, then enter your new code and hit the hash. Same process to change the code again.”

“Couldn’t I just do that to other doors too?”

“First of all—why would you? Second, no. You need the current code to reset it. If I tried the four-zero trick after you set a new code, it wouldn’t work. You’re the only one who can change it.”

Din nodded. “Understood.”

Amara finally headed to her room and slipped out of her oil-stained coveralls. Her space wasn’t much bigger than Roe’s or Adi’s, but the compartments were roomier, and the refresher was slightly larger. More importantly, it was where her memories of Ca’tra still lived. Photos of him, Adi, and Boba lined her walls. One of her favourites was a holo of Boba and Fennec standing outside Jabba’s palace, the twin suns setting behind them. Boba’s arm was slung around Fennec’s shoulders, pointing to something on the horizon. It was a peaceful image. One she hoped would happen again.

She opened a storage compartment and pulled out one of Ca’tra’s old tunics, then made her way to the refresher. She needed to wash off the uneasiness crawling under her skin.

Traveling with another Mandalorian stirred memories she thought she’d tucked away. She missed Ca’tra—deeply. Having a man on the ship again reminded her just how much.

But after talking with Roe… maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, she could start to see him as a friend.

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Din had a small smile tugging at his lips. In all his years, he’d never met anyone who fought so fiercely to be good—truly good. From the moment he met her, Amara amazed him. Not just with her skills or her strength, but with her unwavering conviction to respect others, to protect people, and to live with purpose. She was something rare in the galaxy.

“I want to see what you come up with,” he finally said.

Amara leaned back, thinking in silence for a few beats before a playful grin curled on her lips.

“All right. How about… Lori?”

“No.”

“What? Lori’s great!” Din just stared at her. She sighed. “Fine. Not Lori—although that would’ve been awesome. Okay... how about Mani?”

“No.”

“Dori?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Dalo?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Orian?”

“Okay, now you’re just mashing syllables. Are you even trying?”

“Fiiine.” She turned back toward the stars streaking across the viewport, thinking hard. He needs a name. Something fitting. He’s unconventional… always doing his own thing and expecting people to go along with it… wait a minute.

Her smile bloomed from ear to ear. She whipped around to face him, glowing with triumph.

“I got it.”

“You have nothing,” he said flatly.

“No, no—I do.”

“Don’t believe it.”

“Trust me.” She leaned in a little. “How about—drumroll, please—Rogue?”

“Rogue?”

“Rogue,” she repeated proudly.

“…Hmm. Not hating it.”

Amara's grin widened into a full-blown beam. “Okay, then. Rogue it is. Roe for short.”

“You’re shortening a name that’s already a nickname.”

“Exactly. So when I call you Roe, you know you’re not in trouble.”

Din chuckled again. Her laughter was contagious, her smile radiant. She had a joy that made you feel like the galaxy wasn’t so broken after all.

“All right, Roe,” she said with a teasing smirk. “Let’s go over some ground rules.”

“Sure. Wait—do you have a nickname?”

“Well, Amara is already a nickname. Adi calls me Ama, which means mom, and Boba has a nickname for me too—but that one's private. Only he, Fennec, and Adi know it. So, you can just call me Amara. Or come up with something yourself.”

“…Ara.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning toward him, “do you have something stuck in your throat? Sounded like you were coughing.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are, Ara.”

“Please. I’m hilarious. Not my fault you have no sense of humour, Roe.”

“I have great humour, Ara.”

“Debatable, Roe.”

“Fact, Ara.”

“Fine. Ara can be your nickname for me.”

“Good. And I’ll do you the same courtesy—Ara when you’re behaving, Amara when you’re in trouble.”

“Oh, I can’t wait. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be in trouble more often than me, Roe.”

“Ha. We’ll see, Ara.”

“By the way—you came up with that nickname awfully fast. Been saving that one for a rainy day?”

“Nope. I’m just not terrible at nicknames like you. And you look like an Ara.”

“Okay. Ground rules, Roe.”

“Ground rules, Ara.”

“One: clean up after yourself. If my fifteen-year-old can wash dishes, do his own laundry, and put everything away, so can you.”

“Obviously, Ara.”

“You’d think it was obvious, but experience says otherwise. Two:If you make food, tell me if we’re out of anything so I can restock the kitchenette. Use whatever you want, just don’t let it run out without saying something.”

“Understood.”

