Chapter Text
Dyn Jarren gazed across the crowd of waving villagers as the wagon slowly made its way towards the edge of the woods. He was still close enough to make out some of the faces clearly, yet he was already feeling a longing ache in his chest at the thought of leaving them. Of separating the Child and Winta. Of leaving Omera.
No.
He mustn’t think like that. He couldn’t stay here. It was no longer the Way. He tilted his head and glanced down as the Child cooed softly, and watched as it raised claw-like fingers to wave at its newest friends. He felt a pang in his chest, but quickly cast it aside. He was a bounty hunter. He was Mandalorian. There was no room in him for weakness; weakness oftentimes meant death.
They were much closer to the trees now, and he felt his gaze drift towards the concealing shadows of the trunks. He tensed as he thought he saw a sharp movement catch his eye... in that moment, a small device flew in a graceful arc, landing on the opposite side of the wagon, amidst his supplies. He barely had a moment to comprehend the blinking read light, and sharp chirps coming from it before he had grabbed his pulse rifle and the Child, and rolled off the moving vehicle. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run as a sudden blast threw him forward.
As he landed, he quickly shoved the Child towards a hollow underneath a small fallen tree, concealed by the tall grass. “Go. Go!”
Grabbing the pulse rifle and his sidearm blaster, he leapt up and rounded on his new attackers, naturally taking up a defensive stance as if by second nature. For a Mandalorian, it practically was. Dyn felt his breath momentarily catch in his throat as Greef Karga, the leader of the guild, stepped out from the tree line, accompanied by some other bounty hunters he had previously seen around their old bar headquarters.
“Aw, Mando. I was getting a bit worried we wouldn’t be seeing each other again. I suppose it’s lucky we heard of some commotion down here. Sargon is usually quite the peaceful place after all.” Greef took another step forward as four bounty hunters began to surround Dyn. “This is quite the nice little farming community you’ve found. What is it... krill, maybe? It’d be a shame to see it go, don’t you think Mando?”
“Leave them out of this.” He hoped the strain in his voice didn’t carry through the helmet; he had a sinking feeling it did. He desperately wanted to turn and look to the villagers, see if they were safe, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take his eyes off Greef. He was the immediate threat.
“Well, I’m not the one who brought them into it Mando. Simply making a statement. Strange to see you so worked up over it though... you’re a bounty hunter Mando. You ruthlessly capture and kill for a living. You have shown no love before... you only cared for getting the job done quickly and efficiently. I must admit, you were my favorite... but that all seemed to change after the latest Asset.” Dyn warily watched the bounty hunters out of the corner of his eye, preparing himself for any sign of an attack as Greef continued. He doubted they would though; Greef would want to wait until his monologue was over with. He had a certain flare for dramatics, it seemed.
“Speak of the devil, where is the asset? If you just hand him over, all will be forgiven.”
“How are you alive?” Dyn chose to demand instead, as he distinctly remembered shooting him in the heart with his blaster...
“Ah ah ah! I believe I asked my question first.”
“I’m not answering.”
“Then I shall not either. It is a shame, my dear Mando. You really were my favorite... Now, I believe a certain client filled me in on a particular conversation...” Greef stated as he gestured to the bounty hunters surrounding the Mandalorian. “I believe it was said to go, ‘we have you four to one’ if I remember correctly.”
“And I believe I said I like those odds.” As soon as he finished speaking, Greef gave a satisfied nod.
“Then let the games commence.” All at once, the four bounty hunters charged as Greef took a few precautionary steps away from the fight. Dyn quickly spun out of the way of one of the attackers, simultaneously kicking a second in the stomach, and blocking an attack from the third’s staff with his pulse rifle. There was a aching blow to his left arm as the fourth hunter’s strike connected to the unarmored lower arm, and he felt himself wince. That would surely leave a bruise.
