Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

FN-998 puts up a fight. Of course he does. FN-998 has never been someone who gives up without a fight. He fights, struggles, but there is a red flash of a blaster and then there is no more FN-998.

CT-113 swallows hard as he sees the body fall, the hole in the once white armor still smoking, blood trickling out along with the smell of death. He never liked FN-998, but he didn't want him dead.
The crowd which had gathered at the town center watches with sadistic glee as the shady mercenaries drags their captured Storm Troopers forward, one by one, and executes them.

When they had been ordered to this shitty town, CT-113 had not been happy about it. This was the very epitome of nowhere and he couldn't see why their employer was so keen on maintaining control of it. Still, orders were orders. And while they had heard rumors of mercenaries hunting down Troopers for rewards some groups offered for each killed soldier, CT-113 hadn't really believed they were true. Now he is the last one alive of the group he'd arrived with.

The mercenaries have taken his weapons, have a firm grip on his arms, and CT-113 has to conclude that he is out of good luck and that bad luck has won the entire game this time, not just a round.
He unknowingly digs his heels into the dirt at the very thought of being dragged over to where his fellow Troopers lies scattered on the ground. He might know he is going to die, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He really doesn't want to.

There is movement to his left and CT-113 automatically glances over while his executioners are checking their blasters for the final execution.
He is surprised to see a familiar silver armor and helmet. It's the Mandalorian! CT-113 is so surprised he forgets to feel afraid for a moment. Especially when there is something moving by the man's leg and he sees the little green child shuffle forward to look at the spectacle as well.
It's even smaller than he remembers it. Doesn't even reach the knee of the Mandalorian.

CT-113 finds himself giving a faint smile when the child looks at him, strangely relieved that they had not only escaped the ice planet a little over sixty days ago but appears to be doing quite well since their previous meeting. He knows they won't recognize him. He's in a Storm Trooper armor now, not his snow gear. His helmet was pulled off by the mercenaries when they caught CT-113 and his group, but that is meaningless as the father and son duo never saw his face back then.

CT-113's moment of serenity is shattered as one of the mercenaries grabs a hold of his upper arm and tries to drag him forward to his death. Like FN-998, CT-113 puts up a desperate fight.

In vain. They are too strong. There are six of them. One of him.

A hard grip on his hair and a kick to his knee forces CT-113 into a kneeling position. He's in the middle of trying to force the fingers to let go of his hair, breathing hard and panicky as death is coming for him, when something small suddenly is shuffling to a halt in front of him.
CT-113 freezes, so does the one restraining him, and the crowd murmurs, but the little child merely trills happily at the kneeling Storm Trooper.
Seconds later, a familiar gloved hand scoops down to swoop up the child.

“What do you think you're doing?” The Mandalorian mutters. “We talked about you wandering off.”

The child makes a complaining sound before turning its gaze back to CT-113 and reaches out a small hand towards him.
The Mandalorian slowly turns his masked face to look down at the stunned Storm Trooper.
CT-113 knows the child has recognized him. Somehow. Maybe due to the Force? But the Mandalorian has no idea who he is.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian asks, completely ignoring the disbelieving looks of the mercenaries at the audacity of this guy just interfering with their public execution.

CT-113 winces as his captor tugs at his hair to keep him quiet but answers anyway. “We met.” He can feel a blaster being pressed against the side of his neck, yet he keeps talking. “The ice planet. We shot your ship down. Your kid saved me from falling into that crevice.” He has no idea what he's hoping to achieve by telling him this. Postpone his death by a few seconds more? CT-113 will take every second he can get.
The Mandalorian looks at the child he is currently holding, it chirps something at him, then looks back at CT-113 again. The helmet tips slightly as he tilts his head thoughtfully.

“Back off, Mandalorian.” One mercenary warns. “This is our bounty. And you... Wait, that kid...”

CT-113 shuts his eyes tight as there is a flash of red as the blaster is fired, but it is quickly followed by several more shots and him realizing that he's not dead yet. He opens his eyes again just as the fingers lets go of his hair and his executioner falls dead behind him. CT-113 hardly believes the sight that meets him; the Mandalorian cradling the child protectively while firing off round after round towards the mercenaries.
The crowd starts to scream and scatter.

“You. Up. Let's go.” The Mandalorian snaps.

CT-113 doesn't hesitate to scramble to his feet, merely grabbing his Storm Trooper helmet off the ground, and more or less hides behind the Mandalorian. He doesn't care why this is happening, CT-113 just wants to stay alive and he'll take any damn piece of luck, good or bad, to do exactly that.

They make it back to the Mandalorian's ship. The Mandalorian gets into the pilot seat, the child has its very own contraption, a sort of mini-crib, on the seat to his right to keep it contained there, while CT-113 grabs on to the remaining left seat in the back as they head towards the safety of space.

With nobody pursuing them, for now, CT-113 feels a wave of intense relief and so when the Mandalorian puts on auto-pilot and gets up, he doesn't hesitate to say, with utmost honesty; “Thank you.”
The Mandalorian's fist connects with his face and everything goes black.

-

There are a couple of things CT-113 reacts to as he slowly regains consciousness. First, his cheekbone is hurting like hell. Secondly, he's somewhat cold and he's lying on something hard.
Groaning, CT-113 manages to open his eyes and has several more discoveries.
He's lying on the floor of the cargo area in the back of the Mandalorian's ship, his Storm Trooper armor is piled up nearby and he's only wearing his black bodysuit. His hands and feet are tied up.

The Mandalorian is crouching down next to him, watching him. “You awake?”

CT-113 groans again, hoping it will be answer enough. Why always the bad luck? Why?
The Mandalorian holds out something between two fingers for him to see. CT-113 recognizes it as his tracking chip. It's disconnected and dead.

“I was told you guys all have these on you. Your friends won't be able to find you without this.” The Mandalorian says.

CT-113 struggles up into a sitting position. The pain from the cheekbone is radiating and numbing half of his face. How hard did this guy punch? “I wasn't trying to lead them to you. It's just standard equipment.” He shakes his head a little, trying to shake off the dizziness, before focusing on the Mandalorian again. “I got demoted because I let you two escape.” He hopes reminding him of how he let them escape might persuade him not to shoot him after all. How about some good luck?

“And are you looking to correct that?”

CT-113 doesn't have to think about that answer. “No. I don't care about ranks.” Not for a long while. He leans his head back against the cold metal wall. “I just want to stay alive, man. That's all.”
There is a light chirp and the child comes tottering into view from behind the Mandalorian. Its ears perk up and it tilts its head. It's almost like it is smiling.
CT-113 manages a faint smile in return. It really is damn cute. He admits defeat.

The Mandalorian sighs. He sounds every bit as resigned as CT-113 feels. And suddenly there is a blade in the bounty hunter's hand. He moves too fast for CT-113 to react, but the bindings around his legs falls away and then he does the same for CT-113's hands.
CT-113 is free.

-

The Mandalorian returns to his seat, looking up which route to take. While CT-113 follows into the cockpit, he is reluctant to ask what he's planning to do with him. He's not entirely certain the man won't just throw him out of the airlock if he starts asking questions. Luck can change that quickly. Just to be safe, he even sits down on the floor behind the free chair, huddled in a corner instead of where he could be seen. His face hurts and he's too tired to do much else.

The child is placed back in the contraption on the side-seat, but it fusses and won't settle down.
Eventually the Mandalorian reaches for a box under the seat and opens it. “Here.” He hands the child some food from the container before closing it again and turning back to his screen and pushing at buttons.
CT-113 watches the child shove the food half-way into its mouth, gingerly climb out of the contraption and start making its way down to the floor. Its ears are lowered in concentration until its little feet touches the ground, then they perk back up and it eagerly patters towards CT-113.
Once there, it pulls the food out of its mouth and holds it out to him.

CT-113 blinks. He think he recognizes it as dried Gorg and despite it not being anywhere near his list of favorite food and coming directly from the child's mouth, his stomach growls. It has been almost two days since CT-113 ate last. Still, steal food from a child? He shakes his head.

