Chapter Text
It was pathetically easy to sneak into the Tin Can’s ship once he left. Aren’t Mandalorians meant to be smart or something? Maybe he was a faker. Which was weird ‘cuz she’s never seen a fake with that much beskar. It was real beskar too; it completely blocked out her senses and everything. Jinx couldn’t feel him in the back of her mind, intrinsically know his location, nor could she sense his emotions.
Whatever. Not her problem.
What was her problem though, was finding where he kept his valuables before he came back.
Which normally wasn’t an issue. She was an expert thief if she did say so herself. And she did. It was the truth. But other than weapons (which she already has), spare parts (which were crap, she could loot much better quality shit from the port), and nutribars (which made her violently gag the second she bit into one); the teen found nothing. Not a single credit, datapad or hell, even picture holo in sight. It was sad. Sad enough for some homeless kid to be judging. That’s gotta be a new low.
Jinx was genuinely appalled.
The only thing she found was a small bag of rocks on his bedside table. Weirdo.
Pitying the odd Fake Mando, Jinx decided she would help the poor guy settle into his impersonal ship. The blue haired kid lost herself in throwing graffiti all over his dingy ship, she kept her music off, just in case, but otherwise just hummed and giggled to herself as she worked.
Jinx was perched on the highest ledge she could find, halfway through finishing a piece on his roof when her instincts screamed at her to duck.
Fuck. She didn’t notice him coming back.
She jumped- not giving a damn about the height of the fall- while pulling out her blasters and unloading both mags onto the intruder. As expected, the shots just deflected everywhere, bouncing dangerously around the ship. She narrowly dodged her own reflected bolts flinging back at her. She knew it would happen, but could you blame a girl for trying? On the off chance beskar suddenly wasn’t bullet proof that would’ve 100% worked. She also did aim for the gaps in his armour. He was just annoyingly good at dodging. Maybe he was a real Mandalorian after all. “Well, shit.”
She ditched her blasters, not giving him any time to react before lunging at him with her hidden knives. If he could dodge point blank shots: she just had to get up close and personal. Her braids whipped behind her as she charged straight for his weapons.
He caught her.
One twist of his arm and Jinx was thrown bodily into the floor.
"Oof."
Neon scribbles exploded across her vision.
She blinked them away.
She dodged another attack, trying to get back onto her feet only to be grabbed by the hair and tackled to the ground yet again. She switched tactics, trying to wrestle him instead, hoping she could choke him out with her braids. Kicking hard enough to form an opening, she threw herself into the attack. Arms and legs wrapping tight, leaning back. It was scrappy, imperfect form. But it normally got the job done.
He’s too strong.
The thought didn’t feel like hers. Fuck, not this again.
He’s too strong. Silco whispered through the back of her skull.
Heat crawled under her skin. It wasn’t the expected warmth of exertion. No, this was unnatural. It was the boiling pain of the foreign liquid in her veins. Jinx grit her teeth. No..
The Mandalorian ripped her arms away and punched her hard enough to send her sprawling.
Use your Power.
“No!” She didn’t know if she said that aloud.
The scribbles intensified. They crawled over the walls. Over the Mandalorian. Over Silco.
Jinx only managed to evade the next hits due to her reflexes.
Purple seeped from Jinx's pores, beading along her skin. She could feel it glowing beneath the surface before she saw it- that sickly shimmer under her veins. Her blood sizzled. She was going to boil alive. Her heart hammered. She could feel the darkness grow inside her. It was hungry. It was easy.
Use it.
“NO!” Jinx scrambled back to her feet.
She didn’t want to. The last time she unleashed the Power, she-
His vibro-blade sliced her cheek open.
Her blood splattered the floor in glowing purple droplets. More blood oozed from her cheek. It set her whole face aflame. It hurt like a bitch. The scribbles screamed across her vision.
It’s okay.
Red scribbles clawed across the Mandalorian’s features, drawing horns over his helmet and a huge, stupid grin under his visor. He threw a punch. She couldn’t dodge. Jinx fell to the ground.
The heat grew to a burning furnace in her head. It was unbearable.
Just let go. If she were able to look up she could probably have seen him. Silco. He was supposed to be dead. Why did people never stay. Dead. Her hands shook.