Twisting to dodge another blow from the third’s staff, Dyn’s eyes landed on the crowd of villagers behind him. Skanah! There were more bounty hunters than he’d thought. Two more were keeping Cara Dune on her toes, one was fighting Omera who was fiercely protecting the children, and two more were aiming blasters to the crowd, as if daring someone to move. Dyn felt a sharp blow to the back of his head, having hesitated to long. Ducking down, he swiped the legs out from under hunter Two, and swiftly shot him in the head with his blaster. One down, three to go. Unfortunately, these were no measly stormtroopers. As much as Dyn hated to admit it, they were experienced bounty hunters, and therefore very formidable in a fight, especially three to one.
As number Three rose his staff for another blow, Dyn caught Four raising a blaster, and One aiming a swipe at his legs. Elbowing One in the face, Dyn turned so that the staff glanced off his armour for minimal damage (although it still hurt when the end caught his arm) and walloped Four in the head with his pulse rifle, effectively knocking him cold. Unfortunately, he was unprepared for the blow to his shoulder when another attacker came from seemingly nowhere.
So a fifth one. He could deal with this. He could.
As he tried to regain his balance, Three swiped his legs with the staff, sending him into an unruly heap on the ground. Quickly scuttling backwards away from the advancing attackers, and held out his arm for the flamethrower.
For a glorious moment, it worked. Then, a sudden blast and sharp pain to his wrist, and the flame went out. Turning his head to the side, he saw Greef aiming a blaster at him.
“Ah ah ah, lets not end the fun so soon. Not till you give me the package.” Greef motioned for the hunters to continue.
Dyn lifted his arms, desperately trying to protect himself from the blows raining down on him from their staffs and the butts of their rifles. His struggles were to no avail, as he had no way to defend himself. He had dropped his blaster with the hit, and his pulse rifle was lying on the ground just out of reach. Fearing for the worst, he tried to find a way, any way, to get out of this mess. That was when he heard it.
“No!” He heard rapid footsteps, and a loud clang as something hard slammed into the side of Three’s helmet. The attacks from Four and Five were cut short as they turned toward their new foe. Taking his arms from his head, Dyn looked up to see Omera being held back at gunpoint by another hunter, a large branch fallen by her feet and presumably used to whack Three.
Six now? How many are there?! That doesn’t even count the five with the villagers!
A quick glance around showed the villagers were okay, and the hunter Omera had been fighting was lying motionless on the ground. However, Cara Dune seemed to be unable to attack as the villagers were being held at gunpoint. He assumed she had been warned against moving, or else the villagers would pay. There was no other logical reason for her refraining from the fight, especially after he saw the murderous glint in her eyes. With his assessment complete, Dyn turned his eyes back toward Omera just as Greef began to speak.
“My, my! Well look what we have here... Such bravery to run to the defense of such a man... Why, one might even say you would have to love him to do such a thing...” Dyn stared at Omera through his visor, trying not to let his heart stutter at the thought of her loving him. He wanted to send her strength, but didn’t know how other than a silent, steady gaze. He hoped it helped. His mind kept leaping back to the thought of her loving him though... he knew they had shared some heartfelt moments, (and oh how he had hoped) but how could she love him?
Greef was quick to voice his thoughts. “Why, how can this be? Surely no one is foolish enough to love our Mando, certainly not a pretty young lady such as yourself... Why, a farmer falling for the cold-hearted, orphaned bounty hunter... killing is in his blood! He’s heartlessly handed over many to fates worse than death, or even slaughtered them himself... why, he even took the bounty for a child.” Greef stood in thoughtful silence as the bounty hunters huffed out laughter around them. Dyn and Omera continued their silent staring contest, Dyn still lying on his back on the ground, afraid for Omera’s sake to make a sudden movement. Who knew what the hunter’s would do.
“Now, I must say, I’m quite curious... are these feelings... reciprocated?” Dyn thought he felt his heart stop at the comment, and nearly missed the slight widening of Omera’s eyes. He took a second to ponder what it meant before tuning back in. “Alright my dear Mando, here’s your rules. You reach for a gun, she dies. You make a sudden movement, she dies. You try using that flamethrower, or whistling birds, or whatever the heck else you have in that fancy costume, well, I think you get it.”
