"Honor is what separates us from all the aruetiise of the galaxy. It's our honor that binds us to one another as brothers and sisters, honor that keeps us true and calm in battle. It is honor alone that has led us to victory a thousand times, and it is honor that will lead us to victory a thousand times again. Our honor is what defines us, what guides us, what molds our lives into something beautiful and worthy of showing the galaxy. And those without honor are dar'manda, lost souls, unworthy of living but too pathetic to die."

- Gali Messada, Mandalore the Poet

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.

Peace of mind felt odd, decided Noha.

It was funny how long she had gone without it. So long, in fact, that she had forgotten what it felt like to feel as though she could truly relax. Four years spent under false identities and hopping from planet to planet while trying to outrun those who pursued her had left the woman constantly on edge, ready to get up and disappear again at a moment's notice.

She had heard it said before that most beings had one of two reactions when presented with danger: fight or flight. If that were true, she had no doubt as to which of the two she best embodied.

Noha had gotten good at disappearing, sneaking aboard vessels bound for off-world destinations and finding the right people to give her new identities when she arrived to a new space port. The identity chips of the dead that were sold on the black market had saved her hide many a time.

One month she had been Mara, the disowned daughter of a moisture farmer. After that, she had been Alawi, a simple tourist. Next, she had settled into the role of Lann, a foundling trying to make her way in the galaxy. That was how she had lived her last four years since she had slipped away from the Rebels who had taken her and the sparse few survivors from that laboratory.

It was easy to find identities to take on when you didn't really have one of your own. It was even easier to become someone else when you had no semblance of self, who you were, who you might have been, or who you were going to become.

Assuming different identities had been easier than addressing that ever-present doubt and anxious question in the back of her mind:

Who am I?

Where did I come from? Did I have anyone who loved me? Family? Friends? Or have I always been alone?

Those questions were ones she tried very hard not to dwell on. They made her uncomfortable.

So, she pretended to be others instead, running not just from those who sought to capture her, but from herself and her own forgotten identity.

It was easier that way.

And she'd spent so much time running, so much time learning how to be someone else over and over again, that it had become almost second nature to her. So much so that it was becoming harder with each day that passed to identify the bits and pieces that were unique to herself and herself alone.

Who was I before? Who am I now? Is it normal to feel like a stranger to yourself?

With so many civilian casualties during the galaxy-wide conflict, the black market had become ripe with identities of those who were dead but had not been officially registered as such because a body had never been recovered. Perhaps it was not the most moral of ways to go undetected, but it had been a necessity, especially since Noha had no identity or personal records of her own. And even if she did, even if she had somehow managed to discover who she had been years prior, that identity was compromised and unsafe to use.

There was a reason she had never gone looking. They would have known. And so she had remained anonymous.

Without an identity chip, it was nearly impossible to live. You couldn't buy or sell, you couldn't use any public services, and you couldn't leave the planet. So, she'd taken the identities of those who had died, cycling through them every few months just to be safe. She had also gotten good at stealing, because that had been an absolute necessity.

Noha had never been able to stick around one place for too long – the ones who were hunting for her and others like her eventually seemed to find their way to wherever she was hiding. She had little clue how they had been able to pick up her trail and catch up to her again and again, but there had been enough close calls for her to know that she could never allow herself to get comfortable anywhere. Dropping everything and running at a moment's notice was now ingrained in instinct.

So, the feeling of peace she currently held in her heart was one that felt utterly foreign.

Her eyes were still closed, but her other senses took control then, feeling out past her body to take note of the surroundings.

She was warm, and the feeling of a blanket that had been placed over her form was comforting, to an extent. There was a low hum of an engine system, one that she could place from her memory. Her sense of smell picked up on a musky sort of scent that might be coming from the blanket, as well as a faint whiff of cleaning chemicals and burnt fuel.

The Razor Crest, she was aboard the Mandalorian's ship. And that brought a sense of peace to her heart like none she had ever felt before.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt safe.

