Chapter Text
Din
“Nice shot.” he said, watching the troop carriers crash to the earth.
“I was aiming for the other one.” Boba growled.
That had been close– too close. Somehow, the Imperials had found the Child– Grogu– and it probably wasn’t because he was shooting Force-beams into the sky. Din considered his two unlikely allies and felt adrenaline draining out of his limbs as they made their way to the ridgeline.
The carriers had set down on either side of the Crest; you’d been right about one thing– something had been wrong. He could already see the indignant look you’d have on your face when he returned to his ship, the way you’d jangle the manacle at him before saying, I told you so. Din readied himself for the many ways he was prepared to offer his apologies… in the fresher first, that was–
A red light flashed in the clouds overhead and a single laser cannon sailed through the sky before landing dead center on the Crest. The explosion was catastrophic, and not simply because of the stacks of weapons it carried. The ship was full of tibanna gas– from the hyperdrive system to the laser cannons to the massive carbonite freezer– and it all contributed to the fiery eruption that shook the very ground Din stood on.
He stumbled forward, a roaring filling the air, stealing the very breath from his lungs. It took a moment to realize the sound was coming from him– his voice screaming for you. He tried to run to you, thinking to find you somehow in the dark cloud that billowed from the wreckage but strong arms held him back, shaking him until he took a breath.
The woman– Fennec, he remembered dimly– placed her hands on his chest and spoke to him calmly. “It’s just a ship, it can be replaced. We’re all okay.”
“There was someone on it.” Boba said, loosening his grip on Din’s arms. “A woman.”
Din whirled and stumbled sideways, his feet no longer wishing to hold him upright.
“You saw her?” he gasped.
“Yes. When I retrieved my armor.” Boba said gently. He tipped his head sideways and added, “She was locked to the bulkhead and… unhelpful.”
“But–” Din squeezed Boba’s arms too hard.
“I did not free her… I am sorry.”
“Better get back to your ship.” Fennec warned Boba.
Boba fired up his jetpack and leapt into the sky and Din allowed Fennec to keep hold of his arm as he stared at the still-flaming crater where the Crest had been. It hadn’t exploded spontaneously, it had been shot. He jerked his head to the hazy sky and saw an Imperial cruiser entering the atmosphere through the flicker of his helmet’s feed.
“The kid!” Fresh adrenaline shot through his legs as he sprinted back to the stones, followed closely by Fennec.
Din’s legs were leaden and his lungs burned for rest as he raced uphill over uneven ground– the kid’s beam of energy was gone. I can’t lose him, too!
An alert flashed in the corner of his visor and he skidded to a halt, raising his eyes to the sky once more. The light cruiser had discharged four figures, who were already aimed at the pinnacle where he’d left the child.
“Fuck!” Din spat and drove his aching body harder. It didn’t matter if he hurt himself, didn’t matter that he was tired; his foundling, his child, his clan member was in danger!
The figures were fast– far faster than Din on foot– and his stomach dropped as he glimpsed them touch down on the hilltop above him. Fennec was gasping but keeping up and rivers of sweat poured down Din’s neck as he willed his body to do more!
Din could see the stones now! He wove between boulders and scrubby bushes, cursing the landscape for standing in his way… cursing himself for leaving the circle of rocks in the first place. He tried to count the seconds after the troops landed but his racing heart smeared the passage of time– while at the same time, his aching body made it feel like he was running through mud.
He stumbled onto the flat surface of the pinnacle just as the four– droids! It had to be droids!-- launched into the sky again. Din gasped and holstered his blaster, engaging his visor once more to track them.
The kid’s ears flapped in the rush of air as he clutched the rigid plates of a droid’s arm.
“They’ve got the baby! Don’t let them get away!” Fennec spoke into a comms mic.
A small ship entered Din’s view and he recognized it as Boba’s.
“Affirmative. I’ve got a lock.” a voice crackled through the comms in Fennec’s hand. The ship banked and began to climb, positioning itself to fire upon the droids.
“Stop! I don’t want the child hurt!” Din said frantically.
“Disengage!” Fennec insisted. “Do not hurt the child!”
Din’s heart pounded and he clenched his fists, powerless to help as his child was carried farther and farther away. Boba’s ship sailed well below the droids and followed at a distance up through the clouds. His voice crackled through the comms and confirmed Din’s fears.
“They’re back… The Empire.”
Fennec argued with him in disbelief.
