Chapter Text
Wren is in the comm rooms late one night, working the graveyard shift, and suddenly a distress signal comes through, some unknown ship headed towards Batuu. Wren sets down the book he was reading, rolls his chair over to the correct panel, and brings up the system. “Unknown ship, you have reached the Batuu Mandalorian outpost. Please identify yourself,” Wren says, after connecting a comm line to the ship.
“Marr, Felucia tribe. So you do exist,” A voice crackles over the line.
"We do, yes," He says, starting to type up a message with coordinates to send to the ship after taking down the name and tribe name. "Transmitting landing coordinates shortly. Business here?"
“Not sure yet. My covert got wiped,” The voice says, and he can’t read any emotion from it over the comm.
"Eparavur takisit," Wren murmurs softly, sending the message over. "Welcome to Batuu. Land and wait for retrieval." He starts moving to pick up a padd and route communications to it.
“Vor’e. Will do.” The comm clicks off.
After about ten or so minutes, a small ship slowly descends and lands in the field out by the covert. Wren manages to make it out to the field moments after the ship lands. He seems to be focused on what he was doing on his padd and stops a non-threatening distance away as he waits for the pilot to disembark.
The door opens after a moment and a fairly tall Mandalorian hops out and strides over to him. Their armor is pitch black with a gold visor and gold accents around the edges, and they also wear a leather duster jacket over top of their armor. As they get closer, Wren can see that their chest plate is more feminine shaped, curved slightly to accommodate a larger bust.
Wren looks up when he hears the door open, he lets the padd drop to his side as he watches them walk over. He gives them a small nod, "Welcome," He says after a moment, bringing his hand up to his helmet to switch his aids from the comms over to regular use.
“Thanks,” She says, then holds her arm out to him. “You must be who I talked to.” She says, looking down at him as she steps close enough.
He takes her arm in a warrior's shake, as he nods. “I am, yes,” Wren looks up at her, as he takes a small step closer. “You can call me Wren,” He says, moving to drop her arm after another moment.
She drops his arm and gives him a nod, then puts her hands in her pocket. “Marr, like I said. Good to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” He moves to start leading her to the entrance to the covert. “I’ll show you where you can bunk for the night.”
She nods a bit, walking behind him to the covert. “Vor’e…sorry it’s so late. I just finished up a job not too long ago.”
He waves off her worries, “It’s not a problem. Is there anything I can get you?” He leads her down the halls, checking his padd momentarily as they do. “A job?” His head tilts, “Are you a beroya?” Wren looks up at her.
“Food, maybe. I’m starving..” She says, then sighs. “Yeah. Well, was, I guess. I have been for about three years.”
He nods and leads them down a different hall, towards the mess. “Food, I can make that happen.” He says.
“Do you mean you’ll cook for me or make someone else cook for me?” She asks, a slight teasing edge to her voice, which is surprisingly smooth through the modulator.
“I will,” He says, before looking back down the hallway, “Well… it might be reheated, there might still be some potions of dinner left.” Wren fidgets with his padd, hearing her teasing him, but not wanting to give into it.
She hums. “Reheated? Batuu hospitality knows no bounds.” She scoffs quietly.
“I can make you something if you want. I’m just not too great in the kitchen.” He doesn’t look up at her, leading her through the mostly empty mess and into the kitchen.
“I’m just fucking with you…no? Not many of us are…food is fuel, I don’t need anything fancy,” She says, curious about why he was averting her gaze.
He gives a nod, setting the padd down on a counter as he starts to pull out leftovers from dinner. Wren glances over at her as he slides it into the reheater. “I can’t always tell tones of voice,” He says, noticing her body language, “My aids don’t always catch everything.” Wren taps the side of his helmet.
“Aids? You're hard of hearing?” Her helmet tilts a bit. “Well. It’s probably safe to assume I’m being sarcastic…usually, my body language gives off when I’m actually angry.”
He gives a small nod, “Deaf in one ear and I have seventy percent loss in the other.” He says, focused on her, “Good to know. I’ll try and remember.” The reheater beeps, and he opens it up and pulls the dish out, setting it on a tray with utensils before moving to gather up some other things for her to eat alongside it.
“Were you born that way? If you don’t mind answering.” She asks, then just undoes her neck seal and pulls her helmet off, holding it under her arm. She has thick red hair that's braided in a halo around the crown of her head, and she looks quite young, with piercing blue eyes.
