Ask Chandrila Kill Your Heart

[Song Wren]

“Thank you,” Amita whispered. “It was the right thing to do.”

Song felt a chime in her head. The right thing. The Ranger may have been kind enough to return River’s body for burial, but there was nothing right about his murder. Sure, he may have led the life of a criminal, but how could that justify his death? It may have been self-defense, but how could Song live with that? She’d spent years drunk on revenge. Throwing it away just didn’t make sense.

Almost as if Amita could hear the thoughts lurking in Song’s mind, she said, “I’m sorry for what happened. I truly am. If I could go back in time and change things, I would. But if it meant keeping my family safe, I would do it all over again if I had to. Please, you must understand. This wasn’t how I wanted things to turn out.”

Song rose from her chair, slowly. Amita watched her with cautious eyes, but the Mandalorian made no sudden movements. She only stood there, staring at the former Ranger through the cold blackness of her visor, the face of the man she’d killed.

“I understand.”

Song lurched forward, jump boots carrying her forward. She crashed into Amita a second time, casting aside her tea, taking her by the collar and throwing her against the wall. The young woman tried vainly to resist, but Song was ready for every blow. She took her strikes head-on, shrugging through the pain. What did it matter anyway? She wouldn’t survive to see tomorrow.

Kanan would have to kill her before she stopped.

She pinned Amita onto the ground, trapping her arm behind her back. Without thinking, Song yanked out the blaster on her side and pointed the muzzle against the back of Amita’s head. It would be easy. Quick. A far less painful death than the one River must have had—choking on his own blood, alone on a strange world.

Do it, said the voice in her head. Take your revenge. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.

So why was it so hard to press the trigger?

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan watched with bated breath as River rose from his armchair. The Mandalorian’s movements were methodical. Careful. Either he was conflicted, or he had already made up his mind and was trying not to arouse any sudden movement from the two rangers in the room.

Hopefully, it was the former. Kanan hoped with all of his might that River would accept Amita’s words—her apology—and turn around and walk away. Walk out the door of the cottage and into the light of day, back the way he had come, and into a new day.

But he didn’t.

Anger and revenge had ahold of him, and as Kanan well knew, their pull was strong, their influence corrupting. They had rooted themselves deep in the Mandalorian’s bones, and they would not leave without a fight.

River had acted too quickly for the Sector Ranger to interfere. He was on his feet instantly, ready to counter River’s attacks, but the Mandalorian had used his jump boots. Something that had gotten the best of Kanan a time or two before.

In the flash of an eye, Amita was pinned to the wall, River’s hand pressed to her throat, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Try as she might, her efforts were all in vain. River was not to be deterred.

Kanan would have to physically tear the Mandalorian from the woman if he wanted to save her, and he had to save her. No matter what.

“River, stop,” the ranger demanded, moving to pull him away from Amita but stopping in his tracks as soon as River yanked his blaster out.

Kanan’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched River press the blaster’s barrel to Amita’s head. Kanan felt helpless, utterly powerless.

One squeeze of the trigger, one wrong move, and everything would be over. Amita Ghafa would be dead, and her young child would be forced to grow up without a mother.

“Please see reason,” he begged. “She was acting in self-defense—defending her family. What would you have done in her place?”

Steadily, yet without hesitation, Kanan raised his own blaster and pointed it at River. At his friend. “Please,” he continued, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t make me do this.”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song already knew the answer to Kanan’s question. If she’d been there that day, if Amita had been the one to strike, she would have done the same thing. She would have killed anyone to save her family, her only brother.

But there was no going back. Song had been too late. River was dead, and all she was left with was loss and grief and anger. For years, she let it consume her, gnaw on her from the inside out, until there was nothing left in her heart.

But what would mother say? What would she think, seeing how her beautiful daughter had turned out?

She grit her teeth. “Shut up,” she said, but it was directed more to herself than it was to Kanan. “Shut up.”

Amita didn’t struggle. She only lay there, black hair draped over the floor, eyes closed as if accepting her fate. Why? Nothing made sense. Nothing felt right.

“Mama?” said a voice.

Song whirled on the sound. By impulse, by some terrible instinct, she aimed her gun toward the backdoor of the cottage, toward the little girl standing on the threshold with a cluster of white jasmine flowers in her hands. Amita’s daughter, Nina. The girl flinched, tears in her eyes. Amita’s was wide open now, and she began screaming, thrashing against Song’s hold.

“No!” she cried. “Please, don’t! Don't hurt her! She’s just a child. Shoot me. It’s me you want. Kill me instead.”

Song’s ears were ringing. Kanan’s betrayal, Nina’s appearance, Amita’s pleading. It was too much, and the moment she looked between her gun and the child standing by the door, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. River, or Song? Had the same thing gone through his head, just before his death? Had he realized what he was doing to Amita’s family, and in that tiny moment of clarity, allowed the Ranger to stab him in the gut?

Is this what he would want?

Song backed away. Letting her gun clatter to the floor, she stumbled from Amita. She ignored the sound of crying behind her, of the mother running to her daughter. She staggered past Kanan, ignoring whatever he had to say. She couldn’t think straight. All she could do was teeter out the front door and back onto the gravel path outside.

She stopped to lean against a swaying oak tree. Her breathing was ragged and heavy. Song looked down at her hands, wet with blood, and pressed them to her head.

Why? Why? Why?

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan could hear the little girl’s voice, calling scared to her mother. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the shape of her standing at the back door, sniffling as she cried, but the Sector Ranger didn’t dare take his eyes off of the Mandalorian for even a second. He couldn’t.

The only thought running through his mind was, I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill you.

Seconds seemed to drag out into hours. The wait was excruciating, the uncertainty crippling. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, River made his move.