The Mandalorian raised his fist. Electricity crackled beneath his glove. Jinx just stared. The scribbles coloured the background white, honing her focus solely onto her attacker.
Kill or be killed, Jinx.
Something in her snapped. Just as the electricity hit her body, Jinx threw up both hands. The heat surged outward. Purple light flashed from her eyes and beneath her skin as something invisible exploded from her body with enough force to tear the Mandalorian’s helmet clean off his head.
It went clattering uselessly across the floor.
The Power sang through her.
It felt.. Good.
Then the electricity ripped through her. Jinx’s control shattered as she went limp as a ragdoll, arms collapsing uselessly down to her sides as her body twitched helplessly against the floor.
The heat vanished. The glow dimmed. The scribbles faded.
…
Brown eyes met violet.
Her eyes widened.
As her brain finally caught up, the man’s emotions slammed into her. The beskar barrier had been broken.
Fear. Shame. Panic. No bloodlust.
He didn't want to kill her.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t… Especially now.
Shit.
Din watched her see his face.
Without the rush of the fight, without the speed of her movements, he could finally see hers too.
She was a child.
Fuck.
She was only a child.
But that was irrelevant to The Way.
She managed to sneak into his ship unnoticed. They had fought. She held her ground well. Her actions forced him to consider her an enemy. Child or not; she was old enough to defend herself, so she was old enough to break his Creed by seeing his face. He would need to give away his armour, step away from his duties in shame.
Unless…
Purely on instinct he felt himself slowly raise a blaster to her head.
His arms shook.
Din couldn’t do it.
The Mand’alore had to do it.
She was just a child.
He could see the youth decorate her features.
In the terse calm, Din took in her twitching body. Her hair was held in two braids, each about waist-length. She stared at him. Wide eyes stricken with fear. Her skin was a sickly pallor. He could see the poor girl’s bones from a mile away. Yet she fought faster and stronger than physically possible. She was sloppy, yet electric. The girl fought like a starved, cornered, wild animal. She was fierce.
His pulse hadn’t slowed since the fight ended. He couldn’t do it. There had to be another way. He would take her back to Mandalore. He would consult the Armorer. She hadn’t told him everything about The Way. He knew this. If she had kept the knowledge of the Mand’alore from him all this time, there must be more he was missing.
Resolve hardened his eyes.
Just as he was about to lower his weapon, the girl regained control of her mouth.
“I-…. I w-want in.” Her voice barely came out into a whisper. The electric shock should’ve knocked her out clean.
His eyes scrunched in obvious confusion. “…What?”
“Mmm-M-make me a Manda-…” she cut herself off, eyebrows twitching in frustration.
“You want to become a Mandalorian?”
“Yes!”
Din tilted his head, it was overly exaggerated in the way Mandalorian body language had to be. “Why?”
“Your… face…” She huffed, somehow finding the strength to roll her eyes. Despite being completely vulnerable, the girl still had some attitude to her. He tried not to be too endeared. “I saw it.”
He blinked. Realisation dawned on him. She must’ve seen his determination. Must’ve misinterpreted it as resolve to kill the child. And in that split second, despite the adrenaline of the fight and electricity clouding her brain; she came up with an idea none of his previous targets had even considered. One that could actually work, if carried out correctly. Din would not kill another Mandalorian, established or potential. There were too few of his people to even entertain the idea.
She was smart, too.
Before he could consider a response, she passed out cold.
Immediately, Din set to action, moving purely out of habit; he picked up her body (she was far too light for his liking), set her down on a chair and cuffed her in place as a precaution. He didn’t like it but it must be done. People like her tended to wake up flighty. He really wasn’t in the mood for a wild goose chase. Not with someone as fast and sneaky as her.
He paced, pausing only to put back on his helmet. It was futile but it helped him think, his shoulders relaxed a little at being more covered up. He was much more uncomfortable with being seen than he expected.
The girl had given him a way out. It would redeem him for showing his face. It would give the foundling a Clan.
But she had made the decision out of desperation.
This was a big choice. She didn’t know what she was doing. She wouldn’t simply be any Mandalorian. She would have to join his Clan of Two.