In truth, he didn’t have any whistling birds left, but there was no need to tell them that. “Alright Mando, stand up now. Let’s see how much our Mandalorian has really learned to love...”
Dyn had a split second to register the look of shock and horror that flitted across Omera’s face before the first blow fell, harsh and heavy on his right shoulder. Then the next, to his stomach. Then his lower back. He bit back cries of pain, and forced himself to stand as straight as he could, whilst doubling over in pain. He heard a few shouts and cries from the villagers, unprepared for the brutality of the bounty hunters. Dyn struggled to stay standing as he heard Omera begin to yell out, begging for them to stop. He longed to go to her, comfort her, but he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted her to be shot before he reached her.
Omera was horrified by the sight before her. She could feel the tears streaming down her face as she thrashed in her captor’s hold, and screamed for them to stop. She knew she must look like a madwoman, and should calm down before she frightened Winta and the other onlooking children, but she couldn’t. Not while the Mandalorian was being beaten down before her very eyes. Not while the seemingly unbreakable warrior’s legs trembled and threatened to give out beneath him. Not while he continued to gaze unwaveringly at her through that helmet visor, providing her with a sense of strength and security she hadn’t felt in a long time, all while being beaten in front of her. Not when it was all for her sake.
She turned her head to the side in hopes that Cara Dune would be able to assist, but dread filled her when she saw the bounty hunters prepared to shoot into the crowd. By the furious look on Cara’s face, she knew she wanted to help more than anything. It was hard to keep track of the emotions at war across her face, the hatred and desire to leap into battle with the Mandalorian flitting amongst her obvious unwillingness to abandon the villagers. If she moved, the hunters would shoot into the crowd. When the Mandalorian fell, Omera had experienced a brief moment of shock before she managed to slam a branch into the head of her attacker with seemingly superhuman strength, and had used the same tactic on one of the hunters surrounding the Mandalorian. Unfortunately, Dune would not be able to accomplish the same feat. She had managed to take down one of her own assailants, but there were still three bounty hunters aiming into the crowd. There would be no way for her to prevent casualties if she were to make a move. There was no way for her to help the Mandalorian in need.
For some strange reason, this caused Omera’s mind to go back to the strange man’s words. Are these feelings... reciprocated?
Could the Mandalorian really feel the same way? He couldn’t, could he? Sure there had been moments she thought there was a connection, when she felt a particularly strong bond between the two. Sure she had longed... but she couldn’t let herself hope. Not when he could leave at any moment, not when he did leave. But maybe....
Now she would possibly never know. Not even a Mandalorian could stand up to such a brutal beating for so long. Finally breaking eye contact, she turned to face the man who seemed to lead the rest. “Stop! Please...”
She watched as the man slowly smiled, and turned back towards the scene. “You heard the woman, let’s stop now.” Omera’s breath caught in her throat with shock and hope. The man strode over to where the Mandalorian was now doubled over in pain, though only his posture let it show. “Well Mando, it seems your admirer wishes for you to have another chance. Where is the package?”
Omera’s breath caught in her throat. She knew he would never give up his Child, - his Child, as she refused to believe he didn’t think of it that way - not while he was alive. She knew that no matter how much he pretended otherwise, he did love that child. Even if he tried to hide it from her. Even if he tried to hide it from the rest of the village. Even as he tried to hide it from himself.
The Mandalorian straightened his back, and stared defiantly back at the man through the visor. If he was in any pain (which she knew he must be), he refused to show it in his posture.
“No.” The slightly modulated voice came out from the helmet a little more strained then last time, and she knew he was struggling. She knew he was steeling himself, preparing for the bad reaction that was sure to come.
The man smiled, and Omera felt fear. A chill ran down her spine as he spoke. His voice was cheerful, but his gaze was dark with anger as his hand slowly made its way to his belt; she would bet almost anything that the Mandalorian was tracking the movements from behind the helmet, and she knew she was right when the slight rise and fall of his shoulders betrayed his rapid breaths.