He staggered away from Amita, the woman struggling against his grasp and desperate to reach her daughter, and dropped his blaster to the floor. He didn’t say a word as he moved past the ranger

Kanan felt as if a weight, a dark cloud had been lifted. He could breathe again, unaware until that moment that he had even been holding his breath.

Amita and her young daughter were crying as they embraced, the mother clutching her daughter to her person as if she was the most precious thing in the whole galaxy. To Amita, she was.

It was a touching scene, one most would have had a hard time ignoring, and yet Kanan’s eyes followed the Mandalorian as he stumbled out of the cottage.

Kanan knelt down and retrieved the forsaken blaster, holstering his own into place at his side, before leaving the cottage. The wind blew against his skin as soon as he stepped outside, and it brought the smell of the sea with it.

River was up ahead leaning against an oak tree, alone. Silent. Unmoving. The sight made Kanan feel helpless. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the Mandalorian was going through.

What could Kanan possibly sayI’m sorry? I know this must be hard for you? You did the right thing? I’m here for you?

No. There was nothing he could say that would help. All he could do was be there for River, so long as River would let him.

Pushing one foot forward after another, he reached River at last and merely stood next to him, silent as he stared out at the ocean and watched the waves wash onto the beach. A Sector Ranger and a Mandalorian.

“Could I... would you like me to help with that?” Kanan finally asked as his eyes moved to River’s wounds.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

She balked at the sound of Kanan’s voice. His gentle tone, the quiet look in his eyes, the understanding in his words. He was like a beacon in the middle of a raging storm, a raft to keep her afloat, but Song didn’t have it in her to reach out and take his hand. She didn’t think she deserved his kindness and sympathy. She’d almost murdered a child. She’d come close to robbing a little girl of her mother, and for what? For a chance at revenge?

How could Kanan stand there and still offer his help?

“Stay away from me,” Song murmured. “I don’t want your help.”

She stumbled away from him, beyond the row of oak trees and into the meadow of poppies. They bloomed the most ridiculous shade of red. She observed the way they lulled and swayed in the breeze, as if moving to the rhythm of the ocean, its waves lapping the shore. Every so often, a gust of wind would carry a handful of petals into the sky, and she wondered where they might go next. Would they drown in the sea, or land in some faraway field, where they could plant themselves and grow anew?

It was a stupid thought. Song knew what she was doing—trying not to think about what had just happened back in the cottage, trying not to think about River. She had missed out on her only chance at revenge. She’d given up.

“I failed him,” she said aloud, staring out to the sea. “I promised my brother I’d avenge him, and I failed.”

Song didn’t bother looking back to see if Kanan was there, listening. Despite what she’d told him, she knew he would have followed her anyway, bleeding hope in his heart. He’d always been like that. Trying to help. After all this time, she still didn’t understand how he could be so forgiving, so full of compassion. It just wasn't possible, and yet there he was.

The only person she had left other than herself.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

River declined the ranger’s offer to tend to his wounds, but Kanan wasn’t at all surprised. He was used to being pushed away at this point, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be hurt by it at that moment. He supposed, if he were in River’s shoes, he probably would have done the same.

River’s bloody blaster still in his hands, a bemused smile tugged faintly at the corners of Kanan’s mouth. At least this time he can’t stun me, he thought to himself.

The Mandalorian staggered forward into a field of vibrant red poppies, and the ranger followed without even thinking about it. He stopped short to stand at the edge of the meadow, silently watching as the wind weaved its way through the flowers.

It truly was beautiful here. The vibrant flowers and trees, swaying in the wind. The breeze brushing against your skin, carrying the smell of the sea with it. The sound of the sea as it washed onto shore. The occasional call of a sea gull flying overhead.

Even somewhere as beautiful as this, your life could still fall apart. Your dreams and your hopes could be crushed. Your whole life changed in a matter of moments, just as River’s had been.

“You didn’t fail him,” Kanan replied evenly, taking a single step forward and brushing his hand against a tall red bud. “Your brother loved you, and he would have wanted nothing but the best for you.

“Amita said that when she removed his helmet he looked sad, regretful... He wouldn’t have wanted to you to make the same mistakes he had made. He’d want you to do better, make all the choices he wished he had.”

Kanan looked at River. “And you did. He would be proud of you, just as I am.”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Kyr’amur gar kar’ta. Kill your heart. For the Mandalorian warrior caste, the proverb was always interpreted as being ruthless, as killing one’s own heart in order to accomplish victory in battle. However, Song’s mother, Haliya, had told her a different meaning before she left Krownest to embark on this quest for revenge.

It was the dead of night, and snow was falling heavy on the mountainside. Branches lashed the window. Pine trees shook against the wind. Song had stayed up, waiting until her father had gone to bed, before taking her brother’s armor from the shrine display in the foyer. She tried it on and packed the rest of her things, fully prepared to leave, but Haliya had stopped her at the front door.

“You don’t mean to go through with this, do you?” she said.

Song scowled. “I have to. River deserves justice, and so do I.”

“Please, what he deserves is some rest. He died a warrior’s death. It’s what he would have wanted.”

“But it’s not what I wanted!” Her voice husky with unshed tears. She hated that sound. It made her feel weak and pathetic. Haliya reached out a hand to brush her cheek, but Song swatted it away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Revenge is never a straight line, Song. It’s a maze. It is easy to lose your way, to forget who you are, to forget what is right and wrong. Do not become the monster you were not meant to be. Kyr’amur gar kar’ta.”

Song didn’t care. She’d stormed past her mother anyways, marching out into the snowstorm, resolved to steal her father’s ship and make for the stars. For years, she’d wondered what Haliya had meant by those words.

Only now, as she stood before the sea, did she understand. Kyr’amur gar kar’ta did not simply mean to “kill your heart.” It meant not to let your heart control you. It meant keeping your emotions, your grief and anger, in check. It meant to move on, to find peace. Song smiled, feeling like an idiot. All this time she hadn’t known until this very moment.

