Chapter Text
It had happened. A Jedi had come and taken The Child.
The Mandalorian, once one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy, sat in shock in the pilot’s seat of the battered Razor Crest. After everything he had been through, from the Watch taking him in, to losing his entire Mandalorian coven, nothing had ever affected him quite like this.
How did you know? Well, you were hiding in the vents above him, and had seen the entire thing go down.
Weeks ago, you had stowed away on Moff Gideon’s Imperial shuttle, hoping to catch a ride across the galaxy. It was gutsy, you knew, but worth it if it worked.
To be fair, it would have also been fatal had you failed. Those Dark Troopers meant business, and not any kind of good business, like selling smuggled goods.
Hidden in the secret spots in the walls, you had survived on the shuttle by sneaking food at nights, meticulously counting the minutes between guard rotations to sneak out of the vents and grab some rations. Some poor sap had been thrown in the brig after being accused of stealing those rations. You had felt bad about it, truly, but you knew it was necessary. After all, what you were running from was much worse than getting thrown in the brig on an Imperial shuttle.
You spied on Moff Gideon for hours, at first out of boredom, then curiosity, then out of sheer worry for what would happen if he succeeded. You didn’t understand all the technical details of his plan, only that even though the Doctor, Pershing was his name, thought that the end justified the means, you most certainly didn’t even think that end was worth it. It was pure evil.
Finally, on the last week you were on board the shuttle, a small, strange creature had been brought aboard by the Dark Troopers. It was green, adorable, and looked completely terrified. You wanted to help it, but how? Any action would have alerted the Moff to your presence, the Dark Troopers would be sicced on you, and you would have died.
So you watched, and waited, and the poor thing had its blood drawn again and again and again until it could barely move. You cried silently in the vents above it for days.
Then, the Mandalorian had shown up, gotten his Beskar butt whooped by a singular Dark Trooper, and was willing to let the Moff keep the Darksaber in exchange for the creature, The Child, the Moff and Pershing called it.
You almost made a move then, knowing that the Moff would not so easily give up his prize, and you were right; he had attacked the Mandalorian. But the Mandalorian, to only your slightest surprise, bested Moff Gideon. You had heard him and Pershing speaking about the Darksaber before, and knew that Bo-Katan would be furious. So you crawled through the vents as fast as you could to the bridge, where the Mandalorian was headed with the Moff and the Child.
You were right, of course. Bo-Katan had to be loyal and high-and-mighty and not take the Darksaber without besting the Mandalorian in combat.
And then the Dark Troopers arrived back on board, and you truly panicked. You scrambled back to your favorite spot in the vents, grabbed what little, but precious, possessions you had, and booked it silently back to the vents of the bridge, praying for a miracle.
Just as all seemed lost, as you watched The Child, wishing to say, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he appeared in the radar scan.
That X-wing, with that Jedi surely aboard.
Why him, of all people? Why did he have to show up now? Surely he would sense you in the vents.
But he just looked at the Mandalorian, and at The Child for whom the Mandalorian had sacrificed everything. You watched the Mandalorian begin to take off his helmet to say goodbye, and you looked away. Even though you would never meet the man, you knew it was a grave offense to his religious sect to have a living being gaze upon your face. He did it for The Child, not you, not Bo-Katan, nor the others he traveled with, so you looked away. You looked away even as you sobbed as The Child was handed off from the Mandalorian, who had fought tooth and claw for him, to Luke Skywalker, the great Jedi.
After he had gone, you risked a look down through the vent cover through your fingers. The Mandalorian’s helmet was back on, and his companions were staring at him in complete shock. He offered the Darksaber silently to Bo-Katan, but she just stared at him.
“Take it,” he said, but she just shook her head, still wide-eyed.
You realized that Bo-Katan would likely take the shuttle back to Mandalore, and figured that the Mandalorian would want to get as far away from her and the bad memories he had just made as he could.
Kriff. Which ship to stow on?
As the Mandalorian walked away, you got this feeling, deep in your chest. You tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. You had to follow the Mandalorian.
So you scuttled through the vents back to the docking bay, to his beat-up ship. You managed to beat him there, though you didn’t know how. Perhaps he got lost on his way back, perhaps he took some time to take off his helmet in private and properly process the loss of The Child.
Whatever it was, it was kriffing perfect for you, because you snuck aboard with your little rucksack of possessions and hid one of the many nooks and crannies.