The child makes a soft sound and leans closer with the dried meat.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian says. He turns and picks up the squeaking child. “Eat your food. Don't go near him. He's a Storm Trooper.” Placing the child back into the contraption, he points a finger at it. “Stay.”
The child stares back at him.
Sighing yet again, the Mandalorian pulls the box back out, opens it and fetches another piece of Gorg. “Fine.” And he tosses the dried meat over to CT-113. “Eat.”

CT-113 obeys. He's too hungry not to.
While he eats, he notices that the Mandalorian is watching him. He has his hand absently petting the child's head, but his sights is on CT-113. After a long while, the bounty hunter speaks; “Why fight for an Empire that is already gone?”

“I'm not fighting for the Empire.” CT-113 chews thoughtfully. “I'm just trying to earn some credits.”

Satisfied that the child is now eating, the Mandalorian pulls his hand away but keeps his focus on CT-113. “The war is over. You lost. Why don't you just go home?”

CT-113 pauses in his chewing before starting up again. He doesn't like to think about his bad luck. “My father and my uncle were on the Death Star. They were the only family I had. I don't have a home.”

The Mandalorian watches him for a little while longer, in silence, then turns back to the computer screen.

When the child is done eating and starts fussing again, being a general nuisance, CT-113 pretends to sleep but watches with one eye as the Mandalorian leans over and picks it up.
“You're tired, little one. Go to sleep.” The Mandalorian scolds gently, easing the child into a comfortable position in the protective cradle of his left arm. Seconds later, he starts humming on some unfamiliar yet soothing song and the child finally settles with a look of sleepy contentment.
Watching the two, CT-113 feels something clench inside his chest and he turns his face away.

-

The Mandalorian informs him that their next stop is a little under two days away.
“We'll get you some other clothes, wearing that armor will only get you shot, and then you're on your own. Understood?” The bounty hunter declares.

CT-113 nods. He's grateful. Good luck is back on his side. It's more than he dared to hope for.

It's an interesting journey to their next, his last, stop. At one point, the Mandalorian orders him to keep an eye on the kid, not let him touch anything, while he does some repairs on the ship. CT-113 has no problem being the babysitter. He finds he quite enjoys playing some silly games and watching the child react with happiness. He only takes his eyes off it for a second, ONE second, and then the Mandalorian appears and asks where the child is.
It's gone.

CT-113 is verging on panic, looking everywhere, and his distress keeps increasing as the Mandalorian is dangerously quiet and still, merely watches him scramble around in the cargo area looking for the child. Is this really the worst case of bad luck ever?

Eventually the Mandalorian walks over to a small plate in the wall, removes it and reveals the clearly amused child. “What have I told you about crawling in here? It's for smuggling goods. Not kids.”

CT-113 feels incredibly relieved, the child hasn't vanished into space, and also annoyed, as there is no doubt in his mind that the Mandalorian instantly knew where the child was and just enjoyed watching him sweat. He can even swear he senses the bounty hunter is laughing at him.
“What is his name?” CT-113 asks.

“Womp Rat.” The Mandalorian replies.

CT-113 gawps but then he swears he's being laughed at again. He decides not to ask for the Mandalorian's name.

The child and CT-113 eats, but he never sees the Mandalorian touch any food. He barely sleeps, never removes his helmet and CT-113 finds himself wondering if the man is indeed a man after all. Who knows what is underneath that helmet? His entire body is covered up, so there is no way of confirming what kind of species he is. Does he look like the child, maybe? What is he?

This is why CT-113 is so mesmerized when the Mandalorian reaches for something and suddenly he sees, between the edge of the glove and the sleeve on his jacket; a line of human skin. He is so fascinated that he doesn't really think about his actions and just takes a hold of the Mandalorian's wrist.
He fails to notice how this stuns the bounty hunter into complete stillness and that is why there are no objections when CT-113 turns the Mandalorian's hand for his palm to point upwards and then CT-113 slides his thumb under the sleeve to actually touch the skin.
He gently brushes his thumb across the skin and, yes, it is definitely human. It is surprisingly soft and warm. He almost suspected the skin would be as cold and unyielding as his Beskar armor.

CT-113 is so caught up in this revelation that it comes as quite a shock when he realizes just what the hell he is doing, that he has no idea how long he has been doing it, and that he can feel the Mandalorian's pulse thrumming like crazy under his touch, despite how his body is entirely frozen. The bounty hunter doesn't even breathe.
CT-113 can feel his face is burning with embarrassment as he mumbles; “Sorry.” and darts over to the opposite side of the cargo room to pretend to do some work on a panel there.

The Mandalorian doesn't move at first, then he finally pulls his arm close to his own body and carefully rubs his wrist with his other hand, as if the touch is still haunting him.

-

When the ship lands outside of the settlement, the Mandalorian declares that he'll head into town and get some supplies while they wait by the ship. And when he comes back, they will split ways with CT-113 here.
“Watch him.” The Mandalorian warns CT-113, pointing at the child.

CT-113 gives him a firm salute as he would to any superior officer. “Affirmative.”

Clearly good luck is back on his side. While he wouldn't have minded hanging around with these two a lot longer, at least CT-113 will be alive and free and with new gear that might actually make it possible for him to, maybe, start a life outside of the army. It's not something he has ever considered before, but he does now. So there is that and he is grateful for it.
CT-113 had forgotten what it was like to have a family. The child has reminded him.

They stick near the ship, but that doesn't mean they don't find ways to entertain themselves. Sticks, stones, his old armor, the child is curious about everything and CT-113 is starting to understand why the Mandalorian constantly indulges him. It's hard to say no to that face.
When the child grabs his Storm Trooper helmet, puts it on and wobbles around in front of the ship with it, CT-113 realizes he had also forgotten what it felt like to laugh. It feels surprisingly good.

The smile on his face vanishes when he suddenly sees movement half-hidden by the ship, light glinting off the barrel of a weapon, and CT-113 just acts. He runs forward, uses both his weight and his momentum to slam into the shape and a Nikto grunts as they both tumble to the ground.

After that, it's a mad scramble to gain the upper hand. Fists fly and pain flares. The Nikto is strong, much stronger than CT-113, and there is no armor to absorb the punches. For a moment, he fears he might lose the fight, but then he hears the child's frightened wail and he regains his determination.
CT-113 manages to get a hold of a knife from the Nikto's belt, almost at the same time as it manages to unsheathe a blaster from its shoulder-holster, and they roll around on the ground trying to prevent the other from killing them while landing a killing blow themselves.
The Nikto manages to fire its blaster twice. The first shot goes up into the air, the second is fired just as CT-113 manages to ram the knife into its body and killing it with deadly accuracy.

For a moment, CT-113 is busy just breathing, but then he hears the child make another distressed cry and he forces himself up on his feet. “It's okay, kid.”

And it seems that bad luck has decided to move on because good luck appears in the shape of the Mandalorian running towards them. His blaster is drawn, but he's also carrying a bag of supplies. “There is an entire group of them in town. They are tracking the kid. We gotta go.”

CT-113 opens his mouth to agree, but closes it and frowns as he feels funny. He has to take a step backwards to keep his balance, hears the child make the distressed sound again, then his legs just gives in and he falls.

The Mandalorian is by his side within seconds. “What's wrong?”

CT-113 shakes his head. He doesn't know. He doesn't understand.
That's when the pain hits.
Grunting, biting down on the urge to scream, CT-113 reaches a trembling hand towards his stomach. He's bleeding. The Nikto's second shot hadn't missed. It was just hard to see the wound against the black suit. Talk about bad luck!

The Mandalorian curses and gingerly examines the wound. Whatever he finds makes him curse again. CT-113 concludes that probably means it is bad. The child appearing by his side, looking worried and on the verge of crying, more or less confirms this.
The Mandalorian glances back at the town, knowing the other Niktos are probably already on their way, and CT-113 makes his choice.

“Hey, kid. It's fine.” CT-113 reaches out and carefully folds the child into a one-armed hug. He closes his eyes at the feeling of those tiny arms trying to embrace him. “It's nothing to worry about.” He leans back and forces himself to give him an encouraging smile. “Listen... You take care of your dad, okay? You gotta look after him.”
The child gives him a mournful coo. Reaches for the wound. Seems distressed.
CT-113 turns to the Mandalorian. “Help me get up.”

