weaponry ; the mandalorian

IIS: SEVENTEEN

Jana's fingers impatiently tap against her glass, the dull sound drowned out by the noisy bar around her.

A band is playing, patron's laugher erupting over the melody, but the brunette pays no attention to it. Instead, her focus remains on the face of a digital clock across the establishment, one that changes in time with the intergalactic cycle. Each time a number shifts, Jana's heart drops deeper in her stomach. She can't think of anything but him.

He should be back by now.

He said it was an easy bounty, and that he'd be away for barely a couple hours. And so, Jana perched herself at the bar, drinking, waiting; only the ladder of which she detests. But he had left too long ago, so long that when the clock moves forward once again, Jana's mind is made up. He's late. She's going to find him.

She takes a deep breath before downing the rest of the spotchka in her glass just to have something to do with her hands. The liquid burns pleasantly and warms her chest, relaxing her just enough for her to stand up smoothly and toss some credits onto the bar-top. Giving a nod to the bartender droid, Jana is on her feet and moving swiftly to the door, the deep brown fabric of her cloak billowing out behind her.

Reaching up, she pulls back the top half of her hair, tying it back and out of her eyes. The length of the brown locks had been cut with the very dagger hidden in a thigh holster under her cloak, now barely brushing the tops of her shoulders. Once it's tied out of her way, Jana lifts the hood of her cloak and heads out the door and onto the street.

He had left her in a tavern a block away from his client's casino despite knowing she wouldn't be able to sit and wait for him. Each time he worked a job she tried. She tried to sit and be patient for him to come collect her again, to radio through their commlink that he's alright, and they'd gotten their payment.

More than anything she wants to be by his side, but it's too dangerous for both of them. He's a bounty hunter, but she's at the top of the New Republic's Most Wanted List.

He never leaves her unprepared. After they had been separated he made sure to equip her with a small armory of her own. Small blades tucked into her boots and line the inside of her sleeves, explosives strapped to her belt, a freshly sharpened dagger on her thigh. Her blaster on her waist, carrying the weight of a legacy.

A legacy she doesn't want to bear anymore.

With a shudder running up her spine, Jana maintains her pace, moving silently through the dark parts of the streets of Glavis, cutting through alleys on the very path he had set for her. He'd take one route to the target, and another to collect his payment, she's following the ladder.
Peeking around a corner, before striding into the shadows, Jana grows more nervous. Anxiety settling deeply into her bones with their prolonged separation. She knows exactly why. The last time they were away from each other didn't go well.

This is different, Jana has to tell herself. No one forced them apart, there is no implant to alter. Unlike last time, she is totally and utterly free. She's just hiding from the active pursuit of the New Republic. Who, if they caught her, would lock her away, give her a trial, and no doubt promptly execute her for the crimes of all past title-holders.

Jana nearly voices her concern in a hushed, Where is he? When the metallic glint of beskar finally her eye.

The sight of her Mandalorian makes relief seep into her chest, but it only lasts a second. The way he walks, grunting in pain and with a heavy limp, replaces that cathartic relief into dread. Anger.

Jana sees red as she picks up her pace.

When Din sees her, he stops completely, his frame stiffening when he recognizes the dark cloak.

"Who did this?" Jana demands as soon as she's close enough, she had told him forever ago that she would take on the galaxy for him, and she would start with whoever inflicted the nasty burn on his leg. She would raise the blaster again. She wouldn't hesitate.

Din shuffles the woman into the nearest alley, grunting with the effort of it and not stopping until she's against the cool bricks of one of the buildings they stand between.

"What are you doing?" Din asks, voice hard and even, dropping the bundle of cloth he had been carrying, no doubt the target he had been after. He reaches up to remove the hood from Jana's head, setting his hands on her shoulders once her brown eyes are staring into his through his helmet's T-visor.

"Tell me who did this."

"I did," Din states, making Jana's features soften. His hands squeeze her shoulders, "Cyare. What are you doing out here?"

"You were taking too long, I was worried," Jana gestures to the Mandalorian's leg, which he is carefully trying to keep his weight off of, "And rightfully so, apparently."

"You can't be here."

His words put a weight onto her shoulders, "Din, you can't keep-"

"You're on the New Republic's most wanted list."

"I've been," Jana stops, cutting herself off shaking her head slightly at the shame that floods her. She corrects herself, "That title has been on that list since the beginning."

"The title didn't have a face until now," Din deadpans.

She understands his worry. The last time she embarked on a mission as Killshot she had assaulted Fondor and freed a hundred imps from a New Republic prison. Then she was forced to commit the most heinous of crimes. Unluckily for her, holocams picked up her face for the first time since she took the title.

Jana Calmiken's face and name are wanted for generations of criminal activity.

She knows that she should have stayed in the tavern, all she's doing is slowing them down. Her anxiety had gotten the best of her. Looking up at her Mandalorian, she knows the face underneath the helmet. It had barely taken her a second to memorize the hundreds of shades of brown in his eyes, and the slope of his nose. She knows the sad expression he held when he took the helmet off, and she knows he's wearing that same look now.

She sighs, defeated by the only other will stronger than hers.

Sensing the change, Din manages a small step closer, "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

"I know," Jana nods, unable to stop the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. She clenches her jaw, looking down to her boots in shame at the sudden emotion.

Din gets closer, his hands immediately moving to the sides of Jana's face holding it gently between his gloved hands, and directing her eyes to his, "What is it, Cyare?"

Jana says nothing, she just screws her eyes closed and tries to will away the sadness hitting her.

"Tell me what's wrong."

Jana inhales shakily, "I don't like being away from you. I can't– I can't handle it. Not after-"

"That won't happen again."

"You don't know that," Jana frowns, a tear escaping and immediately being swiped away by Din's thumb, "I'm sorry. I just– I was worried. I don't like it when we're separated."

"Neither do I."

"I could start coming with you on hunts," Jana mumbles, knowing how Din is about to respond.

He shakes his head slightly, "No. I can't risk it."

"Risk what?" Jana asks

"You," Din breathes, his helmet lowering itself to press to Jana's forehead. Her eyes flutter closed, and she swallows the lump in her throat, "I can't risk losing you, Cyare."

Jana finishes his sentence in her own mind, Not again. I can't lose you again. With another quivering breath, Jana's hands find Din's and she squeezes them once before she's softly cooing, "Oh, My Love," and closing the barely-there gap between them.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and she holds him tightly, Din's arms winding around her back with care. He stands straight, and with him being a whole head taller than her, Jana's feet lift from the ground.

There are no words exchanged, nothing needs to be said. For a long moment all the bounty hunter and his partner do is hold each other. The cold beskar she presses into is by no means comforting, but the embrace of Din, her Mandalorian, is. It's all she needs to know that he's putting her first. As he always had.

When they were against those chasing the bounty on her head, a heist crew that knew no loyalty, Krayt Dragons, and the remnants of the very Empire she once served, Din had only ever tried to protect Jana. To keep her with him.

It's what he does now, and Jana knows that. So when he lowers her back to her feet, lingering there for a second, she takes a deep breath and nods. She'd put on a brave face, and she'd trust him to return to her.

Clearing her throat, Jana takes the smallest step back, keeping her hands on top of Din's shoulder pauldrons, "Okay," She says before gesturing down to the bundle of cloth on the ground beside them, "I guess we have to take care of that, don't we?"

"Yes, we do."

Jana couches down and picks up the bundle, which she knows is the head of Din's bounty, and hands it to him.

He takes it, and groans when he takes a step.

Eyes darting to the wound on his leg, Jana steps by his side, looping his arm around her shoulders and bearing his weight on the next step, and the one after that, "You going to tell me how you did this to yourself?"

"Darksaber," Din says, sounding as if he's speaking through gritted teeth. Even with Jana supporting him, the wound looks gruesome and painful.

"I told you-"

"Please don't say it."

"No no, I'm going to say it. I told you so," Jana scolds, receiving a squeeze on her shoulder in response, "You need to train more with that damn glow stick."

Din grumbles out a short word in agreement, paired with a short grunt of pain as they continue to make their way back the way Jana had come from in her anxiety fuelled search for the Mandalorian.

Though he's clearly in pain the whole way, Din doesn't complain once, he just keeps his grip on the woman beside him, only pausing once to pull the hood of her dark brown cloak back over her head.

When they arrive to the private residence where the bounty hunter received his contract, Jana waits in the alley next to the building, flicking out her wrist to extract a small blade from her sleeve and flipping it between her fingers as she waits.

Along with blasters, she had trained with daggers and throwing knives her whole life. She had little occasion to use them, especially once she took on the title, but they still come in handy. She had raised one against the mudhorn on Arvala-7 so many moons ago.

Before Grogu had used the force to raise the beast from the ground, in turn saving both herself and Din in the process.

A lot had changed since then. Kulil, a loyal friend, had passed, Din went back to what he knew best; bounty hunting. Jana is managing. She's grieving. She's trying to find her way back to her own name. Her own identity.

And Grogu is back with his own kind, the ones that are best for him. That's what Jana has to tell herself, at least. It's the only way she can cease her worrying long enough to get any sleep.