She knew, realistically speaking, that their situation was anything but safe. They were three rogues, three highly wanted individuals now that the former bounty hunter had betrayed his guild to take them away. They would be pursued and chased, it was certain.

Still, there was a comforting sense of ease to know she was currently warm and cosy aboard his ship. He was, after all, the first person who had ever truly helped her without expecting anything in return. And she would have known if he had any ulterior motives. Noha had an incredibly useful talent for sensing deceit, almost as though she could feel it.

The Mandalorian had been prepared to die trying to help them escape after his decision had been made, and that was a fact she would never forget. She had felt his certainty, as well as the burning need within him to right his wrongs before his death.

And without him, they would still be with the Scientist. That thought sent a small shudder wracking down her spine.

Heavy lids cracked open, and the dim light of the small sleeping cabin seemed much brighter than it was in reality.

How long have I been here?

Noha sat up with a groan, rubbing away the remnants of a deep sleep from her eyes and blinking a few times to clear the film that lingered there. Her limbs felt prickly and weighted as she pushed the blanket off her body and reached for what looked to be a stack of neatly-folded clothing at her feet.

A smile graced sleepy features as she fumbled for the standard tunic a few sizes too big for her, fingering the fabric inquisitively. She was beyond appreciative that he had thought to acquire something for her, and at that point, she would have worn anything if it was not the revealing and uncomfortable medical gown.

The dark grey tunic fell to her knees and the black pants that accompanied it hung loosely on her legs. Not anything fancy, and the worn material had seen better days, but the ensemble was loose and comfortable.

The waist of the black pants needed to be rolled so the material wouldn't fall off her hips, and the tunic was large enough that it kept slipping off one shoulder or the other, but it was certainly preferable to what she had previously worn.

Noha made quick work of discarding the medical shift in favour of the new clothes.

Stumbling towards what she assumed was the 'fresher on shaky legs, she grimaced when she saw her reflection in the small mirror that was rusted and oxidising around the edges.

I look like the back end of a bantha.

It wasn't her best look, admittedly. Half-starved and covered in fading bruises wasn't a good look for anyone, but there was nothing much she could do about that.

On the edges around the sink was a standard hygiene kit, and a razor without any cream to accompany it. The 'fresher itself looked as worn and outdated as the rest of his ship, but she still perceived it a luxury to be had.

She tore her gaze from the waif in the mirror and deftly braided long and messy locks away from her face. There was nothing to tie it with, and it would come undone in a matter of minutes, but at least it was out of her way while she used the sonic-waves to clear her skin of the sweat and grime she had accumulated.

When she exited the 'fresher, with a clean body and clean clothing, she startled upon seeing that there was company waiting for her.

The Mandalorian stood, with a squirming youngling in his arms and a posture that hinted at hesitancy on his end.

Noha paused, frozen in place as she took in the sight of the striking and imposing new armour that gleamed in the soft lighting.

She blurted the question before she truly thought about the affect it might have, not taking the time to assess her words before they were spoken.

"Is that how much our lives are worth?"

She saw him tense at her rhetorical question, and though it had not been meant with malice, she felt immediately guilty for having brought that up after the man had saved their lives. Noha backtracked quickly when she realised her error.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I was just-"

"No." He interrupted, cutting her off before she could finish that hasty apology. "The integrity and honour of this armour is one I'll have to build from scratch. Your anger is justified."

"I'm not angry." Replied the woman quickly, hoping he would take her words at face value. They were true, after all.

The only person she was angry with was herself.

He remained silent as he moved further inside the cargo hold, setting the youngling down on the cot but remaining standing for the time being. She sat next to the Little One, immediately picking it up to set it in her lap, the action habitual.

The silence was terrible, and she felt horrid that the first thing she had done was to say something so guilt-provoking after all he had done to help them. If it were not for the mercenary in front of her, she would still be with them.

She owed him her life and her freedom, and it was about time she expressed her gratitude for the hard decision he had made. She knew it would have been easier for him to have walked away, but he had come back.

"Thank you, Mandalorian." She finally said, looking up from the Little One to a visor of shining Beskar. "We're in your debt."