“You're going to need a medic.” The Mandalorian states.

“I know.” CT-113 sits up with a strangled groan. This hurts so much. “Help me up.” And the Mandalorian helps him. His legs are unsteady, he feels nauseous, but CT-113 is standing. He gulps down air and focuses on the bounty hunter again. “Go.”

“What?”

“We both know I'm not getting off this planet without a medic. And those Niktos are coming. You don't need any more attention. So you gotta go. For the kid.” CT-113 presses a hand against his stomach, trying to stem the bleeding a little. “I'll head into town. I'll be fine.”

The child is by his leg, reaching one hand up towards him, so the Mandalorian leans down to pick it up and holds it securely in his arms. “You can make it?”
CT-113 nods.
The Mandalorian hesitates, but then he hears shouting and there is clearly a whole bunch of Niktos heading their way. He takes a step towards the ship. “I'm sorry.”

“Corin.” CT-113 says. “My name is Corin.” He hasn't used his name for so long it almost feels like it belongs to another person. Had he forgotten that too? How lucky that he remembered now.

“May you find the way. Corin.” The Mandalorian says. He hesitates for two more seconds, the child is squirming and whining, but then he turns and walks inside the ship. The child gazes back at CT-113 over the Mandalorian's shoulder, reaching back towards him in a futile gesture.

CT-113 lifts his hand and waves goodbye.

By the time the Niktos arrive, the ship has already left. There is nothing but dust, a fallen Nikto and some blood to be found.

At the outskirts of the town, he can't walk any longer, doesn't have any strength left, CT-113 leans back against the wall of a building and looks up at the ship heading towards the safety of space. He tastes blood in his mouth, his legs slowly gives in and he sinks down, leaving a wide trail of blood on the wall. He hears someone cry out in alarm.

But Corin doesn't care. He merely smiles as he sees the ship break out of the atmosphere. He feels very lucky that he got to meet them. So very lucky.

Then everything goes black.

Chapter Text

When Corin's mother died, he was too young to understand the concept of death. Joining the Storm Troopers, death quickly became an ugly part of his job. And when his father and uncle Vecon died with the Death Star, he stopped caring. CT-113 just did what he was told, got paid and tried to stay alive.
He's managed quite well until now. But, his good luck was bound to run out eventually.

Still, while surrounded by darkness, this is not how he imagined death would be.
First of all, it is a lot more excruciating than he imagined. He thought death meant silence and no more physical suffering, but Corin is most certainly feeling pain. He is in a lot of pain, actually. Caught somewhere between awake and blissful unconsciousness.

There is also the minor fact that he'd expected, hoped, to see -or hear the voices of- his family and some of his lost friends. No such luck. He has absolutely no idea who these distant voices belongs to.
When someone presses down on his stomach, agony flares up with an intensity he's never felt before and he hears a voice let out a tormented scream.
Just as he realizes it's him, he is the one screaming, the darkness engulfs him entirely.

Corin drifts in the darkness for a long, long time. It's nice here. The pain is a low throbbing in his belly from time to time, he feels too warm, but it's still nice. It's so nice that he frowns annoyed when he realizes that he's hearing voices again.
It is a man's voice. He speaks quietly, a calm assertiveness to what he is saying, but Corin can't make out the words. He tries, but then the darkness shifts, agony shoots through him once more and he desperately scrambles deeper into the darkness to escape the torture.

This time he stays in the darkness for a very long time. It's a faint chirp that lures him back.
Something in him recognizes that sound, tells him it is a good thing, and then he sees a flicker of light there in the distance. It is reaching for him.

Corin hesitates, reluctant, but then there is a second chirp and he reaches towards it.

Opening his eyes, it takes several seconds before his eyes adjusts and his brain can sort out what he's seeing. At first it is just colors and fog, then it slowly clears up and he discovers metal walls surrounding him and that the green blob is in fact the Mandalorian's child staring down at him.
When it sees he's awake, its drooping ears perk up and it trills happily. Eagerly waving its hands.

Corin needs another moment to process what he is seeing and finally concludes that he is clearly hallucinating. That idea lasts until the child moves where it is perched on top of his chest and Corin feels a jab of pain shoot through him from his already throbbing gut. It forces a whimper from his lips. No hallucination would hurt this much.

A gloved hand comes out of nowhere and swoops up the child.

Swallowing hard, Corin closes his eyes, waiting for the pain to ease up and feels sweat trailing down from his temple. When he opens his eyes again, he sees the Mandalorian standing next to where he is lying and the child hanging over one of his arms to look down at Corin.
Corin, who is starting suspect he isn't dead. Being dead probably doesn't mean lying in the cargo area of a bounty hunter's ship, wrapped up in brown blankets and with something soft under his head while his belly burns and throbs with barely restrained agony.

The child chirps again, squirms and clearly wants to be put back down. The Mandalorian doesn't let it. The silver helmet is facing Corin and despite it being impossible; it gives the impression of a worried frown.

Tired, no, exhausted, Corin still has to know. “What...” He has to clear his throat and cringes at the pain it causes from his wound. “How...”

“You're safe.” The Mandalorian states enigmatically, as if that was the question.

Still, Corin finds that he believes him.
This time, when Corin closes his eyes, he sleeps.

-

He is unable to even sit up without a hell of a lot of pain for a long while, but there is surprising improvement as time passes.
It's not the first time Corin has been shot, never this badly before, but still, he has been forced to wait for his body to heal in the past. His wounds have never healed this fast.
At first he thinks the Mandalorian might have invested in some Bacta strips, but he finds that the bandages around his stomach is plain bandages and it just seems like his body is mending at super speed by itself.
Corin can hardly believe he can have this kind of good luck!

The child, strangely sensitive to his injured state and uncharacteristically gentle in his presence, spends a surprising amount of time with Corin. Either bringing him food and water, fussing over the wound, or just curled up by his side and playing with his toys.

The Mandalorian comes and goes like a ghost. He will check in on them, hover, mutter something and vanish into the cockpit again. If not for the fact that the man had just saved Corin's life, the former Storm Trooper would have been quite convinced that he was plotting Corin's murder.

Corin is trying to teach the child a game he and some other Troopers used to play when they were bored when the Mandalorian appears. He actually uses his words this time.
“We're landing. We should be safe here. Kerrco is a backwater planet, way off the radar.”

Corin has never heard of Kerrco. Then again, he found studying star-maps incredibly boring, he left that to the pilots. He just shot at stuff. “Okay...” He hesitates, stuck on the phrasing, 'we', yet barely daring to ask; “You're staying too?”
The deal was always for them to dump Corin some place safe and then move on, right?

“We're staying.” The Mandalorian manages to glare at him despite the helmet. “The kid needs somewhere safe to stretch his legs.” It sounds like he's daring Corin to question his reasoning.

Nodding, Corin shifts his gaze down to the child, unwilling to push his luck further.

They land in the middle of some thick forest/wilderness. It's painful to get up on his feet, but Corin manages. He even has to smile a little at the child's efforts of reaching out to help him up.
“I'm okay. Thanks.”

The Mandalorian appears from the cockpit, marches over and opens the cargo door. “I'm going to find us some lodgings. You two stay here. Understood?”

Corin leans his shoulder against the wall, one hand carefully against his aching stomach, and watches as the child eagerly patter by the Mandalorian and stops halfway down the ramp to look back at him with a quizzical sound, wondering why he is just standing there.

The Mandalorian sighs. It is a heartfelt sigh. Then he waves for Corin to come as well.

Corin bites his lower lip to prevent himself from letting out a quiet laugh, pushes himself upright and follows. He accepts the jacket and the cloak the bounty hunter hands him outside the ship and covers up most of the trademark blacksuit before they walk towards the town to the south.
Each step hurts. Corin tries to ignore it with medium success. He's relieved that the child is insisting on walking by itself and thus forces the Mandalorian to keep a very slow pace. He might be able to suffer through a gentle stroll, but he's not in any shape to do speed-marching.

