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“I’ll take it from here, Deputy.”
If Cobb had known he’d finally be seeing the Mandalorian again when he’d gotten dressed that morning, he might have picked a different shirt to wear.
As Deputy Scott faded back towards Werlo’s cantina, Cobb’s heart was beating faster than the engine on Mando’s fancy new ride. He tried to keep his deadpan cool, not give himself away, but he couldn’t help the joy tugging the corners of his mouth upward. It was a strange sensation, smiling. Cobb couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely smiled like this.
Yeah, he did. It was the last time Mando had been around.
How many seasons has it been, partner? How many days since you rode off into the sunset with my armor and my damn senses?
“He’s new,” Cobb said instead, half apology, half excuse to not have to say any of what he’s thinking. Not like he would. Not like he could, with everyone in town watching them. “He’s still a bit jumpy. Is that a Naboo starfighter?”
He’s rambling. He knows it. It helps fill the space between them as he approaches. He forces himself to walk at a measured pace, gives him time to think. He doesn’t know why Mando’s here. As much as the deep, secret longing in Cobb’s heart wants this to be a social call, he knows it’s not. It’s no coincidence that Mando’s dropping by just a few days after Cobb had to bring the law down on those Pyke Syndicate couriers.
“That’s what it started out as.” Mando’s voice is surprisingly hesitant, as if unsure what kind of welcome he’d receive from Cobb. He doesn’t extend a hand, or even approach any closer. He just lets Cobb come to him, to the starfighter, and Cobb focuses on the sleek lines of the machine rather than the sleek lines of Mando’s helmet.
“I haven’t seen you since you gave up your armor.” Stars above, Mando’s voice! Cobb’s spent many a lonely night replaying it in his head, but it was nothing compared to hearing it again in person. “How have you been?”
Preoccupied. Anxious. Sleeping’s been hard. Ever since you left, I’ve had this itch I can’t scratch, like a bug bite right between my shoulder blades.
“More careful.” Cobb lied. “Where’s the little guy?” The kid! Cobb had fully expected to see his little green head pop up inside the reconfigured astromech port.
“Back with his own folk.” Mando’s voice is deceptively even. Cobb knew a practiced line when he heard one, a truth so impossibly painful the only way to speak it is with dead honesty.
Cobb’s heart twisted with sympathy for Mando. If Cobb was used to one thing, it was having things taken from him and then having to pretend to be okay with it.
“That’s too bad.” He didn’t realize until right that moment how much he’d been hoping to see that tiny green kiddo again. Cobb had never considered himself particularly good with children, but that child had been different. If fate had turned out differently, he even could’ve found himself being that boy’s new guardian. It wasn’t as terrifying a thought as it should have been.
Anyway. That was a moot point now. The kid was with its people, and Mando was here. Alone.
“I guess we both lost something we were fond of.”
It slipped out before he could stop himself—a sort of joined sympathy, mixed with the admission of just how much that armor had meant to Cobb.
Everything around you ends in loss, doesn’t it Mando? I know the feeling all too well.
“Can…I buy you a drink?”
For a second, Cobb thinks he heard Mando wrong. Then the words sink in, and the flutter returns to Cobb’s belly once more. There’s a dozen different ways that Mando could’ve told Cobb he had business to discuss with him, and this is what he went with?
Mando, you been practicing that line in front of the mirror?
Cobb doesn’t reply. He just turns towards the cantina, trying to decide if he’s gonna tell Mando about the Pykes he took down, the chest-full of spice he let be carried away on the desert wind.
Of course, Scott and Werlo are already at the bar, waiting and watching as Din fills Cobb in on the situation. Cobb’s gotten pretty good over the years at pretending he can’t feel eyes on him, but this time he wishes he could brush off their hawk-eyed stares. Every encounter he’s had with Mando has been painfully public—from their first meeting in this very cantina to their good-bye amongst the celebration of the krayt’s kill. Hell, even when they’d been on their speeders they’d had the kiddo along for the ride, and he’d been all eyes.
What would you say different to him, Cobb, if you ever got him alone? Nothing, probably. Just…just would be nice, is all, not having to be the Marshal around him for once.