When Din returns to her, Jana's thoughts end when he tells her the coordinates he had finally found. With a nervous nod from her, and his arm back around her shoulders, they're heading back into the streets, the woman bearing as much weight for her parter as she can.

It doesn't take long for the pair to arrive at the Kolzoc alley; Din's intel leading them to the heat vent towers. There, he hits a button on his vambrace, leading them just a bit further to a door.

"This is it," Din states, standing before the entryway.

"Do I..." Jana trails off, swallowing uneasily, "I mean, am I allowed to go in?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I'm not a Mandalorian, Din."

"Not by Creed," Din says, his grip on Jana's shoulder's tightening for the briefest of moments, "But you wear my Signet. You have a place in the covert."

"Okay," Jana nods, not knowing why she's so relieved to hear the words. A sense of belonging is new to her, and she had only ever had it with the armored man beside her. The beskar medallion around her neck serves as a reminder of that. She reaches forward, hitting the panel beside the entry to slide open the door and help Din through.

With a few stumbles, the duo heads down, down down to the lowest attainable level of the space station.

There, sitting as if she had been waiting for their arrival, is the familiar helmet of the armorer.

Heading down the stairs to reach her, Jana holds tightly to Din, muttering "Easy," under her breath. Nonetheless, Din stumbles on the last step, spilling out of Jana's grip and onto the floor, groaning where he lands.

The armorer glances over her shoulder, "Tend to him," Her smooth voice commands.

Jana opens her mouth to say something, perhaps a greeting, she doesn't really know. She just doesn't like the silence as another much larger Mandalorian appears from a separate walkway.

The brunette holds her breath as he lowers himself beside Din, carrying a medpack in hand. His stature is massive, and the voice that comes from his helmet is low and gravelly, "I didn't know if I would ever see you again," He says to Din.

"Thank you for saving us on Nevarro," Din says before hissing out in pain as the Mandalorian prods at his wound.

Then, a moment later, as if he all at once registered into Din's use of the word us, the Mandalorian's helmet angles itself up at Jana, and she feels his eyes raking over her. Assessing the potential threat she poses.

The woman doesn't falter under his gaze, however, she moves slowly and lowers herself beside her wounded Mandalorian.

"I am sorry for your sacrifice," Din continues.

The strange Mandalorian's gaze finally leaves Jana, and he picks a bacta cartridge out of the medpack, "There are three of us now," He says, spraying Din's wound with the medicine, "We'll put you to work soon enough."

"What weapon caused such a wound?" The armorer asks, not turning to face them where they gather behind her.

Din pulls the hilt of the Darksaber from his belt, holding it up, "This."

Jana takes a second to examine the weapon, but then her ever-sharp eye shifts to the nameless Mandalorian, noticing how his posture stiffens, his T-visor focused on nothing else but the saber.

"Paz Vizsla," The Armorer says, "Bring it to me."

The stranger reaches out with delicate hands, taking the weapon from Din with gentle care. Jana marks the familiarity of the motions, the tenseness of the posture. This Mandalorian, Paz, knows the Darksaber.

Jana looks over to Din as the Armorer stands to her feet, her motions slow and measured. She takes it from Paz only when he reaches her and hands her the hilt.

"All this talk of the Empire, and they lasted less than thirty years," The Armorer says, "Mandalorians have existed ten thousand."

With a careful motion, the Armorer ignites the blade, the black light of it drawing power as soon as it appears. The same power Moff Gideon once held as he grazed it close to Jana's own side. He mocked her with that power when she had none. With that blade he had been inches away from a single blow that would have ended her life.

Jana shudders from the memory as the Armorer asks, "What do you know of this blade?"

"I am told it is the Darksaber," Din answers.

"Indeed. Do you understand its significance?"

"Whoever wields it can lead all of Mandalore."

The Armorer gives the blade a slow, lazy swing, inspecting it, "If it is won by Creed in battle. It is said, one warrior will defeat twenty, and the multitudes will fall before it. If, however, it is not won in combat, and falls into the hands of the undeserving, it will be a curse unto the nation," She retracts the blade, "Mandalore will be laid to waste and its people scattered to the four winds."

Din slowly stands, and Jana rises with him, keeping a grip on his arm to help him as the bacta finally starts to take effect, "The hilt is of a quality of beskar I have never seen before."

"It was forged over a thousand years ago by the Manda'lor Tarre Vizsla. He was both Mandalorian and Jedi."

"I have met Jedi."

"Then you have completed your quest."

Din nods, "We have."

As if she just became aware of Jana's presence, the Armorer's helmet shifts towards her, "Killshot," She acknowledges.

The two syllables are enough to send a wave of nausea over Jana's entire form. She wants to cave into herself and shrink down small enough that she couldn't be seen. She feels Paz's intense eyes on her as well. With those stares is Din's, and his is enough to keep her standing.

"Please don't call me that," Jana softly utters, trying her best to sound polite.

The Armorer's voice remains the same, "You still hold the title, do you not?"

"I do. But it's not- I don't-" Jana squeezes her eyes closed, taking a breath and racking her brain for the proper words before she can bring her gaze back to the Armorer, "It's not me anymore."

"What are you called then?"

"Jana."

"You saw Din Djarin to the end of his quest to return the foundling to his kind?"

Jana remembers her promise to the Mandalorian before her. The one she bound herself to with their sacred words. The promise she couldn't keep. Jana opens her mouth, about to tell the truth about everything. About how she had been captured and compromised; her own free will ripped from her. How if anything, she had almost kept Din from completing his quest when she was ordered to attack him; a prisoner in her own mind.

The memory shudders through her; Killshot, kill the Mandalorian.

Before she can say anything, Din speaks for her, "She did."

"Very well," The Armorer says, "Then you may both join our covert as we rebuild."

"This is the Way," Din says.

Paz repeating the phrase, so does the Armorer before once again setting her gaze on Jana.

Swallowing nervously, Jana mutters the same words as the Darksaber is handed back to Din, "This is the Way."

—

Jana strolls along the walkways, the Armorer by her side and telling her of the covert's history while Din and Paz move the forge into place. The tales are informative to the Mandalorian's religion, and Jana finds the story interesting. She finds any distraction from her mind interesting.

That is, until the Armorer's words grow silent, and Paz asks Din, "Where did you come upon the Darksaber?"

"I defeated Moff Gideon."

"Did you kill him?"

"No," Din admits.

Jana wraps her arms around herself, silently wishing Din had ended the Moff. If she had been in better condition after ripping the tampered-with implant out of her head she might have finished the job herself.

"But he as sent off to the New Republic for interrogation, and he will face justice for his crimes," Din further explains.

Paz removes a chain they had used to tow the forge from a clasp, "Death would have been justice for his atrocities."

Jana lets out a sigh, "Even that might not have been enough," She says, bringing all of the Mandalorian's eyes to her, "Death is merciful. With everything he's done I say he deserves worse."

"This is true," The Armorer chimes in, "The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands."

The blood of millions is on my hands, too, Jana thinks to herself, avoiding voicing it by straightening out the royal blue fabric of her long-sleeved tunic. The sight of her black robes made her want to vomit, and struck a new, threatening sense of fear into her very core. Din had taken a bounty just to buy her tunics, brown trousers, and new boots just so she didn't drive herself insane.

"Then he will be executed for his crimes by the New Republic Tribunal," Din states, T-visor turned in Jana's direction, "He will not harm anyone again."

The brunette can't stop herself from walking around the forge and positioning herself beside her Mandalorian, the brush of her arm against his enough to communicate how much she appreciates his words, and the deeper meaning behind them. He will not harm you again, Cyare, She imagines him saying, as he had hundreds of times since they survived the Moff.

The Armorer opens up a grand chest, displaying the tools she once held in the covert on Nevarro. They had been used for what Jana assumes to be years, forging weapons out of the galaxy's hardest substance.

"We shall see," The Armorer responds, igniting the forge, "The songs of eons past foretold of the Mythosaur rising up to herald a new age of Mandalore. Sadly, it only exists in legends."

The female Mandalorian picks up a set of tools, "Where did you come upon the beskar spear?"

Din removes the weapon from his back, and Jana anticipates his answer when she feels a nudge to her shoulder. Paz stands behind her, and he mutters, "We must leave them."

Jana nods, letting her gaze linger on her Mandalorian for a second longer before she follows after the other armored man, giving Din and his Armorer privacy during what could be a religious forging.

Paz leads her up a few levels, to a walkway that looks as if it's a completely separate armory. Various weapons and explosives line tall shelves, Jana's razor sharp eyes catching a few modified rifles, various blades and pieces of spare armor.

The Mandalorian settles himself down, beginning to polish a few of the explosives and caring for the weapons that each of his kind find holy. Out of respect, Jana does the same, the silence covering them like a comfortable blanket.

Jana's guard doesn't fall completely, she knows better. Especially because she saw how Paz acted when Din brought out the Darksaber.

"Who are you?" Paz asks after a few moments.

Jana doesn't say anything, she just casts the armored man a confused glance.

He doesn't elaborate, he just repeats the question.

"Jana Calmiken," She states, keeping a cautious eye on Paz while she polishes a set of knee guards, part of her mind wonders who they might have belonged to before they ended up here.

"Of what clan?"

Jana arches a brow at the question, seeing Paz's cleaning of an explosive halt all together, "What do you mean?"