“I can see the Imperial Cruiser with my own eyes.” Boba confirmed before heading back to the surface.
Din was sick– honestly afraid he’d have to rip his helmet off to vomit. A high pitch squeal began in his ears and he felt cold sweat break out over his body. He recognized the feeling… he’d had it before… once before, when you were shot–
“Hey.”
Someone grabbed the sides of his helmet. Din gripped their wrists, ready to fight them off but the hands slipped easily down to his shoulders.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Din’s chest felt tight, painful with each breath he took.
“Look at me.” the voice repeated.
Din looked into Fennec’s face. She’d pushed him up against one of the standing stones and used it to keep him upright as she continued to speak to him. Gradually, his heart slowed and the ringing in his ears faded.
“You alright?” she asked.
I’ve lost them.
“You’re alright.” she insisted instead.
Din nodded, though he was most certainly not alright. I’ve lost them.
Fennec took him by the elbow and pulled, guiding him back down the hillside to the smoking crater that used to be his ship. Every step closer was like a nail in a coffin– your coffin. He broke into a stumbling run when they reached the flat ground of the valley floor.
He wasn’t even sure why he hoped at all. Nothing could have survived that explosion. He’d made sure you couldn’t leave the ship, afraid you’d hurt yourself or the kid or interfere in the mission– but still he hoped that he’d find you curled up in the ash, unhurt.
His feet halted at the smoking rim.
But you weren’t there. Nothing was there but a few pieces of twisted metal.
Din barely registered when Boba joined Fennec at the edge of the pit behind him but he heard the melodic accent of his deep voice.
Maybe you’d gotten free! he thought pitifully, cringing at his own fatalistic optimism to deny what had happened. He cast about desperately, hoping to find your footprints or even better, your heat signature… but everything had been blasted to smithereens. He couldn’t even see the stormtrooper’s footprints as they retreated to their ships and the rocks nearby still glowed white from the intensity of the explosion.
And you were gone.
You couldn’t be…
He staggered and took a knee, gasping for air as his heart cracked.
Someone placed their hand on his shoulder.
“She can’t be…” Din croaked.
“I’m sorry, brother.”
Din took a handful of the ash of his ship, a place you’d made his home. His sunshine, his joy, his beautiful place… gone. Because of him. He squeezed the ash until his fist shook.
“Let us look together.” Boba lifted him to his feet and gestured to the pit but Din shook his head and slid alone into the crater.
He was acutely aware of the two of them watching him search fruitlessly through the wreckage, pulling up impossibly bent pieces of gears and levers before…
Din leaned down and dug his fingers into the blackened dirt, pulling a long object from the earth– the spear. Pure Beskar was difficult to sully; the soil slipped cleanly away as he tilted its point to the sky and saw you dancing with it in another charred clearing on Corvus.
His toe hit a solid object as he shuffled toward the edge of the blast and he scooped up the tip to his control lever. Detritus. Trash. Rubbish. But to him, it was his child’s favorite toy.
His only toy, he thought miserably.
Din tucked the ball into his belt and gritted his teeth as he left the crater to join his– friends?-- on the edge.
He was barely able to focus, his throat tight and painful as Boba handed Din’s jetpack over and pulled up his chain code. There was something soothing about this man’s voice– fierce and sad and calm.
“That armor belongs to you.” Din said tiredly, his muscles now quivering at the edge of collapse. “Our deal is complete.”
“Not quite.” Boba’s face was stern, but there was a smile in his words.
“How so?”
Boba and Fennec shared a significant look. The deal was to exchange his armor to ensure the safety of the child, they explained quietly.
A gentle breeze blew through the valley and swept the smoke aside. Din watched it tumble across the rocks and up the opposite hillside.
“The child is gone.” his voice was haunted. Everything was gone. He’d failed at every single thing he thought himself capable of.
“Until he is returned to you safely, we are in your debt.” Boba murmured.
A spark of hope flared in Din’s chest. Grogu was alive. With Boba’s ship and Fennec’s skill, there just might be a chance…
He tucked his grief carefully into the depths of his heart and sealed it there with each step he took towards Boba’s ship.
Bring him back! He heard you say– your last words to him.
Yes, my love.
—--------------------------------
“Are you okay?”
You jerked your head up and winced, your painful shoulder had receded into the background as you slept but woke with a vengeance. Bits of soil and little pebbles fell from your cheek as you pushed yourself onto one side to blink up at your visitor.