“I get it now,” she whispered, to nobody in particular. She shook her head. Kanan must think she’d gone crazy, but she was far from it. No, perhaps for the first time in years, she could think clearly again. She could breathe normal again.

“You know,” Song continued, not bothering to look back at him. “River was never my name. It was my brother’s. My real name is Song. Song Li Wren.”

Her hands drifted to the lower fringe of her helmet. She let out a low breath, and slipped it from her shoulders.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Song. Song Li Wren.

Kanan would have to get used to that. It sounded more like a woman's name than it did a man's. His brow furrowed at the thought, confused but unable to process River's (or rather Song's) words. There was no time to. Frozen in place, the Sector Ranger watched as Song's hands moved toward his Mandalorian helmet. It was the last thing Kanan expected him to do.

Kanan had long wondered about the man beneath the mask, complicated and complex and unlike anyone he had ever met. He was more than just a bounty hunter, and somehow, he was more than even a Mandalorian. He had saved Kanan's life more times than he could count. He was a good and loyal friend, and he was a man that would make the right decision when the chips were down. Even when it went against everything he'd believed and desired, everything he had worked so long as so hard for, he was a man strong enough to make the hard and the selfless decision. He had proved them only moments before. Sometimes the Mandalorian made Kanan's blood boil, absolutely infuriated him, but there was no one Kanan respected more. No one he trusted more. It was only natural to wonder what the Mandalorian looked like, but he had never actually believed the day would come when the two of them would stand face to face.

The Sector Ranger stared, his head inconspicuously tilted as dark black hair tumbled free from the Mandalorian's helmet. He had not envisioned Song with long hair, but then again he had no idea what to expect past the armor.

Song did not turn around or look at Kanan. He did not utter a single word, but he did not have to. The Sector Ranger understood that the removal of his helmet was an invitation to come forward. An invitation Kanan accepted without a second thought as he moved toward the Mandalorian, red poppies brushing against his legs.

Kanan's eyes widened as he drew closer, coming to a stop in front of the Mandalorian. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw, and he had to do a double take. Standing before him was a woman, not a man. A woman.

It couldn't be. His eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe he had gone too long without sleep, or maybe the stress of the day had finally caught up to him. That was the only sensible explanation... right?

He pressed his eyes tightly shut, sure that when he reopened them he would see a man standing in front of him. His brief moment of insanity would be over, and River would probably laugh at him for being so foolish.

But that wasn't the case at all. When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. The Mandalorian armor was that of a man's, and it gave her the appearance of a man, but her face was undoubtedly that of a woman's. Pale with black eyes full of something he couldn't identify. She was unexpected, overwhelming, attractive even, and most of all confusing.

Despite the evidence right before him, he still couldn't believe his eyes. It was not that he thought a woman uncapable of the deeds the Mandalorian had carried out. It wasn't that at all. She was just so... unexpected. His head was reeling, his thoughts fuzzy and suffocating. He had so many questions. More questions than he could process internally let alone put into words and vocalize.

All of his surroundings faded until nothing was left but Song. He could not see the ocean or the vibrant scarlet shade of poppies. He could not hear the sound of the ocean or the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. All he could see was Song, and he could not bring himself to look away. He was transfixed.

He had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her face or hair, just to make sure all of this was real and not in his head. He reached a slow and tentative hand toward her face but pulled it back to himself at the last second.

At last Kanan was able to find his voice. His voice but not any intelligent words. He was incapable of intelligent words at present. "You... Well, you're.... What I mean to say is..."

He hesitated before stating the obvious, as if somehow she was unaware. "You're a woman."

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“I know,” she said to Kanan. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Song knew the revelation must be overwhelming to him. A tiny part of her was afraid of how he might react, but she saw no disgust or betrayal in his eyes. Only wide-eyed astonishment. Who knew how long that might last, but it still came as a relief.

For some reason, she felt light-headed. A little embarrassed, too. Kanan had been the first and only person to ever see what she looked like beneath the mask.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long. It’s just… it was for him. This was all for him.” She looked down at River’s helmet, then at the face of the young woman reflected in its visor. By Mandalore, when was the last time she’d seen her own face?

“I thought that if I could wear his armor, if I could take his name, he could live a while longer. He could continue traveling the galaxy. He could continue finding glory and purpose. I wanted to honor him. I wanted people to know his name, so he wouldn’t be forgotten the way my clan had forgotten him.”

“But since then, all I’ve known is loss. All I’ve known is grief and pain and revenge. I don’t think he would be happy, knowing what I’d become.” She stared longingly at the helmet before placing it on the ground. Her chest ached, but this had to be done. It was time for River to rest.

“Goodbye, brother,” she whispered, a hitch in her breath. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” Not gone, merely marching far away.

She rose back to her feet, legs wobbly. Dusk had turned the sky pale and rosy. Waves foamed on the white sand of the beach. Seagulls nested in the rocky edges of the coast. Song felt the wind on her face, smelled the sweetly fragrant poppies at her back, tasted the salt and brine of the ocean spray. It was an odd feeling. Unfamiliar, like she had been walking in the dark for so long and was finally glimpsing light.

She looked back up at Kanan, a soft smile touching her lips. Wind swept the length of her hair, and petals drifted around them like snow, rising instead of falling. “I’ve lived too long in my brother’s shadow. I’m thinking maybe it’s time I start living as myself again.”

“And I have to admit,” she said, light as a feather. “It feels good.”

Then her legs gave out and she dropped like a stone, collapsing into the patch of meadow, the grass swallowing her whole. The light-headedness, the ache in her chest. They had been physical feelings as much as emotional. She’d lost too much blood from Amita’s knife, and it had finally caught up to her.