Paz rises from his seat, "Unless you are of a clan, you are an outsider."

Jana fishes her beskar medallion from where it rested underneath the neck of her tunic, the metal feeling warm from her skin as she proudly shows it, "Clan Djarin."

"What do you know of your clan?"

"We're foundlings. We're family, that's all I need to know," Jana answers, trading out the knee guards for a dented shoulder pauldron. She pauses, thinking about the words the Armorer had said, and what she might be saying now. Turning to Paz, she looks him up and down, "The Armorer said you're a Vizsla."

"Proudly so."

"Your ancestor forged the-"

"The Darksaber."

Jana nods, "What do you know about it?"

"I know it is with the wrong clan," Paz darkly utters, "And I intend to get it back."

Jana scoffs, knowing exactly what this would mean. A trial by combat, "Good luck with that."

As she turns her attention back to the armor in hand, Jana doesn't miss the shake of Paz's head, or the low growl of anger that comes from him. But her words are true, if he's going to take on Din he'd need all the luck he could get.

Silently, Jana and Paz polish and sharpen armor and weapons, busying themselves until footsteps echo down the walkway.

Looking up, Jana sees Din slowly moving towards them, a ball of fabric in hand. Immediately, Paz stands and storms away, lowly grumbling to himself as he does so.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Din removes one of his gloves and offers Jana a hand, helping raise her from where she had been sitting, "He give you any trouble?"

"As much as expected," Jana says, keeping a grip on Din's hand once she's on her feet, "You Mandalorians are territorial, you know that?"

"We protect what belongs to us. We protect our clans."

"So you're saying I'm your property now?"

"You know what you are to me."

"Your partner, right?"

Din leans closer, his helmet mere inches from Jana's own face, "More than that. Everything."

Jana can't help the small smile on her face at the words, and lifting up onto her tip-toes, she puts her forehead to Din's, the cool metal meeting her skin in a Keldabe kiss, "Territorial, but sweet."

She can hear a breathy chuckle escape from Din's modulator, and she wonders what the smile beneath the T-visor would look like. She wonders if dimples reside under the scruff of facial hair he keeps, and about the curve of his mouth. She wonders what it would feel like pressed against hers.

She also wonders what his mouth would feel like against other parts of her, but she keeps those thoughts to herself.

Setting herself back onto the flats of her feet, Jana clears her suddenly hoarse throat, asking, "What's that?"

Din holds up the small bundle of patterned fabric, "Armor. For Grogu."

The name makes Jana's attention dart to the small bundle, and her heart nearly leaps from her chest, "Grogu?"

"We're going to see him again, Cyare. We need to see that he's alright."

Joy suddenly flooding into her, Jana gently takes the fabric from Din and unties it, marveling at the beskar within. It would keep him safe, stop a lightsaber or blaster shots from harming him.

As she looks down at it, Jana feels Din's hand come to rest at the nape of her neck, and as she examines the sacred gift, he presses his head to hers once again.

A shiver runs down Jana's spine as Din's thumb brushes over the scar behind her ear. The place her implant had once resided inside of her. She loathed the mechanism, the very thing that made her lose herself. The scope that made her the deadliest in history.

However, she doesn't shiver because Din hates the spot of raised skin as she does; she shivers because she knows that he loves it. Just as he loves every inch of her. Her history; the ones she killed, the governments she's toppled, the planets she's seen erased from the galaxy, none of it mattered. Not to him.

She leans into her Mandalorian, "I miss him."

"I do, too," Din says, "Peli sent word about a Razor Crest. I need a bit longer to heal, but then we head back to Tatooine."

"Then we go to visit the little monster?"

"Yes, Cyare."

Jana feels as if her heart is going to burst at the seams, and Din holds her close as she wraps the fabric around the little armor once again, relishing in the thought of her partner; her closest friend, bringing her back to the Child.

For only a moment longer he's by her side, then he's being summoned by the Armorer once again, her voice ringing through the air and telling him that it's time to train with the saber. Jana lowly warns him about Paz's desire to win back the blade, and then he's gone, leaving Jana with their gift to their son.

Reaching for the pouch along her belt, Jana undoes the clasp to reach inside and set the bundle there when the feeling of cold metal at her fingertips stops her. She tenses, and does the clasp back up as quickly as she opened it.

Something for Grogu, a child she loves with all of her heart, will not rest with such evil. Instead, Jana tucks it into a pocket on her opposite hip, barely remembering to take a breath as she does so.

Polishing through another armor set, Jana doesn't move again until she's done the work she started. Then, she heads down to the lowest level, hearing the Armorer calling out instructions in a language Jana assumes is Mando'a, blocking Din's advances with the Darksaber and dancing around him with lethal grace.

Until Din swings and falls from the platform.

Jana sighs, sitting on the stairs at the end of the catwalk as Din ignites his jetpack, flying back up to where he just stood.

"You are fighting against the blade," The Armorer scolds.

Din grunts as he lands, kneeling with the Darksaber extended, "It gets heavier with each move," He pants.

"That is because you are fighting against the blade. You should be fighting against you opponent. Stand up."

Din does, dragging the tip of the weapon against the metal holding him up with a loud scraping noise before he hoists it up with a grunt. Jana watches curiously. She hasn't wielded the Saber, she doesn't want to. But she's intrigued by it. She wants to know what causes the weight Din speaks of.

As soon as the sword is raised again, the Armorer is barking out her commands and blocking Din's labored swings easily.

When she counters his attack, bonking his helmet with her hammer and grabbing the lip of it with her clamp, Jana can't help but let out a low laugh from where she observes.

It's loud enough that when the Armorer releases him, he turns his helmet to her in what Jana knows is a glare.

"Sorry," She mutters, still amused.

Then, they're sparring yet again. Din is an effortless fighter, Jana knows this, but with the Darksaber he's clunky and slow. Such a contrast from his usual dance-like grace during battle.

With only a few more swings, the Armorer has Din down on a knee, bracing the Darksaber against an armored forearm as the female presses her tools down onto the blade.

"There, feel it?" She asks, "You are too weak to fight the Darksaber. It will win if you fight against it," She releases him from the hold, and the blade extinguishes while Din recovers, "You cannot control it with your strength."

Din staggers to his feet, "I want to try again."

"Persistence without insight will lead to the same outcome," The Armorer declares, "Your body is strong but your mind is distracted."

"I am focused."

"The blade says otherwise."

Footsteps echo from behind her, and Jana turns her head to see Paz emerging from another walkway, "Maybe the Darksaber belongs in someone else's hands."

Jana looks up to Paz, a part of her had doubted the Mandalorian would actually challenge for the blade. But she shouldn't be surprised, she had said it herself; Mandalorians are territorial. And with Paz's belief that the Darksaber belongs to his clan, it makes sense he'd come for it.

The Armorer steps to the side, and Din's squares his stance, fists now clenched at his sides, "Maybe."

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

"And now it belongs to me," Din states.

Paz doesn't move, "Because you won it in combat."

Din's helmet tilts up slightly, a nod or a taunt, Jana can't tell, "That's right," Din says.

"And now I will win it from you."

Paz takes a few long strides in Din's direction, and The Armorer turns to the current blade-holder, "Do you agree to this duel, Din Djarin?"

Jana stands to her feet, leaning on a support beam as a small pause floods the room, the tension hanging off of it thick as a bantha until Din breathes, "I do."

His voice is cold. Determined.

Good, Jana thinks to herself, it means he'll win.

The Armorer says nothing else, she just smoothly walks away, Paz stepping aside and letting her pass. The female stops only when she's beside Jana, the two Mandalorians on the walkway sizing each other up from a distance.

Jana can't help herself from mumbling, "Wanna bet credits on this?"

The Armorer says nothing. She just turns her helmet and stares at the woman for a second before returning her gaze to the impending duel. The lack of response makes Jana take an uneasy step away, the air around her suddenly a little awkward.

Din and Paz reach behind them and remove their jetpacks in unison, their gazes never leaving each other.

Din draws the darksaber, and Paz dawns a wicked blade of his own, a small photon shield emitting from his vambrace as well.

Then, they're stalking towards each other. Once close enough Din swings, only for it to be blocked and countered, Paz's blade pushing Din's armor by the shoulder, a loud grunt coming out of him from the jolt.

Paz swings his photon shield down, forcing Din and the sword away from him before colliding the same shield with Din's helmet, forcing him back.

Jana raises her brows, impressed with how utterly determined the larger Mandalorian is. Maybe it wouldn't be as easy of a fight as she thought. She'd underestimated Paz. A shred of fear enters her mind, but she doesn't let it grow any larger.

She's confident in Din, and as he swings the Saber once, twice, she knows he isn't going down easily.

Paz lands a few good blows, raising his blade to get in another at the same time that Din angles the Darksaber, Paz's blade shattering itself on the raw power of it.

Jana's spine straightens itself as the two armored men lock their grips on the hilt of the Darksaber, Paz immediately overpowering his adversary, starting to lean over him, "Break the hold, Din," Jana mumbles to herself.

As if he can hear her, Din obeys her small command, breaking out of it and slamming his head, then his elbow into Paz before turning and violently swinging the sword again and again, all of which Paz dodges.