He turns back to set the bread on the tray and looks at her only to freeze slightly, seeing her face. “…no. I lost most of it as a foundling and a bit more on our trip to Mandalore last month.” Wren says after a moment, picking up the tray and carrying it over to her. He does his best not to look at her face but keeps getting drawn back to how beautiful she was.
She hums a bit, then nods. “I heard you all were trying to reclaim it. That’s why I came here,” She says, and he watches her eyes rake over him, sizing him up. She leans her hip against the counter as she waits.
He shifts slightly under her gaze, “You heard correctly then…” He offers the tray out to her once he was close enough, voice trailing off as he watches her look him over. “Something I can help you with?” He asks after a second, head tilting as his visor locked onto her eyes.
She walks closer to him, leaning a bit over him as she studies him, then tilts her head a bit and hums. “Uncomfortable under scrutiny?” She asks, and this time he can see the corner of her mouth lift into a smirk. “I don’t know yet. I’ll keep you posted.”
“I don’t tend to be stared at.” He says, looking up at her. “And I don’t normally get to see their faces.” Wren sets the tray on the counter by her before crossing his arms.
She takes her gloves off and tucks them in the pocket of her coat, then sets the helmet down and stands with him as she starts to eat. “Ah. Children of the watch, right? People think you all are stuffy, but honestly, I can see the appeal. Anonymity, you know.” She takes a few bites, eating quickly.
He gives a small nod, turning to lean his back against the counter, laughing softly at her statement. “Stuffy? I haven’t heard it described that way before. I’ve gotten culty and extremist, but never stuffy.”
“Culty, extremist, stuffy. Same shit, different color. I could have called you a puritan,” She snorts a bit, taking another bite. He can see a small bruise on her cheekbone, it looks a few days old.
He hums, watching her for another few moments before looking away. “Yes, I suppose so. We’re not as extreme as others.”
“You suppose,” She says, once again with a teasing edge to her voice. She seems to be amused by him, though he probably isn’t quite sure why. “No, probably not. People like to say you are, but that’s just kind of because you’re the black sheep.”
He lets out a small breath, turning back to look at her. His visor focused on the lower half of her face as she talked. “There’s no right way to follow the way.” He murmurs, moving to start cleaning up the small mess he had made when preparing her food.
She turns to watch him, leaning her onto the counter elbows and pushing her hips so she is a bit bent over it as she eats, lounging. “You’re right about that, but if I had a credit for each time someone said otherwise I’d be richer than a politician.”
He hums, nodding. “Definitely. We were thrilled when Kryze finally got some sense beaten into her, we were tired of her lectures.”
“Kryze? What a cunt…” She says, then kisses her teeth, lip curling a bit. “A pain in everyone’s ass…who beat her up? This new Mand’alor?”
Wren nods, “Yeah. They were at it for a few hours, it almost killed him. If his Riduur hadn’t shown up I don’t know how much longer that fight would have lasted.”
She hisses. “Damn. Yeah, Kryze doesn’t fuck around…I haven’t had many run ins with her but they’ve all been a pain in my ass.” She rolls her eyes, then shakes her head, nearly finished eating.
“No,” She says, suddenly quieter, watching as he puts her dishes away. “I appreciate it.” She walks back to grab her helmet, tucking it under her arm again. Her expression is a bit pinched.
He nods, going back over to where he left his padd, gloves were seemingly forgotten in his belt. He looks up at her after, noticing the look on her face, “I’m sorry for your losses. Batuu is a relatively safe planet, for what it’s worth.” Wren’s head tilts slightly, “I can give you a full tour in the morning if you’d like.”
She doesn’t look at him this time, gaze trained on the top of her helmet. “…Thank you,” She says quietly, then clenches her jaw a bit, swallowing, and takes a slow breath, and she seems normal again.
“…of course.” He gives a single nod, and it sounds like he goes to speak but thinks better of it, before going to lead her out of the kitchen and through the mess.
She quietly follows him, not pressing the subject despite him not following through with whatever he was going to say.
He lets out a sigh, leading her down the halls, nodding to a few of the others who were awake and wandering the halls. They eventually stop in front of a doorway and he turns to look at her, “Here you are, it’s not much but we won’t be here for too much longer…”
Her eyes blankly scan over the people they pass, her expression is pretty unreadable. “That’s alright…thanks anyway. Goodnight, Wren.”