She would have to become his daughter.
She must’ve been living on her own for quite some time. How would she take to Din trying to father her? She couldn’t have been much older than fifteen, but that was still a relatively old age. Not for his people, found family was just as valid as blood relations. Nor would she be too old for him either. He was vaguely aware that Mandalorians moved much faster than most other cultures. In a warrior culture, life was too short to hesitate. Once adopted, he would love her like a daughter. But it would still be difficult for her. Especially if she didn’t actually want to be his. As a child, he had refused to allow himself to be adopted. It was why he was Clanless. The memory of his parents too fresh in his mind.
He would never force something like that onto anyone who wasn’t ready.
But if there was a chance she was…
He looked at her again. She was strong. Fast. Smart. Skilled. Spirited.
He approached her, scanning her body for weapons. Despite wearing such revealing and scrappy clothing, she had managed to hide an admirable amount of items on her person. Everything that ranged from guns, to knives, to what seemed like handmade bombs. She might even carry more than he does.
She would make a perfect Mandalorian.
He shook himself. He couldn’t get too attached yet. This was about her. About her survival. He couldn’t let emotion cloud his judgement.
Then there was the problem of his helmet. She hadn’t done that with her hands. Was she like the Child?
He paced, lost in thought.
Jinx woke up chained.
She immediately started thrashing.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” A modulated voice came out from behind her. His voice growing louder as he approached.
She couldn’t sense him. She thrashed harder. A hand appeared in her peripheral. She jerked away, hard enough to nearly topple the chair.
It gripped the back rest, preventing the tumble.
“Don’t touch me!” She spat.
He steadily walked into her line of sight. She didn’t relax, but a part of her eased at being able to see the threat with her own eyes. She hated beskar. Hated how it blocked out her senses so completely.
“I won’t touch you without permission.” His hands were raised. “This is The Way.”
She kept struggling against her restraints. The girl considered breaking them with her Mind, but she wasn’t sure if she’d accidentally explode her own hands with it. Jinx was a little too good at breaking things. She would try if it came down to it, though.
“Please calm down. Your wrists are bleeding. I won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t trust you. Take off your helmet.” She hissed. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing, her vision started to cloud over with brightly coloured sketches. “I’ve seen your face already.”
He hesitated. She flailed harder.
“Okay.”
Relief flooded her body as he re-entered her awareness, his emotions freely flowing into her consciousness. Conflict. Fear. Hope. It was intense: with that helmet on, he’d probably never had to hide his feelings before.
Her vision cleared slightly and she stilled her movements. The girl was still tense, ready to fight at a moment’s notice (she wasn’t an idiot), but she stopped struggling. She felt her wrists wet with her own blood. If she lost too much she’d lose control again. Her sight temporarily clouded over with the scribbles at the thought of that.
“You with me?” He asked, unmodulated voice soothing something in her heart. It was surprisingly soft and calming for someone so strong and ruthless in a fight.
She didn’t answer, choosing instead to repeat what she said earlier. “I want in. Make me a Mandalorian. You won’t have to kill me then, right?”
His lips pursed, there was something in what she said that made him uneasy. She really didn’t like that.
“There might be another way. I don’t know yet, but you might not have to pledge. We can-“
“No.” She interrupted, getting impatient. “I want to join.”
Her knee bounced.
“…Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She insisted, leaning as far forward as her cuffs allowed. It was the truth. She had nothing. No one. Jinx was so damn bored! She hated, hated being alone. Much more than she hated that stupid metal. She would beg if she fucking had to.
He looked at her, considering. The small amount of hope she detected grew. She was getting to him. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied grin growing on her face.
“Okay.”
“Great! Now can ya get me out of these damn cuffs?”
He bit his lip, thoughtful. “Do you have parents?”
She widened her eyes. “Huh.” she said, very eloquently.
“Ya think I’d be raiding your scrappy ship if I had parents? They’re 6 feet under. Each one I got.” I killed them. Almost slipped through her tongue, the tiny amount of self preservation left in her made her bite her tongue to hold it in. Hard enough to draw blood.