What seems like only a second later, Paz regains his advantage, grabbing onto Din and tossing him to a platform a level below, the Darksaber sparking where it lands next to him.

Jana rushes to the edge of the walkway, keeping an eye on the fight as Paz leaps down to keep it going, slamming Din into the side of a beam like a ragdoll.

"Kriff," Jana swears, wincing at the grunt that Din lets out.

While he's down, Paz picks up the blade, rising with it in hand, "Fate has brought this blade back to my clan, and now fate will end yours."

The words rattle her, and instinctively Jana reaches for the dagger strapped to her thigh, the fear in her mind involuntarily throbbing and expanding. She's a split second away from jumping down to the larger Mandalorian and making him regret what was said when the Armorer's hand suddenly closes around Jana's wrist, squeezing until she drops the weapon, the metal clattering to the floor.

Jana turns to the masked woman, about to curse at her when more grunting draws her attention.

Din dodges Paz's advances with the Darksaber, gets slammed into the beam once again, then draws his vicroblade.

After that, he's explosive.

The weight that had once hindered him is in Paz's hands, and Din is dancing around him, striking with serpent like agility in all the places he knows Paz to be the weakest until the larger Mandalorian is on his knees with Din's blade to his throat.

"It is done!" The Armorer suddenly announces. Eyeing her wearily, Jana crouches to pick up her dagger, sliding it back home to its sheath.

Both men don't make a move, panting from the brawl.

"Paz Vizsla, have you ever removed your helmet?" The Armorer asks.

"No," Paz responds.

"Has it ever been removed by others?"

"Never."

"This is the Way," The Armorer says, Paz repeating the phrase before the female speaks again, "Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?"

Jana looks from the Armorer to Din, and her sharp eyes pick up something that shatters her heart.

His hands are shaking.

In all their time together she had never seen him tremble this way, not even when they had been stranded on a sub-zero ice planet surrounded by spider-like aliens. And she knows exactly why.

He had removed his helmet. Jana is one of very few that had seen his face. She'd never forget it.

Din doesn't answer, he can't.

The Armorer asks again, his hesitation forcing her to, "Have you ever removed your helmet?"

Jana's Mandalorian still says nothing.

"By Creed, you must vow."

Din stands, releasing Paz and letting him slump against the beam, "I have," He admits, standing tall despite the pain of his words.

"Then you are a Mandalorian no more."

Jana's gaze whips to the Armorer, the leader, and her voice escapes her before she can stop it, "What?" She seethes.

The Armorer's gaze shifts to Jana, as if she's looking the woman over down her nose, sneering down at someone with no place among their kind. Jana can feel it, and it only makes her clench her fists at her sides.

"How can you say that?" Jana asks, outraged, "He's the best of you. He's the only-"

"Jana, don't," Din calls, stopping her words before she can continue, "Please."

Shutting her mouth, Jana takes a step back, away from the woman who had so mercilessly shattered a Creed Din deemed holy. His entire world belongs to his religion. Jana thinks of Bo-Katan, Koska, and Axe. Three armored warriors far more Mandalorian than the woman beside her, all of which show their faces.

Her anger is hot and real, all of it flooding into her at once.

"I beg you for your forgiveness," Din continues, "How can I atone?"

"Leave, apostate," Paz grits out weakly from where he lays.

If Jana held the Darksaber, she would have sliced him in half.

"According to the Creed, one may only be redeemed in the loving waters beneath the mines of Mandalore," The Armorer says.

"But the mines have all been destroyed," Din gently argues.

"This is the Way," The Armorer says. Final.

Jana shakes her head, moving towards the ladder that leads to the platform Din stands on as he collects the Darksaber once again, Paz watching on in defeat.

Good, Jana thinks to herself, wishing all the shame she can on the would-be-great Vizsla.

Din collects his jet-pack, and without saying a word Jana puts a hand on his arm, following her Mandalorian away from the two remaining members of his covert.

They don't say anything as the set of partners leave, they don't even turn. It makes Jana's blood boil in her veins.

Din had fought for these people. He'd killed for them and worn the weight of that underneath the beskar and in the deepest parts of his soul. He's carried it with him with nothing but loyalty despite one moment where he was about to lose someone he loved desperately.

And they're punishing him for it.

Jana is so angry that she doesn't register Din grabbing her cloak from where it hung, or the climb back to the surface of the space station. She doesn't even register stepping out the door until she's already through it.

As soon as it shuts behind Din, she whirls around to face him, "She can't be serious!" Jana shouts, "She's not- Kriff Din, who does she think she is!?"

"Cyare, it's okay."

"No, it's not! It's not okay, " Jana fires back, barely noting Din placing her cloak around her shoulders and clasping it into place, "How can you say it's okay!?"

"Jana, breathe," Din soothes, voice calmer than she's ever heard it, "Take a breath."

She obeys, taking a long inhale; Not because she wants to, but because she's afraid of the slander she'd let out of her mouth otherwise, "Good," Din softly praises, "Another."

Inhale, exhale.

After a brief moment, Jana says calmly, "You are a Mandalorian. What they say doesn't change that. They don't understand," She swallows an angry lump in her throat, "They weren't there."

"Cyare. Breathe."

Jana does, another deep breath before she speaks again, "How are you the one comforting me right now? Aren't you angry?"

Din gives her the slightest nod of his head, "I am."

"How can you be so calm?"

Din considers her question, and she can see him carefully choosing his words, "Because I knew what the consequences would be when I took it off."

Jana's anger melts the slightest bit, her eyes softening as she looks up into Din's T-visor and quietly asks a question she isn't sure she wants the answer to, "Do you regret it?"

"No. Not at all."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Din answers honestly, gently pulling Jana's hood up onto her head, "But I know what comes next."

Jana does too, they had spoken about it before the duel, "Tatooine." Home.

"Yes," Din turns, his hand meeting the small of Jana's back with the intention to guide her away from the alley they stand in. She doesn't move, she stands firm.

"Wait." She utters, suddenly feeling nervous as she looks up to her Mandalorian and sets her hands on his chest, making him face her, "You have to know they're wrong. A Creed doesn't make a Mandalorian. Loyalty does. Strength does. And you, Din Djarin, My Love, are the strongest, and most loyal man I've ever met. You are a Mandalorian. Nothing will ever change that."

Here, Jana is probably the most honest she's ever been. So entranced by the man that she loves that she had never considered him showing his face as a sin. Because she knows how deeply and truly he believes in his Creed. Jana had seen his loyalty since the day they met, even when he could barely look at her. Even when he considered her to be what she truly is; a death sentence.

The second she earned his trust Din had never waivered. He stands by her side. He gives her purpose; he always had. She just hopes she does the same for him.

Din's gloved hand covers Jana's; The one that presses flat on his chest where his heart lay beneath, and he holds it there, the other remaining on her lower back. He says nothing, unable to find words while he stares down at his love, pulling away after a long moment, "Let's go, Cyare. We're done here."

"Yes, we are," Jana agrees, and this time when Din pulls away to guide her by the small of her back, she moves with him, muttering once again under her breath, "It's still not okay."

—

Din had spent a lot of credits to get Jana a chain code that wouldn't identify her as the galaxy's most wanted killer, most of his last two bounties. It was almost enough to make her feel guilty. She had tried to argue with him, saying that he would have used the money to get them a new ship, that way they wouldn't have to fly commercial to get to Tatooine. All that Din had done was assure her that Peli had a Razor Crest waiting for them. Then Jana clamped her mouth shut, knowing Peli would be fair to them.

Even so, Jana's palms are the slightest bit sweaty as they move to the massive space craft that would take them from the station to her home planet, Attention please, a robotic voice says over the hustle of the crowd, Flight 1020, nonstop service to Tatooine is now boarding at gate number one.

Din's hand at Jana's back keeps her steady, the amount of people around them making it easy for even her Mandalorian to blend in. Still, when chain codes are scanned, and Jana hold her breath, half expecting them to be denied and swarmed by officers.

It's only when they're about to board that a droid beeps aggressively at the pair, a security droid next to them blinking its red eyes. Jana stiffens, her hand finding the hilt of her dagger beneath her cloak. If alarms start ringing she'd hurl it at the first sign of interference.

"Excuse me," It says, "You're both going to have to remove your weapons."

"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion," Din says while Jana's posture relaxes itself. They hadn't been caught. No one is coming after her. Not here.

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't board a commercial flight with your weapons," The droid says, "If you wish to discuss this with my supervisor, I will gladly book you on tomorrow's flight."

When the robot holds out a keycard, Jana gently takes it from him with a polite smile, "Sure, just give us a second."

Wordlessly, Jana tucks the card into the pocket of her trousers before unstrapping her belt, the same one filled with explosives and the holster that carries her dreaded blaster. She opens the compartment, gently laying the weaponry inside before gazing expectantly to her Mandalorian.

With that look, Din huffs, "Fine."

Side by side, the partners disarm, Jana carefully removing the blades from the insides of her sleeves and boots, while Din dismantles his ever-growing armory. Whistling birds are deavictaved and fall to the container with a small chime, a vibroblade laid next to a sheathed dagger, pulse-charge casings drawn from his ammunition belt and plopped in with annoyance, among other things. The only time Din hesitates is when he pulls out the hilt of the Darksaber, staring at it briefly before depositing.