Oddly enough, there was no pain. No fear. No panic. It felt as if she was dreaming in the clouds, remembering the day she and her brother made angels in the mountain snow. Song only felt at peace. If this was where Death would take her, then she would meet them with open arms. So, she smiled at the softening sky, and closed her eyes.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

"I know." Two simple, uncomplicated little words, yet they changed everything. It was true then. His eyes were not deceiving him, and he had not lost his mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you too," he replied, cracking a smile. He ran a hand through his hair, still reeling from the revelation but slowly coming to grips with it. He was able to form whole sentences now, which was an improvement. At least he was no longer stuttering and stumbling over his own words like a di'kut, as the Mandalorian might have put it..

The Sector Ranger did not expect Song to apologize for the secret she had kept from him. If today was any indication, it would not be the last time she took him by surprise. In truth, he did not feel that she owed him any sort of apology. She had made this commitment, this vow long before she had bumped into the Sector Ranger in an alleyway. Song was a Mandalorian warrior, first and foremost. A Mandalorian who loved her brother most dearly.

Kanan was eager to assure her that he held no grudge, that he bore no resentment toward her. The last thing he wanted was for her to experience any feelings of guilt on his account. She had already brought far too much undeserved guilt upon herself. He chuckled. If she owed him an apology for anything, it was for stunning him and ditching him on Serenno.

Before the Sector Ranger could verbalize his thoughts, Song looked down at her brother's old helmet and voiced her regrets. Kanan didn't know if she saw the memory of her brother's face in the helmet or if she was staring at her own reflection. He didn't have the heart to interrupt her as she said her final goodbye to her beloved brother, nor did he want to. He loved the sound of her voice. Her real voice. Before it had always been hidden, manipulated by the helmet's voice modulator to sound like the husky voice of a man. Now she spoke as herself. Her voice soft, her tone dulcet.

Her words faded to nothing but a whisper as she knelt down and placed the Mandalorian helmet on the ground. Kanan had no idea what Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la meant. His Mando'a vocabulary was entirely limited to a handful of insults and slurs, most frequently directed toward himself. He didn't need to speak Mando'a, however, to know that Song spoke a final goodbye to her beloved brother. River would forever hold a place in the Mandalorian's life, and not a day would go by that he would not be missed. He was gone, but he would never be forgotten. Song would no longer live in the shadow of her brother's identity, but River would always be a part of who she was. He would forever be a part of her story.

Song stood, silent as she stared out to the sea. The sun had all but disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a perfect shade of pale pinks and blues. As daylight died and darkness approached, a marriage of fading colors danced on the surface of the sea, their reflection warm and brilliant. It was beautiful and breathtaking, yet for some unexplainable reason Kanan could not tear his eyes away from the woman in front of him.

Song, on the other hand, was soaking it all in. Smiling to himself as he watched her, Kanan wondered how long it had been since she'd felt the wind on her face or felt the spray of the sea. Unbidden and unexplainable, another thought occurred to him. How long had it been since she'd been touched? Even more surprising was the immediate inclination that followed. What would it feel like if he touched her? If he ran a thumb across her cheek, or brushed her hair from her face?

Kanan was not prepared for Song to look at him again and smile softly, not after those sudden thoughts. His stomach lurched. Out of guilt? Nerves? It was anyone's guess. He only knew that he felt fifteen years old again, awkward and unsure of himself as he stood there under her gaze, the wind blowing through her long dark hair. He wracked his brain for a response, happy to know that she felt good about her decision, happier still to see her smiling after the long and painful day she had experienced.

"It's good to see you smiling," he admitted, smiling himself as he decided to speak what was on his mind since he couldn't think of anything better to say. His smile faded almost immediately, however, and he dropped to his knees beside Song in the tall grass.

With everything that had transpired, he had almost forgotten about her knife wound. Kanan thought it had just been a minor wound, but with all of the blood it was difficult to tell. How deep had it pierced her? Only Song knew that, and she was a stubborn Mandalorian with a tendency to push herself too hard. Perhaps it was more serious than he had believed, and that possibility frightened him.

The Sector Ranger pressed a hand to her side, an attempt to slow the loss of blood while he searched through the Mandalorian's utility belt for the can of bacta spray he knew she kept there.

"Don't worry. You're going to be alright," he said, perhaps needing to hear that assurance more than she did. His heart was racing. Song, on the other hand, was calm and at peace as she laid there in silence. If it wasn't for the blood that stained her Mandalorian armor, she would almost look comfortable. A smile spread across her lips, and she stared up at the sky. Then Song's eyelids fell shut.

"Song, no... Please," Kanan muttered, his throat constricting. "Just hold on." Now more than ever, he needed her to be alright. He needed her to pull through. She was the one bright spot in his life.

Kanan pulled the can of bacta spray from Song's belt and applied it to her wound to the best of his ability. Then he placed two fingers to her throat and felt for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found one. She was alive, and that knowledge brought a smile to his face. As gently as he could, he reached his blood free hand out and pushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face, his fingers tingling with the sensation.

"Let's get you inside," he said softly, picking the Mandalorian up and carrying her toward the cottage. Thankfully, Amita Ghafa was a forgiving woman.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

It was the first time she didn’t dream of River.

She was back home, following a trail through the cedars and mountain pines that surrounded her family’s estate. Snow was falling, but it was unbearably quiet. There was no sound of nesting birds, no animals crawling in the underbrush, no rustle of leaves. It was all too eerie. Perhaps she’d died after all, and this slice of Krownest was her own personal purgatory. Or so until she saw her, seated on the steps of their ancestral home. Haliya, her mother.

She was as beautiful as the day she last saw her, with a set of eyes so dark it was like staring into the night sky. Song smiled, and Haliya smiled back.

“When you’re ready to come home, I’ll be waiting.”

