Chapter Text
Alex swaggered into the local dive. She scanned the room without needing to turn her head. The display inside her helmet rotated to her subvocal commands, providing her a view of the entire establishment. No one dared to look directly at her, but she saw their sideways glances as soon as she passed.
Her full suit of Mandalorian armor declared her as someone to be respected. Her swagger intimated that she had confidence in her ability to demand it. Sixty percent of being a badass bounty hunter was in the presentation.
The entire planet of Sorgan was one giant swamp-hole. It was exactly what she had been looking for, a backwater shithole to lay low for a couple of weeks as she plotted out their next course of action.
Unfortunately, the reality of a shithole was just that: it was full of shit. The stench was unbearable and swamp seeped into everything. Yep, that was definitely swamp in her boots; that was going to be a pain to get out. Somehow, this cantina managed to be even swampier than the swamp outside.
Alex targeted an empty table, set apart and situated near the rear exit. Halfway there, she froze mid-stride as she recognized a figure tucked into a corner. Catching herself before she fell flat on her face, Alex covered a stumble.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was Maggie Sawyer. Alex would recognize her anywhere. She broke out in a cold sweat beneath her helmet. What the actual fuck were the chances of that?
Okay, breathe. There was no way that Maggie could recognize her in the armor and full coverage helmet. Even as Alex had made a bit of a name for herself as a bounty hunter these last few years, no one knew her by her name. Her current "associates" either called her "Mandalorian" (which she preferred), "Mando" (which she hated), or the occasional "asshole" (which she actually didn't mind, because that generally meant she was about to ruin their day). No one had called her Alex since… well, since Maggie.
Alex steadied herself. Recommitting to her destination, she noted—too late—that it was right in line of sight of Maggie. Alex sat stiffly, putting her back to the woman, but she was unable to keep from fidgeting. Her training objected to placing a potential threat at her back. Giving in, Alex shifted to place Maggie within her natural vision. From the safety of her helmet, she scrutinized Maggie with furtive glances.
When a waitress came by, Alex directed a small nod toward Maggie asking, "when did she show up here?"
The waitress turned her whole body in the direction Alex indicated. Alex cringed. Could she be more fucking obvious? Alex might as well be wearing a neon sign and get up on a table shouting, "is there a Maggie Sawyer in the building?" It would have been more subtle.
"Oh, her?" The waitress flashed Alex an unimpressed look, then continued to stare conspicuously at Maggie. Alex clenched her fists to keep from covering her faceplate with her hands.
Mumbling something about having seen Maggie around for a few weeks, the waitress suddenly leaned in close. She whispered conspiratorially, "you see the tattoo? Those are Rebel paradropper stripes."
The prominent ring of stripes that circled Maggie's right biceps was more than familiar to Alex. It was the small tattoo at the corner of Maggie's left eye that drew her attention. That was new.
"We've had deserters try to hide out here before," the waitress continued. "Never works though. The bounty hunters always get 'em in the end."
Paradroppers had been the most zealous troops within the Alliance to Restore the Republic. They were the ones crazy enough to drop behind Imperial lines in the gear—or lack thereof—that the Rebellion provided. It was a fair assumption that any paradropper who had survived to see the fall of the Empire would currently be serving within the ranks of the New Republic, but Alex had a hard time imagining Maggie as a deserter. Running away to join the Rebel Alliance had been Maggie's dream ever since they'd been children.
Maggie had stepped in to stop an undersized Alex from being pummeled in a brawl Alex herself had started.
"You probably shouldn't fight kids so much larger than you," Maggie had said as she'd offered Alex a hand.
Wiping the blood off her lip with the back of her own hand, Alex had gotten up on her own. "He shouldn't have said that about my father," she'd insisted. Her mother had said the same thing that morning, but that was different. Her mother had also said that Alex was too stubborn for her own good.
"Your dad clerks at the local Imperial depot, doesn't he?"
Alex assessed Maggie with narrowed eyes. Alex was small for her age, and Maggie looked a couple of years older. If this was going to turn into another brawl, Alex would need the element of surprise.
Maggie must have realized what Alex was thinking because her eyes widened, and she backtracked. "You don't have to fight me," she said quickly. "My dad is one of the local peace officers. They basically do Imperial dirty work. The other kids pick on me too."