A pause, followed by a firm statement.

"This is the way."

He continued to hover by the door portal, as if unsure about what to do or say next.

That made two of them, then.

So, she did the only thing she really could in that moment to gain some sort of clarity. She used the Energy.

Noha focused, tuning in to the chords of energy that linked the universe together and feeling for him. She could sense him, and she could feel the raw emotion that fought for dominance within him – a never ending battle.

He was a disjointed turmoil of different emotions held in place by ferocious intelligence and instinct, lust for battle, and stark sense of duty and honour. And beneath all of that, something warmer, something hidden away from the galaxy.

Despite all of this warring within him, however, he remained quiet and composed. If she had not been able to feel his inner-turmoil and sense what came from within, she would have seen nothing but cold Beskar instead of the man underneath it.

If he felt her gentle probing at his spirit, he gave no sign of reaction. Perhaps he couldn't feel it at all. She still wasn't quite sure how any of it worked.

"You have questions." She announced softly, after feeling the uncertainty boiling within him.

"I do." The reply came with a sharp nod.

"Ask." Urged Noha, as she tucked strands of messy hair behind her ear.

There was a long bout of silence, but she waited patiently. There must have been many questions swarming within his mind, she felt sure. She still had plenty of her own questions as well.

It was just too bad there were more questions than what she had answers for. There were too many unknowns, too many gaps in memory, and too many unexplainable occurrences.

"The beginning." Came the helmet-modulated voice after some time of consideration. "Start at the beginning. We can go from there."

She gave a small nod.

"I don't remember anything from before. I'm not even sure who I was before I was brought there." She began, attempting to give a brief but factual explanation of as much of what she remembered. "It was a medical lab in a space station. There were others, too. I'm not sure what happened to them."

"You mentioned there were…experiments?" He asked carefully. "Do you have any idea why the Empire was taking children?"

"The others were like the Little One and I, at least that's my guess. I didn't see much of anyone else besides the Scientist."

"The one on Nevarro?"

"That's the one." She frowned, attempting to push back a flood of hazy and scattered memories. "I think he was assigned to me. But there's so much of that time I don't remember. It's all a haze, really. Like a fog."

"Was the Child there with you?"

"Maybe. I can't be sure."

"Are there others like it? Do you know what species it is?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

The questions kept coming, like a steady stream of flowing water trying to sate a thirst that was unable to be quenched.

Noha gave as much as she could, spilling every detail she was able to recall to mind, and attempting to answer his questions to the best of her ability. But even then, most of her answers went along the lines of 'I don't remember', and that frustrated her.

It was one thing to come to terms with gaping holes in one's memory by themselves, but having to admit it out loud took a level of vulnerability that she found uncomfortable. It was the first time she had shared this with anyone since she had escaped it all four years prior.

She didn't like that there were no false identities to cling to this time. She didn't like admitting that 'Noha' was only an identity four years in the making, and that there had been another girl who had existed before 'Noha', who had long since been rendered irrelevant, memories and former life erased from both mind and history.

She didn't like where that left her. It was like drowning in an ocean that had no floor to it. It felt like opening a flimsi novel but finding no words inside, and that feeling of unknown emptiness and horrid vulnerability made her want to scream.

The Mandalorian, however, remained calm. He took the details in stride, digesting the information with calculative ease.

He was not upset or displeased that she could not answer any of the more important questions, as she had originally thought he might be. Instead, he only moved on to another topic or a different set of questions if she came to a roadblock in her memory – and of those there were plenty.

"I'm sorry." She said when it was finally over, when the last detail had been shared and everything she remembered of her time in the labs and her years evading capture had been laid out in the open like some sort of sickening buffet of jagged memories. "I wish there was more I could give you. I wish-"

She couldn't finish her sentence. She didn't know what she would wish for even if it would be granted to her.

It wasn't much to go off of, she knew it wasn't.

There was a deep breath taken behind the silver helmet, then a slow exhale as she waited for him to speak.