His eyes might have been kindly in another face but they bulged as though they were too large to fit where they belonged. The man was quite angular and rather small, with thin, ropy muscles poking out from too-short pant legs and sleeves. The feet next to you shuffled awkwardly and you tilted your head back to look into his face again.
He flashed a quick smile and it lined every hard edge with a friendly brush.
“Um,” your voice broke and you coughed, dislodging more dirt from your face. You brushed your hand across to clean it and flinched as the manacle hit your cheek. “I’m hurt.”
You also felt rather dazed, as though your brain lagged a few seconds behind. You sat up and looked around. Little wisps of smoke rose from the crater into the pale dawn. The man turned to look into the distance and muttered something, following up with a staccato burst of laughter that sounded almost like rapid gunfire.
“What?” you screwed up your face and focused harder on his voice.
He repeated himself and you realized that it wasn’t your scrambled brain’s fault you hadn’t understood him the first time. The words tumbled out of his mouth as though they couldn’t escape fast enough, slurring together so thoroughly that you still had no idea what he’d said.
“Sorry, I think maybe my hearing…” you spun your hand near your ear but heard the rattle of the handcuffs perfectly.
“Oh.” his eyes bulged a little further as he nodded his head too rapidly and shouted. “You… need… help?”
You winced, wishing that he’d kept the volume down.
“Y– yes.” you turned your head carefully to scan the area. There was no ship in sight, but the hilly terrain of the planet could hide all manner of things. Hope bloomed in your chest as you realized your luck that this man had found you so soon. “I… I’m a registered slave. I’ve been separated from my owner and need help getting back to him.”
He crouched quickly and grabbed your good arm to help you struggle to your feet.
“Thank you.” you said, a little shocked at his obvious concern.
You had no idea where Din had gone, but there was someone who had thought through these contingencies and made arrangements for just this reason. “I need to get to Nevarro, to a man named Greef Karga, who will pay a reward for my return.”
The man’s wiry brows shot up, making his eyeballs protrude ever further until you worried they would fall right out of his head.
“Um, my… my number is A-186.75309.” you pulled your hand back and he looked a little surprised that he was still holding it. “So… can you help me?”
“Yeahyeahyeahyeah!” he said in his rapid-fire way. He followed this expulsion of words with something about a ship that you assumed meant he could get you off planet. The man strode off, his bony knees poking off to the side as he hopped more than walked away from the crater. His elbows hooked out to the side and his head ducked down by his shoulders as he moved so he looked more like a gangly bird than a man.
You were surprised to look down and find your feet moving to follow the awkward bird-man. They stopped, as though embarrassed by moving of their own volition. The man hopped along ahead and you swallowed a panicky feeling.
What if he comes back and I’m not here?
What if you stayed with no food or water or a way to get off the kriffing planet and ended up dying of exposure while waiting for a man who thought you were dead to come back for you? Your shoulder ached fiercely. That, too, necessitated your departure. Karga would help you find each other… but still. Din always said he’d never leave you… never let you go. Yet here you were.
Did he really look for you? That greasy, dark voice crept up your scalp.
You’d fallen relatively close to the Crest but his footprints were isolated to the blast site– he hadn’t even bothered to look nearby. You bit your lower lip, trying to think logically while that crushing darkness oozed over you. There was no reason for Din to look for you outside of the crater. Your stomach sank. Even the other Mandalorian could confirm that you’d been securely locked in the Crest just minutes before it exploded.
He never even tried, that sliding darkness coiled around your throat.
The bird-man stopped and his head poked up questioningly, then he hopped back in your direction. You couldn’t make your feet move. You shoved the darkness back with effort and felt a tiny reprieve from its oppressive weight.
Din was alive. He’d left on the Mandalorian’s ship, presumably with your child, so all you had to do was get back to him. It was a stroke of luck to be discovered so quickly, really. You’d be reunited in no time– but somehow, walking away from the wreck of the Crest felt like walking away from them. It didn’t feel right.
“You coming?” the man cocked his head to the side and blinked at you.
It was your best option and yet you couldn’t convince your body to stray any further from the place you’d seen them last. You stared at bird-man with pleading eyes.
“It gets better.” he said gently, patting your good shoulder with a heavily calloused hand.
“When?” you croaked. Maker, your throat was so dry. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water.
The man chuckled. It was rich and low and surprisingly pleasant. “Sometimes forever.”
He spoke so clearly this time that you stood and blinked at him for several moments before another thought occurred to you.