When he's only armor and an intimidating stance, Jana nudges her with her elbow, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Din just huffs again, closing the compartment and locking it before pointing to the security droid, "I know everything that's in there."

"Proceed," The droid beeps indifferently."

Jana can't help her smirk as her hands loop around Din's arm, tugging him up the boarding ramp, "Come on, Tin Can."

Din begrudgingly follows her, and the partners shuffle their way to the back of the vessel, both keeping their heads on a swivel as they do.

By the time the ship departs, Jana is sitting in the window seat, her eyes cast out to the endless amount of stars on the other side of the glass, leaning into Din, who keeps an arm around her, his jetpack in the seat next to him.

She had never flown commercial before. Even when she snuck off-world at sixteen to track down the Twi'lek that held the title before her, Jana had always hired pilots. During her service to the Empire she had a whole fleet of TIE fighters at her disposal. She'd never had to fly herself anywhere. She's a poor pilot because of it.

She can tell Din doesn't love it either, or maybe she's mistaking his slight discomfort with how he must be feeling without his usual arsenal strapped to him.

The vessel is quiet, other passengers resting their eyes or watching holograms of popular programs to pass the time. Jana keeps her eyes on the galaxy beyond, so much of it she'd already seen, but even more to be explored.

A quiet coo gets her attention facing forward.

A small Rodian child looks over the seat in front of her, the unblinking eyes laced with curiosity and focused on her. It raises its long-fingered hand in a wave, and Jana's lips quirk up playfully, and she's about to cross her eyes, make a funny face just to get the child laughing.

But then, just as quickly as her smile came it fades, the memory of a Fondorian child rushing to her mother with a shrill scream. Jana remembers how her finger trembled on the trigger, and the jolt of the implant running down her spine. She swears she can feel it lingering.

Her face falls, and a shaky breath leaves her. Jana redirects her gaze to the stars yet again, willing herself to think of anything else but the raid. She chooses a random star in the distance focusing on nothing but that as the child's parent gently nudges it and tells it to sit proper in its seat.

Jana focuses on her breathing, trying to calm her racing heart and keep the panic from making her hands shake.

She feels Din's hand reach into her pocket, and when she looks at him with a question in her gaze, he just holds out the bundle of cloth towards her. Their gift to Grogu.

The brown eyed woman doesn't take it from him, she just leans further into the comfort of his build, letting her mind wander to the little troublemaker that she had grown to love during their months together. The child that made the hole in her heart seem less deep.

She knows what Din is trying to tell her without needing to hear the words. They'd see him again.

They remain this way for the rest of the flight, Jana leaning into her Mandalorian, and both of them missing their foundling.

When the vessel lands, they're the first to disembark into Tatooine's warm air, heading right up to a new security droid towing many storage compartments.

Knowing the Mandalorian by her side is growing antsy, Jana pulls out the ID card she had taken when they disarmed, "Welcome to Mos Eisley," The droid chirps.

"Thank you," Jana mutters, scanning the card and unlocking the container while the droid sputters gratitude on behalf of the travel line.

Din steps forward immediately, loading his armor with its normal arsenal with care. He treats the weapons gently, and with respect. Beside him, Jana does the same. Strapping her holster around her waist and sheath around her thigh, reacquainting herself with her blades as she puts each in place, one by one. Under her sleeves, in her boots; even a few under her tunic.

When they're done, Jana is leading her Mandalorian through the familiar streets of the settlement, her hood down and face free. Tatooine might be one of the only places Din would allow her to be so exposed. The desert planet she hails from is one of very few places with no New Republic presence; having been deemed a bounty hunter's paradise so many years ago for that same reason.

Peli's hangar is easy to get to, and seeing her struggling under an over-sized womp rat isn't at all surprising. The mechanic screams about the grip the creature has on her, and from behind her, Din pulls out his blaster, only pulling the trigger once and hitting the womp-rat with a deadly efficiency.

When she's free, Peli looks over her shoulder to find the set of partners staring at her expectantly, "Oh," She pants, "What an entrance," Then, she calls over her shoulder, "BD? You good?"

A small droid peers around the corner, beeping shyly.

"I want one," Jana immediately mutters at the sight of the adorably small robot, earning a small sigh from Din in response.

Not hearing the exchange, Peli turns to a group of droids waiting in the empty part of the hangar, holding her hands up, "Hey, look everyone. It's Mando and Jana!"

The droids let out a low hum, each of them wondering off, clearly indifferent to the duo's presence.

Peli turns back to them as they walk towards her, "What do we owe the pleasure? You here to slay another dragon? Chasing down some elusive bounty?"

Jana shakes her head, "We got your message."

"Message? What message?" Peli asks, eyebrows raised in confusion.

Din takes half a step forward, "You said you found us a replacement for the Razor Crest."

"Yeah, that's right," Peli says, "That's what I said. That's what I do. I've been working my butt off, yeah. Did you bring the cash?"

Din reaches into a pouch along his belt, handing her the credits, "It's right here."

Peli, back to her usual manic activity, smirks, "Mind if I count it? Not that I don't trust you. I just wanna make sure you don't give me too much."

Jana can't help the small chuckle that escapes her as Peli yells an order to her droids. The similar height of the two women making it easy for Jana to look the mechanic in the eye when she turns back to face her, "It's good to see you, Peli."

"Right back at you," Peli nods before gesturing to the far end of the hangar, "Right this way. Wait till you get your eyes on this baby."

Din and Jana follow closely, Peli barely pausing before speaking again, "So, where is your unlikely companion?"

The mention of the Child was coming, Jana knew this, but it still makes her frown nonetheless. Din is the one who answers "We returned him to his own kind."

"Why the hell would you do that? I could've made good money off that thing. Opened a petting zoo."

"Where's the ship?" Din asks, ignoring the comments.

Following Peli to another shaded part of her base, Jana looks behind the woman to see what looks to be a small ship covered with a sheet. The sight of it makes the brunette shift on her feet, a brow already raised for what Peli is about to reveal.

"Ready to have your mind blown?" The mechanic enthusiastically questions.

The sheet is removed, a flume of dust filling the air in its wake to reveal exactly what Jana was expecting. A tiny, shell of a ship, if it can even be called that. It looks more like an in-construction podracer with an ugly yellow paint job than anything else.

Jana sucks her teeth, utterly unimpressed.

Din speaks for her, voicing her thoughts, "Where's the Razor Crest?"

"I never said I had a Razor Crest," Peli says, "I said I had a Replacement for a razor Crest."

"Peli," Jana groans, tilting her head back and dragging out the vowels of the name as Din grumbles out, "I don't have time for this."

"Hang on a second. Do you have any idea what this is?" Peli asks, her voice insistent as the pair continues to look on, weary of their mechanic friend, "This is an N-1 starfighter, handmade for the royal guard and commissioned personally by the Queen of Naboo."

"This is a pile of junk," Din counters.

Jana nods, silently agreeing with her partner.

Peli lets out an exaggerated sigh, "Do you want your credits back?"

"Yes," Din and Jana say in unison.

"No skin off my dip-swap," Peli says, leaning over and calling, "Droids, bring this lovely couple their money," Then, she looks to the partners again, "There you go. It's that easy. Sorry to waste your time, okay?"

Jana eyes the mechanic wearily. In all the time she's known Peli, nothing had ever come that easily. The brown eyed girl crosses her arms over her chest, "Something tells me you have more to say."

Peli's eyes dart to Jana's from where she stands beside the ship, "I sure do, I'm just going to tell you something about this honey, okay? I know she doesn't look like much, but you got here a lot earlier than I expected and I didn't get a chance to finish. I mean, clearly you can see I've got all the parts right here," Peli holds up pieces of metal, showing them off before letting them all clank to the sand, "Hmm? It all has a home."

Jana lets her eyes shift over the ship while Peli shifts a nest, a nest of scurriers laying on one of the engines. Jana's inspection pauses, catching something that makes a sigh involuntarily part her lips, "You got us a one-seater. Peli, there's two of us."

"That's one of the things I'm working on. You know how hard it is to find all original parts from way back in the Galactic Republic? I mean, these are all handmade. No droids. And not only that, what I'm gonna do, just because I like you, I'm gonna add on some custom modifications, that'll make her faster than a fathier. And, because this baby's pre-Empire, she's off the grid," The mechanic announces, gesturing to the front of the ship, "See all of this? It can be moved to the hull when I extend the cockpit. It'll make the weapons systems manual to whoever sits there, but it won't cause any additional drag."

Jana raises her brow, looking up at Din to find him already staring down at her. All she does is shrug her shoulders while Peli continues rambling on, "And did I mention, she can jump into hyperspace with no docking ring? I mean, come on! You gotta see the potential."

Din begrudgingly steps forward, a gloved hand wrapping around a pipe, which snaps off at his touch and empties its contents onto the ground beneath them, "I'm telling you guys, you gotta believe me. This is a classic."

To punctuate her words, Peli hits her fist on the engine that separates them with gusto, making a plat fall off and clatter to the ground. Jana shoots the woman an unimpressed look, but the Mechanic meets her gaze without fail, "Look, at least let me put her together before you decide. Can you give me that?"