Cobb is the Marshal, though, and he knows trouble’s right at the doorstep. So, he puts his thoughts aside and focuses on what Mando has to say. By the time Werlo’s finished pouring Cobb a drink and Mando’s said his piece, Cobb’s gut is knotted and his brow’s furrowed.
“I still don’t see what all that’s got to do with me.”
Cobb knows exactly what this has to do with him, with his people. He just needs to hear Mando say it out loud.
“I need you to lead a garrison. You people are good fighters, and there’s plenty of credits in it for them, too.”
The knot tightens in Cobb’s belly. Were it anyone—anyone—in the galaxy asking him to put his people in the middle of a syndicate war, he would’ve escorted them out of the bar at the business end of his blaster. This was Mando, though. He knew the town’s history—hell, he was part of the town’s history—and he knew what he was asking.
“The peace is intact, Mando,” Cobb said quietly, “we took out that dragon, my people don’t wanna fight no more.”
Most of these folks had been fighting their whole lives. Not for power or purpose, but for their very fucking survival. They’d carved out this corner as far away from the other cities as they could with the hope that they’d be left in peace, but the planet just kept assaulting them in crueler ways.
“Your town may be good for now,” Mando said, “but it’s all part of the same planet. We need good people to step up or the spice is bound to come through these parts.”
Now he knew exactly what he would tell Mando if they were alone: that the spice has already come through these parts. He couldn’t say anything, though, not with Werlo and Scott listening. They’d jump down his throat for not telling them sooner, especially when they found out he’d faced down a speeder-full of Pyke couriers without back-up.
There was a reason he’d brought on a deputy, and it wasn’t just to help him cover their expanding territories. Cobb wasn’t as…spry as he used to be. Something about losing that armor had taken a lot of the fight out of him. He hadn’t bothered to replace it with a vest or jacket or anything—he needed his folk to believe that he was just as capable, just as strong as he’d ever been.
“As long as I’m here, that’s not a problem.” Cobb swallowed down his thoughts with a long swig of homebrewed whiskey. It’s all they had in stock these days—fancy, imported spotchka was a luxury for when the mines were yielding and the crops were coming in. It burned hard down his throat, and he forced himself to keep talking so Mando didn’t see him grimace. “So, why should they risk their lives for this Boba Fett?”
“Mos Pelgo might be good right now—”
“Freetown!” Werlo yelled from across the room.
“What?” Mando was visibly taken off guard by the interruption, his helmet tilting in confusion.
“It’s called Freetown now,” Cobb answered, trying not to let his true feelings on the matter show. The town had taken a vote, and they’d opted to change the name back again to Freetown. He’d never much cared for it—seemed like an invitation to trouble. But, seeing as trouble kept finding them regardless of what they called themselves, Cobb went along with it. It was an easy way to boost morale in this low period.
“We changed the name. Suits us better.” Werlo said proudly.
“Well, I fought side-by-side with the citizens of Freetown, and they’re brave people, and the Pyke Syndicate has us outnumbered, and we need your help.”
Mando was barely done speaking when Werlo jumped in.
“The town wants no part of it. That’s a city folk fight.” He nodded knowingly at Mando, as if he’d settled the matter.
Cobb was almost willing to let Werlo have the last word. He was right, after all. The town would want no part in a turf war, no matter how much they liked Mando.
“Is that what you say, too Marshal?” Mando asked. There was an intensity creeping into his voice, bordering on challenge. It grated against Cobb, pushing against thar fear that had been kindled when he’d watched hundreds of thousands of credits worth of spice blow away on the desert wind.
“We’re square, you and me.” Cobb pursed his lips into a line. Don’t do this right here, Mando, not with my men watching.
“Yes, we are. But I didn’t think you were one to back down from bullies.”
Dank ferrik.
“See, that’s what I like about you Mando. That big smile of yours lets you get away with anything.” Cobb hadn’t survived as long as he had by letting a little name-calling get him ruffled. Because that’s essentially what Mando was doing, calling him a coward, trying to shame Cobb into acting. If only Mando knew that Cobb was already holding back the war on his own doorstep.