“What is your name?” you adjusted the rifle strap over your shoulder to hold your injured arm and it struck you then as rather odd that this man hadn’t stripped you of your weapon when he heard you were a slave. You peered down at the manacle swinging from your opposite wrist. That, too.
“Termar.” he said simply, sticking his hand out like an afterthought.
You shook it awkwardly with the wrong hand, the handcuff jiggling noisily beneath your fingers. “Y/N.”
He tipped his head in the direction he’d come from and took a tentative step. This time, you were able to follow. You turned to look back at the remnants of the Crest, hoping you were doing the right thing by leaving. But then you tripped on a rock and the steps you took to steady yourself jarred your shoulder so painfully that you groaned and clutched your arm.
“Lucky you stayed by the ship!” Termar said over his wing– er, arm. “We detected an Imperial Cruiser leaving the planet and spotted the transport ships first.”
He pointed over the hillside where a hazy pillar of smoke rose from the wrecked troop carriers. You flicked your eyes quickly back to the ground ahead, determined not to trip again.
“We’re not really scrappers, but we figured there might be something of value.”
Somehow, the more you listened to his shambling, blurred speech, the more you understood. You almost had to focus less to catch everything.
Your body cried out for rest and the sun was rather higher in the sky when Termar stopped. You were clutching the shirt over your heart, massaging your chest as though you could displace the faint trickle of fear and loneliness within. It didn’t feel like it belonged inside you and it was starkly different than the oppressive panic you’d felt upon landing.
“Are you hungry?” he slung a bag off his shoulder and laughed good naturedly when he spilled nearly all of its contents into the dirt. He offered you every single item before tucking it back into the bag– though some of the packets were open and tipped their morsels through his fingers when he lifted them. None of it seemed to phase Termar.
You ended up with a whole bag of food and all of his water.
“Are we very far from your ship?” you asked, wondering why he would carry so much for just an exploratory jaunt.
“We weren’t…” he tapped his pointed chin and chuckled. “I get lost a lot, but I don’t mind.” he strode off without securing his satchel and several items flumped out. “I get to see all sorts of things I would miss out on otherwise.”
You scooped up the errant items and stuffed them in his bag, securing it without him even realizing you’d done so. Or perhaps he didn’t care? Either way, you had no choice but to follow as he meandered around the area for at least another hour before stumbling upon his ship.
“Finally! Maker, Termar, you’re lucky we don’t just leave without you!” griped a crew member when Termar hopped up the boarding ramp. Then the man caught sight of you. “What did you find?”
“This is Y/N.” Termar blurted happily. “She got separated from her owner and says there’s a reward for bringing her to Nevarro.”
“You’re a slave?” the man narrowed his eyes. He was much bigger than Termar, and rough-looking. No surprise there, scrappers were a tough lot.
You nodded, more exhausted than ever. “A-186.75309.”
“You hurt?” he looked you up and down, pausing significantly on the manacles and then the rifle sticking out from behind you.
“My shoulder is dislocated. I’m using the strap to hold it steady.” you murmured, sagging at the knees. “It belongs to my owner.”
He stared at you as the engines rumbled to life, the sickly yellow of his eyes flashing back and forth as he tried to decide what to do with you.
“I can give you the ammunition– the spare rounds. Just… the strap is holding my shoulder.” you dug a handful of rifle rounds from your pocket and held them out toward the crewman.
“Take her to medical.” the man scooped the rounds from your palm and jerked his chin at Termar, who was digging through his satchel, scattering his supplies all over the deck. “I’ll let the Cap know.”
Termar bulldozed through the pile on the floor and smiled as he led you further into the ship. Medical was a generous term for the room, which seemed more like a closet with a few medical supplies added as an afterthought. But it did have a bench and you collapsed onto it, shifting painfully to remove Din’s rifle, which was now dragging your shoulder out of position.
The ship had only been airborne for a few minutes but your eyes drifted shut and you felt yourself sliding into sleep.
“I hear we have a guest.”
Your skin crawled at the sound of his voice. The man’s face was scarred across one cheek, from the corner of his mouth nearly to his ear– a common disfigurement in dirty bar fights across the Galaxy.
“You!” your body juttered upright in alarm and you clutched your arm as it shifted again. Maker, you needed help setting that.
“You?” Scarface smiled, his eyes crinkling in almost a friendly way. “Ah, I’ve been hoping to run into you again. Cost me quite a lot the last time we met. Termar, leave.”