“Three:My room and Adi’s room are strictly off-limits. I don’t care what the reason is. You never go into Adi’s room. Mine is only accessible in case of a real emergency—like fire, gunshots, or blood loss. And not a paper-cut either. I’m talking ‘hull breach’ level emergency.”

“Crystal clear.”

“Four:The guest room—that’s your room. I’ll show it to you when we’re done. It’s all yours. I won’t go in without your permission unless there’s an emergency. You can decorate it, trash it, whatever. The only thing I ask is that you leave it clean when you leave.”

“Seems fair.”

“Five: No food in your room unless you’re sick. I do not want vermin on this ship.”

“That’s fine. I don’t eat in my bunk anyway.”

“Six: I know you can’t remove your helmet in front of people. So if you need privacy to eat, I’ll take my meals in the cockpit or somewhere else. Just say the word.”

“Thank you.”

“Seven: I’m not your mom, so don’t ask me what’s for dinner or when it’s ready. You’ve got two legs, two arms, and—unless you’re hiding extra—you’ve got two eyes that work.”

“I have two. No more, no less,” he said with a grin.

“Good. Then you’re fully capable of making or finding your own food.”

“You know, I am a grown man.”

“Hmm. Debatable, Roe. However, first we do, then we trust.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do not call me ma’am.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“You’re really trying to test me, aren’t you?” Despite herself, Amara couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping her lips. It had been a while since someone outside her family made her laugh like that.

Din’s voice softened a bit. “Ara… can I ask you a question? If it’s too personal, tell me to stop. I just… I need to know.”

“Sure, Roe. If I feel uncomfortable, I’ll say so. Same goes for you. If I ever cross a line, you tell me.”

He nodded, “Now, this probably isn’t my business…”

She laughed, “Starting a conversation with ‘this probably isn’t my business’ is always such a great opener.”

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She turned to look at the man sitting to her right. She must’ve misheard him. There was no way a Mandalorian—the Mand'alor—would want to be addressed by such a generic, borderline disrespectful term.

When she first heard Adi call him "Mando," she'd pulled him aside for a quick but serious talk. She told him it was inappropriate—not just for the Mand’alor, but for any Mandalorian. From what she’d learned, those who followed the Creed often chose nicknames for outsiders to use, or a few, very few would use their names.

“Mando,” Din repeated, puzzled by the sharp look he was getting. Had he said something wrong? Maybe she didn’t hear him the first time?

“I’m sorry, but…” Amara shifted, switching the ship to autopilot and turning in her seat to face him head-on. Her eyes locked onto the black T-shaped visor, her expression dead serious. Din instantly felt his stomach drop. Her face was just as unreadable—and terrifying—as it had been the day they met. So much for four hours of peace. “…yeah, there’s no way I’m disrespecting you, the Mand’alor, or the Great Boba, by calling you a disrespectful term like Mando. What, are you trying to erase your individuality?”

Din blinked. “I think you’re overthinking this. It’s not a big deal. Everyone calls me that.” It was a nickname many had used and he never saw any issue with it.  He was a Mandalorian, he was Mando, it wasn’t a disrespectful term. 

“I’m overthinking it?!” Amara’s voice climbed, her eyes boring into his visor. “Tell me, oh wise one—if everyone decided to jump out of the airlock without a flight suit or oxygen tank, would you just follow them too?”

Din’s eyebrows shot up so fast he thought he might have sprained something. “Wait—did you just… mom me?”

“Yes! Yes, I did.”

He burst into laughter again, unable to stop it.

“It’s not funny,” she said, which only made him laugh harder.

“Oh, come on, it’s a little funny. I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

“That just makes me feel worse for you.” Her voice was flat, but her eyes shimmered with something deeper. “No one—no one—deserves to have their identity wiped away. Not for any reason. Not who they are. Not how they were made.”

Her eyes welled slightly, and Din’s amusement faded fast. Clearly, this wasn’t just about the nickname.

“Amara…”

“No! Don’t try to appease me. The Empire spent years trying to erase people’s identities. I’m not going to be a part of that. Either you come up with a nickname, or I will. But I’m not calling you Mando.”

“Amara…”

“Did I give the impression this was up for discussion in any way, shape, or form?”

“You just mom’d me again!”

“Then stop being disrespectful and I’ll stop!”

“I’m not disrespecting you!”

