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The ship was quiet. That was… no longer normal.
The Mandalorian shifted in the pilot’s seat, pins and needles shooting down his legs. He should be enjoying this. After weeks of endless tinkering, cries, and giggles, a little quiet should be a welcome refuge for a man so used to his own comfortable company.
Silence should not grate on his nerves and morph his insides into a twisted knot. And yet, here he was.
Din blew out a breath of air through his nose and shoved his chair around. Groaning in discomfort, he unfolded his lanky body out of the chair and jammed the open button next to the single door.
His feet slammed hard against the floor of the ship. Din turned in a slow circle looking for any telltale sign of green fuzz. Upon not finding any, Din called out, “Kid? Why have you gone and hid yourself? You not bulldozing your way around my cabin and getting under my skin makes me nervous.”
Silence again greeted him, only the whirring of the ship’s gears breaking through the air. Something cold pooled in the Mandalorian’s stomach.
The Child had never before refused to come when he called. In fact, Din couldn’t remember if he ever sought out the Child before. The baby was always at his side. It was practically a law of nature. Sleeping against his chest, little hands reaching up under his own to fiddle with the ship’s controls, the Child was always simply there.
Din cursed himself for every time he told the Child to leave him alone, to not be a bother. Why was it that he was always eating his own words around a being that never spoke?
“ Ad’ika ?” Din called, slipping back into his habit of referring to the alien baby as a Mandalorian child. He knew it wasn’t right to take such ownership, but it kept slipping out. It didn’t help that the baby would always giggle happily when he heard the word. He’d reach out his little hands to the Mandalorian as if drawn by the intimacy of the word.
A soft whimper broke through the quiet, accompanied by the rustle of robes seeping over the floor.
Frowning, Din made his way over the sound. He reached down to shove a few stray boxes to the side, revealing a small bundle on the floor pressed into the wall’s corner.
“What's this now?” the Mandalorian asked softly, dropping down to his knees to peer at the little creature. “What’s wrong, little one? This isn’t like you.”
Din reached out a hand, intending to sweep the baby up into his arms only to lurch back as the Child let out a piteous noise and shrank further against the wall.
The unfamiliar cold feeling was threatening to crawl up the Mandalorian’s throat. “ Ad’ika ?” he asked again, more gently this time. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Are you…” The cold feeling was pressing against the back on his teeth. “Are you afraid of me?”
Though Din was still unsure of how much the Child understood of his words, the baby seemed uncannily apt at picking up his tone and meaning.
Wide, reflecting eyes shot up to meet his. The Child took a shuddering breath that whistled through his whole body before wrenching himself up on his feet and reaching for the Mandalorian with a pitiful whine.
Din swept the Child up into his arms. He rocked them back and forth, hand rubbing the soft crease of one long green ear.
The Child buried himself against the Mandalorian’s neck and whimpered. Din wished he could provide the comfort of skin-to-skin contact. His armor suddenly felt too heavy against his cold skin.
“What happened, little one?” Din asked, hand moving down to rub the back of the Child’s neck. “I need to know what to do. I need to know how to help you.”
The Child simply sniffed. After a few moments, however, his trembling began to lessen and he sucked in a few shuddering breaths.
“Alright, Ad’ika , it’s alright,” Din said helplessly. He was not equipped for this, for any of this. The Mandalorian had been around children his whole life, but he had never, not even once, considered having one of his own. Now he was the only guardian the Child had in the whole galaxy and he had no idea what he was doing. The only thing Din truly knew at that moment was that he would find a way to shift a mountain to keep the Child from crying.
He spun on a heel in a tight circle, reenacting a move that had never failed to make the infant laugh. To the Mandalorian’s intense relief, his efforts were rewarded with the small, wet giggle.
“There we are, little one, that’s better. There’s no reason to be sad. I’m here, aren’t I? We’re together.”
He spun again and felt the Child clutch at him tighter with another giggle, this one a tad louder.
“Were you lonely?” Din asked after a moment. Honestly, it was a miracle that the Child had accepted him so readily in place of his own kind. Din didn’t even know the name of the Child’s species let alone any way to contact them. The poor kid only had a gruff bounty hunter for company, he was bound to lose himself to grief once in a while.
The Child hiccupped against his chin and Din slowly pulled the infant away to set him on a barrel. He stroked a finger under the Child’s chin, at a loss as to how to further comfort the distressed baby.
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I- I’d never abandon you. I promise, Ad’ika , I swear it.”
Din tickled underneath the Child’s chin. “Please don’t cry anymore.”
The Child blinked up at the man, his unnaturally wise eyes calculating. After a moment, the Child heaved in a brave breath and shook his head, the last remnants of tears splashing down his cheeks.
“It’s alright, little one,” the Mandalorian said helplessly, reaching out to thumb away the tears. “If I were stuck with just me, I’d probably cry too.”
The Child gurgled, this time somewhat unhappily and thumped his tiny fist against the back of Din’s hand.
“You really do understand a lot, huh, kid?” the Mandalorian asked, trying to ignore the swelling of warmth under his skin at the kid’s defensive manner.
He picked the Child up again, settling him on one shoulder with a hand wrapped around the baby’s back to keep him stable. “Come on, kid, you can come pilot with me. Maybe I’ll even let you try the joystick. No one around to tease me about my flying skills. Which are, of course, vast and intimidating.”
Once settled back into the pilot’s chair with the baby now on his lap, Din reached over to drop the small metal ball that the kid had claimed as his own into the Child’s open hand.
The Child squealed happily, and Din let out a long breath of relief. The tears seemed to have ceased for now. If he went to pieces like this every time the Child got upset, they were in for a very long journey.
“Tell you what, punk, next town we stop at, I’ll find you an even better toy,” Din told his charge. “One that’s actually, you know, a toy. Designed for children and everything. What do you think about that?”
Shrieking, oh stars where had the silence gone , the Child loudly proclaimed his agreement.
Din couldn’t help the laugh that burst past his lips. “I guess that’s a yes then. Looks like you’re gonna hold me to that promise.”
The Child strained forward to grasp at the joystick. Ever a man of his word, the Mandalorian didn’t fight as the infant wormed his fingers around his own. He allowed the baby to gently direct their flight as the ship jerked from right to left and back again.
The baby in his lap turned his soulful eyes back up to Din’s face. Din used his free hand to draw a finger down the Child’s cheek.
“I meant it, kid,” he said softly. “You got me. You may not have much, but you’ve got me. I swear, I’m going to try to be enough for you.”
The Child nuzzled into his hand and the gentle act stole the Mandalorian’s breath.
He wasn’t very good at this. But, perhaps, he could get better. He would get better. Din’s decisions were his own. and he would take responsibility for them until his dying day.
The Child may be lonely, but he would never be alone.