She sensed the hope grow, mixed with a twinge of guilt and a deep well of sadness. He didn’t offer the condolences she had braced herself for hearing though. He merely allowed the silence to remain for a beat or two. She snorted to herself, damn he’s awkward. Who knew Mandalorians were so socially inept? Or maybe it was just this one.
“I will adopt you.”
She choked on her own spit, coughing up a lung before finally wheezing out a weak “What?!”
The sketches hit her vision full force.
They doodled all over the Mandalorian’s face, crossing out his eyes in big red, covering his face and armoured body in cartoonishly large gashes of blood. Her chest constricted against her lungs, an iron fist around her heart. She couldn’t breathe. Everyone appeared in front of her, their voices loud and overlapping each other. She screamed at them to stop.
“You’re going to kill him, too.”
“You’re a Jinx!”
“Replacing me so easily?”
“He’s gonna die~!”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
She couldn’t tell who was speaking. Couldn’t tell the difference between her own voice and her cursed family’s.
Her head snapped in every direction, frantically, desperately trying to get them all to be quiet.
“-d! Kid! Hey, Kid!” A singular voice cut through the rest. It was filled with panic, guilt, sadness.
It did nothing to ease her mood. His negative emotions only fed hers.
Her eyes locked onto his.
“Calm down!” She shouted at him, paradoxically. The irony of it actually made her burst into hysterical giggles. She couldn’t stop laughing. They quickly turned to violet tears as she thrashed against the cuffs harder. “Calm down! Calm down! Calm down!”
She didn’t know who she was shouting at. Her hands curled into fists tight enough to break skin. They strained uselessly against the wet metal. She desperately needed to bang her head against something. To throw shit at her crappy family. To get anything to just stop.
Confusion.
Then calm, peace, safety hit her all at once.
She breathed it in, gasping desperately for more. She moved towards it, urgently swallowing lungfuls of the feeling. The iron grip of her ribs loosened, finally allowing air into her system.
The tears spilled harder, purple mixing with the black of her makeup. She really missed that. She really, really missed people doing that.
The cuffs came off.
She tackled him into a death grip of a hug with so much force they landed onto the ground. Deja-vu haunted her bones, she resolutely ignored it.
Ungloved fingers scratched her scalp and stroked her back, opening the floodgates. Purple tears left her eyes in waves, violet snot dirtied his pristine beskar. The waves of soothing emotion kept flowing, filling every inch of her shivering body with a kind warmth. The man kept speaking to her, soft reassurances filled her ears. They contrasted so much with the others’ harsh rasps. She gripped him impossibly tighter. He was real. Solid. His armour cooled her burning skin.
Eventually, she finally managed to cry out all her fear, going limp as exhaustion suddenly weighed her bones.
The hand on her head stilled, but kept a calming pressure on the back of her skull. “Are you okay now?”
She nodded, not trusting her vocal cords.
“You’re going to Jinx this, just like-”
“SHUT UP!” She screeched, head snapping over her shoulder to look at Mylo in the eyes. She hated him. She-
A blaster appeared to her left, aimed exactly where she was looking. “What are you speaking to?”
She blinked. No one’s ever pointed a weapon at them. Not for her. No one’s taken her seriously, no one’s acted like… like they were real. As real to them as they were to her.
She hesitated. He just offered to adopt her. She was going to fuck this up. He would leave her. He-
He projected calm, peace, safety at her again.
She took a breath. “…Ghosts.”
“Are they a threat?” He gripped her tighter, arms wrapping around her almost… protectively?
She finally looked away from Mylo’s distorted face. Eyes snapping to look into the Mandalorian’s deep brown ones. She was shocked. He.. not only did he take her seriously, but he also asked if her… ghosts, were a threat.
She paused, unsure of how to answer…
They… They’ve never actually physically hurt her…
She frowned, thinking hard.
His aim was steady, unwavering from Mylo’s grotesque form. It kept flickering between his face while alive and while dead. Thankfully, red scribbles covered up most of both images.
“I… I guess not… no.”
“So it can’t hurt us?”
Us.
If she couldn’t sense his feelings she would’ve thought he was making fun of her. Or at least have been humoring her, not actually considering the possibility that she was sane. That ghosts were actually haunting the girl. She glanced up to take in his face. He didn’t look at her like she was crazy. Didn’t look at her with pity. He just had a look of focus as he trained his eyes and blaster resolutely at the empty corner of her ship.