Song woke up in a cold sweat, her side throbbing with pain. Immediately, she clutched for the wound there, only to find it had been cleaned and bandaged, her bruised and bloody knuckles wrapped in clean fabric. She’d been stripped of her armor too, and for a small moment, she panicked. River’s helmet. Her disguise. Someone had discovered the truth.

Then she remembered. Kanan. The meadow flashed in her mind’s eye. She’d been watching the sea, watching him. She had shown him the young woman underneath the helmet, breaking the vow she swore years ago after she left Krownest.

It was a strange feeling. Being alive.

The air was rich with the smell of tea leaves and coffee, lemon and honey. A fan whirred on the ceiling. Slats of moonlight poured through an open window, the velvet curtains luffed by the breeze, and she realized it was the dead of night. How long had she been out? More importantly, where was Kanan?

Distantly, outside of her room, she heard running water and the clatter of dishes. Voices. She strained her ears to listen, leaning out from the bed as she did, only to catch a small figure standing by the doorframe, a girl three heads shorter than she was. She had smooth, dark skin and a cascade of black hair braided over one shoulder, just like her mother, just like Amita. It was her daughter, Nina.

She was carrying a vase of freshly plucked wildflowers, but nearly dropped it at the sight of the Mandalorian. “Oh,” Nina said quietly. “You’re awake.”

Song rubbed her tired eyes, wondering if this was all still a dream. “Where is he?” she asked. “Where’s Kanan?”

“Talking with Mama.” The little girl stared at her for a long minute. “You’re pretty without your helmet on.”

“Thanks.” Song wiped her forehead of sweat and climbed to her feet. Her legs wobbled, too weak to stand, and she held onto the edge of her cot for balance. Looking concerned, Nina set the vase aside and tried to guide her back into bed.

“Stay. Mama said you need rest.”

Who was this girl to tell a Mandalorian what to do? Song was tempted to push her aside, but Nina lifted her nose and stared her down angrily. If looks could kill, that would be it. “Stay,” she insisted. “I will fetch Mama and your big friend.”

Song sighed. There was no point arguing with a child. “Fine.”

Nina retreated out of the room. Moments later, she returned with Kanan and Amita in tow, her tiny hand pulling on her mother’s. “See? I told you she was awake.”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Amita Ghafa did not hesitate to welcome Kanan back into her home. She noticed Song unconscious in his arms and took charge of the situation without a second thought. "Bring her in here," she said, leading the Sector Ranger into a spare room of the cottage.

The bedroom was small with little more than a cot and armchair in the way of furniture, but it was comfortable and homey. Carefully, and as if she were the most precious being in the whole galaxy, Kanan placed Song on the cot.

Amita situated herself beside Song on the edge of the cot, leaning over the Mandalorian as she told her daughter, Nina, to run and fetch a basin with warm water and some bandages. Amita began removing the Mandalorian's armor.

"What can I do?" Kanan asked, hoping there was something, anything he could do to help.

"You can place her things over there in that chair," came Amita's reply, handing Kanan a pair of Mandalorian gauntlets. He dutifully obeyed, and it wasn't long before Nina had returned with the basin of water and bandages, just as her mother had told her to.

"Here you go, Mama," the little girl said quietly.

"Thank you, darling." Amita took the basin and bandages from her daughter and with practiced hands began to clean and wrap Song's side and bruised knuckles.

Kanan stood back, knowing that he would only be in the retired ranger's way if he tried to help. His brown eyes remained fixed on Song, unmoving and aware of each breath she took and every movement she made, however small and insignificant. Only now that she was situated comfortably and being cared for could he feel himself begin to relax. His heart no longer raced, and his muscles no longer strained. Only the knot in his stomach remained, and he didn't think that would go away any time soon. The thought of losing her was unbearable.

Song's Mandalorian armor piled in a nearby chair, she no longer had the form of a man, and that was something Kanan would have to get used to. He didn't imagine it would be too difficult. She was, in a single word that still was not able to fully describe her, absolutely beautiful.

Her deep, dark eyes were forever fixed in his memory, and he couldn't wait until she awoke and he could stare into them as he had before. He couldn't wait to hear her soft voice again, to listen to her talk about anything and everything. He wanted to touch her smooth, silky hair again and experience the same sensation in his fingertips as he had before. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly to himself and never let her go.

What is wrong with me? he thought, ashamed as he interrupted the train of thought he had so eagerly welcomed into his mind and entertained. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"She should rest," Amita said, suddenly right beside him. He hadn't even noticed her stand up and walk over to him.

"Shouldn't I stay with her?" Kanan asked, not wanting to leave Song's side for even a moment.

Amita took her daughter's hand and shook her head softly at Kanan. "She ought to be left alone, and I think we could all use a bite to eat." Perhaps the prospect of a warm, homecooked meal would coax him away.

Yielding, the Sector Ranger followed mother and daughter out, stopping in the doorway to look at Song once more before he left her to her sleep.

Kanan needed to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied, so while Amita prepared something for them to eat, he insisted that he begin cleaning up the damage left in the wake of her brawl with Song. There wasn't much he could do about the hole in the living room wall at the moment, but he could sweep and pick up knocked over furniture as well as anyone.

After dinner was finished, Amita washed the dishes and Kanan dried them, the two of them discussing shared experiences with the Sector Rangers. Kanan couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything as simple as drying dishes after a meal, probably not since his last visit to Yavin 4. It was nice, and it was no wonder Amita enjoyed her life here by the sea with her husband and daughter.

Nina came into the kitchen. "Mama, she is awake," the young girl said, pulling on her mother's hand as she led her toward the spare room. Kanan followed closely behind them, suddenly aware of the knot in his stomach again. Upon entering the room, his eyes instantly sought Song.

"How do you feel?" he asked right away, resisting the urge to sit beside her on the cot and take her pale hand in his.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“I’m good,” said Song. “Just have a headache, is all.”