“You’re disrespecting yourself! And every Mandalorian out there, whether they follow the creed or not. I don’t let Adi get away with that, I wouldn’t even let Boba get away with that. So what makes you think I’d let you?”

Stunned! That’s all Din felt, just utter and pure shock! In his entire life, no one had left him speechless like this tiny woman, with her beautiful features, striking green tattoo. Din felt his brain short-circuit, his central processing unit malfunctioned, he chuckled at his inside joke, thinking of the IG unit that saved his life. Unfortunately, his chuckle was out loud.

Bad move.

“Did you just laugh at me?” Her expression twisted into hurt now, not just offence.not just shocked but hurt, dank farrik! Why couldn’t he stop putting his foot in his mouth. 

“No—no, I wasn’t… it’s not—I was thinking…” He groaned. “Ugh.”

“What is wrong with you?! I’m trying to respect you and you’re laughing at me?”

“I wasn’t laughing at you!” he blurted. “I remembered something. An inside joke.”

She turned her chair back to the viewport, head shaking slowly. The disappointment radiating off her practically hit him like an ion blast.

“I just… I chuckled at an inside joke in my head,” he muttered.

“You have inside jokes… with yourself?” she asked dryly, still staring at the stars.

“Yes. I just… It’s a long story. It’s not important.”

“Fine.”

“I’ve just… I’ve never met anyone who cared what I was called. I’ve been called worse. ‘Mando’ never really bothered me.”

“That’s…” Amara exhaled, her voice softer now. “That just makes me angry for you.”

“I appreciate your concern—”

Oh no. Nope. She was not about to let herself get pulled into a heart-to-heart. She knew this pattern, her heart always beat for someone with a sad story. Sad story + strong silent type = heartbreak. No thanks.

“…Did you think of a nickname?” Amara interrupted, cutting him off before he divulged more than she needed to know.

“…Did you just cut me off?” he asked, half amused. “Isn’t that disrespectful?”

She glared sideways at him. Curse this man and his ridiculous charm. “Let me guess. You were about to give me some long-winded speech about how you appreciate my concern, but you’re used to it, and it doesn’t bother you. That this partnership is short-term and we shouldn’t get too familiar—so I shouldn’t concern myself with what you’re called. Right?”

Din blinked. “Umm… actually yeah, something like that.”

“Exactly why I cut you off.” She crossed her arms. “Look, I’m sorry if that was rude. But I’m not changing my mind. We’re working together, so this is part of it. So, got a nickname? Or do I need to get creative?”

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Amara was once again surprised by the Mand'alor. He’d offered an apology in the most unexpectedly eloquent way—and now, he was offering calm reassurance to a woman who could’ve easily been responsible for real harm. It made Amara wonder: what kind of man was he really?

Boba and Fennec observed the whole exchange from a distance. Boba let out a low, contented grunt, the kind that said, See? You get it. Fennec seized the moment, now that the chaos had died down, to circle back to a question that had been pinging around her brain for days.

“Okay,” she started, folding her arms. “So I get Mando and Amara—but what about those three quarries?”

“What about them?” Boba gruffed.

“You know what,” she replied with a raised brow behind her visor. “The last one you picked for Mando is one of the most dangerous targets we’ve got. Are you sure you want Amara around him for that?”

“She can handle herself,” he snapped, a little sharper than necessary.

Fennec nodded slowly, unfazed. “I’m not questioning her skills. Everyone on Tatooine knows she can hold her own. I’m just saying... if one of them gets hurt—or worse, captured—the other one’s going to come running. You know that, right?”

“They’ll deal with it. Together.”

“You’re really not worried?” she asked, a trace of disbelief in her voice.

“If they’re going to build anything meaningful—friendship, trust, maybe something more—they need to be vulnerable with each other. Danger has a way of revealing a person’s true self. No masks. No armour. Just truth.”

Fennec cocked her head. “So this whole setup—this bonding mission of chaos—is your way of helping them fall in love?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though there was a smirk in his voice. “Maybe they learn they work well together. Maybe friendship turns into something more. Who says a plan can’t have two goals?”

—— *** ——

The last of the packing was finally done. Amara glanced around the ship, satisfied. She felt ready to head out with the Mandalorian. He had brought an impressive—okay, extreme—amount of weaponry. Even for bounty hunters, it was over the top. But she couldn’t exactly judge; her own cache probably looked just as bad. Maybe worse.