“Very well then. If that is what you wish.” The man pulled out a dagger, and before anyone else could react, he plunged it into the Mandalorian’s side. She heard a grunt of pain as he doubled over once more and clutched at his side, the first vocalized sign of injury he had given throughout the entire fiasco he had endured. The man nodded to the bounty hunters surrounding the Mandalorian, and they continued their previous harsh treatment of her beloved. She could no longer deny that she had feelings for him, and she knew no one else could either, not after her reaction the first time.
She was about to resume her hysteric pleading when she heard a sharp whistle to her left, so fleeting she wondered if she had imagined it. She glanced around to see Cara Dune intensely staring at her. She had inched away from the crowd, to a slightly more secluded spot a few yards away from the villagers, as the bounty hunters became distracted by the ‘show’ before them.
When she noticed Omera looking, Cara mimed shooting a gun to the sky, pointed at Omera, and then drew a line across her own throat.
Of course. Play dead! If she was presumed dead, the man wouldn’t be able to hold her life above the Mandalorian. If she were presumed dead, the Mandalorian could protect himself. She almost let out a crazed laugh at the thought, but another pained grunt pulled her thoughts back the the task at hand. Giving a sharp nod to show her understanding, Omera turned back to the incongruous sight before her. The Mandalorian was now on his knees, bent over with one hand on his stomach where the knife’s hilt still protruded, and another lifted over his helmet in a weak attempt to guard his head.
There was no need for her to fake her strangled cry as she began to struggle in the grip of the bounty hunter holding her. She needed a reason to be shot after all... She wrenched one arm free, and elbowed him in the stomach as hard as she could. She allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction as she heard a pained gasp from behind, before the gun was shoved harder against her head. The bounty hunter garbled something in what she assumed was another language, but it sounded like gibberish to her.
“You will not.”Said the leader-man as he turned towards them. With an angry glare, he turned back towards the Mandalorian. Omera continued to struggle.... and then a singular, sharp shot rang out behind her. She immediately froze, then collapsed to the ground, eyes shut tight. All movementseemed to cease for a moment as everyone stood in shock, before the strangled cry of a small girl called out, “MOMMA!”
Omera winced internally. I’m sorry my darling, stay strong. She hated to put Winta in this position, but she had no other way.
“You FOOL!” The leader-man sounded furious. “I told you not to! What have you done?” Another shot sounded, and a body collapsed to the ground behind her. Omera didn’t move a muscle, for fear she would give herself away. For fear she would ruin the plan.
It’s all up to you now...
Dyn started at Omera’s lifeless body for a few moments in silent shock. He barely registered Greef Carga’s voice, and the shot that took the life of Omera’s captor. Omera’s killer. He had a split second to wish he had been the hand behind the gun that killed the hunter before his mind caught up to what his eyes were seeing.
“No.” The first came out as barely a breath, the two closest bounty hunters turning uncertainly toward him. “NO!”
Struggling to his feet, Dyn quickly picked up his pulse rifle and turned towards Greef, who was looking considerably more unsettled. The thought of Omera’s lifeless body on the ground caused something inside of him to snap. His next words came out strangely calm and emotionless, yet so very cold.
“You just made a big mistake.”
He saw the moment Greef’s eyes filled with fear as he turned and fled back towards the woods, but ignored it in favor of the task at hand. Hurt everyone. Swinging his pulse rifle in a wide arc, he slammed it into the head of the closest hunter, knocking him out cold before plunging the sharp end of the rifle into his chest. The pain in his side flared and his body screamed at the motion, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Spinning around, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the head of another, and kicked the last in the stomach, quickly scooping up his fallen blaster and shooting them both.
Turning, he scanned the area to see most of the other hunters sprinting away, unwilling to face the wrath of a furious Mandalorian. The ones not running were busy being beaten up by Cara Dune. He felt a bit of humorless satisfaction that they would get what they deserved as he swung his rifle up to his shoulder and took aim.