When they get into town, Corin is even more grateful when the Mandalorian leads them into a small restaurant and they get a table there. He's tired, in pain and more importantly; starving.
While he and the child slurp and inhale their food, in the army you learned to eat when and as fast as you could, the Mandalorian keeps a wary eye on their surroundings. His shining armor draws attention. And that is why none of them are surprised when four humans carefully approaches them.

“No.” The Mandalorian says just as one of them says; “Excuse me.”

There are two men and two women. All four looks perplexed for a second, then one of the women speaks up. “You haven't heard what we have to say yet.”

“You want a mercenary. No thanks.” The Mandalorian doesn't even deign to look their way. “I'm just here to find some lodgings for a while.”

“You won't find any.” The woman counters. “It is the Blue Moon festival. You won't find anything for at least a full whole moon.”

Corin chews his food thoughtfully, looking from the woman to the Mandalorian and back again. The child does the same.
The Mandalorian sighs.

“We can pay you.” The man shoots in eagerly.

That catches Corin's attention and he's about to speak up but ducks down to his food as the helmet turns to him and somehow manages to glare him into silence before turning back to the others.
“What is the work?”

“There is a man.” The woman says. “He forces our village to pay him tribute. If we don't...”

The Mandalorian nods, considers, then glances at Corin and the child. “We'll need a place to stay.”

-

A deal is made. Corin is relieved to discover that they will be transported to the village. His wound is aching and a long walk to some random village isn't tempting at all. He's grateful for the Mandalorian's grip on his elbow as he shakily climbs on the transporter wagon, gritting his teeth against the pain in his stomach, and gingerly sinks down to find a somewhat comfortable position to sit in.

The child is lifted on board and instantly climbs into Corin's lap, making a concerned sound and reaches a small hand towards where the wound his hidden. The former Storm Trooper quickly takes the little hand in his, preventing the touch, and tries to give him a reassuring smile.

As they begin to move, Corin glances over at the Mandalorian, sitting next to him. His helmet is tipped upwards as if he is looking at the sky and he is absently rubbing his wrist.
They travel in silence. After a while, the child falls asleep between them.

Arriving at the village they are greeted with smiles, which is nice. It's been a long time since anyone was happy to see Corin arrive anywhere. But he's utterly exhausted and it's late in the evening. He just wants to curl up under a blanket and sleep for the next twenty years.
An exceptionally beautiful woman approaches and seems to take responsibility to find housing for them. “You travel together?” She asks.

The Mandalorian holds the sleeping child in one arm and helps Corin get down from the transporter with the other. “Yes.”

And that answer is probably why Corin ends up sharing quarters with the Mandalorian and the child. He doesn't mind. He's used to sharing quarters with other Troopers. It's also purely practical as there aren't that many houses in the tiny village and they've already been crammed together on the ship. The Mandalorian mutters something incomprehensible.
Strangely enough, though, the Mandalorian doesn't say a word after they enter the building designated to them. Or, more precisely, since Corin claimed the child and entered the house. The bounty hunter is still standing in the doorway.

Corin moves over, each step a stab of pain, and places the child in the crib the woman called M'Jau has kindly enough managed to acquire for them. He removes his cloak, but keeps his jacket on. Doesn't want to risk anyone seeing his blacksuit and possibly recognizing it.

The Mandalorian still hasn't moved.

Corin frowns and looks back at him, tries to figure out what he is staring at and concludes it must be the bed. At first he doesn't understand why the man is staring, wondering if it had been that long since the Mandalorian saw a bed or if there was something about it that he didn't like? Suddenly it dawns on him.
While it is a big bed, plenty of room, it is also the only bed in the room. Maybe Mandalorians didn't share bunks like Troopers were sometimes forced to on missions?

Feeling awkward, Corin clears his throat. “If it is a problem, I, uh, I could always sleep, you know...” He gestures towards the floor. It's no big deal. He's slept on worse surfaces. He's just lucky to be alive.

“No.” The Mandalorian says in a firm declaration. “You're injured. You take the bed.”

Corin feels too tired to argue. Surely the man can't be that uptight? “Listen, it's a big bed. You could fit four souls there. It's late. Don't you Mandalorians ever share bunks? We did. All the time.”

The answer is flat and without mercy. Almost harsh. “You're not a Mandalorian.”

He's right. Corin is not a Mandalorian. Corin knows what he is; a disgraced Storm Trooper. It makes no sense for him to feel it like a slap in the face when being reminded of this fact. Fact, not bad luck. And right now, he'd kill for his own Storm Trooper helmet to cover his face.

The child makes an upset sound in the background, now standing in its crib and looking at them.

“No... No, I'm not.” Corin confirms. It's probably his wound and his weakened state that has him feeling this... hollow. Right? He reaches out and takes a hold of a pillow. “You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Storm Troopers do that all the time. I got practice.”

That actually makes the Mandalorian take a step into the room. “You're sleeping on the bed.”

“No. I'm not.” Corin wants to cringe at the childish petulance he feels rising within himself. A superior officer would have shot him for this kind of behavior. “You haven't slept properly for days in that pilot chair of yours. You need to rest.”
He isn't prepared for the Mandalorian stalking forward and not stopping until he is right in front of him, but Corin stands his ground. He can't look at the silver helmet, stares at the floor, but he's not giving an inch. It's spite, not courage.

The Mandalorian hovers for a while, almost vibrating with tension and withheld words, but then he eases down and ends up sighing again. “Fine. We'll share.”

“No, I” Corin begins, but he's bit off with the Mandalorian's sharp; “I have spoken!” and the matter is settled. Mostly because Corin suspects the man is one heartbeat away from punching Corin unconscious again and throwing him on the damn bed, and he is in too much pain to want to risk that.

So after the Mandalorian has walked over to the crib and soothed the child with apologetic words of reassurance and a gentle touch to the tufts of hair on its head, he comes back and they do share the bed.

They keep awkwardly to their separate sides. Corin wonders for a brief moment if the Mandalorian can get any sleep wearing his helmet to bed, but he himself is too tired to stay awake despite the uneasy tension and he's asleep before he can wonder too much.

-

When morning comes, Corin is not surprised to find that the Mandalorian is long gone from the room along with the child. For a second he thinks that the bounty hunter has changed his mind and left him behind, but he soon hears the familiar chirp from outside and children laughing.
He finds the Mandalorian leaning against the wall just outside the door and is granted the barest of nods as a greeting before turning his gaze back to the flock of children, his own included, playing.

So, they're still on friendly terms then. Good. Corin is relieved. He wants to talk to the man, hear his voice, reassure himself that they are indeed good, but then the man who had approached them in town comes over.

“You wanted to talk?” The man says.

The Mandalorian nods. He straightens and just as Corin is about to take a step forward, says; “Keep an eye on the kid.”

Corin frowns. “I can help.”

“You're injured. Rest.” The Mandalorian states, already following the man away from the building. “And I don't need help.”

The frown deepens as the two walk away and Corin doesn't even notice it approaching before he hears a curious coo and feels something brushing by his leg. Looking down, he sees the child looking up at him. “It's nothing. Your dad just needed to talk to that nice man about something.” He can tell by the expression on the child's face that it is not buying that for once second. Corin decides to change the topic. “Why don't you show me that trick with the rolling sticks those kids taught you?”

The child's eyes narrow. It makes a low, scratchy sound of disapproval.

“Look, he doesn't want me there. Okay? Just leave it.” Corin has no idea why he's explaining himself to the child. “Let's face it. We're both excluded. Let's just make the best out of it.”

Apparently making the best of it means hovering in the back while the child plays, waiting like a forlorn youth for the Mandalorian to grace them once again with his presence, so by the time the sun has set and the child is asleep in the crib, Corin is cranky as hell.

When the villagers gather for a feast outside, he walks out to have a look and doesn't hesitate to accept the drink handed to him by one of them.
They warn him it is quite strong, but he doesn't care. His wound is hurting and he is feeling foul-tempered, so if this drink can numb his annoyance it can only be a good thing!