He stalked into the cell and paced comfortably in front of you as Termar sidled out.
“Don’t worry, bird, I’ll give you a chance to pay off your debt.”
How in the Maker’s name had you wound up on this man’s ship, of all places? Of course he remembered you; you’d snatched the foundling out of his grasp on Tatooine. Of course he held a grudge; he’d lost several crew members to Din’s blaster– and at least one to his knife.
“There’s a reward for returning me–” you began, a note of panic in your voice. You tried to pass it off as pain– not that you had to try very hard.
“Oh, I’m not returning you to anywhere, bird.” he crooned and stood tall, towering over you.
“What are you going to do with me?” you eyed the rifle at your side but it wasn’t even loaded. Besides, it would take too long to try shooting him and it was on the wrong side to use it as a blunt weapon.
He was on you in a flash, snatching the rifle in one hand and your injured arm in the other. You grunted with the effort it took not to cry out– the pain was excruciating.
“You must know by now that I do very bad things.” he wrenched your arm suddenly and the pain nearly blinded you for a split second as he popped your shoulder into place. He drug his hand along your cheek and you jerked your head back.
“Keep your hands off of me!” you snarled, coiling to leap from the bench. You were exceptionally aware of the near-total relief of pain in your shoulder. Despite his words, he’d helped you.
He snatched your neck in his meaty hand and brought his face very, very close. “Let me make this exceptionally clear to you.” he crooned. “I will do… whatever… I goddamn please. Understand?”
You glared at him as he squeezed, barely batting an eye as sparkles danced along the edges of your vision. He smiled, the scar creasing oddly along his cheek.
“What are these pretty little ornaments in your hair?” he flicked them as he released your neck and stepped back.
You were rather surprised the claw had remained in place after you jammed it rather unceremoniously and very haphazardly back into one of your braids during your sprint from the Crest.
“I like to keep a little memento from everything that thinks I’m an easy target.” you growled. There was a crowd of men just outside the door, ready to jump in and protect their Captain if needed.
Easy. you calmed yourself. There may yet be time to escape, but doing so while the ship was in flight would be unwise.
“You’ve already proven that you are anything but that. I will always have an eye on you… and one on my back. Put her in the brig.”
The men were all too ready to lay hands on you, rushing in to surround you before you could push off the bench. You might have fought them off, but they had to offload you at some point once the ship had landed and that would be the most strategic time to escape. Now, however, was a great time to see who would help you.
“Please, no!” you cried and shrank back from their grasping hands.
Nearly every man hesitated before closing in. That boded well for you. A sympathetic face in the crowd was always a benefit in a bad situation.
The Captain was on you almost immediately, reaching over the crouched forms of his crewmen. “I don’t buy it, little bird. That innocent look you’ve got going on? I know exactly what you’re doing; you cannot trick a trickster.”
Perhaps not, but his crew were not as hardened to a damsel in distress as he was.
You let a tear escape and track neatly down your cheek. Your fingers gripped one of his men in a panicky, almost desperate way– begging for salvation and earning an arm around your waist. There were some heroes on board.
“Take her.” he spat, shoving several men towards you.
You let them lead you out of the room and down the gangway, faltering every few steps until the men were supporting you rather than restraining you. Your shoulder was exceptionally tender, you’d have to be aware of that when the time came to make a run for it. The hands on your arms were rather more delicate than they should have been and you thought perhaps you could cause just a little chaos before they locked you up.
You flailed ridiculously– in a way that would have made you laugh to watch, but the men released you as if you’d scalded them. You pelted down the passageway, looking right and left down hallways and into doorways to find Scarface. You jerked to the right, where you thought you remembered the boarding ramp and skidded to a halt, bending double over the forked end of Din’s rifle.
“Always wanted to use one of these.” Scarface said just before tightening his finger on the control for the electrical pulse.
It was the most pain you’d been in all at once– ever.
And it didn’t stop.
“I understand this must be painful. It will only get worse if you continue to disobey.” the Captain said as he lifted his finger and watched you slump to your knees, still clutching the rifle– like a lifeline now.
You were gasping at the pain in your belly, where what felt like a ball of static continued to churn in your guts. You glared up at him and wrenched at the stock of the gun.
He calmly pressed the control again and tipped you off the end of the rifle onto the deck.
“You bastard!” you gasped, doubled over in shock.