“Goodnight, Marr. If you need anything before morning let me know. I’ll be up until shift change.” He tucks his padd under his arm before scribbling his comm code on a piece of flimsy he pulled out of his belt and offering it out to her.
She blinks and takes it from him, then tucks it in her pocket with a nod. “You’re not so bad,” She says, then closes the curtain, leaving him standing out in the hall.
He stands there for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant, before sighing and heading back to the comm room. He pulls on his gloves as he walks into the room, settling in for the rest of his shift.
The rest of his shift runs smoothly, and as he goes to the training rooms before bed like usual, someone is already in there, and he can hear the repeated thud of someone hitting a punching bag. He pauses outside of the doorway to the room with the noise, before popping his head in to see who it was. “Oh… sorry.”
Marr is in there, in a tank top and her flights hit toed around her waist. She lands another brutal punch, sending the bag toppling over. She looks over at Wren, then quickly away, and he can see that she’s crying.
Wren’s helmet tilts sadly to one side, noticing the shine of tears on her face. He quietly moves over to help stand and hook the bag back up on its hook. After getting it back up he takes a few steps away, unlatching his cape and letting it fall to the floor.
She angrily wipes at her face, gaze hard when it lands on him again, watching his cape falls then looks back to his visor. She cracks her knuckles and gets into a defensive stance as she faces him. “Don’t you dare go easy,” She spits, voice icy.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He replies, settling into his starting stance, waiting for her to make the first move.
She lunges at him, moving to strike at his chest, then grabs the plate instead and tries to sweep him off his feet. She was pretty fast and strong, and had barely given him enough time to prepare.
He jumps back and is quick to move out of her reach, he flips back a few times, giving himself a bit more space. He rushes towards her, aiming hits near pressure points on her upper body.
She's pretty dodgy, though he does get some good hits in, but as he lands the last one she grips his wrist and flips him over her shoulder. He was probably expecting to slam into the ground, but she keeps hold of him so he doesn’t fall hard, and the two of them ended up grappling on the floor instead.
He curses, trying to break out of her hold by trying every move he had in his arsenal that wouldn’t draw blood.
“Stay the fuck down,” She snarls, her face kind of up in his visor as they roll, and she sits on him, pinning his hands above his head, panting softly.
He growls, shifting underneath her as he tries to break free of her hold. He lets out a curse, looking up at her, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. Her eyes are still glassy and her gaze is hardened as she stares down at him, jaw clenched, a tear dripping onto his visor, still pinning him. He slowly goes limp watching the tear read on his hud, and lets his head fall back. He shifts and tries to give off a non threatening air, exposing his throat slightly.
She sits up off him to let him up then scoots back against the wall and presses her forehead into the heels of her palms, shaking her head a bit, and after a moment, her shoulders begin to shake.
He says nothing, slowly sitting up, before moving to sit next to her. Wren looks over at her for a second before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.
She stiffens for a minute, then relaxes against him and starts to more properly cry, fisting her hands in her hair. “…they’re all dead…they’re all- the foundlings- all of them..“ she whispers, then moves her hands to cover her face.
He shifts and holds her close, he hums softly as he lets her cry. He lets out a small sigh as he tries to figure out what to say.
“…I’m gonna fucking kill all of them…whoever d-did this..” She hisses, voice shaky, but she sounds deadly serious.
He nods, “…if you need help, I’ll help.” Wren tilts his head to look at her. “I’m not a horrible detective…”
She picks her head up to shakily wipe her face, sniffling. “…why would you leave your covert to help me? You don’t even know me.”
His visor twitches slightly, “Because you deserve to know who did this. I can’t just sit by and let you do it on your own.” He gives a small shrug, hand coming up to wipe at one of her stay tears.
She swallows, stiffening a bit when he wipes the tear, then exhales slowly. “…you’re kinder than most then.” She says softly, then sighs.
He moves his hand back to rest on her shoulder, "It's just what's right...you've lost everything."
It looks like she goes to say something else before her eyes glaze over with tears again, and she looks down at her hands. “…I…” She starts, then clenches her jaw again. “…It doesn’t feel real, honestly.”