Neither Din nor Jana say anything, and Peli takes that as her go ahead, grabbing a wrench and starting on some bolts, "Get this baby up and going," A small pause, "You know, it'd be a lot faster if you helped."

Jana shrugs off her cloak, looking over the various parts laid out before them and sighing.

Clueless, she's completely and utterly clueless.

She had tried to help when the Razor Crest had been strung together by a Mon Calamari, and before that she had the instruction of Kulil to tell her exactly what to do. She can't say she expects Peli to be as patient with her as her Unaught friend once was.

Seeing her hesitation, Din puts a hand on her shoulder, "You don't have to stay. I can do this."

Jana looks up at him, Din an entire head taller than her, and part of her wonders how he can read her so easily, and when exactly he figured her out.

 "No," Jana says, shaking her head slightly, "No, if this is potentially going to be ours then I should help."

"Okay, then hand me the sonic rotation calibrator," Din softly demands, his hand dropping from Jana as she looks for the tool scattered on the sands.

She furrows her brows, lips pursed before she bends down and picks up a wicked looking drill, an easy smirk on her face as she holds it out to her partner, "Here."

"That's not the sonic rotation calibrator."

"Yes it is," Jana insists.

"No it isn't," Din states, "Because there's no such thing-"

"There's no such thing as a sonic rotation calibrator. Right. I knew that." Jana finishes, setting the device back where she found it and standing up straight again. She looks into Din's t-visor, ignoring Peli as she starts singing to herself, "What should I do, then?"

"You have to go to the Ridge, don't you?" Din asks, immediately regretting it when Jana's face falls, "Or you could-"

"No, no, I do. I should," Jana nods, swallowing her nerves.

She supposes the trip would get her out of Din and Peli's way, and if there's any place to be away from Din it's Tatooine. She knows the desert planet like the back of her hand, her knowledge of the dune sea as large and vast as the sand itself. She'd be fine if she ran into trouble.

Plus, there's tradition. She won her title on the Ridge, and each time she's back on the planet her religion commands her to visit. To worship the place that birthed her as this generation's chosen one, even if she refuses the title.

"Peli is the speeder out back?" Jana asks, raising her voice slightly so the mechanic can hear her.

Peli's reply is chipper, "It sure is! I put a new gasket on it the other day, take it for a spin before it rusts!"

Jana nods, looking to Din and taking his hand, linking her fingers in his, "I have my commlink, let me know when you're done and I'll come back."

"Cyare."

"Din, you're right," Jana honestly says, giving his fingers a squeeze, "If you didn't suggest it I would've just been trying to find a way to steal that cute little BD droid the whole time."

"Are you sure?" Din asks.

"Absolutely. Plus, I should visit the twins. They deserve to know what happened to the Handler," Jana explains, the memory of her cruel Mother clawing its way to the front of her brain. Maybe the one good thing that came out of Moff Gideon's complete control of her mind is that the horrid woman no longer roams the galaxy, seeking out new ways to break her champion.

"Okay," Din eventually nods, reaching up and pushing a wispy fly-away strand of hair away from Jana's eyes and behind her ear, "Be careful. Contact me if you need me."

Jana knows the word choice is careful from her love. Not if she runs into danger. Just if she needs him. If she breaks and needs him to piece her together once again he'd come running. She'd do the same.

A smile pushes through and Jana can't help herself from stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his middle in a tight hug, which he returns with his arms around her back, "I love you," She mutters, just loud enough for him to hear.

"And I love you, Cyare," Din quietly returns, holding her for a moment longer before she steps back, letting her eyes linger on him before she makes for the back entrance and gets onto the speeder bike that had been waiting for her.

—

Jana arrives at the ridge by sundown. The rock formation hadn't changed since the last time she climbed it, the same footholds propel her up, and the same incline takes her breath from her as she ascends the solid, a flat plateau waiting above.

Hauling herself up, Jana lays on her back for a moment, turning her head to see the one green spot in the entirety of the desert. The tree that marks the spot the Killshot before her had fallen. How the Twi'lek bitch had managed to grow into rock and very little soil, Jana will never know.

They called her Sorscha the Mischievous, and for good reason. The Twi'lek woman led a teenage Jana through the entirety of the Mid-rim, allowing her to be within reach for a challenge before slipping away. Like grains of sand running through the gaps of her fingers over and over again.

The months of tracking had been a game to the title-holder at the time. It had come to a head when Jana caught them off guard, attacking their camp with well-timed blasts from a stolen blaster and weeks of built up annoyance, yelling about how she hadn't come from Tatooine and disgraced her family line to be toyed with. She came so far for one reason: Killshot. The one thing that would allow her to honor her Grandfather's memory and avenge both her Father and her recently murdered brother, Evan.

She had craved it with every part of her heart, mind, and soul back then. She wanted greatness. She wanted to release her anger, her grief, and make it into a thing of legend. And when the Handler had struck, leaving her a bloody mess on a random planet so far from home, something changed. Sorscha looked at her differently; As if something had finally clicked in her mind after so many years locked behind the killing calm.

Sorscha called off her Handler before the final, lethal blow could be dealt, leaving Jana to heal with what would become a ragged scar at the base of her throat.

It had taken weeks for the young girl to recover, and she did so under the watchful gaze of a kind stranger and his son. One that would grow up only to find Jana again years and years later. She doesn't mourn Toro's death, though. He got what he deserved.

As soon as she could, Jana followed the trail Sorscha had left, one that the teenager knew was a trap, all the way back to Tatooine. Back to her home.

When Jana climbed the ridge, her muscles roared in pain, and she half expected to be blasted off the rocks before she could even get to the flat of it. But no, when she pulled herself over the lip, Sorscha had been waiting patiently, looking up at the night sky with interest but also something else. Hope.

The sight almost made Jana shoot her on the spot, instead, the adolescent finally called a formal challenge. The Handler altered their blasters. Jana gave her mantra, the one she had been practicing for so long over her months of travel. The thing that kept her sane through Sorscha's constant trickery;

I am a gun never to be held. I am the weapon to be feared. I am death embodied. I will be the next Killshot, and like the ones who came before me; I will not miss.

A little dramatic at the time, but Jana was only sixteen. She'd convinced herself it was some of the best words that had ever been spoken.

Sorscha had only looked at her, her face holding something Jana didn't recognize before telling her, "You will be the last."

No other mantra. No long-winded speech about her accomplishments. Just that infuriating simple statement. You will be the last.

The words outraged the young woman, made her fists clench at her side. But then they were taking their paces, and Jana was thinking through a strategy with each step she took. She thought about the methodical, tricky way Sorscha fiddled with her trigger. How she was one to make feign one way and shoot the other. Not as proficient of a killer as other title holders due to the fact that the scope hadn't gained any colour during her reign. Most of her kills had been indirect. She was smart, leading people to the edge and letting them fall off themselves.

Jana knew that. And she planned for it.

So when they both turned, Jana had been expecting the Twi'lek's deceptive move, and she shot a blast directly through her chest.

When she fell, the life faded from Sorscha's eyes slowly, the entire time her gaze didn't move from the night sky, even when her Handler, her closest friend, sobbed over her wounds.

Sorscha died watching the stars, that stupid hopeful look never leaving her, even as the light left her eyes.

The memory still infuriates Jana to this day. What is there to have hope for under the title besides blood and death?

"You just had to have a view, didn't you?" Jana sarcastically mutters out loud, speaking to nothing besides the green leaves that perfectly matched Sorscha's skin rustling in the slight breeze as she regains her breath, "Makes it inconvenient for me, you know that, right?" Peeling herself up to her feet and dusting herself off. Jana kicks a stone, letting it tumble to the tree's trunk, "You probably think it's funny, you old Cantina-Rat."

Strolling up to the tree, Jana lowers herself to her knees again, her eyes roaming over the details of the grooves in the bark, and the shade that protects it from the twin suns overhead. She remembers her journey, her challenge; her bloodthirst that has long been quenched.

She doesn't fold her hands together, or lower her forehead to the rock beneath her. Instead, she mutters, "Looks like neither of us are laughing in the end, huh?"

Jana shifts, sitting with her back against the tree and hugging her knees to her chest. Resting her head on the bark the woman takes a second to just be there. To live. Wanting to leave everything here so that she might not have to carry the weight with her any longer.

"I outrank you now, I have for a long time," Jana says after a while of peaceful silence, "I hope that pisses you off, Sorscha the Mischievous," She pauses, "I bet they'll call me something better. Calmiken the Killer, Jana the Great, or maybe Supreme Commander of the Killshot Empire," Jana stops again, frowning.

She thinks about her challenge again, the desire for murder that once flooded through her so visciously had dried up. She's different now. She was just a girl when she took the mantle, and almost twenty two years later it's become her biggest regret, not the honor she once thought it to be.

"You could have stopped me. You should have. I was just a kid."

Jana waits for a response, and she's such a fool that she expects one, feels entitled to one. Instead, a breeze passes through the rocks, and Sorscha's leaves rustle, a dull noise to fill the silence.

