Chapter Text
After the Jetti left with Grogu, Din had nowhere else to go. His covert had been destroyed and the precious few that remained had gone into hiding. The pile of empty armor and helmets, visors vacant of life underneath, haunted him. Sorgan was similarly out; he doubted a mandalorian beroya would fit in to their village, especially without Grogu to act as a buffer between their peaceful lives and his rough exterior. The weapon he carried on his hip promised him nothing but rule over a dead planet and a scattered people. Going from doing anything and everything to protect Grogu and then suddenly not having that purpose in life anymore... it was a jarring transition that Din was not prepared to deal with.
Prepared or not, it was reality. His sense of duty was too great to ignore, even if that duty now tied him to nothing. No covert, no foundling, a clan of two reduced to a clan of one and leaving an aching gap of grief in its wake. And yet he continued on, because it was all he knew how to do. Din had lost purpose before, long ago, and had pushed through it despite everything. He wasn't sure how, but he would do it again, even if it threatened to kill him.
Going with Fett and Shand after all was said and done on Gideons' light cruiser was perhaps the easiest choice he'd made in a long time. Really, it wasn't a choice at all with the way they had pinned him with unwavering stares as if daring him to say no. The idea of not having to make decisions for once was like a siren call to his stress addled mind. So he'd gone; taking the Darksaber and Gideon with him on the Slave 1 and leaving the cruiser in the (hopefully) capable hands of Bo-Katan and her followers.
Safely aboard Fett's ship with the Moff encased in carbonite below, Din felt almost catatonic. He knew he needed to get his act together and be strong, be the beroya his buir had trained him to be, but when Shand gently touched his vambrace and guided him to a small private bunk, it was too all easy to comply. He sat for what felt like hours on that bunk, staring at nothing, pretending not to notice when she left with a concerned glance in his direction. Logically, he knew it hadn't been that long when they both returned some time later with a med kit. Must have just made the jump to hyperspace if they were both away from the cockpit.
Ah. He'd forgotten he'd been injured in that fight with the dark trooper. Getting your skull beaten in by a mechanical fist hurt, even if you wore beskar. Maybe that's why he felt so out of it, concussion perhaps? He'd need some bacta if that was the case, he could probably buy som-
A firm touch on the edge of his lower mandible, where the seal of his buy'ce was, had him reacting before he was even aware of his surroundings. He reached up and gripped the offending limb with bone creaking strength and a snarl built up in his throat. He reached for the vibroblade hidden in his boot before a pained gasp in a familiar voice stopped him. Immediately he let go, an apologetic croon just soft enough not to be picked up by his helmets voice modulator coming from within his chest. Fett, now that Din's eyes were in focus, had his left arm cradled to his chest and a pinched expression on his face. Shand stood just to his left and behind, her sharp gaze understandably guarded after that unintentional slip up.
All instinctive aggression left his body, and he recoiled further into the bunk.
"N'eparavu takisit, gar chaabi ni."
He saw how she glanced towards her companion for a translation, but Din ducked his head and looked away before he could see her calculated gaze shift to him. Fett responded with a gruff, "It's fine, should've known better than to grab at you like that."
His dismissal of Din's mistake made him feel both thankful and more guilty than before. He'd hurt someone who was very obviously trying to give him medical attention because he couldn't keep his head clear. Utreekov.
"I'll leave you the med kit, then. Don't use all the bacta." It was said in an almost joking tone, but the pained undertone in his voice betrayed him.
Din watched from the corner of his eye as their forms left the dark room and stepped into the illuminated hallway past the door. Shand gave him an appraising look over her shoulder before the door closed behind them, shrouding the small bunk once again in darkness. The hiss of the seal being engaged and the oppressive silence afterwards felt like heavy weight on his shoulders.
There was a saying in Shyriiwook that didn't translate well, but roughly meant, "I would rather gut myself than harm you again, please accept my apology."
Din wondered if Fett knew Shyriiwook.