"It was helpful." Came the placatory statement at last, and she cast her eyes to the Little One, who had dozed off in her lap and was breathing softly. "Don't apologise."

Funny, Noha felt anything but helpful in that moment.

She allowed her gaze to wander back up curiously to the Mandalorian, who had still yet to leave and was standing by the entrance.

"May I ask you something?" Her question was quiet, and now it was her turn to feel a bubbling uncertainty.

He only gave a small dip of his head, so she continued.

"Why did you come back? What changed your mind?" Noha asked plainly, choosing not to beat around the bush. "It would have been easier to leave us, right?"

There was a long pause, one so long she momentarily feared the question might not have been well-received. Finally, he gave his reply.

"Yes." He confirmed, tone no longer as guarded as it had been previously. "It would have."

"Then why did you-"

"You two should rest." He cut her off, nodding towards the cot. "I've put us in orbit around an uninhabited moon to conserve fuel while you heal. After that, I'll find us a place where we can lay low for a while. If you need anything, I'll be in the cargo hold."

He was gone before she could form a response.

But that was just as well. She didn't need to feel for his emotional state to know that this was a large bite to swallow. She would allow him the space to chew.

The metal door closed with a 'whoosh' behind him, sealing her and the youngling inside the cramped cabin.

It cooed at her sleepily, a greeting of sorts after being awoken by their discourse.

She smiled back.

"I think some more rest would be best, don't you?" Asked Noha softly, as she crawled back on to the cot in her oversized clothing and pulled the Little One close to her chest before covering them both in the blanket.

She drifted back into that strange land of dreams and premonitions, allowing her tired body more of the much-needed rest it seemed to crave. As she slipped away from herself, her conscious retreating inward as she fell asleep, she could hear the Little One's soft breathing as it also rested.

Outside, she could hear the Mandalorian tinkering with something, sounds of clanking metal and some sort of electrical crackling from whatever he was working on.

She decided she liked those sounds. They set her heart at ease.

As she nuzzled further into the warm fabric of the blanket, listening to the calming sounds of breath, the hum of the ship, and the Mandalorian not far from where she lay, she allowed herself to rest peacefully for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time.

.

.

When she awoke the second time, it was with a clearer mind and a body more comfortably rested.

Noha had dreamt of green forests, smiles, blasters, and new friends. Quite vague, but sometimes that was just how it worked.

There was no chronometer in the tiny cabin to show the time, but she knew instinctually that she had slept for a very long period by how dry her throat was and the way her stomach contracted with want of sustenance. But she felt much better now, and that was an improvement.

The Little One was gone, but she was not worried by that fact.

She could sense the youngling, along with the Mandalorian. They were not far at all, likely in the cockpit of the star ship that was still drifting in orbit.

That revelation was both equally as reassuring as it was troubling – she had never been able to pinpoint life signatures that way before. But there they were, their life forces combining with the greater Energy that linked all known things together. She could feel it now if she focused hard enough, even though she had not been able to do that before.

Something had changed. She hadn't been sure before, but she felt sure now. She could sense it.

At first, when she had woken up in the midst of a raging blaster battle on Nevarro, she had thought she felt different, like a shift of something within her, or as if a door had been opened that had previously been shut. There had been little time to revel in that strange new feeling in the middle of the chaos, however, and she had acted on pure instinct to do what she had done.

She had used the Energy to bring down buildings, crushing several people to death under dusty rubble. Noha blinked in surprise at the memory as she truly began to process it for the first time.

How many people did I kill?

That thought was a sobering one. She hadn't wanted to die…and so she had killed. There had been no time to think, only to act, and she had acted so that they could continue to live while others did not. In one quick, fleeting moment, she had made the choice that their lives were more important than anyone else's.

And there was no coming back from a decision like that. Once one had made the decision to prioritise their life or the lives of those they cared about over the lives of others, the choice was easy to make. She would do it again, she realised with startling certainty, if faced with the same circumstances.