Din, too, felt more at ease now that everything was loaded. If the worst-case scenario came to pass, at least they were prepared. He scanned the garage one last time. Fennec had mentioned weapons caches scattered everywhere, but he didn’t spot a single one. Maybe she’d just said that to keep him sharp… but then again, Fennec wasn’t one to waste words.

He didn’t want to rush Amara, but time was ticking. He asked if she was ready, and she nodded. They began saying their goodbyes—Amara’s took longer, of course. Her farewells were warm, full of tight embraces and unshed tears, especially with Adi. She and Boba stepped away briefly for a private word, and Din felt a weird knot tighten in his stomach. He didn’t know why it bothered him. But it did.

While they were out of sight, Din took the chance to speak to Fennec and Adi. He assured them he’d look after Amara. Adi opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his mom and Boba reappeared. Adi sighed. Another missed chance.

Din made sure to say a personal goodbye to Boba too. They reviewed the plan, went over contingencies. It was more than just a sendoff—it felt like a passing of the torch. Din didn’t have many people he considered family. Not outside of Grogu or the covert. Even then, he’d never really had a goodbye that felt like it meant something. Watching Amara surrounded by her found family left a quiet ache in his chest he couldn’t quite name.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Din promised Boba one last time.

“You’d better,” the older Mandalorian replied flatly. “Though I’m not too worried. Amara could take out an entire army if she had to.”

Din chuckled. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ll see.”

—— *** ——

Thirty minutes and several heartfelt hugs later, the Sintas lifted off. Amara told Din he could pilot the ship on the way back—if he survived, and if she approved of how he handled himself. As the ship broke through the atmosphere, only two figures remained watching the skies: Adi and Gregor.

Adi was trying not to show it, but he was nervous. Sure, his mom had left before—many times, in fact—but this was the longest trip in almost two years. And this time, she wasn’t with someone she trusted completely. Not with Ca’tra. This time, it was with someone who, to Adi, was still a stranger.

Next to him, Gregor stood silently. Adi looked up at the man he trusted, the one who had always been there like a silent protector.

“Gregor, do you think they’ll be okay?”

“Mhmm,” the man grunted.

“I think so too. I just can’t shake this anxiety,” Adi muttered.

Gregor let out a low, inquisitive growl, but Adi just shrugged. “There’s no reason to be worried. I know she can handle herself. And he’s… well, he’s a Mandalorian.”

Adi sighed. “I’m worrying too much, aren’t I?”

“Hmm.”

Adi gave a small laugh. “Thanks, Gregor. You always know how to calm me down.”

He finally turned away from the sky and headed inside to tackle the long list of chores his mom had left him—plus the usual stream of customers, Peli’s demands, and his own endless to-do list. He knew standing around watching the sky wouldn’t bring her back any faster.

Still, he hoped they’d call soon. Maybe, maybe, he’d work up the courage to ask for a quick word with the Mandalorian. Not to be rude—just to let him know, ‘Adi style,’ that someone was watching. That he mattered.

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“I’m sorry, Boba. I know what it’s like to lose people you care about.”

“I hope we’re done losing people to violence,” he said quietly. “Death should be peaceful. Natural. Not stolen. I just hope none of us have to grieve again.”

Fennec nodded. She hoped that too. But one question still tugged at her.

“Do you think she’s ready to move on from Ca’tra?”

“I can’t answer that for her,” Boba replied. “But I want her to have the option—if she’s ready. And if she’s not, I want her to remember that the opportunity will always be there. With Mando... or someone else. When she’s ready.”

Fennec’s next question slipped out before she had time to think about it.

“Have you had that option?”

Boba turned to face her, his helmet still hiding his expression. But behind the visor, he was reeling. Maker, he wanted to rip his helmet off—take hers off too—and pull her close, press his lips to the ones he knew were hidden behind the black and orange plating. His chest ached with how badly he felt it. The silence dragged long enough for Fennec to glance sideways at him, wondering if she’d said too much.

—— *** ——

Amara stood on the ramp of the Sintas, pausing mid-step as she caught sight of her father and Fennec locked in wordless gaze. Their intense visor contact told the whole galaxy—including her—everything they were too afraid to say out loud.

She smiled softly. She hoped, more than anything, to one day see her father happy again. She still remembered the way his face used to light up when he looked at her mother. It had been decades since she’d seen that joy. But now? Fennec brought it back. And Babeh gave just as much joy in return—if only they’d find the courage to admit it.

