TWENTY EIGHT.
crimson threads of hatred!
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Zoya's back is pressed flat against the wall, the engravings on her dagger's hilt printing lines into her palm. The Twi'lek sits a few lengths away on the opposite wall next to Mayfeld, balancing the tip of her own blade on her finger, eyes wild and crazed, as Burg paces across the floor of the ship, his footfalls like the rumble of an approaching storm.

After their almost-something in the passageway from the ramp earlier, Din had split towards the cockpit while Zoya had gone down to the belly of the ship to see what Mayfeld had yelled about, the line of her jaw still burning from the touch of his bare fingers.

It had turned out that he was just impatient, ready to leave, and had wanted to make sure they had boarded. When he'd told Zoya so, she'd felt an irrational burst of anger in her chest at him for interrupting them for a reason so inconsequential and trivial. She'd almost wanted to punch Mayfeld in his annoyingly arrogant face, but she'd held back, reminding herself of the assignment they still have yet to complete.

Now, Zoya stares at him, unable to keep the scowl from twisting her mouth and knitting her brows together. He doesn't even pick up on the heat radiating from her eyes, nor the way animosity palpably exudes from her.

As Burg passes by Xi'an once again, she releases an aggrieved sigh, glaring up at his back. "Will you sit down?"

The Devaronain turns, baring his teeth as he slams his fists into the ceiling with a thud. Xi'an hisses, open-mouthed, in return, the knife still balanced on her finger. Burg merely laughs in response, the sound deep and unsettling.

When the ship jumps into hyperspace, Burg moves around, exploring the belly of the ship. He stoops next to a keypad, squinting at the small buttons. Zoya watches him silently, ready to leap forward at any second. After examining the numbers, he pokes his wide, flat fingers onto a few with steady beeps.

Zoya pushes off the wall. "Don't fucking touch that."

The metal doors to Din's arsenal of weapons pull open as she speaks, and Burg looks towards it, a disturbing grin sprawling across his wide face. "Think I will," he says, letting out another rumbling laugh.

Zoya flips her knife to her other hand. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

Just as he reaches into the tall safe, Din jumps down from the ladder, pressing a button set into the small panel on his forearm's armor. The doors swing closed, knocking the Devaronian's hands out of the way. He slams his hand against the metal in frustration, pivoting slowly to face Din, who easily catches the beast's thick wrist as he reaches for the panel again. Burg growls, stepping closer to get in his face.

"Hey, hey, hey! Okay, I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space, too. So, let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore," Mayfeld interrupts, like he does best.

Burg's lip curls. "Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian."

"To pick up the slack that shirkers like you leave behind," Zoya volleys back, meeting the Devaronian's glare head on when he turns to her. The fact that he's nearly three times her size doesn't seem to register in her mind.

"And apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy." Mayfeld's brow raises. "So they say."

"They are," Zoya bites out, clenching her teeth.

Burg growls out a laugh. "Then why are they all dead?"

Rage accumulates in her chest, hot and thick and sweltering as it unspools throughout her body, lava oozing from a volcano about to explode. The others laugh, and as Burg starts to walk past her, Zoya snarls, "You fucking—"

Din's arm catches her across the waist and pulls her back; the tip of her dagger barely misses the line of Burg's spine as she collides into Din's chest. His voice is a breath in her ear, low and quiet, the roughness of it smoothed out into a whisper. "Zoya, it's okay."

Even as Mayfeld's eyes land on her, sensing the tension clouding the air even though none of them had seen her attempt to kill Burg mere heartbeats before, she hardens her jaw as shards of ice burrow into her eyes. His gaze flicks down to Din's arm across her torso, holding her back, and his brows raise as he glances away, towards the Twi'lek, who still balances the point of her knife on her pointer finger.

"Well, you flew with him, Xi'an," Mayfeld says. "Is he as good as they say?"

Wrenching herself out of Din's arms, Zoya slams her dagger back into the holster, so violently that it's a shock the leather's seams don't split in two. She doesn't want to hear about the time Xi'an and Din had spent together, how long it was, where they went, what they did together. Her teeth catch harshly at the inside of her cheek, and her mouth fills with a metallic taste.

"Ask him about the job on Alzoc III," the Twi'lek replies, without looking away from her knife. The tip of her tongue lingers on her upper lip.

Din merely says, "I did what I had to do."

Xi'an releases a breath of a laugh and allows her blade to fall back into her palm. Turning to Din, she returns, "Oh, but you liked it." His helmet tips slowly as he looks at her. "See, I know who you really are. I'm sure I know you even better than she does." The last part is added with a flick of her blade Zoya's way. Zoya doesn't miss the twinge of jealousy she can feel twisting in her stomach, ugly and wickedly green.

"He never takes off the helmet?" Mayfeld asks.

"'This is the Way,'" Xi'an mocks.

Zoya unsheathes her blade once more, picking at the dirt underneath her fingernails, calm exterior a façade for the storm brewing within her chest.

"Huh. I wonder what you look like under there," Mayfeld says, looking towards Din. "Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face?" At his words, Burg and Xi'an erupt in laughter. When they've quieted, Mayfeld turns back to Xi'an. "You ever seen his face?"

She smirks. "A lady never tells."

Zoya's whole body freezes over, and the blade nearly stills in her hand. "The next person to say a gods-damned word is getting their throat slit," she says mildly, but the undercurrent of ice in her tone is unmistakable. Din stiffens, jerking his head to look at her; Zoya doesn't acknowledge his stare.

Mayfeld snorts. "You must be fun to have at parties."

She meets his eyes without a trace of emotion in hers. "Oh, I'm the best. Can't say the same for you lot, though."

"Don't get catty," Xi'an purrs.

