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Zeb had always known this day would come.
He’s pacing around in front of Sabine’s room on the Ghost , waiting with baited breath for the big reveal. Beside him, Rex is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s watching Zeb with worry and understanding in his amber eyes, and that’s the worst part, that Rex understands what Zeb is going through when Zeb barely understands it himself.
The only thing he knows is that he might never get to see the face of the man he loves again.
Hours ago, while looting a base that had once belonged to Saw Gerrera, Zeb had come across a case holding Mandalorian armor. It had looked very ordinary — nothing like Sabine’s explosion of colors — but something about it had struck Zeb as familiar. As if the metal shining green, red, black and orange meant something to him…
He’d pondered it for a few minutes, then had shrugged and closed the case to take it with them. He’d made his way halfway through the compound when an alarm had sounded and he’d booked it back to the Ghost . Once onboard, he’d flung it into the landing bay and promptly forgotten about it until they’d managed to escape, after which it came back to him when Ezra literally stumbled over it.
“What’s that?” Ezra asks, nosy as always. He nudges the case with his boot. “Is it dangerous?”
Zeb bends down and flicks the case open, revealing the Mandalorian armor inside. “Nope,” he answers.
The moment the case opens, Sabine gasps. “Zeb,” she asks, her tone light and impossibly young. “That’s amazing!”
Her cry draws the attention of the other people loitering about the landing bay. One by one, Kanan, Rex and even Chopper come by to see what they have found.
Kanan whistles. “That’s some fine armor there.”
Rex tries to touch the armor, but thinks better of it and draws his hand back again. “I wonder who it belongs to.”
“It’s just armor,” Ezra says. And then shrieks, because Sabine had flicked his ear. Zeb winces in sympathy. “Ouch! What was that for?!”
“For being thick,” Sabine yells at him. “A Mandalorian’s armor is a big part of their heritage! It’s a representation of a clan’s history! So stop saying it’s ‘just armor’, or I'll kick your butt, okay?!”
Everyone stares at her with wide eyes as her speech explodes out of her. Finally, Ezra ducks his head and says, ”Sorry.”
Sabine huffs, then she crosses her arms over her chest and looks away. “Apology accepted,” she says. “We need to get this armor to its owner.” Her eyes scan the armor. “I don’t recognize that sigil, though. Maybe my mother knows—”
“Hey guys, Hera wanted me to tell you we’re about to jump back to base,” a voice says. The group turns as one as Alex climbs down the ladder, a curious glint in his amber eyes. “Did you find something interesting?”
Sabine’s eyes narrow once she sees the man. Zeb knows that she and Alex have a difficult history due to Alex being a firm believer of the Old Way. He also knows she somewhat looks down on him for having lost his armor. Her curt “Nothing,” therefore doesn’t surprise Zeb.
Alex frowns. “Really? Because I can see—” He stops the sentence abruptly. When Zeb looks at him, his eyes are wide as saucers, and all the color has drained from his face. “ Nu draar .” As if in a trance, he slowly steps closer to the case and falls to his knees before it, reaching out with his hands to touch the armor.
Sabine sneers, “Kallus, don’t you dare—”
“Ner beskar’gam,” Alex says in a voice so broken Zeb’s surprised the man hasn’t started bawling yet. “ Ibac’ner .”
And that’s when Zeb understands.
Back on Bahryn, Alex had told him about the loss of his beskar armor at the hands of Saw Gererra’s Lasat mercenary. How the man had taunted him, had taken Alex’s last connection to his family with him. With his whole clan dead at the hand of Clan Saxon during the Clone Wars and stranded on a hostile world hellbent on killing him, it had left Alex with no choice but to join the Empire to survive. Due to his Mandalorian upbringing, he had risen in rank quickly, and eventually got a command of his own, the very command that had him cross paths with the Lasat mercenary again. In a tiny voice, Alex had told him that he’d challenged the Lasat to a duel to get his armor back, and had gotten his ass handed to him. At long last, Alex had shouted at the Lasat to kill him, to end his misery.
The Lasat hadn’t killed him, however, no. He’d just marked Alex with his claws, four long scars running across the man’s chest that he’s still very self-conscious about even to this day. And then he’d laughed and taunted Alex yet again, and left him bleeding on a pile of his men while he walked away uncaring.
And to find his armor now, after all these years…
Kanan finds his voice first. “Ezra, I think I heard Hera calling for us. Let’s go.”
Ezra flounders, and screeches, “What?” But Kanan is already dragging him away by the arm, uncaring of his childish complaints. Chopper follows them, chortling gleefully at seeing Ezra getting treated this way. Rex leaves too, stating that he’ll be manning a cannon and looking out for eventual pursuers, despite the fact they’d entered hyperspace quite some time ago.
At long last, only Alex, Sabine and Zeb are left. Alex is still staring at the armor in obvious shock. A shudder goes through him as he touches it, and he chokes back a sob. Zeb scratches his head and says, “I guess I’ll go polish my bo-rifle or somethin’—”
“Zeb,” Alex says, voice thick. “Thank you.”
Zeb is startled out of his remembering when the door to Sabine’s room opens.
Sabine stands at the door, a smudge of green paint on the bridge of her nose and a big smile plastered all over her face. “Come in, come in,” she tells Zeb. “Look at him.”
Now’s the time. Zeb steels himself and enters her room.
Alex stands inside in all his glory, wearing the armor of his ancestors. He’s left the helmet off for now, but Zeb knows he’ll wear it all the time soon enough as a believer of the Old Way. The rest of his armor glows with fresh paint; the arm guard and vambraces in green, the chest in red, the legs in black, and orange intermingled everywhere. It’s shockingly similar in color to the outfit Alex always wears as a rebel, and now Zeb knows why he’s so adamant about those clothes — they remind him of his home , of his family .
And Alex looks really fucking good in it. If he wasn’t already head over heels for the man, he would be now seeing him in all his glory. Except… this might be the last time he will see his handsome face.
Zeb’s mood drops. “You look good,” he says, trying to sound cheerful.
“Very good,” Rex comments from beside him, looking Alex up and down appreciatively.
“Hey, Zeb,” Alex begins, voice full of worry. “What’s wrong?”
Zeb scratches his head. “I… it’s nothing—” All three Mandalorians raise a collective eyebrow at him, and he cowers under the might of their stares. “It’s… I don’t know how to handle the fact that… I won’t see your face again.”
Alex cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well… you told me when we met that you were a believer of the Old Way, that you never take off your helmet. That you were an exile in the eyes of your clan now because you lost your armor. And I guessed you’d, you’d follow the Old Way again once you got it back, and—”
“Zeb,” Alex interrupts him. “Of course you’ll get to see my face again.”
Zeb stares. “Er— what?”
“The Old Way states that I can take off my helmet in only one situation: when I’m with my aliit . My family.”
More staring. “Your… family?”
Alex rolls his eyes fondly. “That includes you, stupid.”
“…oh.”
Rex snickers.
“In fact,” Alex says, “I wanted to adjust my armor color wise, but Sabine ran out of the correct paint—”
Now Zeb’s totally lost. “Paint?”
Alex’s eyes go all soft. “Some purple,” he says, his hand hovering over the spot where his heart is, “right here.”
And suddenly the bo-rifle lights up in Zeb’s head. His fur bristles with pleasure. He steps closer to Alex and cradles his face in his hands. “I love you, too,” he growls.
And, as Alex blushes and Sabine makes fake retching noises in the background, he leans in for a kiss.