Cobb took a quick, angry sip of whiskey. Friend or no, Mando had no right to—
“There’s no easy way to ask for a favor.”
Cobb’s anger evaporated, dissipated by a white-hot flash of surprise. Mando sounded downright…hesitant. It was the first time that Cobb had ever heard him be anything but cool, confident, and in charge. He was showing his hand, and revealing that he had nothing.
Nothing but a hope in Cobb.
Oh, this was interesting! Mando…in Cobb’s debt. Normally Cobb didn’t like having people owe him—usually meant he had to fight to get paid back—but Mando was…different. He was a man of his word. If he owed Cobb a favor, then he would repay it. There were plenty of situations where having a Mandalorian on retainer could come in useful.
Plus…it means you’ll get to see him again.
Cobb sighed. “I’ll tell you what. Things are tough around here, but I’ll see what I can do.”
It was the best he could offer right now, especially with Scott and Werlo boring holes into them with their eyes. He could make no promises, nor even give any hope. It was gonna be a real hard sell, but if Boba Fett was offering as many credits as Din was suggesting, he may have some willing volunteers. Being a hired gun was a lot more appealing when there wasn’t much food on the table.
Mando nodded, satisfied with Cobb’s answer. Even though Cobb couldn’t see through that shiny black visor of his, he could feel Mando’s gaze meeting his. He imagined a smile underneath the helmet, tentatively optimistic, and Cobb found himself returning it, despite his audience.
Silence stretched between them, filled with the things that neither of them could say, but it wasn’t unpleasant. For the moment, Cobb was content to simply be in Mando’s presence again, to know his friend was alive and unhurt. For his part, Mando didn’t seem to be in an all-fire hurry, either, and was content to watch Cobb finish his drink. Once the glass was empty, Cobb slowly unfurled himself from the chair. No reason more to stall, was there? Din rose to his feet as well, and followed Cobb out of the cantina.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Mando said as they stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.
“All right. When you do, I’m gonna want to take a spin in that thing.” He nodded towards the N-1 starfighter.
Mando gave a soft chuckle. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Good.” Cobb smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He’d always dreamed of piloting a starfighter. He was on the verge of admitting as much when he heard Werlo’s heavy footsteps approaching behind him. Cobb tried not to sigh out loud.
“Until then.” Mando nodded, first to him, then to Werlo, then strode off towards his ship.
For the second time in his life, Cobb watched Mando walk away from him. This time, though, Cobb was filled with the strangest mix of anticipation and dread. He would see Mando again tomorrow, but before then, he had to convince a town full of struggling folk to take up arms. Not against a dragon or a band of raiders, but against one of the biggest crime syndicates in the galaxy.
“Get the word out,” Cobb murmured to Werlo as they watched Mando’s ship take to the sky. “I want all men and women of fighting age to come to town. I want to have a meeting.”
“It’s not our problem, Marshal!” Werlo insisted.
“No, but it might be, after they hear what I’m gonna say.”
Cobb had hoped he’d be able to keep his encounter with the Pykes secret from them all, but if what Mando said was true, then it was time to reveal how close the threat was to their home. In order to protect their town, they were going to have to leave it and fight on someone else’s terrain.
Werlo’s scowl faded into a look of concern, and Cobb forced himself to hold his old friend’s gaze. They’d known each other since they were both young men—Werlo more so than Cobb—and had survived decades of forced labor, gun fights, and hard desert living side-by-side. He wasn’t gonna be happy to know what Cobb had been hiding from him.
As Werlo went to carry out Cobb’s order, a deep silence swept across the town. The hairs on the back of Cobb’s neck stood up on end, and that gut-deep certainty that he was being watched shivered through him. It wasn’t the same feeling he got when he had Werlo or the townfolks’ eyes on him. No, this was the calculated gaze of something much more sinister, and he turned to see who—or what—could be watching him like that.
At first, he didn’t see anything. Then, as he squinted, he caught a dark silhouette shimmering in the desert heat. As it approached, Cobb made out the shape of a wide-brimmed hat, the flow of a black duster.