"You don't defend him?" Alex gawked at the other girl like the very idea of not fighting was inconceivable to her.
"They're just words, and it's not like they're not true," Maggie said bitterly.
"So? Who are they to talk about my dad like that," Alex bit back. "I don't like the Empire either, but he's my father; he's family."
The kids had brawled in the streets playing Rebel soldiers, but most people couldn't afford to turn their noses up at the highest paying employer on-world. Even if not directly employed by the Empire, most on-world jobs were funded by Imperial credits.
"They're bullies," Maggie told her. "It's just an excuse for them to beat you up."
"Yeah, well. Maybe I win sometimes," Alex mumbled as she scuffed her shoes against the cobbles.
Maggie gave Alex a dubious look, but when she spoke, her words allowed Alex her dignity. "There will always be more bullies."
"Yeah well, maybe I'll take them too," Alex insisted, full of false bravado.
Maggie eyed her scrawny companion. Alex scowled at the thought that her fighting ability was being judged by her newly minted black eye and split lip. Oh, and that old scar that crossed the edge of her left eyebrow. So maybe she wasn't the best fighter on the block. So what? Who was this girl to judge her?
She'd been surprised when Maggie said, "if you're gonna fight all those people, you're gonna need somebody to watch your back. Somebody who'll be your ride or die."
Maggie offered a hand as she said, "Sawyer, Maggie Sawyer."
Alex had taken the hand, and they'd taken on the streets together. They'd been inseparable.
It had been nine years since Alex last saw Maggie Sawyer. Nine years since Alex limped her way out of the infirmary of an Alliance base and into a nearby spaceport, with just enough credits to disappear into the Outer Rim, without a word to anyone—not even Maggie.
Despite all the time that had passed, Alex might never be ready for a confrontation with Maggie Sawyer. She shrunk into the shell of her armor at the thought. By the time Alex worked up the courage to glance back in the direction of Maggie's table, Maggie was gone. Fuck.
Alex barreled through the front door, frantic. She'd barely cleared the doors—not even having the time to turn—when Maggie charged her from the left.
FUCK. Alex ducked, but there was no dodging the tackle. The two of them went down in a muddy heap.
Alex scrambled to her feet and got her hands up just as Maggie threw a durasteel-knuckled jab at her. The blow glanced off her shoulder instead of her face.
"What's your game, bounty hunter?" Maggie spat as they circled one another.
"I'm not here for you." Alex kept her tone low. She hoped that her voice had changed enough in the intervening years that Maggie didn't recognize it. There was also the slightly tinny tone that the helmet imparted.
Her words did not calm Maggie. Instead, they seemed to incense her.
"Bullshit, Mando," Maggie hissed.
Maggie's technique had taken on more classical forms, and she flowed easily from one strike to the next. But as they traded blows, Alex recognized her signature feint.
Alex didn't bite, and Maggie frowned as if that move had never failed her in a brawl. Alex smirked under her helmet. So, the scrappy street brawler was still there, beneath the veneer.
Maggie had added a lot more muscle to her frame, and Alex watched as her arms rippled with each strike. She'd forgotten how sexy Maggie looked when fighting. Alex was so busy admiring that she missed the roundhouse kick that Maggie practically broadcasted. It connected with her head with a dull thud.
Alex went down like a sack of bricks. Maggie pulled back for a big knockout punch.
That had never been Maggie's style when they were younger. A lot of the bigger boys on their street had defaulted to that type of brute strength fighting. The smaller kids that fought them—like Maggie and Alex—had quickly learned how to use their speed and agility to counter.
Alex defaulted to her go-to move. In the midst of Maggie's wind-up, Alex tucked her head and launched herself into Maggie's center. It caught Maggie by surprise, throwing her off-balance. They tumbled to the ground.
On her back, Maggie settled for weak body shots wherever she could land them. Alex leaned on Maggie and clinched tight against her, trying to catch a breather.
It had been so long, yet her whole body still thrummed when so close to Maggie. Fuck, she really shouldn't be thinking of Maggie like that. She wasn't a hormonal teenager anymore. There was also the fact that Maggie seemed to be legitimately trying to hurt her. That thought—and the way Maggie slammed Alex's head into the ground—jarred her back to the present.