She swallowed, forcibly unclenching her jaw to reply. “No… No, they can’t hurt us.”
They can’t hurt us.
Din rocked her, the repetitive motion strangely comforting. She felt like she was a baby again.
They can’t hurt me.
The last of the heat seeped from her bones.
They can’t hurt me.
How had she not realised this sooner? She’d been so terrified.
“They can’t hurt me.” She repeated, louder this time.
“Okay.” He lowered his blaster, holstering it into his side. “They can’t hurt us.”
She nodded frantically into his shoulder, clinging tight to the gaps in his armour as if they were the sole threads holding her together.
“I’m sorry.” He finally said.
Fear spiked through her body. Jinx tensed. Was he going to leave?
Comfort. Safety. Peace.
“I’m sorry for making you panic.” He clarified. “I- uh,…”
His awkwardness was back. He was weirdly good at comforting distressed children. But that seemed to be where his social skills ended.
She giggled. Jinx felt a hint of confusion peak in again, which just made her giggle harder.
“I asked because it isn’t enough to simply be Mandalorian. In my religion, only Clan can see my face. Clan is family.”
“Oh…”
“The… offer is still on the table, if you want. But if you don’t-“
She stiffened, gripping his clothes tight enough for her nails to start ripping the fabric. He both gripped her tighter and sent another calming wave. Jinx only began to relax after he continued speaking.
“Alright,” he chuckled, “so is that a yes?”
“Yes.” Her reply was immediate.
“Okay.” He rubbed her arms a few times before beginning to pull away. He paused, then returned when he felt her grip tighter again. He chuckled once more. She could hear the grin in his voice as he continued. “Alright, alright, we can stay like this. It would be nice to see your face while I adopt you though.”
False.
Panic flooded her system.
“Liar!” She shoved him. Pushing hard enough for the man to hit his head on the wall behind him with a huff.
Confusion oozed out of him as the girl panted as if she had run a marathon.
“Liar! I can tell you’re lying! You don’t want to see my face! You hate me!” She scrambled back, far and fast enough to slam into the opposite wall.
He raised his hands up slowly, the way someone might do to a rabid dog. The Mandalorian hesitated, considering his words. “...I don’t hate you.”
True.
She almost laughed. Almost.
“I like you.”
True.
She couldn’t believe it. They just met. She attacked him, forcibly disrespected his religion, then cried on him, then attacked him again. She could see his beskar dotted with bits of her blood, tears and snot. It was disgusting. He would be crazy to like her.
“…Liar.” She repeated, with a lot less heat behind her words this time.
Emboldened by his words seemingly calming her down, he continued. “You are strong, fast, and smart. Any Mandalorian would be fighting to take you in.”
True.
She blinked, somehow simultaneously calming down her heart rate and feeling itchy and uncomfortable under her skin. She desperately needed the praise yet couldn’t take it. While the words cut straight to her heart, cuts still hurt.
“Literally.” He kept going. “If I take you back to Mandalore before adopting you, someone will probably challenge me for the right of adoption the second you step foot on that planet.”
Her shaking eyes widened as she barely held herself together. She felt like she was going to cry. Or scream. Or smile. Or explode, doing all of those at once. She swallowed it back down, emotions overwhelming so much she looped back around to numbness.
She shifted so she could sit cross legged. “Alright that’s enough cryin’ for one night, old man. Are ya gonna adopt me already or not?”
She tapped an imaginary watch. “Time’s a ticking, Tin Can! I’m getting so boreddddd.”
The Mandalorian’s face went slack with obvious whiplash.
“Ha!” She broke into hysterical giggles, going as far as slapping her knee and making a show of wiping a translucent tear. “You’re so expressive! It’s so funny!”
His face scrunched. “I am?”
She only laughed harder.
His lips turned up as he tried- and failed- to hold back a smile.
She snorted.
“My name is Din Djarin.” He offered.