“My father would have something to say about that if he were alive. My name is Deema Woldhead.” he said regally. “You can call me Sir.”
“Fuck y–” you screamed out loud as he shocked you again, only vaguely aware of the crowd gathering in the companionway behind you.
“Stop trying to get out of this and do as you’re told, it will be so much easier.” he shouldered the rifle and knelt before you on one knee. Your body quivered like jelly and you could barely hold yourself off the deck to seethe at him. He lifted your chin with a slender finger and smiled imperiously down at you.
“I will not! You don’t own me.” you did your best to swipe his hand away but only managed to paw ineffectually at his wrist. Your fingers no longer wished to open or close.
He grabbed your face and growled into it. “Oh, but I do, little bird. I think I really do.” He let your face drop, striking heavily on the deck, and commanded his men to take you away.
Your toes dragged along the grated surface of the deck and caught on the corner of the hallway as his men hauled you off.
“You are going to be a very enjoyable problem.” you heard Deema muse in a playful tone.
—-------------------------------
You lay in a heap on the deck, just as they’d left you when they tossed you into the brig, unable to move. Din’s rifle packed a punch, you knew, but you’d never been curious about how it actually felt. It was the kind of thing you’d have tucked away to wave in his face later for sympathy but…
That same foreign thread of fear and loneliness lanced through your heart again. It didn’t belong to you, but it mimicked your doubts about ever seeing Din again and you allowed it to coil in and around your mind. You couldn’t even muster the brain power to decide if your “rescue” from Tython was good or bad. Dying of exposure while marooned on an abandoned planet could hardly be better than this.
A scuffling sounded in the surprisingly well lit hallway outside your door. You cracked an eye and saw Termar’s oddly protuberant orbs peering in at you. He grinned and plopped onto the deck, crossing his bony ankles and settling in.
“Hungry?” he dragged half a sandwich from his pocket and several other items flopped out.
You weren’t. Actually, you felt rather sick to your stomach from Din’s rifle but if you knew anything, it was that you should never turn down food from a trustworthy source when you were in a dangerous situation. You hauled yourself to the door and reached through the bars– most brigs were built to hold much larger people than you.
“Where are we going?” you looked down the hallway in case there were curious ears listening in. You forced yourself to take a bite; the sandwich looked alright but felt dry and tasted sickly in your mouth.
Termar shrugged and picked through the pile of goodies on the floor next to him. He selected something that sparked his interest and popped it into his mouth, chewing enthusiastically. One calloused hand darted behind his back and dragged the satchel around so he could bury his face in it. Soon, he pulled a canteen out and tried to push it through the bars… to no avail. It was too wide.
You reached through with both hands and clutched it, desperately thirsty. He unscrewed the lid and held thin fingers under the opening as you tilted it to your mouth. Your pride burned a little less with each gulp of water you sipped from his fingertips.
Finally sated, you sat back and gasped for breath. You were sitting on something hard and uncomfortable… the Beskar ingot. Maker, they hadn’t searched you for weapons after taking Din’s rifle so they had no idea you were carrying something of such value. You sat harder on it, as though Termar could see through your pocket.
He simply gazed at you with those bulbous eyes and smiled.
“Why are you here?” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
He shrugged a bony shoulder and plucked another treat from his satchel.
You hadn’t forgotten the first words out of the other crewmember’s mouth when you’d stumbled onto the ship. Lucky we don’t just leave without you! They hadn’t even been concerned at his disappearance. He was lonely.
“Termar,” you said hesitantly. He stopped chewing and perked up his eyebrows. “Have you been doing this for long? Scrapping or… whatever?”
Maker, he was even more difficult to understand with his mouth full. Bits of food flecked from his lips as spluttered and spoke– he caught himself at one point and muttered sorry in rather an embarrassed tone. His fellow crewmen probably teased him mercilessly.
Yes, he had been crewing on various ships for most of his life. No, he hadn’t been on Deema’s ship for long but it was an okay place– no worse than any other. Deema, it seemed, was surprisingly fair when it came to splitting the proceeds of whatever shady deal, illicit trade, or sketchy bounty they cashed in on.
“Do you run into other scrapper crews?” you probed.
Termar launched into a story of the last cantina they’d visited. He was apparently quite the drinker and had ended up in this very cell by the end of the night. At least they hadn’t left him on the floor of the bar.
“I ran with a merchant crew once, I wonder what they’re up to?” you probed carefully.