"Or maybe I should have just layed down and died when your Handler wanted me to," Jana whispers, remembering the pain from the brutal blows the large man had inflicted on her, the same ones that scarred her, "He was loyal to you. I've always been jealous of that. My Handler didn't even want me. As a Killshot or a daughter."

Jana doesn't stop talking. She keeps telling Sorscha tale after tale of her reign as chosen one. Letting out the pride she felt in the beginning, and her overwhelming need to please her mother during those initial years. She tells the tree about Darth Vader, and how he came to trust her, to need her by his side battle after battle. The mission that made her doubt her title, the nights she pondered turning the gun on herself so she wouldn't have to face any more horrors. The assassinations, the genocides, the raids on innocent planets, The Death Star. She also talks about what came after; finding Din and Grogu. Love. A family. Something she'd always wanted, but never thought she'd get.

Jana speaks these words and tells these stories so they'd loosen their stranglehold on her throat. She does it so she can breathe again. She does it because Sorscha is the only other living thing that knows what it meant to be Killshot.

Then, and only when her throat is dry, the sun had set and risen, and she has nothing else to tell, then Jana finally prays. She sits on her knees, folds her hands in front of her, and presses her forehead to the ground, muttering sacred words she isn't sure she fully believes anymore into the earth.

The place where Jana Calmiken had once ended, and Killshot began.

She stands, and the weight is still the same. She feels no lighter than when she arrived.

Jana sighs, wiping her forehead with her sleeve, "There's one thing I never understood about you, Sorscha. When I showed up here that day, you didn't look angry. You didn't look like you wanted a fight. You looked at peace. You had hope. And I still don't get it. I don't think I ever will. I mean, was it one last trick? Some kind of mind game to make me hate you for the rest of my life?"

There's no breeze to rattle the branches, and no other life to give a reply. So Jana turns, walking to the cliff she had climbed up, ready to descend.

She barely gets a few steps away when she feels breath on her ear, and Sorscha's low, melodic voice whispers, "The last of us."

Jana whips around, dagger pulled from its sheath and cutting into nothing but air. She looks around frantically, eyes wide and finding no sign of anyone. No footsteps in the dust, or animals lurking. There isn't even the buzz of the ever-present sand beetles. It's completely quiet.

Jana Calmiken is alone.

Then who spoke? The Tatooine-born woman thinks to herself. The words had been crystal clear, so much so that there's no way she could have imagined them, or willed them into being. The breath she felt was as real as the dagger in her hand.

As if the planet could read her thoughts, a breeze wafts through the plateau, and Sorscha's bright green leaves dance with it, rustling softly.

Jana lingers for one more moment, and then descends the cliff-face and boards her speeder-bike just as Din's voice patches through her commlink.

"It's ready, Cyare."

Instead of heading to the farming flats as she had originally planned, Jana journeys back from where she came, rolling up to Peli's hangar half a day later and just in time to see a fully put together star-fighter being wheeled out by the mechanic's team of droids.

When she gets off the speeder bike Din is beside her immediately, and she has to swat him away when he looks her over, seemingly checking her over for injuries. She tuts to him, territorial, sweet, and overprotective.

He asks if she saw her brothers, and she shakes her head, telling him that she'd been at the ridge all night. She's about to say more when she finally takes in the starfighter that had been waiting for her.

Jana can't help but let out a low whistle as she heads closer to the vessel. Peli and Din had made the thing look damn pretty. The ugly yellow paint had been scraped off, other than a few accents, and the metallic glint of the exterior is classic, reflecting the Mandalorian that would be piloting it. Peli kept to her word, the cockpit had been extended to a two-seater, both leather chairs looking comfortable enough for the tight space.

"See? Was I right or was I right?" Peli proudly asks, holding her hands out as Jana continues taking in the ship.

The brunette stops by the guns at the front of the ship, her mind connecting the make and models of the cannons easily. A habit she can't quite shake.

"You continue to impress me, Tin Can," Jana mutters, turning to see Din already at her side.

Peli's voice rattles through the air, "Uh, hello? A little credit please!"

"It's your best work, Peli."

"I know!" The mechaic exclaims, gliding her hands over the metal of the starfighter, "Not a gram of fat on her. You know, no one's catching you in this thing."

Silently, Din presses his palm to Jana's back, wordlessly guiding her around the vessel with him, walking around one of the engines to look into the cockpit. Jana's eyes take in the weapons systems, and she silently catalogs the triggers she'd be in charge of as if she can already feel the give of the mechanisms in her hands.

Din guides her a little further, and he looks to Peli, "What happened to the droid port?"

Jana raises a brow, getting on her tip toes to peer into the small glass dome to see absolutely nothing in it. No hardware. No droid-key. Nothing. Maybe she would steal that cute little BD droid she'd spotted the day before. They suddenly have the space for it.

"I hogged it out," Peli answers, effectively interrupting Jana's thoughts, "You know, I figured with your disposition you'd want to forgo the astromech."

When a droid beeps in protest, Jana chuckles, keeping next to Din as he inspects the angles of the ship carefully, as if he hadn't just spent a day and a half working on it. He walks around it methodically, with a critical gaze. One that Jana admires him for. As sharp as her eyes are, she knows nothing about ships, and her partner makes up for what she lacks. He'd spot any problems she can't see immediately.

After another moment, Din stands up straight, asking Peli, "Think she's ready?"

Peli nods, "Ready as she'll ever be. Start her up."

"Really?"

"Yeah, start her up."

Din looks down to Jana, and the brunette just gives a shrug before moving to the ship just as the glass protecting the cabin slides back. Din's hand is on Jana's back as she moves to her seat, which is positioned directly in front of his. It's a tight fit, and there isn't much leg room to spare, but she fits.

The control panel ahead of her is a bit dusty, but Jana can easily identify the targeting systems and the triggers for the cannons. She can also see a small nav screen, the display lighting up when Din settles in and starts the engines, the entire ship sputtering for a brief second before dying.

"It's not turning over," Din complains to Peli.

Peli isn't phased, "Give it a little bit more juice."

With the second attempt, there's a whirring that stirs the very seat Jana sits on, making her widen her eyes and tighten her seatbelt a notch. Her eyes remain wide when she sees the engines running cleaner than the Razor Crest's ever did; as if they'd been saving their speed and dying to let it out for years.

Jana gulps, looking to Peli, "This is a lot of engine for a little ship!"

"Yeah, well, see what she can do!" Peli calls over the roar of the engines.

"Shouldn't we run a diagnostic first?" Din asks.

"Nah," Peli dismisses, making Jana's heart skip a beat with unease, "I can hear her! She's purring! Send her up!"

The glass to the tiny cabin slides closed, and with what seemed to be caution, Din raises the ship slowly off of the ground and higher until they've cleared the hangar.

"You ready?" Din asks, and it takes a second for Jana to realize he's talking to her.

With a ball of nerves settled into the pit of her stomach, the woman barely manages a small sound of confirmation. Din utters out, "Engaging forward drives," Into the commlink he must have established with Peli.

Then, they're gliding forward. The ship seeming to wobble where it soars through the sky. Jana shifts in her seat slightly, raising her hands to the cannon's controls and turning them slightly, seeing the weapons shift by her control. They move smoothly. Peli and Din did a good job setting it up for her.

"She handles a little bumpy," Din complains from behind his partner.

Peli's voice comes through the comms clear as day, "You're used to a gunship, but she's a starfighter. So fly he like one."

"Okay," Din says, "I'll open her up."

Jana smirks to herself, opening her mouth to let out what she's sure would have been a snarky comment. Instead, the ship launches forward at a speed the former assassin has never felt before, the force if it forcing her further back into her seat as a gasp releases from her lips.

They're quickly beyond the walls of Mos Eisley, and heading toward the rock formations that lay beyond.

Jana had been in fast ships before, she had been in TIE fighters swooping down on battletorn planets, and starships launching into hyperdrive in a split second. But she had never been in a ship like this. Whatever modifications were added worked wonders. In the blink of an eye they're even deeper into the desert, weaving around high-reaching rocks and rising further above them.

"Dank Ferrik, she's fast," Din utters, voicing Jana's own thoughts.

"Smooth?" Peli's voice asks.

Jana can't help the grin on her face as she responds, "As a gonk's scomp jack."

Peli lets out a hoot of joy, "There you go! Some teamwork!"

"The controls are real zappy," Din drones on, "How's the maneuverability?"

"You tell me," Peli responds, "Point your navigational disposition between the two suns. You'll come up to Beggar's Canyon."

With the speed increasing, Jana's nerves settle and disappear, especially when Peli names the familiar canyon over the comm. When she was a child, Jana, Beau, Arlo, and Owen's nephew from the farm beside them would climb up the rocky wall and settle on top of the canyon to watch the ever-dangerous podracers zoom by.

As they approach, Jana can hear the sounds of engines roaring past her, her brothers betting on racers as they zoom further on the track and the explosions that would come when the podracers would impact the side of the canyon.

She'd never been brave enough to try it, but this is the closest to podracing she'll ever get.

Jana lets out a loud laugh as Din tilts the ship at the Canyon entrance, he maneuvers and banks around corners with the skill that comes from years of practice as a pilot, speed not ceasing as he moves through the slim walls of the rock formation.

"How's the handling?" Peli asks.

"Tight," Din answers, "She tracks like a rail speeder."