Alex refocused on the task at hand. She leveraged her longer limbs as she put Maggie in a lock. Ever since her growth spurt, she'd been the better grappler between them.
Maggie's ground game had not improved. It was easy to counter all of her familiar attempts at escape. Frustrated at the way Alex anticipated her, Maggie lost her technique. Her thrashing became more frantic, and she made a mistake that left Alex a clear opening. Alex hesitated.
Maggie's eyes narrowed. Alex blanked—
And Maggie was moving again. She trapped Alex's arm and threw Alex bodily in a roll over her shoulder.
Alex was still recovering from her inability to finish when Maggie jumped on top of her. Maggie had no reservations about hitting Alex. Durasteel knuckles connected with the center of the T-shaped visor of her helmet. Alex's head snapped back with the piercing ring of beskar.
Fuck. She really needed to get her head straight if she was going to make it out of this. Alex took another strike to the faceplate. The ringing echoed in her head in between blows.
Groaning, Alex lay sprawled in the mud. Everything fucking hurt. Maggie sat on her, holding Alex up by her collar. Despite the hits she'd taken, Alex knew that her ego was going to be the most bruised thing to come out of this.
Maggie drew her arm back to deliver the knockout punch. Too tired to even lift her head, Alex's head lolled as she stared up at the bright and cloudless sky. Despite the bizarre sequence of events that had brought them here, Alex knew she was only getting exactly what she deserved from Maggie Sawyer.
From the moment that she'd seen Maggie in the cantina, Alex had known that if it came to blows, she would lose. She would never be able to go all-out against Maggie. There was nothing holding Maggie back; she didn't even know that it was Alex and—if she did—it would likely only make her even more motivated to hurt her. Closing her eyes, Alex waited for the darkness to take her.
It didn't come.
Peeking an eye open, she saw Maggie's eyes wide with shock. Maggie's hand on her collar shook. A fist flew forward. Alex flinched.
Instead of connecting with her head, Maggie snatched at something around Alex's neck and yanked. She dropped Alex back into the mud as she scrutinized her find.
"Where did you get this?" Maggie demanded, her voice trembling.
Alex groaned. She pushed herself onto her elbows to see what had Maggie so unsettled. When Alex saw the ring hanging off of a chain, her heart skipped a beat.
It wasn't anything particularly nice. A plain metal band, not made of any single pure metal, but—as a result—had developed a rather unique patina. There were lines to an engraving that could really only be recognized by one other person. If that wasn't incriminating enough, there were also the engravings on the inside of the band: the initials Mern Senth from the Aurebesh alphabet on one side and "Ride or Die" spelled out on the other.
Fuck. There was no preventing this encounter now.
Maggie pulled off her glove and removed a ring. From where Alex lay, she recognized it by its patina. Maggie set them side by side, revealing the full crest of Alderaan, a perfectly matched pair.
She still has it. Alex took a shaky breath. Her stomach probably shouldn't have swooped the way it did. But, she'd kept it this whole time.
"Where the fuck did you get this?" Maggie snarled. She barely held herself together. Alex now recognized the trembling as scarcely contained rage.
Fuck. It dawned on her then that Maggie thought that she—a Mandalorian bounty hunter—had killed or captured herself—Alex—on some job or another. She hadn't been made yet, but there probably wasn't a way to get out of this without revealing her identity.
Alex was seriously considering dying to avoid the sheer embarrassment, shame, and guilt that was bound to come out of the impending confrontation. If Maggie was this angry now, Alex couldn't even imagine how furious she was going to be when she realized that Alex was… well, Alex.
"It's n—It's not what you think," Alex wheezed.
Maggie stepped back. Alex tried to catch her breath, but she'd barely had a second to breathe before Maggie was hauling her up again. This time, Maggie pressed a blaster under her chin from below the rim of the helmet. Alex heard the pistol prime.
"Start. Fucking. Talking."
"It's mine." And Alex could be such a coward.
Maggie's brow creased in confusion. "Yours," she whispered. Her eyes flickered with recognition at the implication. Maggie had always been quick on the uptake.
Alex could only nod. Such a fucking coward.
Maggie dropped the pistol and reached for the helmet. Fear shot down Alex's spine at the thought of facing Maggie, and Alex grabbed at her hand in desperation.