She wanted to get back up again, to walk across the room and throw her arms around Kanan's shoulders, glad to be alive, but she resisted the urge. Her focus had turned onto Amita, who stood quietly by a potted fern, dark eyes glittering in the light. They were in her cottage. Song was in her home.

“You're helping me, after everything I did to you? Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Amita said, echoing the same words she'd told her before. Only this time around did Song finally understand the sympathy and compassion behind them.

No matter what the Mandalorian had put Amita through, the woman still cared. Despite everything, despite the endangerment of her child and the obvious hole in her kitchen wall, Amita was still willing to forgive and forget. It was a testament to her capacity for love. It was a sign of just how wrong Song had been when she entered this cozy home looking for revenge.

She should say sorry. She should bow low and offer gratitude for taking her in. She should lay at her feet and beg forgiveness. It was the least Amita deserved.

“I...” Song began, but before she could even continue, Amita smiled and shook her head, as if she could read the words on her face. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t owe me anything, Mandalorian. My people do not turn away those in need, enemy or not. I can only hope that we may make amends.”

The idea would have been ridiculous to the Song that had first walked through the front door of Amita's cottage. Amends? It just didn't seem possible, and yet, now that she could breathe normally again, now that she was free of River's armor, it didn't seem so absurd anymore. “I loved my brother, more than anything, but I understand why you did what you did. Had I been in your shoes, I would have done the same to protect my family. I don't know if I will ever be able to forget, but I can forgive.”

Amita looked deeply grateful. “Thank you. It is all I ask.”

Song nodded. She hadn’t considered just how important those words may have meant to Amita. Knowing that the man she murdered had a family, the Ranger must have felt crushed by guilt and remorse. It was astonishing. It simply didn't make sense. How could one have so much empathy for their enemies?

She took a short glance at Kanan. Must be a Sector Ranger thing, she thought. Whole bunch of softies. Maybe the galaxy really was in good hands, though.

Amita, noting the silence, bobbed her head and said, “You must be thirsty. I have some leftover tea in the kitchen. How about I fix you a cup?”

“I’d appreciate that,” said Song. “Thank you.”

Amita smiled, then took her daughter’s hand. “Come, Nina. It’s impolite to stare. Let’s give them a moment to breath.”

The two of them exited the spare bedroom and back into the kitchen, leaving her and Kanan alone. Together they sat there for a long minute, an awkward silence hanging in the air like morning fog. There was a thousand things she could say to him. What time was it? What day? Had he slept at all? Instead, Song only looked him up and down, then smirked.

“You look like shit.”

After a moment, she began to laugh. It hurt her ribs, but she didn’t care. It had been too long since she had laughed around him, or around anyone, for that matter. She was herself again. The sound of her own voice would take some getting used to—especially after years of speaking only through her brother’s voice modulator—but she enjoyed it. This was what freedom felt like.

Once she was finished, Song wiped a tear from her eye and looked up again at him. He was all smooth lines and sharp angles, and if she could describe him in one word, it was striking. Handsome, even. She could stay there and gape at those piercing eyes of his for an eternity, like some hopeless schoolgirl, but she would do no such thing. Instead she turned out to the window, where she could hear the slosh of the sea, and she couldn’t help but ask, “What now?”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

"You're sure?" he almost asked but thought better of it, knowing the question would be redundant and come off as entirely unnecessary. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe of the small room and remained silent and still, allowing the relief to soak in as he listened to the conversation that followed.

Song was the first to break the silence that hung between the two women, both so different from one another. It must have struck her as odd that the retired Ranger would welcome her into her own home with open arms after Song had broken in, busted a hole in the wall, and thrown furniture around. That she would clean and bandage Song's wounds when she had left her own wounds on Amita, threatened to kill her, and pointed a blaster at her only daughter.

Amita Ghafa's compassion seemed to know no bounds, her forgiveness and kindness unparalleled. She earnestly regretted having to kill River, despite it being necessary for her own survival and her family's well-being. At her own risk, she had returned his body to Krownest. She was the personification of the Sectors Ranger's motto: what others abandon, we protect. She was unlike any Ranger Kanan had ever met, and although the two Rangers were not far apart in age, he knew he could learn from her example.

It was no wonder former colleagues spoke so highly of her, that the locals considered her a hero. The Sector Rangers had lost a good Ranger when she retired, and he doubted anyone would ever be able to fill her shoes. However great the loss of the Sector Rangers, he was pleased that she had found happiness and peace here on Chandrila. If anyone deserved it, she did.

It seemed that all Amita Ghafa desired now was forgiveness, and Song offered her exactly that. The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, broken when Amita offered to fix Song a cup of leftover tea. She was always thinking of others. Thankfully, she did not offer Kanan another cup.

"It's impolite to stare," Amita told her daughter, spurring Kanan back to reality. Perhaps Nina was not the only one in the room who needed that reminder.

He realized he had been staring at Song, and he hadn't even been aware of it until that moment. He couldn't even remember when the staring had begun. How was that possible? Redirecting his gaze, his eyes settled on the first thing he could find: a potted fern near where Amita had been standing.

The plant did not hold his attention long. It was simply a diversion. Alone at last, Kanan crossed the room and sat down beside Song on the cot. He fixed his gaze on the wooden floorboards beneath his shoes and didn't say a word.

Then Song began to laugh, and the sound of it warmed Kanan's heart. He could have said the same about her. He could have told her, "You don't look so great yourself," but he knew it would be a lie. Despite her bruises and bandages and the sweat that dotted her brow, he still found her lovely. So he joined in the laughter instead, content to insult her another day and simply enjoy the lighthearted moment.

"That would be up to you," he replied when the laughter had died down. "What do you want to do?"

