Fragments of the Dark

Chapter Thirty-One

Celene stared at herself in the mirror in the tiny rinse station aboard the Falcon.

Stars, even this ship was a reminder of her past. Her family. What she'd lost and slaughtered and chosen to forsake. She bowed her head. She never let herself go down this path, it only led to more hurt and suffering.

She didn't dwell on the past or what she'd done.

But the conversation with Din and he'd pushed about...her parents. A lightsaber flashed in her mind, a brilliant green. Screams echoed through her head, the sharp stinging pain of a burn, the heat of a kyber crystal touching her skin.  She slipped her hand beneath her sleeve, to her bicep where a single raised scar sat.  A rainy planet flitted in her memory, a slippery rock.  The dampness of rain against her skin.  There was a face, wine-colored hair, sharp green eyes.  She spoke, the word a whisper in the recess of her mind.  "Celene".

Celene sucked in a sharp breath, thrusting herself back into the present. 

Fuck.  She pulled back her fist, slamming it into the metal interior of the ship. Her knuckles split, the pain singing through her, sweet relief from the memories.

More- she needed more.

She slammed her fist into the wall again, this time leaving a barely noticeable dent. She did it again.

And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

The dent grew and blood splattered the wall. She swallowed her screams, the images still flashing in her mind.  The weight of her lightsaber in her hands, the crimson of the blade.  The rush of her power, the Darkside thriving on her anger and rage and hate and pain.

"Celene."  Din's voice came from outside the door.  

She paused, panting to look at her mangled hand.  Celene closed her eyes.  "Shit," she muttered softly.  She hadn't even heard his approach.  She braced herself against the tiny counter.

"Celene," he said again.  An uncharacteristic tone for him, almost gentle.  There was a pause.  Then- "Are you okay?"

No.  No, she was not fucking okay.  The word was on her lips.  She opened her mouth to tell him, to tell him everything, to let him into not only the rinse station but also her mind, her feelings.  But something stopped her.

I'm a monster.  I kill everyone I love.   There is no redemption for me.

She straightened, the pain in her hand suddenly distant.  "I'm fine."  

"Can you open the door?"

Celene hesitated and then decided she didn't care.  The door slid open with a hiss.  His hulking figure stood there, broad shoulders nearly filling the frame.  Wordlessly, he entered the tiny space with her and pressed the button embedded into the wall for the water to flow from the sink.  

His grip on her wrist was gentle, as he held her ruined hand under the stream, washing the blood off.  Celene let him, wincing slightly at the pain.  She watched the crimson wash down the drain, more welling up to take it's place.  

Din rotated her hand, washing the blood that had leaked on her palm.  "Before I met you and Grogu, I was alone.  I was a part of a sect of the Mandalorians but was still an outcast.  I worked above ground, not staying cloistered in the tunnels as they did.  And for that, they hated me."  He turned off the water.

"I didn't have anyone to rely on.  No one I could trust.  I spent my days in solitude, hunting bounty after bounty.  Then I met you.  And you blew up my ship."

She remembered.  It had been her fault, she'd taunted those pirates just a bit too much. 

"And then we started taking jobs together.  We rescued Grogu.  And somewhere along the line, we became friends."  His grip on her wrist was warm.  "And I've never had friends before.  I've never had someone to rely on before.  And I'm guessing neither have you."

Her chest tightened.  "No," she said quietly.  

"Your past is brutal and messy, I understand.  But you can't live there.  You can't dwell there.  And I'm sorry for what I've said to you, back on Sorgan and I'm sorry for pressing you for details about your parents."  He opened the cabinet built into the wall, pulling out the bacta patches stashed there.  "But I'm here, Celene.  You have me.  I'm not going anywhere so please- don't close me out.  I care about you."  He let out a sharp breath.  "More than you know." 

Celene's heart hammered in her chest.  He was asking her to trust him, to do something she'd never done before.  To share this pain and burden with someone else.  To believe he cared about her and wouldn't betray her for power or wealth in the future.  

He gingerly applied the bacta patch across her swollen and cut knuckles.  "I don't care what you did in your past.  I don't care what anyone says about you.  You're a different person now.  A new person.  You would never hurt Grogu.  And you would never hurt me."

Something broke inside her as she realized he was right.  She could never hurt him.  Not for all the torture or training or pain in the world.  And she would do whatever it took to get Grogu safely away from the Empire.  Even if it meant blowing her cover.  There was no line she wouldn't cross. 

He finished with her hand and slowly let go of it, but didn't move.  

"I'm not a good person," she breathed, the words barely audible.  

Silence reigned for a few heartbeats.  "Neither am I."  He answered. 

"I can never be a good person."  She said.  "It's not in me.  It's not who I am."

"Good has many definitions."  His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist.  "You're loyal.  Trustworthy.  And willing to do anything to protect Grogu.  For me, that qualifies as good."

She loosed a breath.  "Then you're a good person too, Din."

He was quiet, shoulders tense.  Then Din reached up, and slowly grasped both sides of his helmet.  

Celene's mouth half-opened in shock.  "Din- no-"

But he pulled the helmet over his head and then blinked at the single harsh light in the rinse station.  Celene froze, mostly from surprise and from taking in his features for the first time, from his rich soil-toned eyes to the stubble smattered across his jaw and the equally dark hair to match.  Finally, she said, "why?  Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to."  He said simply, his voice a richer tone without the modulator in his helmet.  "And because I trust you.  And these days, my armor feels more like a prison than anything else." 

"You didn't have to," she whispered.

"I wanted to.  I've been wanting to, Celene.  For a long time." 

She swallowed and had no objections whatsoever when he tenderly placed a gloved hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to meet his.  And she had no words when he pressed his mouth to hers and she closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him, like gunfire and smoke and the rich evergreens on Sargon.  

And so she let him kiss her until they were both breathless and needy for more.

For each other.