Maggie stopped. She stared at the blank Mandalorian mask. Her eyes danced across the surface as she took in everything she could, searching for something—anything—familiar.
Radiating her conflicting emotions, Maggie's entire body was tensed, and her face couldn't settle on any one expression. In a trembling whisper, she asked, "who are you?" Her eyes betrayed hope even as her tone remained cautious.
Alex gulped. She couldn't speak. Seriously. Big. Fucking. Coward.
"Alex?"
Alex nodded.
That got a reaction. Maggie let go of her. Shuffling backwards in disoriented steps, Maggie choked out a sob. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she looked like she was about to break into tears.
Shit, this was definitely not the reaction that Alex expected. She had expected anger. She didn't know if she could take this.
Eyes closed, Maggie sounded on the verge of hyperventilating. Yet, just as quickly, her eyes shot back open as if she feared Alex running away or disappearing. Not an unfair assessment.
"H—how do I know it's really you if you won't show me your face?"
Count on Maggie to logically think through the possibilities and require definitive proof—even as she was having an emotional breakdown.
But Alex had seen her confusion when she thought that Alex's fighting style was familiar. She had seen the light dawn in Maggie's eyes when she'd received confirmation. Maggie knew.
Alex went through the motions for Maggie anyway; she owed her at least that much.
"The first time we met, you stopped the Malverne boys from rearranging my face. I almost fought you, but we became friends instead." Alex recited the facts of their history easily.
"She could have told you that before you killed her," Maggie snapped.
"When you turned eighteen, we walked five klicks to join the Rebellion at the Blue Springs depot because the local Midtown recruiter would have recognized us. I lied about my age. You said they needed the bodies. I said I was believable because I was taller."
"Lucky guess," Maggie hedged.
Okaay, so that's the way we're going to play it… Alex sucked in a breath. "I made the first move. Three days into training, we were alone when I kissed you under the stars. You flipped out and said we shouldn't get involved.
"Less than a week later, you were barely grazed in a firefight. You got all dramatic about how 'life was short' and 'we should kiss the girls we want to kiss.'" Alex huffed in annoyance at the memory.
Alex had been spitting mad. She'd yelled "that's exactly what I did!" before Maggie had grabbed her by the collar and kissed her speechless.
"Was that okay?" Maggie had asked as she pulled away, suddenly tentative.
Alex's only response had been a breathless "yeah."
It had been easy between them after that.
Maggie's eyes snapped up to meet the thin horizontal line of the visor. Her brow furrowed.
Alex kept going, "you told me you loved me after I spent nearly a day in a bacta tank. Doc told us to get a room. And you said bacta tasted like toothpaste."
"I know," Alex had responded with a grimace, "I've been swimming in it for hours."
Alex had been lucky to survive her injuries. They'd lost almost their entire platoon at Kanna. Maggie had clung to her. She'd fallen asleep clutching Alex in a death grip, as if Alex would disappear if she'd let go.
Alex watched as conflicted emotions passed through Maggie's face. Alex finished softly, "you said it didn't matter when I said it back, that you'd already seen the truth in my eyes for months."
Maggie's early rejection had made her gun-shy. In matters regarding her heart, Alex had been more conservative than was her norm.
"It really is you, isn't it?" Maggie whispered hoarsely.
"Yeah," Alex croaked. Her throat was suddenly parched.
Alex missed the glint of anger that flashed in Maggie's eyes, and that was all the warning she got before Maggie swung a sucker punch at her head. It connected with a CLANG!
"What the fuck, Maggie!" Alex yelled as she covered her head.
"What the fuck, ALEX!" Maggie retorted, swinging wildly at her again.
Alex ducked.
"You left me! You fucking left me! I thought you were dead! You let me think you were dead for years!" Maggie's wrath was all-encompassing. This was more along the lines of the reception that Alex had been expecting.
"You fucking asshole!" Maggie seethed.
Generally even-tempered, Maggie was like a dormant supervolcano. She was quiet until she wasn't. It hadn't taken more than one incident for everyone in their neighborhood to go running at the first sign of smoke.
This was a step beyond anything that Alex had ever seen from her. Maggie's rage burned cold. Her eyes were flat, every muscle was tense, and she trembled with uncontained fury.
"You let me mourn you! You fucking asshole!"
