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He’s dying. I’m gonna lose him. I can’t lose him.
These words play in the back of Twila’s mind like a sick song, tormenting her as she attempts to work quickly on the limp body in front of her. But it’s hard to fix a man who’s unconscious and unable to show his face—especially when it’s the man she loves.
Twila’s been a part of the Mandalorian’s crew for longer than she’s kept track of. It’s been hard to keep track when they’ve been running around the galaxy, anyway. She was meant to be a babysitter of sorts for the child, a caretaker for whenever the Mandalorian had to go on jobs. This quickly, however, turned into her being a caretaker for both of them. He had accepted this, and it made them grow even closer—so close that she was surprised she ever got so far. When she first met him, she never thought she’d be able to penetrate the beskar in any manner.
Now, she’s seen it all—everything except his face.
He even revealed his name. Din’s the name that rolls off her lips when Twila beckons him, when she tells him that she loves him, when she’s a victim of the pure pleasure in which they share. It’s beautiful to her: it’s become her personal chant of exquisite admiration, the word that encapsulates everything she cares for now. After living a lonely childhood spent in the Outer Rim with absent parents and many children in the village that she would care for, Twila’s finally found a family of her own that she can not only continue to care for but also receive the same attention in return. The child feels like one of her own, and Din feels like an extension of herself, a faithful companion.
He’s done a lot for her. He’s continued to risk his life on jobs to keep them supplied. He’s tried to teach her how to fight to help her fend for herself should she ever have to. He’s jumped in front of blaster shots for her.
And now, he may be dying for her.
Twila had been too careless during their venture into the marketplace. She hadn’t paid attention to their surroundings. When the hunter threw that detonator near her, she hadn’t even heard it. All she saw was Din shoving her aside before almost jumping on it himself to block her from the blow, resulting in him being tossed through the air and hard against the ground. He hasn’t moved on his own since.
Thankfully, Twila made sure he bought bacta spray the last time they supplied the med kit. She knows this would work on anything it needed to, but she’s come across a problem: she needs to spray it on his head. There’s blood trailed down the back of his neck, a sure sign of trauma done underneath the helmet. But she can’t; he’s told her this many times, and she’s understood. She’s never pressured him to break the Creed.
But what the hell kind of option does she have now?
He can’t die. Din doesn’t know it yet, but he has a future with her—one that’ll be undeniable. It started growing in her stomach not too long ago. After some strange bodily behaviors and curiosity, she’d found a way to test what was going on, and it came back just as she thought. She’s now expecting another child for them to look after on board. She’s been trying to figure out how to tell him. Now, she could be too late, and she can’t bear letting him die without even knowing the potential of what’s ahead of them.
Twila fights with herself repetitively, going back and forth on which choice to make. It’s a lose-lose situation: take off the helmet, forcing Din to break his Creed, or leave it on, which is letting him die. The worst part is she can’t even ask anyone for advice. She’s on her own.
With shaking hands, Twila makes her choice. She hopes it’s what he’d choose, too. Slowly, she reaches for the now-grimy helmet, her mind and heart moving at a mile a minute as she does so. They pause when they rest on the sides of the helmet, as if reconsidering everything once again.
He’ll hate you.
But he’ll die.
He wouldn’t want you to do this.
But you have to save him.
Twila suddenly hears the child coo beside her. Her head turns to look at him, and she sees him lay his tiny hand on her thigh in a comforting manner. His ears perk up at her as he tilts his head, as if trying to make her feel at ease. She nods, looking back at Din and finally beginning to pull the helmet up. Inch by inch, more of her love is revealed, and despite the gruesome circumstances of the situation, she finds her heart melting at the sight of everything she’s wanted to see—and the sheer beauty of it all.
Din’s skin is scratched and bloody, but behind it all, she can still see his handsome face. He’s not clean shaven, but also not terribly far from it, the small whiskers of hair sticking around chaotically from the blood. His lips are slightly parted, likely to allow his body some air in its unconscious state, and his delicate eyelids shield the color that lies behind them.