As if on autopilot, Din retrieved the med kit from where it lay on the floor, likely having fallen when he'd grabbed Fett's arm. He opened it, pulled out some bacta spray and considered it along with the halfhearted warning not to use it all. Considering it was Fett's, not his, Din would have been inclined not to use any of it. But he clearly expected him to, seeing as he didn't take the med kit back when he and Shand had left. A soft huff of air left him; he was overthinking things.
He stood, not liking how the room swayed when he did, and made his way to the door; locked. Good. Returning to sit on the bunk, he swallowed, considering, then reached up to break the seal on his buy'ce with a quiet hiss that felt like it echoed in the small room. As he pulled the helmet off he was greeted with the slightly disorienting red haze of his natural vision. The helmet usually filtered enough light that he saw roughly the same thing that a human did, so to transition between the two was a big difference.
The quills that were normally tucked up into his buy'ce fell softly on to his shoulders. Din was tempted to shake them out, but that was practically asking for his head to hurt more than it already did. They functioned quite like how he imagined lekku would, but calling them lekku seemed... inaccurate somehow. At the very least they were sensory organs of some kind. He felt along them, checking that none of them had become too damaged from where his head had been forced to impact them within his armor. Thankfully, they were just lightly sore from the rough treatment. Moving on, he used an ungloved hand to feel along both his upper and lower mandibles, checking for new damage and feeling none.
He grabbed the bacta spray and reached to feel the back of his head, wincing when his prodding hit a tender spot. He applied the bacta, waiting a few moments before blessedly cool relief flowed through him. It would take a while for the bacta to take full effect, but he felt much better than he had previously. Looking down, he considered the spray and the med kit, then replaced it back to its designated spot within. He knew of several other smaller injuries, but treating them would be redundant at this point. He healed faster than most, and he'd never been one to needlessly waste medical supplies anyways.
He needed to talk to Fett, to apologize to him and Shand for acting the way he did, as well as return the med kit. Another soft sigh left him as he put his gloves and buy'ce back on, gently tucking his head quills back where they belonged, hidden and out of the way. He made his way to the door, unlocking it and glancing behind him at the room to check that he'd retrieved everything one last time before turning and letting it close quietly behind him.
Fennec was the first to speak after they'd left, quietly asking Boba, "how bad is it?" He looked at her, still holding his arm close to his chest before sighing.
"Probably a pressure fracture. He got me good."
Fennec hummed, "He's never acted like that before." She said ambivalently, walking ahead of him as they approached the cockpit, already reaching to grab a spare med kit.
"He said I spooked him, I'm thinking I got too close to the edge of his helmet. Probably thought I was going to take it off," he answered her unspoken question, rolling up his sleeve to see the extent of the damage. Sure enough, a dark bruise was already forming in the shape of a handprint, Boba whistled lowly as he let her take a look too.
"Kriff. Mando must have a damn strong grip strength if it already looks like that."
Boba shrugged, unworried, "Ive seen first hand how strong he is. Im lucky I didn't get anything worse." Considering how fast he'd been grabbed, it wasnt a thought-out response, simply a reflex. He didn't fault the Mando for anything. he should have known better with how touchy some Mandalorians are about their buy'ce.
A quick application of bacta later and it was on its way to healing nicely. It would be a while before it was fully healed but at least now it didn't feel like his hand was about to fall off.
"Did you..." Fennec started. Her lips were pursed and she looked troubled, and it took a questioning hum from Boba for her to continue, "Did you hear the noise he made when he grabbed you?" Boba paused for a moment, thinking, before shaking his head, "I was more focused on not getting stuck with a vibroblade." He said with a soft chuckle, moving to sit in the pilots seat when Fennec sat in the co-pilots. He paused when she didn't quip back with some smart remark, turning in the chair to face her fully. Boba didn't say anything, just let her think, and he was about to turn back around to check how close they were to Tatooine when she broke her silence.
"He... snarled. Growled? Made a noise that honestly scared the kriff out of me. It was..." She shook her head, "I don't know, but it set me on edge." Fennec admitted, voice sounding stressed. It obviously rattled her more than she cared to admit.
