AHHHH LOOK WHAT I MADE^^^

Sorry about that, I'm a fangirl...

Anyways, here ya go!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: The Mandalorian (Part Three)

Karga reached into his right pocket of his jacket with a hum.

"I have a bail jumper... a bail jumper... another bail jumper, a wanted smuggler." He said, placing down each puck one at a time with a metal thump.

"I'll take them all." Mando said quickly, reaching for the pucks.

I opened my mouth to snap at him, but Karga beat me to the chase.

"No, hold on," He said, placing his hands over the pucks before either of us could argue. "There are other members of the Guild, and this is all I have."

I furrowed my brows at his statement. "Why so slow?"

"Its not slow at all, actually. Very busy." Karga countered, running a finger along one of the pucks, tracing its circular shape as he stared at his reflection in my visor. "They just don't want to pay Guild rates."

He gestured with his head to a group of bounty hunters watching us from the bar. "They don't mind if things get sloppy."

I scoffed, whipping my head to look at them, making all of them shrink back in fear, before staring back at Karga.

I leaned closer to him, clenching one of my fists on the table, while I resisted the urge to draw my blaster with the other, annoyance and anger pounding through me.

"So, your telling me your not gonna give me the damn pucks because I make sure my job is done right?!" I growled incredulously, my eyes narrowed.

Who in the hell did he think he was?

Not giving me my next bounty because I don't let things get sloppy?

Was he serious?

I wasn't even pissed about the fact that he wouldn't let me have them. It was the fact that those credits would be going directly into some lowlifes pocket for another shot of Ragnar, when I could be using them to help my people.

I make sure fifty percent of all of my pay went to the Tribe, because we actually needed those credits.

There was mouths to feed, Beskar to clean, training that needed to be done for the foundlings.

What if one of them got sick?

What if because Karga didn't let me do my job, a foundling died?

The meer thought of that made my anger and guilt grow tenfold, but I held it back, telling myself to save it for the days ahead.

I gritted my teeth, leaning back against the seat of the booth as much as my jetpack would allow with a small huff of anger though my nose.

Karga's eyes were watching my every move, and he gulped nervously, the fear he was trying so hard to hide obvious in his movements.

The other Mando turned his head to look at me a little, looking to me like he was having some sort of internal struggle.

He leaned closer, but I kept my head facing forward as he turned his head to whisper in my ear.

"Cuyir gar alright?" He murmured so low, his modulator almost didn't pick it up.

Ah, so he'd noticed the way my shoulders sagged with grief.

The sound of his voice sent chills down my spine, and it made my breath hitch in the back of my throat.

Even though I had already heard him speak, this time it was different.

He was talking to me.

And he cared.

Why, I didn't know.

I didn't know how to respond.

I had never had someone talk to me in such a thoughtful and caring tone.

And by Mandalore, I loved the sound of his voice.

It was masculine and as deep as the Kaminoian oceans, yet as smooth as the finest whiskey, and somehow I couldn't get enough of it.

I leaned away from him slightly so our helmets wouldn't brush, as I turned my head to look at him.

The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally give him a Keldabe Kiss.

I studied him closely, my eyes raking over him. I took in every dent, every fleck of paint, every scratch in his Beskar, finally looking into his visor with mine.

He was so close to me, there was only a few inches of space between our armored bodies.

My prideful warrior instincts screamed at me to shove him way, but something deep inside of me liked having him so near.

There was something about my Mandalorian stranger that I couldn't quite grasp.

Who was this man, and why did he care about how I felt?

I remembered he asked me if I was alright.

Was I?

No.

Was he?

Probably not.

But was anyone that lived this life ok?

Hell no.

I leaned a little closer to his comforting presence, and I could've swore he did the same.

"Cuyir any be mhi?" I whispered back quietly, before I forced myself to tear away my gaze, turning away from him and his question.

Tears wanted to form in my eyes as memories from the war resurfaced.

The Night of a Thousand Tears.

No.

Bodies of my dead brothers and sisters by the creed.

No.

The fact that I almost died too, and I couldn't save them.

No.

I closed my eyes, forcing a breath down my tear-clogged throat and into my burning lungs.

I couldn't cry.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever.

I had to be strong, for me and my people.

For my Tribe.

My Way.

I took a deep breath, forcing down all emotion, and recited the Code of Honor in my head, needing to calm my racing heart.

Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule.

I unclenched my jaw.

Loyalty is life, for without one's clan, one has no purpose.

I mouthed the familiar words, the tension in my shoulders beginning to dissipate.

Honor is life, for with no honor, one may as well be dead.

Pride and strength rush into my tired body, making me straighten the slouch in my spine.

Death is life, for one should die as they have lived.

I opened my eyes.

This Is The Way.

I met Karga's gaze undauntingly, who looked a little taken back at my sudden change in posture and attitude.

The male watched me curiously, before humming and looking at Karga aswell.

"What's your highest bounty?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, making Greef focus his attention on him instead.

I didn't care, I wanted to know the answer too, so long as I could get out of here as soon as possible.

"Not much." Karga shrugged, raising his eyebrows. "Five thousand."

That caught my attention.

"That's it?" I questioned, furrowing my brows in disbelief.

"That won't even cover fuel these days." Mando agreed as we both stared at him expectantly.

Karga hummed as he looked down, picking at his fingers as he clicked his tongue, seemingly lost in thought.

He finally looked up after a few seconds, coming to a decision.

"There is one job."

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"Cuyir gar alright?"- "Are you alright?"

"Cuyir any be mhi?"- "Are any of us?"

Sorry about the ending, I know its crap...

Please comment, it really keeps me motivated!

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