"...Just think about my offer. Get back to me tomorrow about it. If you still want help, let me know," His voice is soft through the modulator, as he tries to comfort her. "But right now, I think we all might need some rest." Wren squeezes her close again, not making any move to get up.
She doesn’t actually make a move to get up either, though she seems a little tenser, but after a moment she seems to give in and just relaxes and slouches, head dropping onto his pauldron. “…rest? What’s that? I’m a betroya..”
He laughs softly, head tilting back to rest against the wall, "It's when you close your eyes and are stationary for more than two hours.." He murmurs, before letting out a sigh.
“Fake news,” She murmurs, then sighs a bit as well, just letting herself lean against him, despite never having really let anyone support her like this, let alone some random man.
“Not fake-“ He cuts himself off with a yawn, as he stretches his legs out in front of them. “Very real indeed.”
She stretches one of her legs out beside his and seems amused at how much farther hers goes. “You planning to sleep right here, then?”
“No, I’ll get up as soon as you do.” He doesn’t move to look when he feels her legs shift. After a few seconds, his hand comes up to fiddle with the side of his helmet, at some point during their spar one of his antennas had bent out of shape and was causing his aides to softly buzz.
“Oh…my bad,” She says, then reaches up to very gingerly straighten the antenna, careful not to break it.
He stiffens and sucks in a breath, feeling the buzzing intensify for a moment before relaxing as it stops. “Thanks,” he breathes, looking over at her.
“Sure,” She says, then sighs softly, starting to get her bearings and stand, then reaches a hand down to help him up. “You’re probably tired. You’ve been working all night. Go to sleep.”
He takes her hand and lets her help him up, letting go once he is settled on his feet. “I will if you will.” He moves to pick up his cape and clip it back on. “Besides I’ve only been up for about twenty hours, I’m nowhere near my record.”
“Only twenty four? Oh, you’re fine,” She says, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it sounds like she’s speaking from experience. “Why do you stay up so long? I have a good reason, what’s your excuse?”
“Work. Reading,” He gives a shrug, “Insomnia paired with paranoia.” He moves his hands to do air quotes around paranoia as he shakes his head.
“Insomnia and paranoia? More like survival instincts…who told you that?” She looks over at him, crosses her arms, starting to walk backwards to the door.
“Our head medic,” He follows her towards the door, one thumb tucked into his belt. “Sleeping is tough since we got back from Mandalore.”
“Ah. Those are annoying.” She sighs, catching the doorway with her hand so she doesn’t run into it before turning once he gets closer so she’s walking beside him. “You could have stopped sleeping is tough, and it would have been the truest thing I’ve heard today.”
He lets out a sigh and nods, “My vod is also a medic. They’re married in fact. It’s great when I want to be lectured by two people who really know me.”
“That sounds like a nightmare,” She shakes her head a bit. “…My vod wanted to be a medic. I kept telling her no, because then she’d be a narc,” She says quietly.
He nods softly, “My other two vods said the same thing.” He looks over at her, “Having one in a clan is manageable but two right now is ridiculous.”
“Yeah, I can imagine…I wouldn’t want to be you,” She says quietly, then absently messes with a pendant hanging from her belt.
“Either way, I’m sorry for your losses. I know that doesn’t do much,” he lets out a sigh as he spots the pendant.
“I…thanks.” She curls her fist around and looks forward again. “Maybe not, but actions speak louder.”
He nods, “That they do.” He hums watching her for a moment before looking back down the hall.
She glances up at him, watching for a moment before speaking. “…Goodnight, Wren,” Marr says quietly.
“Goodnight Marr,” He offers back softly, looking up at her for another few seconds.
She stares back at him for a few long moments, then steps back and quietly closes the curtain. It sounds like she momentarily shuffles around before the noise stops and it’s quiet again.
He lets out a small sigh, turning to walk back to his bunk, hands fiddling with a pouch on his belt as he does.
He doesn’t stop until he makes it to his bunk, standing near the door after pulling the curtain shut.
She lays awake in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep, wondering if Wren had managed to get any rest, or if he was also struggling to fall asleep.
After stripping out of his armor Wren gets in bed, he lays there for a bit in his helmet before pulling it off and turning to look over at his side table. He struggles to clear his mind enough to fall asleep with the light in his room on, thoughts of how he could help Marr linger in the front of his mind.