Termar stilled and looked you dead in the eye. “I can’t send messages, they never let me– uh, I don’t have access to the system.”
“No, no, of course not.” you sat back casually and took another bite of the sandwich. It tasted marginally better after the water. “I was just wondering if you’d seen them. Been years since I last heard from them.” you lied.
You waited, heart thundering, for anything close to curiosity to rise from him.
“Whose crew was it?” he asked, picking up the spilled bits and pieces and tossing them into his bag. About half of it missed the bag and scattered again on the floor nearby.
“Captain called himself the Reaper.” you said with a shrug. “Had a big guy as his engineer… a Chiss.”
“Oh, Thoddun!”
Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. “That’s right… Thoddun.” you said, as though you’d actually forgotten the name of the big Chiss male who’d been your cycle-specific lover for over three years.
“Been a while.” Termar was on his knees, searching down the bits and bobs that continued to evade him. Somehow, he was completely nonplussed at his inability to keep hold of anything.
“That was a good crew.”
Could he hear your voice hitch with each of your thundering heartbeats?
He stood and gave you a friendly smile, throwing his satchel over his shoulder again.
“Well, goodnight!”
“Termar?” Careful!
He paused mid-hop and turned those bulbous eyes to you.
“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” you cringed a little to use his obvious ostracism from the rest of the crew against him. Needs must. It was either enlist this man’s help or disappear into the ether of the Galaxy’s back alleys without a trace.
Termar flashed a genuine smile, nodded frantically, and hopped off.
You slid the Beskar ingot from its pocket that night under cover of darkness and slid it into your shirt, tucking it securely over the blaster scar. They might search your pockets if they had reason, but none of them seemed willing to search your person. Perhaps they underestimated you?
Not Deema, you realized. He was shrewd, suspicious. Smart.
—--------------------------------------
“Marshal of the New Republic?” Din forced himself to sound impressed as he palmed Cara’s new badge. She’d decided to make things more official on Nevarro and the contented smile on her face told him she’d found a measure of peace in doing so. He almost felt bad for his next request.
Almost.
“I need your help.” cut and dry. No use beating around the bush.
“Name it.” Cara said without hesitation.
“I need you to find someone in the prison registry, an ex-Imperial sharpshooter. Last name Mayfeld.” he wondered if you would have been able to tease the information out of the archive but realized quickly that one, there was no reason why the Crest would have access to prison files and two, neither you nor the Crest existed anymore. He shuffled on his feet as Cara flipped through black and white images of inmates.
“Migs Mayfeld. Got him.” she breezed over the highlights of Mayfeld’s rap sheet. “This guy sounds like a real piece of work. What do you want with him?”
“I need to spring him to help me locate Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.” he liked Cara. She was always up front with him, never gave him grief for his direct way of communicating under stress.
“Mando… there are rules I need to follow now.” her eyes drifted to the badge sitting boldly on her desk.
She needed more information but dragging it out was painful in a way he couldn’t describe. He shifted his weight back and forth, flicking his fingers as he tamped down his rage and shame.
“They have the kid.”
That was all it took. The steely look in her eyes told Din all he needed to know. Cara was in until the end– to the victory or to the death, as you would have said. Maker, he heard your voice everywhere these days.
She was ready in less than 20 minutes, spending most of that time handing off to Karga– whose business was still thriving out of his new office space. Din peered down the dark alleyway next to Karga’s open doors, remembering another time when he’d nearly shot someone for laying a hand on you. And then you laid your hands on him…
Grief welled thickly in his chest and he realized with a shock that he would never be able to go back to these places he’d once shared with you without feeling the brunt of your loss. The martyr in him screamed to feel the pain, the dreamer in him reached for the memories.
He hoped with all his heart that you would haunt him, torment his soul until the end of his days so he would know he wasn’t alone in his sadness. He couldn’t find you this time. You’d gone where he could not follow.
“Mando!” Cara touched him on the shoulder to bring him back. “Maker, where did you go? I called you three times.”
Din shuffled enough that Cara’s hand slipped away and turned his head to join the conversation. He hadn’t physically gone anywhere– he was standing right in front of them. But mentally–
“Mando.” Karga snapped. “Maker, did you hurt your head again? I asked where Y/N is.”
Din wished his heart would stop. He needed Cara’s help badly and dreaded the moment they’d ask about you. Maybe he could wait it out, try the stoic, silent act.
It didn’t work.
Cara crossed her arms and cocked her head, making it very clear she would win in a battle of wills.