His pulse sped up. This wasn’t no visitor. This was danger, coming to their door.
Cobb came down the stairs, not taking his eyes off the approaching shape.
“Hey, Jo,” he said quietly. He knew there was no logical way the stranger could hear him, this far out, but…still. He didn’t even dare take his eyes off the growing figure, for fear of losing sight of him.
“Afternoon, Marshal.” Jo didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss, and she kept working on her new speeder bike.
“Do me a favor and tell these people to head inside for a spell.” He didn’t know what was going to happen, but whatever it was, he wanted his people well out of the way.
“Is something wrong, Marshal?” she asked, turning to look at what had Cobb’s attention.
The concern in her voice was enough to pull his eyes off the stranger for a few flickers of a second. He liked Jo. She was young, but not as young as she looked. She was tougher than she appeared too, a runaway from the streets of Mos Espa who had chosen to make a living out in the desert rather than go back to whatever was haunting her. Cobb had never asked, and she had never shared, but he felt a special sort of protectiveness towards her.
“I hope not. Just rather err on the side of safety.” He forced a reassuring smile, though even to him it felt fake. The look on her face told him that she wasn’t buying it either.
The stranger was at the border of their town. Cobb strode out into the middle of the street, making himself the only available target. The way it should be, everyone else out of harm’s way—
“What’s going on boss?” Scott called out, his question breaking Cobb’s focus.
“Let me handle this, Deputy,” Cobb warned. Scott was good for a lot of things, like breaking up fights, scaring off raiders, and—if Cobb was being frank—physical tasks that Cobb was struggling to handle on his own. Scott was like a big, scary masiff, though if Cobb didn’t break him in proper, he was gonna end up biting as much as he barked.
“I’m not leaving you out here alone!” Scott insisted, stepping down off the sidewalk.
“Get inside.” Cobb ordered, shooting him a stern look. This here wasn’t a job for a guard dog. This was a job for the Marshal, and the Marshal alone.
Scott didn’t step back, though. He shot Cobb a look of exasperation—the look of an impatient young man who deep down believes that he knows more than his teacher. Cobb had overheard him saying “when I’m Marshal…” more than once, followed by some half-baked idea that Cobb had already thought of, implemented, and learned from the mistake. Scott needed time and patience, both things that Cobb did not have at the moment.
Cobb tried to compose himself, school the sudden rush of fear that Scott’s appearance had unleashed. The stranger was already enough of an unknown quantity to be dealing with, now he had to worry about his deputy, too.
Mando, friend, I sure wish you’d stuck around a few minutes longer.
The stranger came fully into view, stopping a several long paces away from Cobb. Their tall frame exuded a predatory menace, the deliberate poise of a hunter who had their quarry in their sights. It sent a shiver through Cobb, cold settling deep in his bones despite the noonday heat.
The two measured each other up for an endless moment. Even the wind seemed to still, the desert holding its breath.
“Cobb Vanth.” It wasn’t a question. The stranger knew who he was. Which could mean several things, but more likely, given the timing, this was a messenger from the Pykes.
“And who might you be?” Cobb decided to play dumb. Well, not entirely dumb. He genuinely had no idea who this fellow was.
The stranger didn’t answer, and the silence stretched uncomfortably long. Cobb was a patient man, though, and he knew intimidation tactics when he saw them. He waited out his fear.
“Whatever Fett is paying you, we’ll match, and all you’ve got to do is stay put and let things play out.” His voice was cold as freon-frosted metal, and Cobb’s blood turns to ice. The stranger had been watching them, then. He knew that Mando had been here—which meant he knew that Mando was working with Fett.
Cobb didn’t like it, not one bit. If all these big eyes were watching their little Freetown, this meant they already were a part of this, like it or not. Cobb would have to think his next words through very carefully to get this stranger gone without anyone getti—
“Hey, the Marshal ain’t for sale!” Scott yelled from the cantina doorway.
Scott, you stupid son of a bitch.