She had always thought that something as pivotal as taking a life would feel different, or perhaps would have been harder to do. But it had been remarkably easy when the lives of her only two allies in the entire galaxy were being threatened. It had become even easier once she realised that she would be returned to the laboratory if she did not act.

The worst part was that she felt little to no guilt at all for what she had done.

Was that bad? Maybe the guilt would come later. For some reason, she hoped it would. All at once, an acute sense of nausea began to take over her stomach, and she swallowed harshly as she swung her legs over the side of the cot and stood.

Troubling. It was all very troubling, for too many reasons that she had yet to identify and troubling for another reason as well…

The fact that she had been able to bend the Energy to her will when she had never been able to do so before was certainly a surprise. What had changed to allow her to harness it like that? What had changed for her to be even more connected with that strange, pulsing force?

The Scientist…what did he do to us on Nevarro? Is that why I feel different?

Noha sat up slowly, head spinning as she thought about it.

More questions and less answers.

The cabin door opened at her command, revealing the empty cargo hold and confirming her suspicion that the two she was looking for were in the cockpit. Her muscles felt strained as she pulled herself up the ladder and into the pilot's area.

The Mandalorian did not turn to acknowledge her presence as she hoisted herself up and situated herself in one of the two seats behind his chair. The Little One did, though, giving a small giggle and a burp as a greeting.

It sat inside a small storage crate that might once have been used to transport munitions. Now, however, it was filled with whatever soft and warm materials that the mercenary had scrounged to create a make-shift bassinet in place for the one lost.

It was likely still on Nevarro, which was a shame. It was a handy tool when toting a youngling around, or so she assumed.

Noha turned her head to the side, noting the moon they were orbiting with an orange-tinted atmosphere incapable of supporting life. It was pretty. Space was pretty in general. She figured the galaxy was full of pretty and interesting sights like that, and Noha wanted to see it all.

"Your health," The distorted baritone voice distracted her from her musings in an instant. "Has it improved?"

"I'm feeling better." She returned quickly, eyes glued to the back of the silver helmet. "Were you injured at all?"

"No."

"Ah."

There were a few beats of silence, and Noha wondered if she ought to fill the empty void between them with words. She decided against it. He was a silent sort of person, not speaking much unless necessary, and only on his own time. She would wait.

As it happened, she did not have to wait much longer.

"I'm taking us to a planet called Sorgan." He informed her after a while, fingers tapping quickly as he took to locking coordinates into the nav-system. "It's underdeveloped and sparsely populated – a good place to lay low for a while. Once you've regained your strength and know how to handle some weaponry, we'll start looking for answers."

Ah. That was likely the planet she'd seen in her dreams. But what surprised her was how he had hinted that he would be staying with them, extending his help beyond what was necessary. He'd said that he would look for answers with the fugitive duo, which took her by surprise.

For some reason, Noha had not considered the possibility that he might stick around.

If I were him, I'd dump the both of us on the nearest planet and be on my way. The Little One and I will only bring him trouble, he must know that.

Perhaps he was more selfless than what she knew, and that was certainly saying something. She hadn't known it was possible for anyone to be so selfless. And perhaps Noha was lacking in that particular field, because she was not quite sure she would have been capable of making that same decision, if she were in his shoes.

"You don't have to stay with us." Came her quick and guilty conscience when she realised just how short she fell compared to his self-sacrificing morality. "You saved our lives, you don't owe us anything now."

"I do." He refuted immediately. "This is the way."

How was she supposed to argue with that? She had a feeling this man could be just as stubborn as Kuiil when he wanted to be, maybe even more so.

She fiddled with her fingers for a few minutes, contemplating her own shortcomings before voicing a question.

"Is the planet green? Lots of forests and fresh water?" The woman asked curiously, and she watched as his shoulders stiffened in response.

"Yes." Came an answer that sounded slightly reluctant. "Did you…see that?"

"I think so."

"And have you-" He spoke the next word with effort, as if forcing himself to use it casually, "-seen anything else?"

"It's a pretty place. I think we're going to make friends there."

"And enemies?" He asked quickly, and she was pleasantly surprised to feel that he placed much less doubt in her words than he had at the beginning of their tenuous relationship.