When the Mandalorian does finally show up, Corin can't tell whether that is good or bad luck. Partially due to the fact that Corin is drunk off his face and is losing the ability to tell which direction is up and which is down. He feels better, though. A lot better! Excellent!
The Mandalorian stops next to him and does what Corin thinks is a helmet-frown-of-disapproval.
Corin smiles up at him from his seat next to some random and smelly villagers. “Drink?” He lifts his cup up and offers him a taste.

“No thanks.” The Mandalorian says.

Corin shrugs and drinks the rest in a big gulp. He feels the other man continuing to stare so he tries to get up to stare back. It's a great plan, if not for how his legs just won't carry him and the Mandalorian has to reach out and grab a hold of his arm to prevent him from falling on his ass.
The sudden movement would have left him howling in pain if not for how plastered he is. Corin gives him another drunken smile. Such good luck he found this drink to numb everything.

The Mandalorian sighs.

It's no easy task getting back to the house. The ground is constantly moving, like waves, and Corin finds that gravity has gone haywire on this stupid planet. He makes it back inside the house without any incidents, but only because the Mandalorian has a firm grip on his arm.
“He's asleep.” Corin informs him in a cheerful whisper and tries to make his way over to the crib, even as the Mandalorian is dragging him over to the bed. “You... You should give him a name.”

“He has a name.”

“A proper name. Womp Rat and Scurrier and... Whatever. It ain't proper names.” Corin objects, even as he is eased into the bed. “He should have... a proper name. A good name. He's a precious baby.” He tries to keep his blurry sight on the Mandalorian as he walks around the bed, removes his cloak, his armor and boots and gets on the mattress as well. “Are you listening?”

“Sure.” The Mandalorian says, settling on his back and the helmet faces the ceiling.

He's not. Corin can tell. Sulking, he stares up at the ceiling too, feeling the room gently roll from side to side. All sort of random thoughts tumble through his head. But there is one question that has been bothering since he woke up on the ship.
“Hey...” Corin says quietly. “Why did you save me?” He knits his brows in an effort to think. “How did you save me?” People didn't just survive gut wounds like that. They didn't.

There is a long silence. And just as it seems like the Mandalorian isn't going to answer, he says; “The kid. It was the kid.” His voice sounds strange. “And we don't leave our people behind.”

Corin has a sneaking suspicion that that wouldn't have made sense to him even if he had been sober. He eases himself up on his side, faces the Mandalorian, waits for the pain in his belly to calm, then allows himself to sink forward and with a couple of adjustments, careful not to bump into him, he manages to get just close enough to rest his head on the Mandalorian's shoulder.

The bounty hunter had made it clear to Corin that he is no Mandalorian, but he was worth saving? Hell, it is 'something'. And Corin will take something over nothing any day.

He absently notes that the Mandalorian seems to have stopped breathing again and is as tense as Beskar, which probably means this is close to crossing the line by uptight Mandalorian standards. But if he truly wanted Corin away from him, then Corin knows Corin would most definitely be flying away from him by now.
And his drunken logic dictates that this isn't anything he hasn't done in freezing trenches with fellow Troopers.
It just feels good to sense the warmth and solidness of the Mandalorian. The man smells like metal, dust, blaster oil, something spicy and just... right. He wonders what his face looks like and if- Wait, what? Oh, wow, this really doesn't feel like huddling with fellow Troopers. Corin wonders if he's dreaming. He has to be.

And, after a while, when Corin feels the gloved but curious touch of light fingertips stroking a strand of hair away from his face, he smiles into the Mandalorian's shirt as this had to be the craziest dream he's ever had.
Then he is asleep.

-

Waking up the next day, Corin wishes that the Mandalorian had let him die after all.

His skull is aching, his stomach is rolling and his wound is burning like crazy.
Forcing his eyes open, he finds himself alone in the building yet again, but this time he can't be bothered to feel neither worry or offense. He merely closes his eyes again and suffers.

“Good morning.” A female voice declares with bright cheer and someone walks in.

Corin cringes and feels a faint hatred towards the universe for allowing this to happen. He's haunted by bad luck. Constantly. Always bad luck!

“Sit up.” The voice, it's M'Jau, orders gently but firmly. “I am told you were injured recently.”

Corin sits up. He's too much of a soldier not too. He hurts, but he does what he's told. He's even too miserable to object to her starting to pull his shirt off and removing it to get at his bandaged torso and starts unwinding it. The cool morning air feels good on his bare skin.

“This is going to get infected if you don't keep it clean.” M'Jau says, glancing up at him with a mild admonition from where she is kneeling by the bed and sorting out what she's brought with her.
Corin nods and rubs his eyes. “I know. I just... I haven't...”

There is suddenly the sound of a strange metallic bonk. He looks up just in time to see the back of the Mandalorian (Had he just bumped into the door frame while turning around?) as he stalks out of the house instead of entering as he'd clearly been meaning to do. “We're leaving for a scouting trip. The kid is playing out here. Watch him.” The Mandalorian snaps.

Corin opens his mouth to object, but knows it is pointless and merely closes it again. But he notices M'Jau glancing after the Mandalorian and the slight smile on her lips. Oh. He awkwardly starts picking at a loose thread belonging to the blanket on the bed. “He would make a good husband.”

For some reason, that only makes the smile on M'Jau's lips turn outright amused. “I don't go where there is no room.” She dabs some disinfectant on his wound while he tries to make sense of her words. “I brought you something to drink too. You should drink it while it is still warm. It will ease the headache.”

It eases the headache, but it doesn't help him understand her words.

And after the much appreciated aid from M'Jau, who even conjures up new clothes for him to wear, Corin wanders outside and watches the child play with the other small ones for a little while. He only makes his escape when they gang up on him and try to make him join. He knows M'Jau is watching over them, so there is no danger.

He spends some time looking around in the village, watches them work, marvels at how it feels to simply exist and not kill to survive. It almost feels like this is a place where good and bad luck does not matter. You'd be safe here no matter what.

He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he heads back to the house, deciding to make sure the child is doing well and has been fed, when Corin notices the door is open.
Frowning, he walks over and looks inside.

To his surprise, he sees a now very familiar helmet on the table next to the washing area. Mostly hidden by the screen put up for some privacy, he sees the armored shoulder of the Mandalorian and a little of his armored leg. There is the sound of splashing water and he sees him move, bending down, and he realizes that the man is washing his face.
His face.

A jolt of excitement stabs through Corin. The Mandalorian is without his helmet. His face is bare.

All Corin has to do is barge in, pretend he didn't know he was there, and he would finally be able to see his face. Suddenly he can't think of a single thing he's ever wanted more in his life. Good luck strikes again!
He wants to see his face, look into his eyes, watch him react and be unable to hide.
He wants to see.

Corin is about to walk inside, heart thudding and blood rushing, when he suddenly freezes up.

No. No, he can't do it.

The Mandalorian would never trust him again. It would be beyond disrespectful. Also; it would actually feel wrong to see him like this.

Letting out a frustrated hiss, Corin turns around and shuffles over to sink down and sit on the stairs to the house and wait for the Mandalorian to finish washing and put the helmet back on.

If he ever sees the Mandalorian's face, it will be because he wants him to.

Moments later, he hears heavy footsteps that stops next to him. Corin looks up and sees the silver helmet look down at him. He tries to act normal. “How did the scouting mission go?”

“We have a problem.”

Chapter Text

There was a problem? Corin straightens his back and frowns. “What problem?” Clearly bad luck didn't skip this place after all.

The Mandalorian crosses his arms and looks out over the village. “The guy squeezing money out of this place. He's not just some goon. He's got weapons, some serious weapons, and a crew.”

“That's not a problem.” Corin tries to sound calm and confident. He doesn't like the idea of fighting, he'd much prefer they'd take the child and run, but if the Mandalorian wants the goon dead then Corin will gear up and shoot the goon full of holes.

The Mandalorian makes a thoughtful sound. He's clearly working on the problem in his mind. “They don't have to pay up for three more days. We got time to prepare.”

Corin feels tension leave his shoulders and neck at being included this time. He clears his throat and looks out at the village as well. “Yeah. Okay. Let me know what you want me to do when the time comes.” Corin is not very good at making plans himself, but he's good at making them happen.