And just like that, Cobb had lost his advantage. Scott was speaking for him as if he weren’t able to make decisions for himself and the town. If the stakes hadn’t been so high, he’d have hollered right back at his deputy, told him to git before he made things worse. The damage had been done, though, and it Cobb was going to have to be extra careful to keep the situation under control.
Scott, the dumb fuck, had no idea what he’d done. He simply shrugged and made a dismissive face at the sinister stranger. Maker, Cobb should have told him what had happened with the Pykes. Then maybe he’d understand just how dangerous this situation was.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Cobb said to stranger. Even to his ears it sounded weak, an attempt to re-establish his footing.
The stranger stayed quiet, though. Instead, he slowly lifted his head, revealing a pair of large, blood-red eyes. They glared at him over his sharp-toothed scowl, cold and calculating.
Cobb knew that look all too well—the look of a being who didn’t see you as a person, but as a thing. Chattel. Slave. Bounty.
Obstacle.
“I’d be careful where I was sticking my nose if I were you,” the stranger growled.
“Is that friendly advice, or a threat?” Cobb knew the answer. He was just stalling for time. For what to happen…he didn’t know. This was the vocal equivalent of him playing dead, making him—and his town—seem like a bunch of harmless hicks out on the edge of the desert.
He could feel the town’s eyes on him again, everyone watching from behind shuttered windows and well-shielded doorways.
Screw pride. Keep ‘em safe. That’s what you do.
The stranger wasn’t happy with Cobb’s lack of response. His already feral face screwed into a deeper scowl.
“Boba Fett is a cold-blooded killer who worked with the Empire,” he grated out.
Cobb felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Each word had been carefully selected to strike against Cobb’s deepest fears, to sow discord between him and Mando. Of course, Mando had mentioned Boba Fett’s past—and also his plans for the future of Tatooine. This wasn’t new information, but he sure as hell did not appreciate having information weaponized against him.
The time to play dumb was past. The stranger wasn’t going to leave until Cobb agreed to keep their town out of the coming war…and Cobb just couldn’t do that.
“You tell your spice runners that Tatooine is closed for business.” The words came from Cobb’s core, and he felt like he was floating outside of himself as he spoke. It was the same feeling he got when he was stepping into a firefight—and truth was, he knew he was. This wasn’t the answer the stranger wanted to hear, and Cobb doubted he’d walk away without demanding some measure of satisfaction.
“This planet’s seen enough violence,” Cobb continued. He’d intended it as a final statement, but he hated how much of a plea it sounded like. He kept his stance firm, though, his limbs fluid, ready for the violence he didn’t want to partake in.
The stranger sneered, measuring Cobb up.
“You should’ve never given up your armor.” He drawled, and in his deep voice it sounded more menacing than a krayt’s call.
How did this stranger know about his armor?
Cobb barely had time to process the information before the stranger swept aside his duster to reveal the holster of his blaster. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
Think it through, Vanth.
Time slowed to a standstill. Every one of his senses homed in on the stranger, from the feel of the air moving around his tall form to the smell of death wafting off his old coat. The heat of Cobb’s adrenaline fought to banish the chill from his bones, but he couldn't quite shake that feeling of wrongness. This here wasn’t a group of low-level gang scrubs he’d surprised on his own land. This stranger was a professional killer, and Cobb was just an aging lawman who would do anything to protect his people.
A tickle of movement on his left pulled at his focus. He didn’t need to look to know that it was his fucking deputy, not doing the one thing that Cobb had asked him to do. He’d be more annoyed if he wasn’t so afraid for him. He could feel Scott’s impatience growing along with his dread, the slow tension of the duel eating away at his judgement. That’s why Cobb had wanted him inside, out of harm’s way.
Scott kept creeping towards the stranger, farther into Cobb’s peripheral vision. If Cobb was noticing him, then the Duros certainly was with those big, blood-red eyes of his.
Stay back! Cobb wanted to call out, but he didn’t dare make a sound.
Scott kept moving forward, though, forcibly inserting himself into the stand-off. Whether he wanted to play the hero for himself or thought that Cobb wasn’t capable of handling this on his own, Cobb didn’t know, but he sure as hell knew that if they survived this, Scott was gonna get the dressing down of his life.