Zoya's lip curls, and her frosty stare drills into the Twi'lek's unflinchingly. "Don't give me a reason to be."

Xi'an bares her sharp canines, and Mayfeld leans forward, intrigued. "Wait. Have you seen his face?" Her mouth tightens, and she remains silent, eyes flicking to Din. Mayfeld must take it as confirmation. "Aw. Come on, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show the rest of us something," he pressures.

"He doesn't have to show you anything," Zoya says.

"Oh, come on. Just lift the helmet up," Mayfeld insists, staring at Din, the others along with him. "Come on. Let's all see your eyes."

"I'll do it," Burg grunts, stepping forward.

Zoya doesn't even have time to flinch before Din reacts, slamming Burg's hands out of the way, blocking his next punches with enviable ease, and kicking him in the chest. The Devaronian stumbles back, catching himself on the wall. One of his hands scrabbles at a small control panel, and the door to where they'd hidden the child springs open.

The child coos, and everyone becomes transfixed. Zoya stares, first at the child, then to Din, desperately wanting this to be a dream.

"Whoa!" Mayfeld stands, moving towards the small chamber. "What is that? You get lonely up here, buddy? Huh?" He stares down at the child, then spins back to Xi'an. "Wait a minute. Did you two make that?" Zoya bristles but forces herself to remain silent, praying that Din knows what to do, how to diffuse the situation. "What is it, like a pet or something?"

Din's voice is low and hard when he replies. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Didn't take you for the type," Xi'an says, stepping closer to the Mandalorian until they're nearly nose to nose. "Maybe that code of yours has made you soft."

Zoya's moving away from the wall before she has time to think. "Back the fuck up," she snarls, pushing between them. They're practically the same height, and when Xi'an glares at her, they're inches apart. Zoya scowls in return, painfully aware of the weight of her dagger dangling from her fingers, begging to be used.

Letting a smirk tug at her lips, Xi'an steps back without breaking eye contact. "Careful how you speak to me, sweetheart."

"Me, I was never really into pets," Mayfeld says as he looks away from the child, blissfully unaware of the rapidly escalating tension between the Twi'lek and Zoya. "I didn't have the temperament. Patience, you know? I mean, I tried, but never worked out. But I'm thinking . . . maybe, I'll try again. With this little fella."

He reaches down to pick up the child. Zoya and Din start forward at the same time, on red alert as Mayfeld cradles the creature in his arms, alarms blaring in their ears that are inaudible to the rest of their company. Mayfeld seems to notice the way they're both coiled like springs and attempts to make them startle, pretending to drop the child as the creature gurgles. Neither of them move, sensing the fake-out, but he laughs anyway.

Then, Zero's voice echoes over the intercom. "Dropping out of hyperspace, now." The ship lurches, and Din catches Zoya as she nearly falls over backward, arm looping behind her back. "Commencing final approach, now. Cloaking signal, now."

The Razor Crest heaves and dips, sending everyone in the ship flying to the ground. The child tumbles from Mayfeld's hands, dropping onto the floor with a cry. Zoya pulls away from Din to jump towards him, scooping him up into her arms before the ship careens to the side once more, rattling as Zero pilots it mercilessly.

"Engaging coupling, now."

Din's suddenly at her side when Zoya tries to get up and helps her to her feet, checking on both her on the child as he does.

"You okay?" he asks.

She nods shortly. "Yeah. He is too, I think."

"Coupling confirmed. We are down. And relax. Commence extraction, now."

"Useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown," Xi'an spits, the two lavender lekku hanging from her head falling over her shoulders as Burg picks up two fallen cases easily, throwing them out of the way with a grunt.

Din touches the child's forehead carefully, then says, quietly enough that no one else can hear him, "Will you put him back into his bed? I don't trust . . ."

Even as he trails off, Zoya nods. "I will."

She steps towards the small chamber where the child had been concealed, settling him inside as Mayfeld presses a button on his comm. "Z, are you sure they can't see us?"

"The Razor Crest is scrambling our signature, and I am inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship has survived the Empire without being impounded."

"All right, we got a job to do," Mayfeld says. "Mando, you're up."

Din steps towards where the hatch opens, kneeling before it. He presses a button, revealing the access point of the New Republic prison ship. Zoya watches him, unaware of the leer that passes between Xi'an, Mayfeld, and Burg while she's focused on Din.

As he attaches a device to the hatch, the three others gather around to watch as it begins to beep rapidly, a small scarlet light flashing repeatedly until it turns green. The metal teeth that guard the opening slowly pull back, disappearing into the sides of the circular chute. Din unhooks the device, standing up. The others exchange a look as he glances across the opening towards Zoya. He knows her well enough to see the tightness of her shoulders, how her stance is wide, braced, as if she's about to throw a punch, the way her expression darkens with distrust as she stares, cold and unflinching, at their company.

"It's me?" Mayfeld asks.

Burg grunts. "Always you."

As the man kneels, readying himself to infiltrate the Republic ship, Zoya finally looks up at Din once again. The tightening of her chest, the yearning that floods her body, despite their situation, is a warmth Zoya hasn't felt in so long that she doesn't know how to express it, how to handle having it pull at her lips, desperate to come forth. Though Zoya can't see his eyes, when his helmet tips up for a moment, she feels his gaze. A string of unspoken words tautens between them, from their moment earlier, alone in the ship, to everything they want to say aloud now.

In the end, as they prepare themselves, all she can do is dip her head slightly while she keeps her gaze locked on his visor, knowing in her heart that he's looking right back at her, her eyes telling him everything she can't find the strength to voice.

I trust you.

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y'all i'm so sorry i haven't updated this since last decade 😔

also, i put this in the gallery but i had to include it here too!! made by the amazing -lxcifer — thank u so much!!