The Mandalorian nods, then walks down the steps and heads over to where the child is playing. When the child discovers his approach, it eagerly wobbles over to him and reaches up its little hands. He picks it up in his arms to exchange some quiet, soft-spoken words that Corin can hear the affection in even if he can't make out the words themselves.
He's also captivated by how gentle the Mandalorian's hands become whenever they deal with the child. Corin has felt the power of those fists, even has a fading bruise on his cheekbone from the impact, but handling the little child they become considerate and charmingly clumsy.

He abruptly remembers how soft the man's skin is under all that armor and leather.
Yeah, thinking back, Corin suspects he crossed the line even by Storm Trooper standards there by grabbing his hand like that, touching his wrist, his skin, but it hadn't been his intention to impose. He'd just been so fascinated and curious.
Unfortunately, instead of having his curiosity sated, Corin merely finds that he wants to touch that skin again to double-check that it really is as warm and smooth as his memory claims it was.

Shaking his head, Corin snaps out of those weird thoughts and forces his gaze down to the ground. He doesn't want to spy on their family moment.

Moments later, the Mandalorian's silver boots come into his sight and he glances up to see the bounty hunter there, still holding the child.
“I need you to look after the Blistmok again.” The Mandalorian hands over the child.

Corin automatically accepts it into his arms. “Where are you going?”

“I going to head back to the ship and get some parts. Might take a while.” The Mandalorian says, already turning and aiming to walk away. “I'll be back.”

A part of Corin wants to object, worried that he will jump on board his ship and leave, but decides the Mandalorian wouldn't do that, wouldn't lie and just leave, so he sighs and looks down at the child instead. “I guess it's you and me again then, kid.” He can't help smiling when it tilts its head and coos. Yep, it was still damn cute.

They play a little more, eat, try to help out a little with some farming work with little success, grab some snacks, then it is getting late. Really late. With no sign of the Mandalorian's return.
Corin returns to the house, a strangely restless child on his arm, stops by the crib and hesitates for a while before he makes his choice and heads over to the bed instead. “How about you camp with me for a while, kid?” Maybe that'll calm it down? And keep Corin from thinking too much.
The twitching ears and happy squeak makes Corin think it doesn't mind.

He curls up on his side on the mattress and the child snuggles up against his chest, allowing him to place a protective boarder around it with his arm. Corin doesn't want to risk it sneaking away and falling off the bed. He'll just rest his eyes a little bit, wait for it to fall asleep and then place it safely in the crib.

It doesn't take long before they're both asleep.

-

When morning comes, Corin wakes up to the face of the child dangerously close to his as it stares him back to consciousness. Groaning, Corin turns away, feels the wound in his stomach object at the movement, but the child squeals cheerfully at its achieved goal.

“Fine...” Corin sighs. “I'm awake.” Somewhat, at least. He sits up and takes a moment to glance around the room. There is no sign of the Mandalorian. He didn't come back at all?
Worry barges in and settles in heavily in his already aching gut.
The child chirps and calls for his attention so Corin gets out of bed and draws his hands through his own wild bedhair. He's going to need a haircut soon. He can still remember the feeling of that mercenary's grip forcing him down on his knees by it. “Okay, okay... You're hungry. I get it.”

By the time they leave the house, aiming to fetch some food, Corin is so determined not to think about the Mandalorian that he is a bit startled when he nearly walks into him outside the building.
The bounty hunter has brought back a whole bunch of boxes that he has placed around the entrance and he is currently working on some plate that is sparkling electricity like an ill-tempered spirit.
“Hey.” Corin says, holding back the squirming child so it won't run right over and get electrocuted. “I didn't hear you come back.”

“It was late.” The Mandalorian doesn't even look up from what he's working on. “Figured it was better I just started working.”

Corin wants to ask what he's working on, curious, but the entire attitude from the other man is so dismissive that he decides not to. “I'll, uhm, I'll just get the kid some food...”

“Good.” The Mandalorian replies, poking at some wires that results in angry fizzling. “Thanks.”

Heading off to the cooler hut where he'll find meat and nerf milk, Corin notices that there is actually a lot of activity going on in the village. People are running around with purpose. It seems like they are finishing up preparations for something. He manages to stop one of the villagers and ask what was going on.

“A wedding!” The woman explains cheerfully.

Corin did not see that one coming. A wedding? Today? Really?
He and the child find their breakfast, sit side by side outside in the lovely sunny weather, and they eat while watching the villagers carry furniture and decorations around.
His luck runs out eventually though, and he gets roped into helping carrying stuff. Corin doesn't really want to say no as he just ate from their food storage so he ends up having to work and babysit at the same time. Fortunately the child seems happy tottering around exploring the immediate surroundings with two other younglings.

“Excuse me.” It's M'Jau. She approaches Corin as he is helping them set up a wooden gate. “I was told to send you back to your lodgings.”

Instantly worried, Corin drops what he's holding and straightens. “Is something wrong?”

M'Jau smiles, amused as if she knows something he doesn't. “I don't think so.” When she sees Corin scouting for the child, she shakes her head. “I'll look after him. Go.”

“Thanks.” Corin doesn't hesitate to accept. He knows the child likes M'Jau and he trusts her.

Back by the house, the Mandalorian is still working outside and he doesn't even look up as Corin approaches. “I need your body,” he says. As Corin's eyebrows flies up to connect with his hairline, the man continues; “I have tried to modify it to your measurements, but I'm no forger so I need to make sure.”

That's when Corin sees what he has been working on: armor. It's not Beskar, but it is definitely of familiar design. He picks up one of the pieces, an arm guard, and studies it. It's anything but new, shows clear signs of wear and has several dents, but the technology lining the inside of it is quite impressive. “I appreciate it, but I could just use my Trooper gear?”

“No.” The answer is sharp, surprisingly sharp, and it is clearly not up for debate. The Mandalorian lifts the breastplate and makes a final inspection before holding out for him to take.

Corin takes it. “But...” The idea of going into battle without his helmet, it would be like going in half-blind. It's bad enough walking around without it on an everyday basis, but he needs the HUD to do battle.

“I said no.” That is a clear command.

Corin kind of wants to argue, but he's too used to taking orders so he folds. Again. He looks at the old gear. “Whose was this?”

The Mandalorian hands him another piece of armor. “Mine. Put it on.”

-

It's stupid; it's just an old armor. There is absolutely no reason for Corin to feel every piece so keenly, like hands. He puts on part by part, fastens them, adjusts the straps, takes his time, tries not to wonder too much about every cut and scrape as it isn't any of his business what the Mandalorian had been up to before they met. Though, it looks like bad luck had merely bounced off him.

The bounty hunter circles him after the last section is in place. He makes some thoughtful sounds, tugs at some of the pieces to test they sit right, then crosses his arms. “How does it feel?”

Corin shifts his weight and moves his arms. “Light.” Unlike the much fuller Storm Trooper armor, this only covers the most important parts of him and leaves plenty areas exposed to harm. It will make it a lot easier to move, but a lucky shot would be enough to incapacitate him

“Light is good. Speed is your friend.” The Mandalorian instructs. “And this armor will be able to withstand a lot more than your old gear. That armor is a joke.”

Struck with an instinctive urge to defend his armor, he's spent a good amount of years inside one, Corin chooses to remain silent as he can't deny that a lot of his fellow Troopers had fallen because of the weak plating. His thoughts are quickly distracted when he shifts his weight again and there is a sharp jab of pain from his stomach. Despite the cloth padding underneath the breast plate, it puts pressure on the wound and he makes a face of discomfort.

“Okay, that's enough. Take it off.” The Mandalorian orders. “I'll make some final adjustments and it should be ready.”

Removing the armor, Corin does the math and realizes the bounty hunter had returned to the ship to fetch this, spent most of the night repairing and adjusting it; for him. So when he hands back the final piece he feels he has to say something. “Thank you.” Corin clears his throat awkwardly. “For this. I mean... I'd rather not get shot again, so... Yeah. I really do appreciate it. Thanks.”