The stranger’s mouth pressed into a thin, purple line, a sight almost more terrifying than that mouthful of sharp teeth. Cobb was trying hard to read his other tells, but he just couldn’t pull back his focus, not with Scott inching closer, his shooting arm poised over his blaster holster, and Cobb knew from the bottom of his heart that if Scott drew that weapon that the deputy would be dead before he hit the ground.
He tore his gaze away from the stranger just as Scott started to draw, and the stranger whipped his blaster out of his holster. Cobb knew he’d already lost the advantage, a split-second too slow in bringing his own weapon to bear.
The bolt hits him before the sound does, slamming into his shoulder with the force of a charging ronto. It throws Cobb back into the air, the smell of scorched flesh and sizzling ozone thick in his nostrils. Then comes the searing agony of charred bone and cauterized flesh, stealing the air from his lungs. He hears a series of rapid shots, Scot’s grunts of surprise before a final, heavy thud.
Maker, no!
Cobb can barely think through the pain radiating though his body, his brain fogging and his breathing coming rapid and shallow. He lays out in the sun, dust crawling into his mouth, tasting of death.
“Tatooine belongs to the Syndicate.” The stranger’s deep voice cut through the haze, and Cobb begins to shiver. “As long as the spice keeps running, everyone will be left alone.”
Cobb tries to move, to get up, but all he can manage is to roll onto his back. The sun on his face offers no warmth, the cold in his bones spreading throughout his entire body. Blackness creeps up on him, muffling him from the world. He thinks he hears people around him, feels their hands on him, but it could just be that darkness coming to claim him. Before he succumbs to it’s pull, one strange thought flits through his mind…
At least I got to see Mando one last time.
****************
Cobb dreamed of red eyes. The smell of singed fabric and cooked meat. The terrified cries of his people while he stared helplessly into copper-masked faces. Of a cask of spice blowing away on the wind, the glittering tendrils taking the shape of Freetown’s buildings before carrying them away into the desert—
“I need to see Marshal Vanth.”
“Ain’t no one seeing the Marshal without my say-so!”
Cobb started awake at the sound of Werlo’s voice, and the sudden movement sent a red-hot spike of pain through his shoulder. He sucked in his breath, and he let it out in a wheezing moan. A moment later, the door to his room slid open, and he winced at the bright light filling the dim room.
It took him a moment, but he could make out Mando’s unmistakable silhouette in the doorway. For a second, he was sure he was still dreaming. Mando, here, in his house, at the door of his bedroom? He’s had this dream plenty of times before.
Just…not like this.
The illusion was broken further when Werlo blocked Mando’s path with his arm across the doorway.
“There. You happy now? You woke him up! Now, like I said, if you have business to discuss you talk about it with the city council—”
“Werlo,” Cobb called out. His mouth felt dry as sand, and it came out as a rasp. “Let him in.”
His friend turned with a scowl. “You need your rest, Marshal.”
“I need to talk to Mando.” It took too much energy to speak, and his eyelids were threatening to close. He’d already slept enough, though. Violence had visited them today, and it was on its way back, despite the stranger’s promise that no more harm would come to them.
“Cobb…” Werlo’s voice softened to a gruff admonition. He used Cobb’s first name so rarely, only when he wanted to make a point, and Cobb knew what he was saying in that single word: I almost lost you again, today, brother.
“Please, partner,” Cobb said, just as quietly. He’d have a chance to talk to Werlo later. Right now, he needed to speak to Mando, tell him the things he should’ve that afternoon. If he had, then maybe things would’ve gone differently in that stand-off. Maybe there wouldn’t have been a stand-off at all, and Scott would still be…
Cobb’s throat closed up. His eyes stung. No. He wasn’t gonna cry, not now, not while he was being watched.
He cleared his throat. “Werlo, will you please get me some of that sun tea you brew?”
Werlo looked long and hard at Cobb, his gaze flickering to Mando.
“Mando’ll take good care of me until you’re back, all right?” This was taking entirely too much work, and he felt his body quaking.
Mando nodded. “Of course.”