You heard the door hiss shut, then the thumping of the Mandalorian’s boots on the floor. What am I doing? you thought to yourself. The ship was tiny compared to the shuttle, with no vents big enough for you to hide in, and who knew how long you were going to be trapped in there with a deadly ex-bounty hunter.
The ship took off, the autopilot was set, but you had yet to hear the Mandalorian emerge from the cockpit. You dared to sneak up; the door was open.
He was just… sitting there, in the pilot’s seat, staring (you assumed) into the abyss of space. You snuck forward, trying to see if he was doing anything, and in your curiosity, stubbed your toe on a corner.
An involuntary “Kriff!” escaped you, and before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall by the Mandalorian, a blaster to your forehead.
“Who are you?” he asked. You could see your face reflected in his helmet. You looked scared, rightfully so.
You swallowed nervously. “Hi,” you said, “I’m Y/N.”
…
“What are you doing here?”
The blaster on your forehead was cold and unyielding. You knew that one wrong move would send a blaster ray through your forehead, and that would certainly put a hole in your plans (and your brain, but that was beside the point).
“I was a stowaway on Moff Gideon’s ship,” you said slowly, and the Mandalorian stayed still, the blaster still unwavering.
“I was trying to get across the galaxy,” you continued hesitantly.
“Why?” was the response.
Kriff, he was unnerving.
You took a shaky breath. “I’m trying to get away from something. Someone.”
“The Empire?” he pressed, and you quickly said, “No, no. Although I hate the kriffing hutt-spawn who still believe in it, like the Moff.”
The blaster relaxed a little, then the Mandalorian stepped back.
He asked, “How good are you with tight spaces?”
Taken aback, you responded, “I lived in the vents on the Moff’s ship for weeks.”
The Mandalorian just stared at you (again, you weren’t sure), then said, “You can stay. For now. I need maintenance done in some tight spaces that I can’t reach.” He turned away and sat back down in the pilot’s chair without another word.
You breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was more terrifying than the time someone on the Moff’s ship had walked into the restroom when you were in there and you were almost discovered. That had been an interesting conversation, pretending to work on the ship.
Who makes small talk in a bathroom anyway?
You glanced back at the motionless Mandalorian as you walked away slowly, then scrambled down the ladder to the lower level of the ship. You slid down a wall, breathing hard, trying to stop the adrenaline flowing through you. You could still feel where the cold metal of the blaster had been pressed to your skin, the way the Mandalorian had pinned you to the wall.
“I need to get myself a blaster,” you muttered to yourself for not the first time since you had begun life as a stowaway.
…
Some time later, you finished off the last of your meager rations and began to feel hunger setting in. The Mandalorian was still in the cockpit, and the last time you had checked, he had been fiddling with dials and levers that made no sense whatsoever to you. You had only briefly stuck your head into the upper layer, just to see if he had moved, then you had gone back down below.
Out of boredom, you explored the lower level of the ship. There were strange sheets of metal that the Mandalorian probably used when he was a bounty hunter to hold his captured bounties. You discovered a small room with a hammock which was obviously the Mandalorian’s sleeping space, and quickly closed the door on that one. No need to be meddling with his stuff, after all. But kriff… when you opened the door to the weapons closet… how could you resist?
You stared in awe at the array of weapons displayed. The sheer amount of blasters alone was enough to make you shake your head, impressed. You reached out to run a hand along one of them…
And a gloved hand caught your arm just before you touched the blaster.
“Don’t touch that.”
You jumped at the sudden appearance of the Mandalorian.
“Kriff!” you exclaimed, and the Mandalorian released your arm.
He handed a bowl to you, which you took on instinct. “I figured you might be getting hungry,” he said, then turned and ascended the ladder back up.
You stared at the metal bowl in your hands. The smell wafted up from the soup, and it was amazing. You drank it slowly, savoring the warmth in the rather cold ship. You figured the mysterious Mandalorian must get hot under all that Beskar, so you understood why it was so cold, but kriff, you needed a coat if you were going to be here for much longer.
Before you knew it, the soup was gone, and you were full once more.
You climbed up the ladder to the upper level, and, trying not to startle the Mandalorian, said quietly, “Thank you for the soup.”
He looked over his shoulder, then back up to the controls.
You tilted your head, a little annoyed. “Where should I put the bowl?”
“Just put it in the storage room,” he said without turning. “Behind you.”
He pressed a button on his wrist and the door behind you hissed open. You took another cynical look at the Mandalorian before turning and putting the bowl in the small storage area. Once you were out, the door hissed shut, as did the doors of the cockpit. A clear 'go away' from the Mandalorian.
Yeah, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a fun trip.