Chapter Text
Yona had never seen anyone like the frog lady before. Growing up in a mega-city had its surprises, but nothing quite like her. They regarded each other warmly, and Yona was happy to help her feel more comfortable on the Crest. She seemed to have a very slight grasp of Basic, but nothing near enough to communicate complicated ideas. Still, a few hand gestures could go a long way.
While the Mandalorian piloted, Yona was using a pad of paper to draw things, very basic items like “blaster” or “water,” listened to her croak out her in her language and replying with her own. It would take a while to get to Trask and knowing how to communicate would be undoubtably helpful. She had a couple of pieces out for the child, letting him scribble about once he learned that paper and pencils are not food.
The Mandalorian would turn around to regard them every now and again, meeting her gaze and holding it, before turning back to the controls. He didn’t speak, but she knew he was listening to them.
A few more buttons and he broke his silence, “I’ve set the nav, but it’ll take a while. Now’s a good time to get some rest.”
Yona stretched her arms upwards with a wince, “Okay, good plan.”
He offered her a hand up, which she accepted gratefully. He then scooped up the child, cradling him in one arm as he descended the ladder. As she reached the bottom, she saw him putting the child in a little hammock above his bed.
“When did you do that?!” her face lit up at the sight.
“You were asleep….and he was being persistent,” he answered.
“You’re such a softie,” she smiled, sidling up next to him, “And he might be an artist, those scratchings of his were pretty inspired.”
“…He barely knew what to do with the pencil.”
“Well, to be fair, he only has three fingers; I’m just proud that he could hold it.”
The Mandalorian seemed to concede, thinly disguising a breathy laugh with a disgruntled groan. Yona laughed herself, leaning her head on his metal shoulder and noting, with glee, that he did not tense this time.
“…Can you try that thing again?” the Mandalorian asked quietly, head turned to look at her. She looked up, seeing a sliver of golden skin peeking from under his helmet.
Testing, testing.
She raised an eyebrow expectantly. He kept staring at her, uninterrupted. She closed her eyes, trying not to flush under the scrutiny.
Hey, buckethead, why are you so good to me?
“Are you—”
“Yes, I am trying,” she huffed. She cracked an eye open to regard him, before flicking her gaze to the little green goblin in the hammock.
“I have an idea,” she mumbled, shuffling a bit closer and putting her hand on the child’s head.
Hey, bug? You hear me?
The child cooed; black eyes locked onto her.
Blink twice if you can hear me.
The child’s eyelids flickered closed, twice in succession.
“HA! Mando did you see that?” she felt the child wince, “Oh, bud, I’m sorry, that was loud.”
She took her hand off his head smoothing his ears gently.
“See what?” the Mandalorian prompted quietly.
“I told him to blink at me and he did it!”
“What if he was just blinking?”
“…Yeah, okay maybe, but that timing was pretty spot on,” she reaffirmed staunchly, turning back to the child, “One last thing and then you can sleep, sweetheart.”
She didn’t notice the Mandalorian shift a little, clearing his throat at the endearment. She closed her eyes again, placing her hand back on the kid’s head.
Can you point at Mando if you can hear me?
The child lifted a little hand, one finger stretched toward his guardian. The Mandalorian looked at her.
“Did you ask him to do that?”
This time, Yona removed her hand before answering, “I did. That was pretty cool, huh?”
“Do you know of the Jedi?”
“A little. I know that they’re all gone,” she replied, “Why?”
“I’m meant to take the child to them, they are his kind,” the Mandalorian said thoughtfully, “they have some sort of power wielded by the mind.”
Yona’s brow furrowed, “I’m not…like that though. I’ve never done this before, not in my life.”
“When was the first time it happened?”
“Well, first time I realized I could talk was with the big sand dragon,”
“Krayt dragon.”
“Whatever. The first time I felt this energy was when you left me with the child for the first time…he showed me a memory,”
The Mandalorian nodded, “What did he show you?”
“You, up against a mudhorn. You were hurt, armor damaged, you were about to die. He was scared, upset, then very, very tired,” Yona thought, back to the memory, still present in her head, “He saved you.”
Her knees buckled suddenly, and on reflex the Mandalorian grabbed her, one arm secure around her waist.
“Huh,” she looked up at his visor, “That was weird.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just feel dizzy, sleepy. It’s strange, my mind is wide awake but the rest of me feels heavy,” she frowned, “this happened last time, too.”
He guided her to sit on his bed, walking off and returning with a cup of water. She accepted it gratefully, scooting over to the side, and nodding for him to sit with her. He hesitated, before sweeping his cape to the side and joining her. It was cramped, and her left leg was pressed up against his right one, touching right up to the hip.
“What does this mean, Mando? What do I do?” she asks quietly, unsure if she was ready for the answer.
“It doesn’t appear harmful. For now, we observe it, track how you’re feeling. I think Jedi…meditate? They were monks?” he ends on a question, and she can’t help but break into laughter. Her heart practically sings when he says ‘we.’
“You are too sweet,” she turned to smile at him, “You want to meditate with me?”
He looks away, “I’d really rather not.”
“What does that mean?” she tilted her head.
“I can’t sit still when you’re around. You’re…distracting,” he’s quiet, and if she didn’t know better, she would think he sounded embarrassed.
“I’m interesting,” she corrected with another chuckle, “And who’s to say you’re not distracting yourself?”
“So I’m interesting, then?” he looked at her again, more confidence in posture.
“Yes, Mando, you are very interesting,” she said softly, her words regaining their weight, “I could spend my whole life learning things about you.”
He paused before clearing his throat again. Another pause, as though he was going to say something.
Finally, he quietly reminds her, “You should rest, make sure your system goes back to normal.”
Yona nods putting her empty cup on the floor for the moment and watching him move back into his bed. She goes to stand, but he holds her wrist gently, “Stay? I…I want to make sure you’re okay.”
She tries to hide how her eyes widen, stuttering out, “Oh, sure,” and wincing at how high-pitched it sounded.
Before she could make it worse, she shifted into the space, careful not to bump her head on the child’s hammock. It was cramped as she settled in, pressed up close to him. She faced the wall, curling up to make herself comfortable as he turned off the lights and closed the hatch. It was pitch black in there, except for a blinking red light by the door. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
Despite that, she didn’t tense in surprise when a tentative arm draped over her waist. Before he could even think of taking it back, she clasped her own hand over his, keeping him there. When their fingers laced together, she noticed that he’d taken off his gloves. She felt warm, calloused hands; strong and battle-scarred. They were rife with small ridges, interruptions in the smooth skin. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She heard the slightest hint of a happy sigh rumble through the modulator as he held her hand tighter, resting over her ribcage. A thumb wandered over the back of her hand, tracing each of her knuckles. She acutely felt him breathing, the way his chest rose and fell even under all that armor. It was a peaceful rhythm, to have another body with her as she fell into a deep sleep.
“Sweet dreams, Mando.”
“…sweet dreams, cyare.”