Werlo stepped back, his gaze still darting between Cobb and Mando. Finally, he slid away through the open door, leaving Cobb and Mando alone at last.
Silence filled the bedroom as they both listened to Werlo’s footsteps fade. He could feel Mando’s eyes studying his prone form, grazing over Cobb’s bandaged shoulder, his bony torso, his lanky arms. He felt like a turtle ripped from its shell, all his scars and frailties exposed.
“I’m sorry about your deputy.” Mando said quietly.
Cobb had known that Scott was dead when he’d heard his body hit the boards. Still, he’d nursed a foolish hope that maybe the boy would live. Mando’s words dashed that hope, and the burning behind Cobb’s eyes grew.
Stupid, stubborn foolish man!
He didn’t know who he was berating more: Scott, or himself.
“Hand me that glass of water, will you?” Cobb’s voice sounded as weak as he felt. He didn’t look at Mando, just stared down at the striped pattern woven into his blanket.
A gloved hand brought the glass into Cobb’s frame of vision. He automatically went to raise his right hand to grab it—
“Aaaaaah!” Cobb hissed, agony stabbing through him. “Dank ferrik!”
“Here,” Mando said, going to raise the glass to Cobb’s lips. “Careful.”
Cobb gulped down the water, hating every second of it. He whipped his head away as soon as he’d emptied the glass, and he hastily wiped a stray trickle off his beard with the back of his left hand.
Silence stretched between them again. Cobb felt half-awake, brain fogged with pain and anger.
“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Mando prompted. His voice was hesitant, almost like it had sounded when he’d asked Cobb to buy him a drink. Maker, what Cobb wouldn’t give to be able to go back to that moment, to have that conversation with him and Werlo and Scott all over again…
Cobb closed his eyes. Scott. That dumb-assed, pigheaded, stubborn kid. Scott would never have a chance to learn from any of his mistakes now. This morning he’d been a thorn in Cobb’s side, and now he was just another dead body going thump against the sidewalk.
“I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me,” Mando continued. “His death may have been prevented if I had stayed.”
Cobb shook his head. “No. It was my fault that Scott got himself killed.”
“You did the best you could.”
“I could’ve done better.” Cobb finally turned to look at Mando. “I held out on him, and he paid the price for my pride.” Cobb sighed. “Been holding out on you, too.”
“I don’t understand.” Mando said, his head cocking in confusion.
“I should’ve told you the minute you landed. Hell, I should’ve told the deputy first.” Cobb looked down at his hands.
“Told me what?”
“That I’d already had a run-in with the Pyke Syndicate. Caught them doing an exchange on the edge of our northern territory a few days back.”
Mando stiffened. “Did they see you?”
Cobb’s brow furrowed as shame welled up inside of him. “I shot three of them dead. Let the fourth one live as a message to the Pykes. A warning to leave us alone.”
Even through the helmet, Cobb heard Mando suck in his breath.
“That was—” Mando stopped himself, “—not very smart.”
“Gets better. I took their spice.”
“You what?” Mando’s voice rose an octave.
“I took their spice. Let them keep their money, though.”
Mando started pacing. Cobb let him.
“Please tell me you don’t still have the spice here.” Mando finally said, stopping to face Cobb with his hands on his hips.
“Nope. I dumped it out.”
Mando was silent for a long hard moment. “You’re lucky they only sent the one messenger. They’ve burned down whole cities for less!”
Cobb didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Mando asked. “Approaching a Pyke drug caravan alone like that!”
“I was thinking of my people!” Cobb snapped, pain shortening his fuse, “and how those thugs were on our territory!”
“You should’ve waited!”
“For what? For you to come back? I’ve been waiting for that for near on a year now, and see what good it’s done me!”
It slipped out before Cobb could stop himself. Mando’s arms dropped to his sides, his body stiffening in surprise. “You’ve been waiting for…for me?”
Cobb looked away quickly, his face burning. He thought of lying, trying to cover the truth with a joke, but stars above he was so very tired of having to watch what he said. That very afternoon, he’d tasted death in his mouth, and his silence had cost his deputy his life and his town their peace. No more hiding.