Boba considered this. Fennec was a sturdy woman, one that didn't let much shake her. For her to have been this unnerved, and for her to have even mentioned it to him, showed just how much it affected her. "Mando's a good person." He said firmly, making eye contact with Fennec when she looked up at the sound of his voice, "Mando's good. He almost died trying to get his kid back, and he was strong enough to take down Gideon. Strong enough to let his kid go, too. I didn't hear what you did, but just remember what he's been through if it worries you that much. He's a good man."
Fennec stared at him a moment longer, eyes assessing, before giving him a nod. Seeing that she'd accepted his reasoning, he turned to check the nav and sighed. It was going to be a while until they reached Tatooine. Boba thought to himself about Fennecs observation. Clearly, she'd heard something he hadn't. He'd have to keep a closer eye on their guest. Just in case.
Din was just about to reach the cockpit when he heard faint voices coming from within. He stopped, not wanting to interrupt, but ended up unintentionally listening in as Shand admitted to Fett her worries about Din's behavior. Kriff, he'd have to be more careful. Having a possible concussion was not a good enough excuse to be so careless. If this was what go him caught, such a stupid mistake after so many years under the radar...
"Mando's a good person." Fetts voice said, catching him off guard.
Listening to Fett's evaluation of his character was baffling. Din had taken this mans armor, used him for his ship, had nearly killed Shand, and put them both into mortal peril more times than he could count, and yet Fett was defending him? When all Din did was impose on them, Fett was willing to speak for him in such a way? He was grateful for the defense of his character, but something about the praise that was so willingly coming from someone he'd wronged so many times was...
Distressing. To say the least.
Din realized it'd been a while since he'd heard any noise coming from within the cockpit. He'd been standing out here like a creep for the past however long, eavesdropping on a conversation that was obviously not meant for him. Get it together Djarin. Shaking his head, wincing when his still sore wound reminded him of its existence at the motion, he cautiously knocked on the bulkhead near the opening of the cockpit to gain their attention. At the other bounty hunter's, "Come on up!", he did just that. Hoisting himself up a small ladder, he avoided stepping fully into the cockpit, instead remaining on the ladder in case he wasn't truly welcome like he suspected.
"Olar." he said, his gravely voice joining the whirring and buzzing of the Slave-1's control center. Holding the medical kit out towards Fett felt like a peace offering, one that was unexpectedly accepted without hesitation. Fett placed it on a nearby shelf, and while he was occupied Din took a moment to observe Shand's reaction to him out of the corner of his eye.
She avoided looking directly at him, instead trying her best to seem preoccupied with the nav computer, but he'd been in the position where his presence made others uncomfortable plenty of times before. He wasn't going to push her into a confrontation by addressing her directly, so he instead focused back on Fett just as the man turned back to face him. Din wavered, cautious of the mans reaction, but decided that getting an apology out to him was worth whatever penance Fett decided was due for Din's insult.
"Ni ceta par te aaray, ni dinu nayc akaanir teh skira," he said softly, glancing to the floor rather than the one he was speaking to. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if he had to look Fett in the eye while the man took his owed chance at evening the score. He also knew from experience that looking at someone head-on during an exchange like this could be seen as a challenge, and given how much he did not want to challenge Fett, he made it his mission to look as non-threatening as possible. Eyes and buy'ce cast aside respectfully, intentionally placing himself in a lower position on the ladder instead of stepping fully into the cockpit, posture loose, subconsciously conveying that he wasn't about to attack or retaliate for any action Fett took against him.
He was braced, though, for any incoming blows that might come to land on him. But when none came, and Fett said nothing in response to his apology, he risked a glance upwards to where the other man was seated.
Fett was still, tense and making no movements. Din knew better than to interrupt, instead giving the man time to think of his response.
"You owe me no penance," he said, sounding strained, "Just try not to do it again. It will be a while until we reach our destination, so head back to your bunk if you want to rest before we arrive." Fett's words and tone were formal, as was required for a situation such as this.
Din, knowing how to obey orders thinly veiled as suggestions, left with a sharp nod. Climbing back down the ladder and through the ship, he arrived at his destination, and only once safely locked inside did he allow himself to speculate on the last few hours of his life.