Alex could only hang on as Maggie unleashed her wrath. Clinching tight, she tried to deprive Maggie of the distance for a solid windup. Still, the body shots hurt her already aching midsection.
Alex didn't even register it when the hits stopped coming. The sound of crying broke through—and suddenly Alex was acutely aware of Maggie clutching at her like her life depended on it.
"Fuck you, Alex. Fuck you," was all Maggie said over and over between sobs. Alex gripped her back just as tight.
/ / /
They sat inside the cantina on opposite ends of a table. The two rings sat on the table, equidistant between them.
Maggie eyed Alex like she still didn't quite believe that it really was her. She felt Maggie's gaze burning through her. Alex looked down at her hands, fidgeting like a chastised child. Despite the barrier that her helmet provided, she couldn't look at Maggie.
"Fuck."
That was all that Maggie had said for the last seven minutes that they'd been sitting here. That and the variation where she said "fuck, Alex."
Alex had been counting. So far, there had been thirty-four "fucks" given.
"Fuck, Alex,"—thirty-five—"can you not even bear to look at me?" Maggie spat. "Do you hate me that much?"
Alex's head snapped up at the accusation. "No, Maggie. I've never hated you. I—" I what? What could she possibly say to make this okay? Pretty much nothing, she concluded. She was fucked.
"Why didn't you ever contact me? Even just to tell me you were alive would have been enough." Maggie's voice trembled. She sounded so small.
Maggie had always been one of the strongest people that Alex had ever known. She hated that she'd done this to her. She hated that she had no answers to offer.
"You let me think you were dead for a decade," Maggie accused.
Well, technically, it's been nine years four months and—yeah, no. She was not saying that out loud. That would not go over well, but maybe… maybe there was an angle of the truth here that would fly.
Maggie looked at her like she couldn't decide whether she wanted to continue beating Alex to a pulp or start bawling.
"What happened to you? I refuse to believe that the Alex Danvers I knew would do that to me."
Alex had never hated anything more than when someone told her who she was or was supposed to be. Maggie knew this; Maggie knew just how thin Alex's skin was; and Maggie had always known exactly where to prod to get her to spill.
All of the hatred and self-loathing poured out like venom when Alex spat, "the Alex Danvers you knew died with Alderaan. The Alex that was left died a sad pathetic drunk, brawling in the Rim.
"I don't have a name."
Okay… so maybe she could have come up with a more diplomatic point of view than that.
Maggie's brow furrowed. There was steel in her voice when she said, "Alex Danvers was my favorite person; I loved her. She saved me more times than I can count. Part of me died when she did."
Alex knew she had no right, but the past tense made her heart clench. No, Maggie was definitely better off without her.
"I don't know you," Maggie said with a sad shake of her head. Alex felt it like a dagger to her heart.
The charged moment was interrupted by a small and enthusiastic, "hello!"
Alex jumped bodily in her seat. Maggie looked up—they were both staring at a precocious human child peering at them over a countertop she barely cleared.
"I thought I told you to stay on the ship," Alex hissed. She shot a furtive look around the room before tucking the kid into the corner seat beside her. She placed her body between the kid and any potentially prying eyes.
"I got hungry," the kid grumbled. "You were taking too long."
Maggie watched the two of them with a curious, but guarded, expression. Her voice was softer than when talking with Alex just a moment before when she turned to the child. "And who are you?"
"I'm Kara!" the child exclaimed. "I'm with her," she said proudly as she indicated Alex.
"I never took you for a kid person," Maggie directed icily at Alex.
Alex swallowed. She wasn't sure what she'd done this time—whether this animosity was something new, or if it was somehow related to the old. "I'm not," she conceded, "it's kind of a long story."
"Well, I've got all the time in the galaxy," Maggie said. "You still owe me an explanation, by the way. Don't think you're getting out of that."
Right. And that wouldn't be a problem if Alex had an explanation. "My planet blew up and I went a little crazy and lost myself" didn't really fly as an explanation when the person you were talking to lost the same planet, at the same time, and hadn't reacted by abandoning their last tie to said planet.
Maggie turned purposefully to Kara, boxing Alex out of the conversation. "So… how did you get stuck with this loser?"
Kara covered her mouth and giggled. Alex groaned. There was no way she was going to survive if the two of them decided to gang up on her.