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The turbolift closed with a soft hiss. Nobody on the bridge moved, they all stood transfixed and frozen.
With his back to the others, Din stood listening to the sound of his breathing. It sounded odd to his ears, not hearing it echo within the confines of his helmet. Tears grew in the corners of his eyes, waiting to fall. His mind was blank, numb.
A soft whine caused him to turn his head. The x-wing could be seen out of the windows. His feet carried him closer to the glass, watching intently as the ship drifted there for a brief moment. It was too far away for him to make out any details about the figures in the cockpit, but he could imagine them well enough. He wondered if Grogu was reaching out, trying to flip all the switches within his little reach, push all the buttons. Or was the Jedi able to communicate with him better than Din had? Had he told him to stop?
Was Grogu looking back at the cruiser? Looking for him?
The ship diminished as it moved further and further away, finally disappearing as it made the jump to hyperspace.
That was when the first of his tears fell, tracking silently along his cheek.
He heard the shuffling of bodies behind him. It suddenly dawned on him that he was not alone. That he wasn’t wearing his helmet. That they could see him.
Breathing in sharply, he stepped quickly away from the window, turning back to where his helmet was sitting on the floor. He bent to pick it up, but he did not put it on. Instead, he turned for the turbolift, never once turning to look at the others.
“Hey, wait!” Bo-Katan started, calling out to him. Probably concerned about the saber that hung at his hip. He didn’t care, he just needed to get out of there. He jabbed the button to call the lift with far more force than was necessary.
“No.” It was Cara speaking. “Let him be.”
Din didn’t hear what Bo-Katan said in response, he stepped in the lift and waited for the doors to close.
While it descended, he regarded the helmet in his arms.
Its featureless mask stared back up at him. Devoid of emotion, of feeling, of life. A far cry from the most recent thing he had carried in his arms. He saw his reflection in the visor and had to look away.
When the lift doors opened again, he stepped out, unsure of where he was going. He didn’t have a target, he just walked, trying not to think. To not think about little hands, little feet. To not think about the fact that he could be walking much faster than he was, but his habit had slowed to accommodate tiny legs, insistent on walking on their own sometimes.
Din looked up to see the scorched walls from his brief fight with Gideon. He’d come to the brig. He walked into the cell itself and peered at the bench. The tiny cuffs sat on it, innocently. Like they hadn’t been imprisoning an equally tiny being that had somehow become the biggest thing in his life.
He sat down hard on the bench, leaning against the wall. He let the helmet drop from his fingers to the floor. It didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. He had broken the Creed. But did it matter? Truly?
It had all been for the kid. For Grogu. It would have gone against the Creed if he hadn’t done everything in his power to return the kid to his own kind, the Jedi. And it was against his Creed to take off his helmet. In the end, he’d done both. Did they cancel each other out?
Did it even matter?
Bo-Katan, Boba Fett, Reeves. They all took off their helmets. They still were Mandalorians. Why couldn’t he do the same and be called the same?
He thought about the armorer. Others of the Covert. He knew they would not feel the same. To remove your helmet was to give up the Mandalorian Way.
Did it even matter?
What purpose did he serve? The kid was gone. Why did it hurt so much? Grogu would be better off with the Jedi. They could train him, teach him things Din would never know about. Could never know about. Could never even understand.
The tears were flowing freely now. He tipped to the side, falling along the bench, sweeping the tiny cuffs to the floor. He stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. All he wanted was the kid back. His absence was a hole torn in his chest that he didn’t know how to refill.
Grogu was better off.
He knew it was true. What kind of a life could a bounty hunter offer a kid anyway?
Then why does it hurt so much?
A sharp rap on the doorframe brought him out of his musings. Still though, he couldn’t bring himself to lift up off of the bench or even to reach for the helmet by his fingertips.
“Kryze is looking for you.” Cara said.
“What?” Din asked. Kryze? His thoughts wouldn’t slow long enough to connect the name to a face.
“Kryze? Bo-Katan? Crazy red-head?” Cara explained. “She’s looking for you. Probably wants to talk about that blade again.”
Din growled in frustration. “She can have the dang thing. I already told her I don’t want it.”
“Don’t think it works that way.”
“That’s her problem, not mine.” Din said. “What did she expect me to do if I came across Gideon? Just wave him on his merry way? Wait for her? He had the saber on the kid.”
“I understand. And for what it’s worth, I think she’s full of it. But I don’t think it’ll be that simple.”
“It never is.”
“Fett’s coming down the hall.” Cara warned. “If you want to put the helmet back on, now’s your chance.”
Din prevaricated, thinking. Did he care? He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared down at the beskar sitting on the floor. The helmet he once swore he would never remove. The helmet he had removed twice within the same number of days. His hands trembled when he reached out for it and picked it up.
Putting it back on felt safe, secure. Grounding. His heart still was breaking in his chest, but he felt less in danger of the immediate meltdown that had plagued him earlier.
He looked around and didn’t see anyone. “Cara?”
“Out here.” She said. It sounded like she was in the hallway. He closed his eyes, grateful for her consideration. He still didn’t know how he felt about the whole thing. “Thank you.” He said, coming up beside her.
“No problem.” She nodded to the newcomer. “Fett.”
He nodded back. “Ship’s docked. Fennec’s already moved Gideon onboard.” He turned to Din. “We need to leave quickly if you’d like to avoid any confrontations with Bo-Katan.”
Din turned to Cara. She explained briefly. “I filled him in on the comm call.”
He growled. “I already told her. She can have it.”
“It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid.” Fett said. “If you’re lucky, she won’t kill you, but I’m sure she’s out looking for a fight.”
“We need to go.” Cara said. “With Pershing and Gideon onboard, I don’t want to take many chances.”
Din nodded. Whatever his feelings were about… anything, they needed to take care of business first. “She’s right. Let’s get out of here.”
“Copy that.” Fett turned and walked away, the other two following.
The journey to the Slave I was quick and uneventful.
As they took their seats, Din turned to Cara. “Surely they would have found us by now?”
“Yeah. It just so happened that the console that managed and monitored the life signs detection system got hit with a blaster. By accident of course.”
Din exhaled a huff of breath that might have been a laugh. “How’d she take that?”
“Violently.” Cara snickered. “Why should I let her fight you for a stupid blade if she won’t take it when it’s offered?”
“Glad you’ve got my back.”
“Always.”