"What did I tell you?" Peli brags before scoffing, "Razor Crest."

Jana's smile doesn't cease as they burst out of Beggar's Canyon, she turns her head to Din when she speaks, "I think she's got more in her."

"Yeah?" Din says, "Let's find out, Cyare."

Then, Jana is forced back in her seat as the ship picks up impossibly more speed by Din's command, this time heading upward towards and through the clouds that separate Tatooine from the dark, vast space beyond.

When they reach the stars, Jana's head tilts up, taking in the view as she always does. Besides the Mandalorian piloting the starfighter, its the one view she'll never tire of. Endless, burning, beautiful night sky.

The only thing that breaks her stare from what lays beyond is the slowing of their vessel next to a commercial craft. It's the one they had taken to Tatooine. Jana continues to grin as she spies the same small Rodian child from before in the window seated by his mother.

Wide, curious eyes catch their ship, and the child rises from its seat, pressing its hands to the glass. This time, Jana raises her hand, wiggling her fingers in a silly wave before they're jetting off yet again, weaving around the satellites and antenna of the massive ship before leaving it in the dust.

Din rolls them next, and Jana suspects its purely to get her laughing again. So, she indulges him, letting the sound escape past her lips and fill the cockpit.

It's only the sound of a new channel opening through their commlink that makes her mouth clamp shut, Din letting out a deep curse as he slows the ship, ceasing the roll and gliding along as two X-wings flank them.

New Republic officers.

If Jana wasn't buckled into her seat so tightly she would have sank down into it, her heart thumping itself into a panic. The scar below her right ear where her scope had once resided tingles almost painfully.

When the voice of the officer comes through, it's all she can do not to beg Din to throw them into hyperdrive for a quick escape. She can't be caught. All the freedom she had longed so desperately for her entire life would be ripped away and she'd be be arrested. Trial. Prison. Execution. Din knows this, and he fears it as much as she does.

"Run your beacon for me, N-1," The officer instructs

"Was I doing something wrong, officer?" Din asks.

"You're not allowed to fly that fast next to a commercial ship," The officer responds, "You're also operating without a beacon. I'm gonna need you to run one for us."

It takes all of Jana's focus to keep her eyes focused straight ahead, on the stars there. It's an attempt to slow her quick, shallowed breaths.

"Sorry, officer," Din says, his voice strong and even, "I got a little carried away there. Transmitting now."

With a click of a button, and a high pitched beep, the beacon runs. And the silence waiting for a response feels like an eternity.

"Your engine model doesn't match your power drive."

Jana clenches her fists in her lap, silently praying, Please don't let this be a problem, over and over again in her mind.

"We just built her," Din answers, and Jana knows if his voice wasn't as steady as it is her spiral of panic would be a million times worse, "I was just taking her up for a test flight. Haven't been able to update the registration just yet."

"We're gonna need to see your title tabs. Send us a ping."

"Yeah, sorry, officer, but my transmitter isn't hooked up yet. I'll head right back to Mos Eisley and get it sorted out."

"Relinquish your flight controls for remote-control access."

Jana can't help her frightened stare as she turns back to face Din, who meets her gaze with the same stiff posture she holds. Not an option. He knows that. She doesn't have to voice it.

Before anything else can be said, a new voice registers through the comm, "Hold on a second there, Lieutenant. I think we can let him off with a warning this time."

Jana's shoulders sag with relief as she faces forward once more, her eyes closing as a silent breath escapes her.

"Thank you officer," Din says, "I'll have that taken care of."

"One thing before you go," The second officer says, once again causing Jana to stiffen.

"Yes?"

"Your voice is mighty familiar. Did you used to fly a Razor Crest?"

Jana's mouth parts, and she recognizes who flies beside them. It's the same officer who had stopped them when they were transporting the Frog Lady and her eggs to Trask. She had been in the exact same position then; sitting silently in fear, waiting for her inevitable discovery and arrest.

Last time they had crash landed on an icy planet, Jana nearly freezing to death as a result. And he remembered them.

Jana swears quietly under her breath, barely more than her mouth forming the words.

"I think you have the wrong guy officer," Din says, voice a touch colder than a moment ago.

"That ship showed up on a transporter log back in Nevarro in an incident involving Imperial remnants and Killshot herself. I'm just connecting some dots here. You mind answering a few questions?"

Jana flinches at the title, and for a moment she thinks it's over. She thinks they have no other options. But then, to her luck, the starfighter leaps forward in a burst of speed that leaves the New Republic officers gliding by in shock. They wouldn't be able to catch up with them if they tried.

The stars are a blur, and Jana leans her head back on her seat not because of the force of which the ship moves, but out of relief.

"Cyare? Are you okay?"

Jana nods her head, trusting that Din sees the movement, "I hate the New kriffing Republic."

—

When the starfighter lands back in Peli's hangar, the mechanic eagerly greets the set of partners, jogging out while the glass of the cabin peels itself back.

"Well? How was it?" She asks.

"Wizard," Din responds, drawing a chuckle from both of the women.

"So Wizard, Peli," Jana adds, watching as the mechanic's face lights up.

"Those J-type pulse engines really tighten the old evacuation port, don't they?" Peli asks as Din gets out from his seat and climbs down the side of the ship, his hands extended and ready for Jana as she unbuckles herself.

Jana scoffs, "Whatever that means."

Rising from her seat, Jana accepts Din's help and climbs down, his touch keeping her balanced and steady as her feet meet the sands once again. She squeezes his hands, the leather cool on her palms, "Such a gentleman, Tin Can," She mutters, just enough that he can hear. His arm wraps around her waist, and she knows he appreciates the words as much as he appreciates his actions.

"Oh, by the way, an old friend of yours dropped by, said she was looking for you," Peli says, making Jana's brow arch.

"A friend of mine?" Din wonders before pointing his gaze down towards his partner.

Jana shrugs, "Don't look at me. I don't have any friends around here."

"Well, don't worry," Peli assures, "I told her I didn't know where the two of you were. Then I locked her out and engaged the hangar security system."

"Did she tell you her name?" Jana asks, rattling through a list of allies in her head. It's a short list, but a list nonetheless.

Before Jana can narrow it down, a voice booms from above, "Fennec Shand."

Sure enough, when Jana turns she sees the assassin sitting casually on a rafter above their head, utterly unfazed by Peli's surprised shriek and immediate scolding of her droids.

The brown eyed woman watches with intrigue as Fennec makes her way down, using Peli's cargo to meet them on the sand and string towards them with a smile on her face.

Jana can't help but return the expression, meeting woman halfway with an extended hand, "Shand."

"J.C," Fennec returns, grasping onto Jana's forearm as soon as she's close enough.

"It's good to see you," Jana says, squeezing the woman's arm for a moment longer before they release each other, "You here on business?"

"As usual," Fennec nods, looking between Jana and her Mandalorian, "By any chance, are you two looking for work?"

"We could be," Din returns, stepping closer to the pair of women as Fennec tosses him a small pouch, the clinking inside of it indicating credits. Lots of them.

The smirk on Fennec's face only confirms it, "The pay is good."

"What's the bounty?" Din asks.

"No bounty," Fennec answers, "We need muscle."

Jana's eyes narrow slightly. Fennec is here to send a message, and the brunette knows exactly who sent her, "Boba Fett."

Fennec nods, folding her hands in front of her, "He sure would appreciate it."

There's a small hesitation from Din, and he directs his next question to Jana, "Can you do this?"

Jana knows what he's asking, and she knows why she's asking it. She hadn't drawn her blaster since the incident. She can't bring herself to. Other than the New Republic hunting her it's part of why Din asks her to sit out of hunts.

She isn't upset at him for asking. They're partners, and partners need to communicate. Jana knows that if she steps back now, if she gives her Mandalorian the slightest idea that she's uncomfortable with the potential job before them, he'd refuse it. No questions asked.

"I can," Jana answers, chin held high, "Fett and I haven't always been on good terms, but...." Jana trails off, taking a deep breath, "He helped to save my life. He brought me back to you. As did Fennec. It's an honor to repay that debt. I'm ready."

"You might have to-"

Jana cuts her partner off, knowing what he's going to say. She might have to kill, to slip into that piece of her that she hasn't visited in a long time. The part of her that does what is necessary, no matter the cost to her own heart and soul.

"I know," Jana Calmiken nods, "And I'm ready for that too."

Din's gaze linger on her, and his hand meets the small of her back. A comfort, a silent statement of, I'm proud of you, and then he's tossing the bag of credits back to Fennec.

"Tell him it's on the house," Din says, pausing for a split second, his hand rubbing Jana's back lightly, "But first, We have to pay a visit to a little friend."

---

A/N:

She's baaaaack. 

I cannot tell you how excited I am to be writing these bobf bonus chapters. I missed Jana so much. I hope you loved this as much as I do. 

Jana is so special to me, and what I have planned gets me so! excited! (shoutout to  for for for indulging my planning and feral nerd love for mando. love u).

Tell me what you thought! Please! i love reading your comments and seeing what you think of Jana's journey so far. 

Anyway, I have school, so updates might be slow, but I'm working as much as I can. 

Please vote and comment, and I'll see you in the next one!!<3!!