They already had her blessing. She just hoped they realized it before Adi decided to get married and start a family of his own.

—— *** ——

Boba finally broke the silence. “You’re not going to drop it, are you?”

“Nope,” Fennec said, her grin audible even through her helmet.

Boba sighed—a rare sound of contentment. “I think... I might finally have an option.”

Fennec smirked, but didn’t let her heart run wild with it. Still, it stayed with her.

The moment passed, and they turned their attention back to the scene before them—each privately replaying the conversation they’d just had.

Suddenly, chaos erupted.

One of Peli’s droids, despite its typical nimble handling of tools, dropped a crate of Din’s weapons. Causing one of the blasters to discharge on impact. A red bolt ricocheted wildly through the garage.

There was a mad dash of panic as everyone scattered.

Amara dove over Adi, shielding him instinctively. 

Peli ducked behind crates. 

Boba shifted in front of Fennec without hesitation. 

Gregor—ever the immovable object—stood his ground. The red bolt hitting his welding mask and fizzled out harmlessly, the mask holding firm.

Din stood on the ramp of the Sintas, his hand hovering over the blaster at his hip, clenching and releasing with visible restraint. It was clear he was trying very hard not to shoot the droid on principle.

Adrenaline pumped in everyone’s veins.

Once the moment passed, Fennec noticed Boba still positioned in front of her—his first instinct having been to protect her. The realization settled deep in her chest.

Amara groaned softly as she pushed off of Adi, who was still a little shaken but unhurt. With Boba’s help, she checked him over, brushing debris from his clothes, inspecting for injuries.

Din watched silently. He noticed how Amara glanced to Boba with a flicker of fear in her eyes. Boba nodded—both he and Fennec were fine. Only then did Amara release a long-held breath.

Din let out a breath too—one no one noticed.

No one had looked at him to check if he was okay. Not that it was expected. In the covert, you didn’t ask. You didn’t coddle. But watching how they all looked out for one another made him miss something he hadn’t thought of in a long time: the soft brown eyes of Sorgan.

Just as he turned to help Peli, Amara reached out and gently stopped him with a hand hovering in front of his chest.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay? Any injuries?”

He sucked in a different kind of breath. She didn’t have to ask that. But she did.

“I’m okay,” he said, the words slower than he intended. “Thanks.”

It was all he could offer. Amara simply nodded, then walked with him toward Peli’s hiding spot.

The mechanic was furious—at herself, at the droid, at the near disaster. Amara stepped in quickly, placing a hand on her arm to keep her from storming across the garage and dismantling the poor droid on the spot.

“Peli, it’s okay,” she soothed. “Everyone’s safe. No need to take it out on him. I’m sure V-D4 feels terrible. Don’t you, V-D4?”

The droid lowered its head in shame. It was pitiful, really.

“Just… don’t let him handle anything heavier than a wrench until I get back from Felucia,” Amara said. “When I return, I’ll fix his coordination issue. Easy fix. No biggie. Okay?”

“Fine,” Peli muttered. It was the only thing she could say. She wanted to apologize—to all of them—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Din stepped forward, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Peli,” he said calmly. “It was an accident. No one was hurt. No one’s blaming you. Okay?”

She couldn’t bring herself to meet the T-visor in front of her. He was giving her a pass. And Maker help her, she didn’t feel like she deserved it.

If this had been three years ago—even two—Din would’ve shot the droid on the spot. That alone broke her heart a little. Not because he didn’t do it... but because it reminded her how much he had changed

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Still no response.

Fennec didn’t need years to understand Boba—not that she’d known him long anyway—but she did understand people. It’s what made her an effective assassin. Everyone feared something. And she’d learned early on that one of Boba’s deepest fears was the safety of those he loved. He kept his circle small for a reason.

Too much trust could cost lives. It was a lesson carved deep into the bones of the galaxy, especially during the fall of the original Bounty Hunter’s Guild. Too many people trusted too many unknowns with too much—bounty credits, personal details, ship codes, all in the name of a “code” few actually lived by. Boba had learned from that mistake. As the new Guild leader of Tatooine, he made it simple: prove yourself or don’t bother coming back. Fail, and you're out.

But this fear she sensed now wasn’t about the safety of his family. It was personal—the kind that came from the heart.

“You’re not the only one,” Fennec said quietly. “I’m afraid too.”