The Mandalorian doesn't move, merely stares at him, and Corin finds it impossible to interpret his silence. It's like looking at a statue. For several long seconds, they stand like that, then the Mandalorian turns back to his work.
“I'll finish up on this. You go find the kid. I'll join later.”

Corin nods, backs away, recognizing when he is being dismissed. “Sure. Later.” He allows himself a moment longer to watch as the Mandalorian starts working on the breast plate, admires the skills needed to negotiate the mess of wires, but spins on his heel and walks away as quickly as his aching stomach allows him when the silver helmet turns slightly to glance over his way.

Turns out, M'Jau has the children quite occupied as enthusiastic participants in the wedding ceremony and Corin finds himself banished to the make-shift bar set up in the back. He concludes that a drink might not be the worst idea. He needs to stop thinking.

“Isn't it wonderful?” A woman sighs dreamily from the chair next to him. She gazes at the newly wed couple engaged in a slow dance amidst other couples.

“Sure.” Corin says, studying his drink.

“Life is short. Better live while you can. Never know when the universe will call you home.”

Corin barely listens, turning the cup in his hand, watching the light play on the liquid. “Sure.”

“Not everyone finds love and a husband.” She sighs again. “Not everyone gets to travel among the stars with theirs.” She glances over at him and smiles. “Like you.”

Corin lifts the cup to take a big swig. “Yup.” Her words hit him and he freezes with a mouthful of alcohol. Like... him? Husband?

He sends her a startled look, but she is already being asked to dance by some guy and is gone before he regains the ability to speak. Corin hunkers down with his cup again, glancing around nervously to make sure no one else heard, and forces himself to swallow down the liquid.

The village thinks they're married? That's why they'd placed them in the same house? Why they never once wondered why a bounty hunter and an ex-soldier were traveling with a child?
Does the Mandalorian know? If not, who is going to tell him? NOT Corin. He suspects the Mandalorian threw up a little in his mouth at the mere thought of sharing a bunk with a Storm Trooper. He will probably shoot whomever accuses him of being married to one.

No. Corin downs the rest of his drink in one swallow. He will deny knowing this as hard as he denied his guilt when his commanding officer accused him of stealing that Alderaanian wine.
Now bad luck is just being cruel.

-

He loses the appetite for drinking. After this... unsettling fact landed in his lap, Corin has tried to think back on how these people ever got the crazy impression that he and the Mandalorian are... And, no, he can't think of a single reason why they would draw the conclusion that they are...

“Hey.” The Mandalorian appears out of nowhere right next to him.

Corin sends him a startled look, then remembers that he's supposed to act natural and pretend he doesn't know. He puts on a wide smile. “Hey!”

The silver helmet pulls back a little at the shrill greeting. He pauses, then the Mandalorian speaks. “Something wrong?”

Corin tries to tone it down a little. He shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing. All done with the armor?”

“For tonight.” The Mandalorian answers, sounding tired.

Feeling bad, knowing that working on the armor stole his sleep, Corin opens his mouth to ask if there was anything he can do, but a loud explosion nearby suddenly booms through the air.
After a second of pure shock and disbelief, staring at each other, the Mandalorian then snaps; “The kid!” And runs towards where the wedding crowd is fleeing from a pillar of smoke.

By the time Corin catches up, the Mandalorian stands with the child in his arms amidst the chaotic crowd and he watches some human guy standing in front of where the explosion had been set off by a grenade thrown at one of the makeshift huts.
Good luck reveals there are no signs of anyone being injured, other than chairs and tables.

“I'm just here to remind you fools that payment is due soon.” The stranger dressed in all black declares, sauntering over to where a 74-Z Speeder bike hovers. “Hiring some rabble won't change anything. Pay us our money or we will burn this place to the ground, people!”
The man gets on the bike and rides off, leaving destruction and fear in his wake.

The child is making heart-breaking sounds of distress.
The Mandalorian looks down at the child, places a gentle hand on its head and murmurs some comforting words until it calms. He then glances over at Corin. “We're not waiting.”

Looking at the destruction of the bomb, knowing how easily the child could have gotten hurt, hearing it chirp anxiously, Corin feels anger curl in his chest and he nods. This is one mission he'll take on because he wants to and not because he's ordered.
What he does not expect is what happens after they have geared up for fighting and Corin has placed the child with M'Jau.

“You're not going.” The Mandalorian says, checking his blaster before holstering it. “You'll stay.”

“I'll what?” Corin is certain he just heard wrong. “Forget it. I'm coming with you.”

“You're staying here. Someone needs to protect the village in case they decide to send more idiots this way. With the armor, you should be fine if something happens.” The Mandalorian walks out the door, cloak waving gently behind him and Beskar ringing with each of his steps.

Corin stalks after him. “You can't go alone. You said so yourself; this goon has weapons and a crew!”

“You're injured. You're only going to get in my way.”

“I'll watch your back. I'm able to fire a damn blaster!” Corin insists. He's been in more firefights than he cares to remember. He was a Storm Trooper. He is a combat veteran.

“No.” The Mandalorian just keeps walking.

During his army life, Corin followed orders quite easily. One of his commanding officers had once claimed CT-113 lacked ambition. Corin disagreed. He had two ambitions; stay alive and get paid. He just couldn't be bothered with arguing with orders. This time it is different.
“If you want to stop me,” Corin says, defiant, still following, “you're going to have to shoot me!”

He is not prepared for when the Mandalorian suddenly spins around, grabs a tight hold of Corin's throat and shoves him back against a tree and holds him there. His still-healing wound radiates pain, but he can barely choke out a gasp because of the harsh grip squeezing his windpipe.

“You will stay here.” The Mandalorian just about growls.“No playing the sacrificial hero again. You hear me? Get it into your thick skull.” Even though the helmet twists his voice a bit, there is still an audible intensity to his voice when the Mandalorian fiercely states; “You don't get to die.”

-

Struggling slightly to breathe, Corin barely notices the lack of oxygen. He's too mesmerized by the fact that someone cares whether he lives or dies. A Storm Trooper is just a cog in the wheel of the imperial machine. A death is a loss to the machine, but it can easily be replaced. So he was told. Time and again.
But the Mandalorian doesn't accept losses. He will protect the child. He will protect an entire village. He will even protect a disgraced enemy soldier, someone he, at best, tolerates.

Hearing the determination in the Mandalorian's voice, as hard and unyielding as Beskar, Corin realizes there is no way he'll be able to convince him to let him come along. So he decides to cheat.
For all his strength, the Mandalorian has one weakness and it is within striking range.

Slowly reaching up, Corin takes a hold of the man's wrist and carefully pulls the hand away from his throat, which the Mandalorian allows, but then he shifts his grip a little and makes the glove ride up to expose that hint of skin he once saw and touched. Corin remembers.
And now he leans forward, telling himself his own gloved fingers wouldn't achieve the same effect, to let his lips brush by that overly sensitive spot.

This is just to win the argument. He recalls how it froze him the last time. It is just to win the argument. Nothing else. No other reason. Absolutely not.

Like he suspected, the Mandalorian freezes. Completely. His breath hitches in his throat.

And, yeah, the skin 'is' as soft and warm as Corin remembers. It feels fragile and delicate, a contrast to the rough exterior of the Mandalorian. The pulse flutters against his lips like a frightened animal.

It's like time stops. Sounds disappear. Everything shrinks down to this simple contact.

Until the Mandalorian shivers and yanks his hand free. He grabs a harsh hold of Corin's wrists with both of his hands and twists them down by his sides, holding them captive there, and leans in to pin Corin against the tree with his own body in an aggressive move.
It hurts, but Corin barely registers the pain. He half expects the Mandalorian to shoot him, yet can't get himself to care about that either. His own pulse is racing for some reason. His lips are tingling. He can feel every breath the Mandalorian takes against him.

-You crossed the line, a distant part of Corin's brain screams. -Way over the line!

He doesn't care. Good luck, bad luck, he might as well die for a reason of his own choosing.

The Mandalorian then just as abruptly steps away. “You're staying.” His voice sounds strange.

Corin remains leaning against the tree. His legs feel weak. “No. You don't get to give me orders, Mandalorian. This isn't the army. You're not my commanding officer.”