Twila releases a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, blinking a few times to clear her mind as she moves for the bacta spray. She sprays it generously on his bloody head, applying it until she’s sure she’s gotten every spot she needs to. Once she sets it aside, she begins to work on his cuts, gently cleaning the blood away and applying whatever creams and gels are necessary to get the healing process working quickly.
The bacta spray works fast, and just as she finishes clearing the blood, she sees Din’s eyes flutter open. His dark gaze observes Twila through hooded eyelids, as if they’re too heavy for him to open all the way just yet. Her heart races at the eye contact, as she’s never truly gotten to have it before—and it feels as if the rest of her soul is finally being entwined with his. She warmly welcomes the window into her heart, hoping she’ll be able to see his in return.
“Cyar’ika?” Din’s weak voice offers, as if he’s trying to confirm what he’s seeing.
Twila nods tearfully. “I’m here, Din.” She places both of her hands over one of his gloved ones.
Din almost begins to smile, causing her heart to leap, but it quickly fades. It’s replaced with an expression that makes her skin crawl at the pure horror he shows. He blinks a few times, his eyes finally widening to a normal size. “You—You’re so clear—.” Din cuts himself off, his free hand touching his head. When his gloved fingers brush against the bare skin on his temple instead of his helmet, his brow instantly furrows in a menacing manner. “Where’s the helmet?”
Twila widens her own eyes, seized by the terror of what he’ll do now. “It’s right here,” she assures him, gesturing to the helmet on the floor of the ship beside her. “I’m sorry, Din, I know I’m not supposed to, but I didn’t know how else—.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Din’s voice is low and sounds practically like a growl. Twila jumps back a bit upon hearing it, releasing his hand as she does so. “You knew. I told you.”
Her eyes continue to tear up in her desperation, and she feels the child grip her leg tighter at her evident distress. “You were dying, Din.” Her voice is hauntingly quiet. “I couldn’t just let that happen to you. I—I had to at least try to save you.”
Din’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as his gaze pierces through her in a hostile manner. Twila feels herself beginning to shake again in fear. “No, you didn’t. You…” he pauses, looking up at the ceiling as if he can’t handle looking at her anymore, “… you should’ve let me die.”
A hot tear runs down her cheek as she grits her own teeth, trying to plead her case. “How? How could I have done that, Din? You know how much you mean to me, to the kid! You expected me to just sit here and let you die in front of both of us?”
“How many times have I told you, Twi, that this is what could happen? And how many times did you assure me that it’d be okay, that you understood?” Din looks back at Twila, his dark gaze losing all traces of light as it looks upon her almost menacingly. “Clearly, you didn’t.”
Twila shakes her head in an utter loss for words. When she thinks of some, they’re not useful, but it’s all she can manage. “I’m sorry, Din. I’m so sorr—.”
“Don’t call me that.” Din spits the words like venom. His hands, stronger now from the fast-working bacta spray, reach for his helmet and slip it back over his head. “It’s Mando.”
Another tear escapes her eye as Twila gives another shake of her head in desperation. “Please don’t do this. I just—I couldn’t live without you.” When Din says nothing in response, she continues to ramble. “I guess… I guess I’d rather have you alive and hating me than have you be dead.”
Din’s still quiet for a moment, but when he speaks, Twila’s sure she feels every single vein of her heart being ripped away piece by piece. “It’s a shame. Now you’re the one who’s dead to me.”
Twila lets a hand cover her mouth to keep the sobs tucked in. He can’t see her fall apart like this. She’s brought it upon herself. When she regains some of her composure, she swallows hard, looking around the ship. “I understand.”
Din tilts his helmet at her. “Then start packing.”
Twila looks back to Din with disbelief. “What?”
“If you understand, then you’ll get what this means. You betray my trust, then you can’t be a part of my crew.”