She meant it. Not in a performative way. Not as a way to earn sympathy. Just truth. This was her new life now—maybe even her new family—and the vulnerability that came with that scared her. Caring scared her. But she’d made a silent vow: if she had people again, she’d protect them as if they were her own. No matter her feelings, family would always come first. That, she understood. That, she respected.

But pretending the fear wasn’t there? That it could be locked away and ignored? That wasn’t strength—it was surrender.

Boba stayed silent, his eyes locked on Amara and Adi as they moved in and out of the Sintas.

“Everyone’s afraid, Boba,” she continued, her tone soft but resolute. “It’s what makes us feel alive. You, of all people, know how short life is. There’s a difference between being cautious and being paranoid.”

He didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to—okay, maybe partly because of that—but also because he couldn’t find the words. His voice seemed to catch in his throat. And honestly, he liked hearing hers. But he also knew if he stayed silent too long, she’d take it as confirmation of his fears. That wasn’t something he wanted.

So, Boba cleared his throat. There was something about Fennec that made him nervous… and bold.

“I’m glad you’re by my side, Fenn,” he said, trying not to stumble. “I hope you know how grateful I am that you’re my right hand…”

He paused. The words he wanted to say stuck somewhere just behind his teeth.

“…that you’re my partner in crime.”

Three unspoken words echoed inside his chest.

It wasn’t what Fennec had hoped to hear—but she understood what he meant.

“Of course, Boba. No place I’d rather be,” she replied. “I’m here for you… always.”

And tucked between every syllable: I love you.

Neither of them said more. But they both understood what had just passed between them.

Boba was quietly thankful for his helmet—it hid the blush rising in his cheeks. Fennec was equally grateful for hers, shielding the ear-to-ear smile she couldn’t suppress.

After a pause, Boba spoke again.

“With regards to Mara… she’s one of the best people I know.” He added quickly, “Present company excluded, of course.”

Fennec bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. She offered a silent thanks to the Maker for helmets.

“I’m biased—she’s my daughter,” Boba continued. “But you see how hard she works. Not just for Adi. For everyone. She deserves someone good. Mando’s honourable. The way he fought for his kid—his passion, his loyalty—those are rare qualities. And they’d balance Mara’s. The way she loves Adi… I never thought I’d see that kind of devotion again. But then I saw it in Mando. Call it an old man’s wish, but… when I saw that, I knew.”

Fennec let out a soft chuckle. “That’s so sweet, old man. You just gave me a toothache.”

“Degbaronbgee,” Boba muttered under his breath. Smartass.

“You know I’m kidding.” Her voice softened. “It’s amazing how much you care about her. Not many fathers would. It’s one of the many things that I…”

She hesitated.

“…one of the things that makes you special.”

Boba turned his helmet toward her, visor tilted slightly down in that way he had when he was being earnest. “I’d act that way about anyone I love. Or loved. I’d fight tooth and nail to make sure they knew. That they never had to doubt it.”

Fennec blinked. Her cheeks flushed again. Did he just—?

No. No, he couldn’t have meant it like that. Could he?

It’s one thing to imply something through sentiment. Another thing entirely to say it aloud.

Now wasn’t the time. She didn’t even know what she wanted. And so—classic Fennec—she dodged.

“So… why does Amara call you ‘Babeh’?” she asked, teasing tone dialed to full.

Boba didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“When she was learning to speak, she kept trying to say my name,” he said. “But she couldn’t get the hard O sound. Just kept calling me ‘Babeh.’ It stuck. Every time she says it, I see that three-year-old girl with wild hair, running barefoot through the house. And all I want to do is scoop her up and protect her from the world.”

His voice quieted.

“When she lost Ca’tra, I didn’t think she’d make it. Honestly? If she didn’t have Adi… I don’t think she would’ve. When I lost Sintas, the only thing that kept me going was Mara. Knowing I was the only one she had left. And that it was my job to protect her.”

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The Mand'alor started walking towards the ship, more specifically towards Amara, when he was faced by a new face, well helmet, that had blocked his path.  A stout, shorter man, whose arms were thicker than his neck, the man was certainly intimidating, not to Din but to anyone else entering the shop he would certainly make people think twice.  His face hidden by a welder’s face shield added to the intimidation factor, after all that was one of the reasons Boba wore his mask.  In the stout man’s hands, he held a hammer, big enough to cause some serious damage in either a person or ship.  His meaty fists were easily the thickness of Din’s thighs.  Din simply stood in silence, regarding the shorter man, not sure if he should say something.  The man looked him up and down, almost as one predator measures up another predator, with a loud grunt, the shorter man nodded his head and wandered off.  