The Mandalorian clenches his fists, as if he wants to hit something, probably Corin, but then sighs and relaxes them. “Please?”

Corin exhales wearily, wavering. Orders were one thing, but this? “Don't ask this of me.”

“It's too dangerous.”

Straightening and stepping away from the tree, Corin makes a final effort at making him see reason by pointing out; “If it is dangerous, you're going to need my help.”

The Mandalorian looks away. “What I need, if things go wrong, is for you to look after the kid. I need to know he's safe. That he won't be alone. Can you do that for me?”

Right, well, clearly Corin isn't the only one who knows how to fight dirty. “This isn't fair.”

“Life never is.” The Mandalorian states, then turns away. “Keep your blaster ready.”

Just as the Mandalorian starts to walk away, still angry, Corin calls out; “You better come back!”

“I will.” The Mandalorian pauses, then adds; “This is the way.” and disappears into the wilderness.

Corin hesitates. He grits his teeth, realizing how much easier everything was when he didn't question orders, then turns and heads back to the village.

-

Back at the village, people are anxious and ready for the fall-out of the Mandalorian's decision. Corin has little patience with their skittish behavior and puts the most steady and weapon-skilled souls in the front and banishes the others to hide in the buildings in the center of the settlement.
He paces back and forth, scouting the horizon and waiting, hoping for good luck.

It doesn't take too long before they hear explosions and soon there are pillars of smoke in the distance. But it continues for a worrying amount of time. Whatever was happening, neither side is willing to stop fighting.

Corin is fairly certain it is the worst kind of torture, listening to it and being unable to do anything, but then it goes quiet and that is even worse.

When he first hears the sound he thinks it is the Mandalorian who has returned, but of course Corin's bad luck won't allow that. No, instead three speeder bikes with men dressed in all black comes out of the wilderness and head straight for the village with their blaster guns blazing.

“Fire! Now!” Corin shouts, and the armed villagers obey. They are no soldiers, but they have been protecting their nerf herds from predators from a very young age. Some even get in a couple of shots that graze the men or the bikes. Considering the speed the bikes are moving at, Corin would be impressed if he wasn't too busy running to face the intruders himself.

Getting down on one knee, holding his blaster up in a double-grip, desperately missing his HUD and the aiming calculations it would provide for him, Corin ignores the enemy fire his way and merely holds until the middle speeder bike is dangerously close and he can take his shot.
He hits the bike's rider square in the chest and sends him toppling off the vehicle, which barely misses Corin on its continued path, and he has barely enough time to roll away when the second speeder bike comes charging at him with intent.

It is a mess of smoke, blaster shots and shouting. Chaos. It's what Corin is far more used to than anything else. His wound is aching, both from the movements and from the breastplate pressing down on it, but he forces himself to ignore it as he takes aim on the third rider.
His shot hits the guy in the arm, causing the bike to careen out of control before coming to a halt, but there is no time for celebration as the guy who had tried to run Corin over is back.

A villager falls to the man's blaster, causing the remaining ones to scatter, and Corin fires a series of shots at him to draw his attention. It works. The guy turns the bike towards Corin and races towards him.

Corin prepares his shot, but never gets to take it as the man suddenly makes a hard turn to the left and the former Storm Trooper has only a second to wonder why, then he sees the grenade which has landed by his feet, courtesy from the bandit he'd hit the arm earlier. Talk about bad luck.

The explosion is loud. So very loud. It sends him flying through the air, flailing helplessly, and he hits the ground hard. At the impact, air is forced out of his lungs, the blaster jumps out of his hand, his head thumps against the dirt and raw pain flares up as his wound tears open.

Dazed, it takes a while for him to regain his breath, get the pain under control and for brain to reboot and actually see what is hovering next to him.
What he sees is a man sitting on a speeder bike and aiming his blaster down at him with a smile.
Corin swallows. The bad luck wasn't done yet, huh? But he's still not ready. He wants to live!

He sees the man's finger tighten on the trigger, knows the armor won't help as the aim is on Corin's head, and just as he thinks he has terminally run out of good luck; the blaster suddenly flies out of the man's hand as if it is ripped away.

A familiar chirp is heard behind Corin.

Rolling over on his stomach, ignoring the agony of doing so, Corin is horrified to see the child standing there with its little hand stretched out towards the man on the bike.

No. No, no no. Corin scrambles to his feet, sprints towards the child and picks it up and cradles it against himself without stopping. He feels a hard shove to his shoulder as the armor shields him from a blaster shot from the injured goon, but he manages to stay on his feet and keeps running.

The child makes a distressed sound when Corin ducks around a building and leans against it. He glances down and is beyond horrified to see blood. A lot of blood soaking its clothes. Holding it up, his heart thundering like crazy, he looks for the injury. “Please. No, please... Why? You were supposed to stay with the others! I'm sorry, please, no...”

The words trail off when the child tilts its head and reaches out towards him with a soft coo and he realizes there is no sign of any injury anywhere.
A quick glance reveals the blood is actually from Corin's old wound torn open again. Relief washes over him with an intensity he's never felt before. Pulling the child close again, hugging it to his still thundering heart, Corin exhales a shaky prayer of gratitude to finally having some good luck while blood trickles down his side.

-

He hears the men continuing to shoot their blasters, hears some villagers trying to shoot back, so Corin knows there is no time to waste. He still has two idiots to kill.

Shifting the child over in his left arm, he peeks around the corner and sees where the goons are located before making a crouching run towards where he sees a fallen villagers lies with an ancient looking blaster rifle. Picking up the weapon, he ducks behind another building and goes down on one knee. He perches the child on his thigh, tells it to hang on, before taking up aim.
He's in a lot of pain, sweating, his vision blurs slightly, but Corin closes one eye and focuses on the one he'd already injured. It takes two shots, but he brings him down.

That leaves only one. And he's clearly seen where Corin is shooting from, because he turns his speeder bike and races towards him.

That's when Corin sees it; the net hanging from the bike with several blood-stained Storm Trooper helmets. Trophies. So that's why the Mandalorian didn't want him to wear his old gear. Still, the sight infuriates Corin. He takes aim again.

Just as he's going to fire the rifle, the man on the speeder bike disintegrates in a shower of sparks.

Corin lowers the weapon at the sight of the Mandalorian standing there like good luck personified and he suddenly feels the exhaustion and the pain like a star cruiser landing on him.
The Mandalorian's armor is stained with blaster fire, his cloak is ripped and his left arm has a ragged looking cut, but he's alive and that all Corin cares about. He carefully puts the child down and gives it a little push. “Go see your dad.”

The child hesitates. Corin turns to lean against the building and sinks down to sit, undoing the straps on his breastplate. “Go on, kid. It's okay.” His hands are trembling, making it difficult, and he is surprised to find not only the child back by his side but also the Mandalorian kneeling down to help.
“You look like shit.” Corin says. “You're bleeding.”

“So are you.” The Mandalorian counters.

Corin shrugs. “Nothing new. I'll be fine. How did it go?”

“They're dead.”

Nodding, Corin is relieved to be free off the plate and places a hand to his stomach to put pressure on the bleeding. “Good. No more helmets for them.” Suddenly he's glad he doesn't have his HUD, which would have given him the identity of the owners of the helmets. He doesn't want to know.

The Mandalorian's hand takes a light hold of Corin's shoulder and gives him a light squeeze in a mute gesture of consolation. Then he reaches down and removes Corin's hand from the wound.

“What...?” Corin tries to object, especially as the Mandalorian's move makes the child reach its clawed hand forward towards his very painful stomach. “Hey, nono, don't...”

The child closes his eyes, there is a sliver of a bright light dancing around the torn skin, and Corin stares with wide-eyed amazement as his flesh slowly, ever so slowly, begins to knit itself together.
-It was the child, the Mandalorian had said. The child had saved Corin's life. Now he finally understands what those words meant.

The Mandalorian had turned the ship around that time, gone back to find the collapsed Corin and the child had then used the Force itself to heal him back from the brink of death.

And a chill runs down Corin's spine as he realizes there is no way the war-lords of the fallen Empire will ever stop chasing this child.