“She’s… well,” he squinted at his feet and nudged the thin soil. He took a deep breath and began again. “The Crest was… I… they came–” he trailed off and cleared his throat.
He couldn’t bring himself to say it. She’s dead. She’s dead and I killed her.
Fennec spoke up from behind. It might have bothered him once, but he was grateful to hear her no-nonsense account, gleaned from what she’d heard from both he and Boba.
You’d been locked in the ship because something about the planet set you off. The Imps left the ship alone, didn’t know you were there, but Boba saw you secured to the bulkhead when he retrieved his armor. Then the light cruiser struck. You didn’t survive.
“No!” Karga whispered, his face a sickly gray color.
Cara said nothing but she was stricken, drawn and a little defensive, as though she couldn’t stand losing one more person in her life. It was nothing compared to the sucking maelstrom inside of Din; it threatened to pull him under but sadly, never did. They looked to him for confirmation and all he could do was nod.
Pathetic. He couldn’t even tell your story.
He flicked his fingers again, hard. The last time he’d touched you he handcuffed you, locking you into your own tomb, sealing your death. Visions of the explosion taking over your body flashed across his mind's eye, scorching your skin, the munitions he revered adding to the fire so it consumed you entirely.
He was vaguely aware of Karga gripping his arm tightly, his lips pressed together against a tide of emotion. Cara tugged his elbow and he stalked after them to the ship– his ride… his kriffing ride through the Galaxy on a search for his son who he couldn’t even keep safe on a fucking uninhabited planet.
Later, when Slave 1 was cruising through hyperspace– stars she was fast compared to the Crest– Din leaned into a corner and tried to fade away from the others. They talked too much, joked and touched and didn’t understand his preference for silence like you did. He gritted his teeth. Like you had. he corrected himself.
Cara drifted his way after a while and thunked him on the knee.
“You napping?”
“No.”
She leaned against the wall next to him so her knee touched his shoulder and murmured. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
What did she know? You’d asked him time and time again to listen to you, give you the benefit of the doubt, to take you along with him and he’d done none of them. And for his arrogance, this is what he got.
“She’s pretty lucky you went after her all that time ago.” Cara was filling the silence with words, as so many people did. Usually, Din could ignore it but this time it was as though her gentle tone cracked a dam inside of him.
“I didn’t even think twice when I saw her puck.” he pinched his palm through the gloves. “I just knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go after her.”
Cara scooted her foot over just a fraction and somehow, it was perfect.
“I would sacrifice anything for the kid… always told myself that. And I believed it.” he said haltingly. “I just… never dreamed it would be her.”
His voice hitched and he cleared his throat, sitting hard against the bulkhead. Cara drifted lower, until she sat next to him in the corner.
“Stars, Mando.” she turned to look him in the visor. “You actually loved her.”
Din hung his head.
“Did you tell her?” Cara was doing her best now not to let her jaw drop.
So many chances… so many opportunities to tell you what lay in his heart and he’d arrogantly dismissed every single one of them because they weren’t up to his standards.
“Almost.” he admitted.
“You… almost told her.” she frowned at Din.
He realized how stupid it sounded but he couldn’t just say No, I didn’t want to tell her until things were exactly how I wanted them to be!
“Well, I’m sure she knew.” Cara wasn’t just saying it to be nice, it was as though she’d been in the same situation. “Look, losing someone like that can make a person feel… alone. I know.”
Din bit his lip and took a deep breath. This was not the place he wanted to process the storm of feelings swirling inside of him.
“You’re not alone.” she bumped him with her elbow.
“I should be.” he choked out before he could stop himself.
Why did it feel so cold and unfamiliar? He’d been alone before… for years he’d been alone. But the prospect of his life without you stretched bleakly before him, a monochrome of hunting and evading enemies– including himself. He might not even reach Grogu before it was too late.
“Do you think it would make a difference… if we knew the end was going to be… the end?” Din wasn’t even sure what he was asking or if there was an answer to his question. All he knew was that he regretted not showing you how much he loved you, telling you every chance he got.
“I don’t know.” Cara answered frankly.
“I wish I’d known.” So he could tell you he loved you. And to say goodbye.
They sat like that for long minutes, until Din’s thighs threatened to fall asleep from the hard floor– and he would have stayed like that until his last breath if Cara hadn’t hefted herself to her feet and stood over him.
“Come on, let’s find your kid.” she held her hand out. “One thing at a time.”