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Up to me? Alright. How does a beach vacation to Dagobah sound?” It was clearly a joke, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if Kanan shrugged and took her up on that offer. He’d always been like that: going wherever she went, no matter the risks involved. They had come a long way from that nauseating desert cantina. From rivals to allies, and allies to friends, and friends to something more. She wouldn’t call it love. Partners, maybe? Companions?

She smiled to herself. It made no difference. They were closer than ever before, and there was no telling what else the future had in store between them.

“I don’t know, actually,” she answered honestly, looking out the window. “After everything I’ve learned about my brother, I don’t know if the life of a bounty hunter is what I want anymore. Chasing cheap bounties across the Outer-Rim is decidedly not something I’d like to do for the rest of my days.” She teased him with a smile. “I could join the Independent Systems. Maybe even the Sector Rangers.”

On paper, the idea seemed great. She could go out there and help real people. She could make the galaxy a better place for those who nobody believed worthy to live in it. In the face of the AMS pandemic and a surge of Sith activity, she could do more than play at mercenary. It would be just like that settlement back on Felucia, just her and Kanan.

If only it was that easy.

“No, I don't think I'll be joining them anytime soon,” she continued, a pang of regret in her voice. “For too long, I’ve been running from my past. As a daughter of Clan Wren. As a Mandalorian. I’m thinking maybe it’s time I go back home and reconcile with what family I have left. They may need help in the wars to come.”

Song thought of her mother Haliya, the hazy dream of their mountain home. When you’re ready to come home, I’ll be waiting. It was an omen, an invitation. Krownest was calling, and she had to answer. “I won’t need your help this time. I know you have your own responsibilities with the Rangers. Whatever happens next, I can do on my own.”

It was the truth, but why did it hurt so much to say it?

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

A vacation didn't sound half bad. Though Kanan wasn't sure the Dagobah System would be his destination of choice, he supposed the place didn't matter so much as the company. It was merely a joke. Nothing more than a passing diversion, and they both knew it. That was just as well. It had been so long since Kanan had taken a vacation or had any free time on his hands, he probably wouldn't know where to begin. The same could probably be said for Song.

"Somehow I can't picture a Mandalorian lounging on the beach," he said with a certain amount of mirth to his voice.

Song had never failed to surprise Kanan. It was always safest to expect the unexpected with her, and even that did not prepare you more often than not. He never thought he would hear her to utter the words, "I could join the Independent Systems. Maybe even the Sector Rangers."

The idea was new, and he couldn't quite picture her as an ISC Ranger or Sector Ranger yet, but he knew she had the heart for it, and she certainly had the necessary skills. Both organizations would be fortunate to count her among their number. Song wasn't the Bounty Hunter he had first met back in that grimy alleyway. He'd always hoped there was more to the Mandalorian than the single desire to join the Bounty Hunter's Guild, and she had proven to him that there was, over and over again.

"If you do ever change your mind, the Rangers would be lucky to have you. As would ISC." He smiled. "I know which organization I'd rather you join, but keep your options open. Our Chief isn’t too popular, and I hear ISC pays better."

Until then, her destination was Mandalore. Krownest. Her home. Song had come a long way. She had reconciled herself to her brother's death, and she had finally brought peace to herself. That was not an easy task. Sometimes it took years. Sometimes it never happened at all. Kanan was proud of her, happy for her, and he was sure River would be, too. The Sector Ranger just hoped Song's father would feel the same way.

Song said she didn't need him, and he knew that was the truth. She had never needed his help to begin with. Everything she had accomplished, every choice she had made was her own. He knew her words rung true and yet, for whatever reason, they were hard for him to hear. They echoed in his mind. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted... well, it didn't matter. Anyway, he wasn't sure he knew what he wanted.

Kanan recalled the conversation he and Song had shared over a campfire deep in the jungles of Felucia. She had not spoken of her father with fondness. Their relationship was complicated at best. Song did not need Kanan's help, but he was happy to offer it all the same. He'd always be there for her if she needed him, no matter what he was doing, no matter how many light-years he would have to travel to get to her.

"I know you and your father don't have the greatest relationship," Kanan began, trying to choose his words carefully. He wasn't sure how else to put it. Words didn't always come easily to him. As he searched for what to say next, he stood up, just in case it was goodbye. "If you'd like someone to tag along with you and keep you company, I'd be more than happy to."

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” said Song, voice light with laughter. She missed this. Just the two of them bonding through the night, talking about things that didn’t have to do with life or death, misery or grief.

If she went to Krownest alone, who would be there to talk with her like this? With who could she confide in? There was her mother Haliya, headstrong and empathetic, the same way as Amita, but it had been years since they last saw each other. There was no telling what kind of woman she was now.

As for Song’s father, that was a different story. He had always favored her brother. When River passed, he’d turned cold and sour, to the point where staying with him was impossible. It was another reason why she stole River’s armor and left Krownest in the first place. In the time since then, her father may have disowned her from the clan, or petitioned to have her hunted for the slight against him. If she went alone and discovered he wanted her dead, would she be able to escape?

Song was pulled out of her fraying thoughts when Kanan climbed to his feet, as if readying to leave. Was this where they’d say their goodbyes? A small part of her felt a jolt of panic, and by instinct, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, anchoring him beside her. It was only a moment later that Song realized what she’d done.

An embarrassed flush crept up her neck. Quickly enough, she slid her hand away from him, awkwardly running it through tangles of her hair. “Sorry.”

Song cleared her throat and resumed the conversation where it left off, trying to pretend nothing had happened. “I wouldn’t want for my family drama to get in the way of your duties, Kanan. I’ve already eaten up enough of your time. If we go to Krownest together, I don’t know how long you might be stuck there with me. I don’t know what my father might think, bringing a Sector Ranger into our home.”