Unbeknownst to Din, he passed Gregor’s test, although the man didn’t say much, he would make sure anyone who would be alone with his employer for days on end, would stand up to scrutiny.  If they couldn’t handle the silence and the measuring up, they didn’t deserve to be in her presence.

Din brushed off the encounter with the welder mask and came to stand beside Amara, as they finished loading the rest of his stuff onto her ship.

“Beautiful ship”

“Thanks, I do my best to look after it”

“What’s her name?”

“Sintas” Din noticed how Amara and Boba shared a quick look, at her uttering the ship name.  Maybe he’ll be able to learn something about the name in their travels.

“Beautiful name”

“I agree” Boba answered, Boba simply eyed the younger mandalorian, and Din took his cue, he knew when he wasn’t wanted, “I'm gonna punch in the coordinates into the nava computer” Din offered, Amara nodded in response.  While Din punched in the coordinates.  A few minutes had passed before Amara appeared in the cockpit beside Din, she began running diagnostics to make sure the ship was ready to fly immediately, he knew the diagnostics were more for his benefit than her actually fearing her ship wasn’t going to fly.  It was a subtle gesture of trust on her part, and he appreciated it.  After all, Felucia was a long way, the planet had few landing ports and even fewer places to land beyond civilization.  

“When we get to Felucia, I think it best if we land somewhere that’s secluded.  Port docking is just too much of a giveaway, in my experience.  I prefer landing away from people, as often as I can.”

“I agree”

“You do?”

“Yes, but if anything happens to my ship, just know I’m taking it out of your hide” Amara threatened, Din looked at her stoic features for a few seconds, before she began to laugh, “relax, I’m kidding.”

“You’re gonna have to eventually trust me” he had told her, when they were alone in the cockpit.

“First we do, then we trust” she offered flatly not looking at him, but rather at the diagnostic report that appeared on the screen before her, that ended the discussion right there and Din could respect her apprehensiveness. 

—— *** ——

While everyone else was doing their part to help put the garage in order, Boba and Fennec stood resting against one of Amara’s empty stations, watching from the sidelines.

“Are you sure about this?” Fennec whispered conspiratorially.  

Boba had told her of his plan to introduce Mando to his daughter, long before the Mandalorian had ever reached out to Boba.  Ever since Boba had the run in with the Sarlacc pit, he was reminded that life was short and there were things he needed to be sure were taken care of; one of them being his daughter, he needed to make sure she was happy in every way.

“About what?” Boba asked, feigning ignorance, Fennec’s lips curled slightly in amused irritation. 

“About Mando and Amara?”

“Only thing I'm truly sure about is my daughter’s love for people and life.  There’s only one person I've seen who has that same kind of love, and he died in her arms almost two years ago.  Mando is a good and just man, he puts those close to him first in his life, he fights for them to the end, even if it means his life.  If there ever was someone worthy enough to earn my daughter’s love and my respect, it’s him”, Boba doesn’t even bother to hide the warm pride in his voice for both Amara and Din.

“You want them to be together? Even though it’s been almost two years since she lost Ca’tra?” Fennec is no stranger to love, she had a lover long ago, someone who held her heart completely.  Unfortunately, they had been killed by a rival gang, that’s the way these things happened from time to time.  However, she made sure to avenge her love, when she did her heart that had lived for him, became ice cold to the thought of someone replacing him.  She always used to fight the idea of someone else taking his place, except in the past few years, her icy walls had started to crack under the seismic charge of the man beside her.

“I want her to be happy, I don't want her to end up like me, afraid to take a chance on having something, something that could make her life just a little more special.”

“You’re afraid?” She couldn’t hide the astonishment out of her voice.

“Hmmm?”

“Boba, I know you heard me” she gritted out.

“Did I?” 

“Why are you afraid to take a chance?” Her curiosity spiked, and before she could control her tongue, the question stumbled out.  It wasn’t just the concept of fear coming from Boba, but it almost sounded like he related to Amara’s situation in more than one way.  

Boba continued to stoically look out towards the others without answering her, his silence had driven Fennec to aggravatingly ask, “seriously?”

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