Chapter Text
The elevator doors fall close with a hiss, cutting them off from the stranger, his droid and the child Mando has handed over.
It all happened so fast; Fennec feels the adrenaline pumping on through her veins, readying her for the would-be fight they were meant to lose and she has to make a conscious decision to relax her fingers, still clenched on her blaster. And to, well, reassess. She looks over her fellow fighters, all quiet and seemingly as discombobulated as she feels, no one daring enough to break the silence just yet. The other Mandalorians in particular are tense, standing straight as if they swallowed a spear. Fennec’s eyes meet Cara’s on the other side of the room. She’s holding onto Gideon’s limp body like a poor consolation prize. And as Cara’s gaze shifts to Mando, Fennec recognizes the question on her face. She’s seen that look in people’s eyes many times before, shortly before snuffing the light out of them.
From her spot Fennec doesn’t have the right angle to see the man’s face, thankfully, but the image of the back of his head still sears into her memory. It feels like an act of intrusion, taking part in something private and sacred. And the man looks... weak. Fennec’s mind supplies the word without conviction. He’s a living oxymoron, a skilled killer wrapped in a buffed-up undersuit and beskar, and yet, utterly defenseless. Witnessing it is innately unnatural, making her itch in her own skin.
Fennec puts her blaster in its sheath. She comes up behind him, picks up his helmet and with an outstretched arm holds it up beside his left arm, careful to keep her eyes on the ground. When nothing happens, she clangs the helmet against his pauldron.
“Take it,” she says. There is no answer.
Fennec sighs. She takes the helmet, stands behind him and tries awkwardly pushing it down his head. It sits awry. “Boba warned me that something like this might happen and that I need to deal with it. Now, are you going to make me break my promise?”
There's no reply to the joke, not even an acknowledgement that he heard her, no attempt to pressurize the helmet or at least fix it. He shivers slightly and this seems like the only response she’s going to get.
“So, you’re gonna stand there till tomorrow?” Bo-Katan’s voice rings out through her helmet.
Fennec snaps toward her, taking out her gun and raising it. The movement is immediately mirrored by Koska.
“The darksaber belongs with me,” Bo-Katan informs them through gritted teeth.
“Hey, miss,” Cara says and steps over Gideon. “You’re outnumbered. I strongly advise you not to start shit you won’t be able to finish.”
“Outnumbered? Oh, it is touching you count him,” Koska throws back, her head tilting at Mando. “Regardless, it does not concern you, Dropper. ”
“I can make it my concern. My afternoon just opened up,” Cara says.
Fennec shoots her a warning glance. She wouldn’t put it past Bo-Katan to shoot Gideon out of spite, just so Cara has nothing to bring back to The New Republic to make up for her recent unauthorized escapades. Mando’s in no shape to battle out the custody of the weapon and there's no way to tell when he will be. If a fight were to break out, she would have to be the one to cover him, with Cara protecting the imperial scum. Cara’s face hardens, Fennec knows this expression by now and can imagine the same calculations going on behind her eyes.
Incoming aircraft. Incoming aircraft.
The warning system’s message cuts through the tense atmosphere, with everyone’s eyes focusing on the monitor’s display. Fennec breathes out a sigh of relief as Slave-1 maneuvers through the docking area they damaged during their own arrival.
“Our work here is done.” Fennec states. “Time to go our separate ways.”
“I saved your life,” Bo-Katan says, not even looking at her. “We had a deal. We gave you our time and resources and you couldn't even hold up your end of it? Is that what they teach your kind in those sewers you hide in?”
As before, there’s no reply. The man stands in his spot, motionless.
For a split second, Fennec wonders if he’s still in there or if they are left with a beskar husk and it’s only a matter of time before whatever force that still holds it up dissipates completely and they’ll watch all the armor pieces fall to the ground.
The man’s silence seems to anger Bo-Katan more than anything else. She shifts her weight from one foot to another, probably to stop herself from taking a step closer, hands clenched impotently at her sides.
“This is not over,” Bo-Katan spits out. “There’s no place in this galaxy...”
“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest three times this week,” Fennec interrupts with a shrug. “The work is never ending for the likes of us.”