"I've no idea." Noha replied honestly, fixing her stare on one of the blinking lights to her right that was slightly distracting. "It's always a possibility, I suppose. Especially now."

"I thought you could-"

"I'm not omniscient." She interrupted him gently, for she had a feeling she knew exactly what he was implying. "Far from it, really."

If she had been omniscient, she would have never been re-captured in the first place, and she would have known the Mandalorian would come back for them. If she was omniscient, she would have never made such a wild bet that ended up getting the Little One captured with her and put in a harmful environment. But she was not omniscient, and they had paid the price for her refusal to think she could have been wrong.

She would not make that mistake again.

This 'gift', whatever it was, seemed to operate at its own leisure, and was not always something to be relied upon – as she had learnt the hard way.

More silence.

"Is there something I can call you by?" She asked when the thought surfaced in her head. "I don't know your name."

The last time she had asked that she had been bound by the wrists and attached to his gauntlets as he all but dragged her through a desert. Now, he had saved her life and made the decision to harbour and protect two fugitives – a decision that had made him into a fugitive as well.

Noha felt another pang of guilt in her chest for her earlier comment about his armour. She regretted it immensely, especially now that she was beginning to comprehend just how much his life had changed because of that decision.

So much had changed. And she still didn't know his name. The man had been prepared to die protecting them, and she had killed so that they could escape – and she didn't even know his name.

"Mando." He replied after a moment of hesitation.

"That's not much of a name."

"Neither is N-0H4."

Noha fell silent. It was a valid point.

She let it be, because she understood the complexities and emotions surrounding names. She felt very strongly about her own, and she could see that this was obviously a private matter for him.

Another pang of guilt. She frowned, making mental notes to be more careful with her words.

She'd been on her own and on the run for so, so long - she realised that her social skills likely needed some work.

The silence continued as he took the controls of the ship and steered it back out of orbit and into the stars. After a few minutes of watching space go by, a sight that was slightly mesmerising to both her and the Little One, he spoke again.

"What did they do to you and the kid on Nevarro?"

There was a certain terseness to his tone, one that hinted at an uneasy conscience riddled with vengeful anger and crushing guilt that seemed to roll off of him in waves. Did he think it was his fault? She frowned at both the feelings she could sense from him, as well as the unpleasant memories that were surfacing inside her scrambled mind.

"I don't know. But I feel different." She replied, letting her own uncertainty bleed into the conversation as well. "I'd never been able to do anything like what I did on Nevarro before. I've never…" Noha paused, fumbling mentally for the right words. The nausea had returned to her stomach again. "I killed with it."

"You did." He confirmed quietly.

He offered no words of comfort, nothing to ensure her that what she had done was right. She wasn't sure why, but she had wanted to hear them.

"The scientist-" He started again, as if sensing her subconscious need to stray from the distressing previous topic. "He said that he was trying to protect you both."

Noha scoffed. She had a feeling that the Scientist's idea of what protection and safety entailed likely differed from her own.

The Mandalorian continued, choosing to ignore her audible expression of distaste.

"He also mentioned that you survived whatever he did on Nevarro before, and that the Child will survive because of it."

Not that caught her attention.

Immediately, Noha felt unsettled. She could feel something supressed inside of her, clawing its way towards the surface as she tried to think about just what that could mean. The hazy, blurred memories were there, she knew they were, but she could not make sense of them. All at once, it was overwhelming.

She shoved it back down, if only to retain sanity.

"How long until we reach Sorgan?" Was all she managed to muster as a response, deftly avoiding the unspoken question in the air.

If the Mandalorian was disappointed with her response, it did not show. In fact, she had a suspicion that he did not press further out of a respect for her privacy. So much had been shared already, and she had given as much as she could.

There was a certain level of trust and vulnerability shared between the two of them now, and though the idea of trusting someone else and sharing such exploitable information with another being was frightening, Noha could not think of a better person to have placed her trust in.

He had earned her trust, so she would give it to him wholly.