She stops trying to hold back the tears. They fall as steady as rainwater from the dark cloud that now surrounds her mind and heart. “Your crew? Is that all I am, now? What about all we had?”
Din’s stiff for a moment, and when he speaks, it’s cold. “You should’ve thought about that before you stripped my identity from me. Someone who truly loves me would never do that.”
Twila chokes on a sob, biting her lip to try to keep it hidden. She decides to say nothing, knowing her words of denial would only go in one of his ears and out the other. Twila’s never had many belongings, feeling that she didn’t need much other than her two companions, and everything suddenly feels so empty as she collects whatever she has into the pouch she’d purchased at a marketplace on one of the first planets she’d stopped at with Din. With a heavy sigh, she heads for the hatch, seeing Din now standing with the child in his arms. She gives them a weary smile.
“You should know that no matter what you might think because of this, Din, I love you.”
Twila sees Din clench one of his fists. “Leave.”
She refuses to budge, knowing this may be the last time she ever gets to talk to him. “I’ll always be in love with you, and I’ll always keep myself tied to you. You’re always—”
“I said, leave.”
“—going to be with me, no matter how far away you try to run. I’ll always have a piece of you with me, forever.”
“Leave!”
At the sound of his yelling, which she’s never heard directed towards her, something snaps within her, and she retaliates with the same amount of emotional hostility. “We’re going!” Her burning eyes finally turn away indignantly, and she reaches for the button on the hatch when Din’s voice makes her stop.
“’We?’”
Twila’s eyes widen upon realizing what she’s accidentally revealed. Her hand falls slowly back to her side, and she turns around to see that Din’s put the child back on the floor and is now facing her with a tilted helmet. She takes a heavy breath, her nerves spiking as she stares at his visor. “Yes. We.” Twila rests a hand on her stomach, which hasn’t started showing quite yet. “I saved you not only because I love you, but because I wanted you to be able to meet your future child. But don’t worry, we’re going.”
She turns back around and opens the hatch, feeling her heart race quickly as it lowers slowly onto the ground. Her gaze is burning again with tears, but she blinks them back. Twila understands why she has to leave, that she broke his trust—and for a man of his lifestyle, you can’t have someone around who does that—but it still pains her. However, before she’s even able to take a step down the ramp, a gloved hand stops her by wrapping around her arm. She looks over her shoulder, seeing Din standing just behind her. His hand falls from her arm, and instead he falls—his knee just barely catching him as he practically collapses to the ground. His shoulders heave as sounds like sobs come through his modulator, a sound Twila’s never heard from him before. It twists her heart in the worst way as she instantly kneels in front of him.
“Hey, hey,” Twila soothes gently, worried by his utterly weakened composure. She forgets the ferocity with which he’d treated her just moments before, only feeling the caretaker side as she places her hands on his shoulders. “Breathe, Din. Are you alright?”
His hands reach back towards his helmet, and Twila’s shocked to see him lifting it back up and over his head. Din throws it to the side, hearing it clang! against the metal floor as it hits it—hard. His dark eyes are glistening with tears as they look at her, his cheeks wet and his lips trembling as he stares at her for a few speechless moments. “I… can’t do this.” Din pauses, swallowing hard as he tries to find words. “If I have a child coming into this world, I can’t live like this anymore.” He takes her hands in his own, pulling them to his chest as he looks deep in her gaze. “Please stay.”
Twila nods right away, giving him a small smile. “We will, Din.” She bites back tears, looking at him with all the true emotion she can muster. “I’m so sorry. I—.”
“No need, cyar’ika.” Din comes closer to her, until—for the first time ever—his lips brush over hers, sending a feeling through her like nothing before. “I love you, no matter what.” Knowing how she feels, he doesn’t give her a chance to answer before he places his lips fully against hers, causing everything around her to melt away as she absorbs the sweet and relieving feeling she’s always craved. He only pulls away to lean his forehead against hers, finally showing her the smile she’s been picturing in her mind all this time. “Both of you.”