The girl let the silence linger long enough to turn a little awkward, finding joy in teasing out a bit of discomfort. She was on the receiving end of being an embarrassing mess too much tonight, you can’t blame her for wanting a bit of payback. She still felt the sticky feeling under her skin. It needed an out. Simple teasing wasn’t enough.
She pulled out a wanted poster from her pocket. Pointing at the ugly drawing of her. It cracked her up how they managed to butcher her face so well. “That’s me!”
Anger. Discomfort. Confusion.
She made him uncomfortable. Angry. He would ditch her after all. She was sure of it.
He squinted dramatically, as if not trusting his eyes.
“Jinx?” He could barely stop himself from spitting it out. “That’s your name?”
“Yep!” She grinned, leaning forward with a palm on the floor in a dramatic bow, her other hand flicked the paper to his face, she floated it the rest of the way with her mind. “Yours truly!”
Jinx raised from her bow and winked. “Picked it myself.”
She watched as his jaw worked. There was something he wanted to say. He wasn’t saying it. That pissed her off. She snapped, “Spit it out already.”
He looked surprised from the callout. Din hesitated.
Jinx sighed dramatically, blowing a strand of hair from her face impatiently.
“…Do you… like it?” He looked pained to be asking.
Jinx ground her teeth. Do I like it? She’s had enough fucking self reflection tonight to last her a goddamn year. “Duh. I named myself. What’d ya think, dumbo?”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
Din maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position on the floor. Jinx watched him go into ‘teacher mode’. “Mandalorian adoption is simple. It is called the-”
Jinx popped her chewing gum bubble. “What?”
“Are you struggling to pay attention?” It was asked plainly. With calm and patience oozing out of his body language.
She shrugged, chewing with her mouth open as she spoke, “the gum helps. But I’m good right now.”
He simply nodded and continued, unfazed by the disrespect in what should’ve been some kind of emotional moment. It irritated her more than it should have.
“It’s called the ‘gai bal manda’. That translates to ‘name and soul’ in Mando’a.”
Jinx blew a bubble, shifting positions to bring her knees up to her chest.
“All I will do is say a phrase that translates to ‘I know your name as my child’, then say your name.”
“That’s it?” She raised a heavily skeptical brow, popping the bubble. He nodded. “Shouldn’t there be like… some paperwork or some shit? It’s so short! What’s stopping me from just… lying.”
Surprisingly enough, Din ignored the swear. “Honour is a big deal in our religion. Genuinely lying about something as big as this could get you exiled. Or killed.”
“And how do you un-adopt a kid?” Jinx couldn’t help herself from asking. Nor could she help herself from periodically checking on Din’s emotions.
Disappointment. Anger. Jinx was used to those. Nonetheless, she prickled all the same at their appearance.
He clenched his fist. “There is no set ritual for this. Anyone who abandons their Clan, let alone their child deserves exile and death. Defending your family and raising your children are two of our six central tenets. You will never hear such words from me.”
True.
Jinx chewed harder, wrapping her arms around her knees. She didn’t know what she expected bringing that question up. Regardless, his answer made her all sorts of uncomfortable. She resolutely ignored the scribbles of her dead family taunting her. They can’t hurt me.
Din lost his steam at her silence. “Unless… are you having second thoughts? You-”
“No!” she blurted, all too loudly. Within a blink of an eye she found herself face to face with him. She couldn’t take the wait any longer. Energy thrummed inside her body, about to burst. Her entire body was tense. “Do it. Now.”
Jinx shouldn’t have been so surprised when he smiled at her. It was too soft for someone he just met. She thought Mandalorians were supposed to be tough and intimidating. If she didn’t fight him herself she’d have thought he was some weak wuss.
Telegraphing his movements so she could stop him at any time, Din slowly brought his hand to the back of her head and led them to gently bonk their foreheads together. Jinx would’ve laughed at the ridiculous action if an overwhelming emotion of safety and home hadn’t hit her like a truck. It infested her veins, easily competing with the constant background hum of purple goo thrumming in her body. As it climbed down her bloodstream she felt each muscle in her body let go. Finally allowing her to relax in a way she hasn’t in a long time.
“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad.” He breathed.
Goosebumps erupted down her skin, a strange warmth blooming straight from her heart, spreading its roots throughout her body.
“Jinx.”