She felt ashamed to say it. Clan Wren were not fans of outsiders. Still, she held out hope for her family, praying they might have at least changed for the better since she left them to the cold.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

"I could put in a good word for you too. Not that it would count for much," he chuckled.

Now on his feet, Kanan sighed deeply within himself. The next logical step was to move toward the door, to put one foot in front of the other and push forward. It was the simplest thing in the world, and yet he couldn't find the willpower to do it. He didn't even want to be on his feet, let alone leave the room. The thought of leaving Song and returning to his duties, alone as always, was almost unbearable. But he had suffered through the unbearable before, and he could do it again. At least, that's what he told himself.

Until a pale hand wrapped around his wrist, its warmth spreading through his entire arm and unraveling all of his resolve. Instantly, his eyes searched out Song's, so deep and alluring. She released her grip on his wrist almost immediately, and emotion flashed across her face. Embarrassment? Regret? He couldn't be sure.

It appeared she wanted to forget it had happened, so he didn't say anything, as much as he might have wanted to. His wrist ached from the loss of her touch, and he wished more than anything that it was his hand running through her dark strands of hair instead of hers.

As for Song's father, Kanan didn't give two bantha ticks about his opinion of him. Sector Rangers couldn't afford to worry about other's opinions. They weren't popular with everyone, and that was just the way the galaxy worked. Perhaps there had been a time when Kanan cared what others thought of him, but he'd gotten over that a long time ago. Sector Rangers had a duty and an obligation to do the right thing and to protect others above themselves, hang the social consequences and public opinion. Whatever Song's father might think of his profession or of him personally, he wouldn't care.

Anyway, I can't say I think much of your father either, Kanan thought to himself, recalling their campfire conversation. Song had spoken ill of her father on Felucia, but it did not necessarily follow that she wanted Kanan to do the same, so he kept his mouth shut.

"If you're that worried about it, I can stay on your ship. I'll throw a sleeping bag in the hull, and you can bring food by whenever you get the chance. No one has to ever know I'm there," he joked, hoping to cheer her up, regardless of her decision. He just wanted her to be happy, whether they said goodbye now or later.

"Besides," he added, trying to keep his tone light but the sincerity behind his words visible in his eyes, "You should know by now that I don't mind being stuck with you." Kanan had a backlog of unused time off. If push came to shove, he could dip into that. "I enjoy it, actually."

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Are you suggesting I make you my own personal pet?” Song cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Krownest isn’t exactly a world known for its delicacies, so I hope you like the taste of porridge and tree bark, because it’s all you’ll be eating.”

She smiled. Another joke, of course. Clan Wren may not dine like kings, but they enjoyed weekly feasts of smoked venison and hare, and from the greenhouses by the main stronghold, they grew a variety of apples and figs. The very thought made her salivate. She’d gone the last day without an ounce of food, but right now, her hunger was more out of nostalgia.

Home. Family. It had been so long since she last saw them. Song might tell herself on a daily basis of how terrible she'd been treated there, especially by her father, but deep down she missed the good old days with her mother, cooking stew and training in the forest. Back then, when everything was so simple. When it was just her and the Way.

Still, she did not regret leaving the cold. Had she stayed, she would’ve never met Kanan. She would have never known his voice, his smile, his touch.

Song didn’t have to look in his eyes to know he was being sincere. She understood just how much he cared, how much he wanted to help. “You haven’t changed at all since Felucia,” she said with a faraway smile. “I wish we could go back to then, when it was just monsters we were facing and not my family. But as long as you’re with me, I could care less what we’re up against.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the bedside before coming to a rise. Her legs felt weak, the bone marrow like lead, but she met his eye as a Mandalorian would. “If this is what you really want, then I’d be happy to have you, Ranger.”

Song extended a hand. But whether or not he took it, only a moment after did Nina poke her tiny head through the doorframe and interrupt, “Are you done yet? Tea’s ready!”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan chuckled to himself, scratching his beard. " Well, maybe not forever. I don't know how long I could stand a diet of only porridge and tree bark, even for you. I'm afraid I'd only last a few days."

Although he understood Song's reasoning, Kanan did not feel the same way. He did not wish they were back on Felucia. Not because of the acklay infestation or because of the Felucian ripper that had drug him into the river, but because now that he knew who Song truly was beneath the mask, he never wanted to go back. He loved each and every memory the pair had made on the jungle planet in the Outer Rim, even the memory of dangling helplessly above the hungry and waiting mouth of a sarlacc pit, but he wouldn't go back. He could still remember the rank stench of the creature's mouth. Perhaps that memory in particular was not so beloved.

"Are you telling me you'd rather fight off a swarm of acklay, Felucian rippers, and a sarlacc pit rather than face your family again? Maybe I really should reconsider," he laughed, not at all serious. She did not paint a welcoming picture for Kanan or herself on Krownest, but it did not matter. So long as he was with her, he did not mind. Maybe, hopefully Song would be welcomed home with open arms, and all would be well.

Song shifted on her cot before standing up. The movement had to be painful, but Kanan wasn't going to protest. Trying to tell the Mandalorian what to do had never gone over well. She had a mind of her own, not to mention a temper to match. "I'd be happy to have you, Ranger" were the words he had been hoping to hear her say, and she did.

The inevitable goodbye he dreaded so much had been delayed, at least for a few more days. Perhaps even longer. Only the future would tell, and Kanan was looking forward to it. Even if Song did try to make it out to be scary.

She extended a hand to Kanan, and he was eager to take it. Nina stuck her head in at that exact moment, however, to announce that tea was ready. Kanan's hand retreated, not wanting to touch Song in front of the small girl. He knew it was silly. It was only a simple handshake, after all, innocent as could be, and yet it felt like so much more than that.

Kanan stepped aside and tilted his head toward Nina with a smile. "I think you have an admirer," he told Song.

@Feng Mian