“And when you’re ready, you’ll find us,” Cara adds, putting her gun away. “I’m sure someone will point you in the right direction, just like with him, yeah?” she says with a smirk, forcing Fennec to choke back a laugh, and she grabs Gideon by his waist before flipping him over her shoulders like a ragdoll. She heads for the elevator.
Fennec eyes the weapon Koska is still pointing at them and, acting on instinct, decides to sheath her own blaster. Bo-Katan waves her hand, making her aide stand back.
Fennec turns to the entrance and nods at Mando. “Come on.”
His helmet moves from side to side, as if he was just now taking in the scene. Fennec takes a hold of his shoulder and gives him a push, happy to see that he doesn’t fall over, but instead takes a shaky step, then another, and, prompted by her hand on his back plate finally starts walking.
Unable to help herself, Fennec turns back one last time and her eyes swipe over the ship’s bridge, littered with corpses and blaster marks. “Our deal assumed you would take control of this cruiser to aid your efforts in retaking Mandalore, yes?” Fennec says to Bo-Katan. “The ship is yours, Commander.”
The elevator shuts and takes them down. With a grunt, Cara drops Gideon on the ground. The impact stirs him and he moans in pain, but does not wake up.
“You knocked him out good,” Fennec comments.
“Years of practice,” Cara quips, but her face falls once again when she looks at Mando. All the mirth gone from her voice, she asks him simply, “Are you alright?”
His head turns between the two of them, and though he doesn’t respond, Fennec takes it as a good sign that he’s comprehending their words. “I don’t know what exactly happened today, but Boba’s here now and he has a full can of bacta he’ll treat you to,” she tells him.
Apparently it’s the wrong thing to say. The Mandalorian lets out a shaky breath and, inexplicably, looks down on his hands, examining them or perhaps the beskar vambrace. His chest heaves and Fennec wonders if he has been breathing that hard all this time and she just hasn't noticed.
The elevator lets them out at the overpass. Boba is already there, his gun lowering when he sees them. “Seems like I missed the fun part,” he jokes, gesturing at Gideon and the pieces of dark troopers covering the ground.
Fennec shakes her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she tells him.
He must hear the tension in her voice, his shoulders drop visibly and when he speaks his tone is back to the usual grim solemnity. “Where’s the kid?” Boba asks.
The Mando pushes past him, trailing around the pieces of cut up droids and Fennec has to quash the impulse to run up to him and hover in case he trips off the overpass. Instead, she settles on watching closely.
“Something happened to him in there and I’m not sure what part we took in it,” she warns Boba.
“A typical price of running into Jedi,” Boba says. At her surprised glance, he points at the scorch marks and damage they pass. “Whatever happened, it involved a lightsaber and someone who knows how to use it.”
Not knowing where to even begin on filling him in, she keeps quiet. They walk the rest of the way in silence, punctuated only by Cara grunting softly under Gideon’s weight.
“The carbonite chamber is in the hold to the right,” Boba tells her. “Make sure to secure him so he doesn’t break during take off.”
“Thanks,” Cara answers, looks at Mando one more time and disappears in the cargo hold.
They move to the circular navigation room where Boba takes off his helmet.
“I’ll get us in the air and into hyperspace, you get him seated,” he tells her.
“I think he has a concussion,” she says. “As soon as you jump, we gotta break out that medical kit.”
“The child’s safe. You have no obligation to me anymore,” they hear suddenly.
His voice is raspy and low, but not muffled by anything. Before she realizes what happened, she sees him.
In the middle of Slave-1, the new ruler of Mandalore drops his spear to the ground, where it joins his helmet. He unclasps his chestplate and lowers it too. Next comes off the right vambrace.
Fennec looks at Boba, looks on as he is watching him closely, his face twisted with a kind of pain she hasn't yet seen him express.
“What happens now, vod?” Boba’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“I have to find The Armorer,” comes the answer. “She’ll find a good use for my... For the beskar.”
The words hang fraught in the air. The man looks up at the ceiling and as if only now really hearing what he just said, sways on his feet, before falling, unconscious, to the ground.