One. Two. Three bounty hunters had fallen at his hand before he could see no more. He didn’t have any clue how many there were originally, and he knew for a fact Greef was long gone. He watched as Cara took out her last hunter and looked up at him. He nodded his appreciation as he felt his body give up to the exhaustion, adrenaline draining away. His injuries came back at him ten-fold, and it was all he could do to stay upright as he struggled to Omera’s body. He collapsed onto his back by her side, careful as to not land on the hilt of the dagger still protruding from his body. He knew he should do something about it, but his mind was too foggy to think properly. As he lay there with his arms splayed out beside him and his knees bent to accommodate the instinctual need to curl up in a ball around the pain in his stomach, (he was to exhausted to do so fully) he listened to the sound of his own ragged breaths through the helmet and tired not to think about the one thing on his mind. Omera.
Omera held still as Winta cried out for her mother. She refused to move when she heard the broken cry of the man she loved, the sudden shouted No echoing in her ears. If she hadn’t already been so still, her body would have frozen at the tone of his voice as he declared her death a mistake. His voice was emotionless and calm, yet cold as ice. It was the voice of a broken man with nothing left to lose, the sound of a warrior bent on the need to avenge a great loss. Her heart cried out at the sound of that voice, so familiar yet completely foreign to her in that moment.
She continued to be still as a fight rang out around her, and she held her eyes closed even as she yearned to know who was winning. Was that thud the sound of one of the other bounty hunters hitting the ground? Or was it the sound of her defeated lover, collapsing from a shot?
She waited, even after all was quiet, for fear that the footsteps coming toward her were that of an enemy. She heard ragged breaths, and a body fell to the ground beside her. She took a moment to calm herself before slowly opening her eyes, looking through her eyelashes just in case.
She found that the legs she saw in front of her covered by leather pants and shining armor belonged to no stranger. She knew that outfit anywhere. Opening her eyes the rest of the way, she sat up and stared at the body on the ground, gashes in the clothing where no armor protected him, and a dagger sticking out from his stomach. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was dead. Then she registered the harsh rising and falling of his chest, and heard the ragged breaths coming through the helmet.
She immediately leaned over him, tears filling her eyes and hands fluttering around his armored chest, wanting to help but not knowing how.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Omera choked out as she looked at the visor where his eyes would be. She heard the sharp intake of breath and saw his body freeze. “I’m so sorry, this was all my fault, I shouldn’t have interfered-”
She was cut off as a gloved hand ever so slowly reached up to cup her cheek, oh so gently. He held it there, still not breathing as if he were afraid if he moved the slightest bit she would disappear. When he finally spoke, his words were choked with emotion, so so different from the earlier coldness.
“You’re okay.”
His voice cracked heavily, but he said it again more clearly. “You’re okay.”
Omera gave a small, sad smile, and choked back a laugh at the thought that this, this was how they ended up showing their feelings for one another. Of all the ways... choosing not to think about that, Omera leaned down and hugged him gently, feeling his arms curl lightly around her body.
A small chirrup to the side broke them out of their trance. Omera sat back again, the Mandalorian’s arms dropping back to the ground beside him. She watched as his helmeted head turned to take in the concerned look of the small Child.
“An jahaala ad’ika.” He said, and the Child gave him an unimpressed look, which she hadn’t actually thought was possible for the Child. The Child gave another chirp before toddling over to the Mandalorian and practically face planting into the crook of his neck. The Mandalorian gently rose his hand and place it on the Child’s back.
A sudden weight threw itself on Omera’s back, and she turned to give her own child a hug. The rest of the village gathered around, most still with shocked looks on their faces, as if they couldn’t believe that everything had just happened. Omera could sense the agitation of the Mandalorian behind her (she really needed to ask his name) and decided to take action. Standing up, she pulled her teary eyed child close, and addressed the crowd.
“Well, it seems there his more work to be done. Let’s clean up this mess, chop chop!” The villagers slowly began to disperse, and she turned back around as she heard two sharp laughs, one followed by a fit of coughing.
“And I say he’s the blunt one.” Stated a highly amused Cara Dune, and the Mandalorian barked out another laugh, once again followed by some coughs that he attempted to mask by burying his masked face into the Child, much to it’s delight.
Omera let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
They were going to be alright.