“More like hoping. I knew you had no reason to come back to our little corner of the galaxy, but I figured, maybe, you might have need of a friendly face and a place to lay low someday.”
“Cobb. I...” Mando’s voice shook, and Cobb could guess what might come next: “I’m flattered, but I’m not into broken-down, ex-slaves who are more trouble than they’re worth.”
“You don’t have to say nothin’.” Cobb waved his left hand dismissively. “You’re right. I should’ve left those spice-runners be and gone back to tell the town. I should’ve just turned my head the other way, and not thought I could make another stand. Maybe I should’ve even told that hunter that I’d take the Pyke’s money to stay put, and looked like a coward in front of the whole town. Fuck pride, as long as everyone stays alive!”
Tears were threatening again, but Cobb wouldn’t let them fall. He didn’t deserve the release.
“So,” he continued. “You go talk to Jo and the rest of the city council, Mando. Your boss Boba Fett will have his garrison now. I sure as hell won’t be leading it, but if I know the people of Freetown—which I do—they’re gonna want to avenge their fallen deputy.”
Cobb sighed, heavy with pain and grief, and leaned back against the pillow. That was that, then. Mando would get his troops, the townsfolk would get paid to push out the Pykes, and Cobb would…what? Retire in disgrace? Who knew if his arm was ever going to heal right. Even if it did, he wasn’t fit to defend the town.
He couldn’t even defend his own deputy.
He expected to hear Mando’s footsteps as he walked away from Cobb, out of disgust or a sense of urgency to get the militia moving. Maybe he even expected to get another lecture. What Cobb didn’t expect was to hear the quiet intake of Mando’s shaky breath.
“You…you wanted me to come back?” Mando asked quietly.
Cobb did not have the energy for games. “It’s what I said, isn’t it? I told you as soon as you left that you were welcome.” Cobb opened his eyes, and turned his head to see Mando. His neck twinged in pain, and he winced.
“I came as soon as I could.” Mando sounded lost. “As soon as there was a reason.”
“You don’t need a reason to visit a friend.”
“A friend?” Mando’s voice practically wavered. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Marshal, I...”
If it weren’t for that break in Mando’s voice, Cobb would’ve assumed that the Mandalorian was mocking him. Men like him don’t have friends.
Then it hit Cobb with the force of that blaster bolt slamming into his shoulder: Mando didn’t have friends.
“As soon as there was a reason.”
A reason.
“Mando, you tellin’ me you ain’t never made a social call just for the sake of visiting?” Cobb asked softly. His heart was beating faster, sloughing off some of his exhaustion.
“No.” Mando admitted. “I…don’t get many invitations.”
“Their loss,” Cobb said. “You’re quite the guest.”
Cobb had expected a dry chuckle from that, or maybe even another little lost shrug. What he didn’t expect was another long stretch of silence. His unease grew, and he was on the verge of apologizing when a quiet sniffle came from under the helmet. Mando’s shoulders hunched, and his helmet turned to the side.
“My own tribe expelled me,” Mando said, so quietly that Cobb was barely sure he’d heard him right.
“Your Mandalorian tribe?”
“Yes. After I gave up the child, I spent months tracking down the remains of my covert. When I found the last two survivors, they…” Mando’s helmet tilted up, as if he was trying to master himself.
“They didn’t welcome you back.” Maker, that was painful. Not to mention surprising. Mando was a hell of a fighter, and a genuinely good person under all that armor. He couldn’t imagine anyone kicking him out for any reason.
“Apostate.” His voice was raspy. “They called me apostate.”
“You’re gonna have to help me with that word, partner.”
“I broke my creed.”
“What part?”
“I removed my helmet. Twice.”
Cobb was stunned. “You’re telling me that your own folk kicked you out for removing your helmet?”
“This is the Way,” Mando said, but his words lacked conviction.
“Mando, partner, forgive my bluntness, but I think you gotta find yourself a new way.”
“I tried.” There was no mistaking the waver in his voice now. “I went to find the kid.”
Cobb was surprised. He couldn’t imagine the little guy rejecting Mando for any reason. It was clear as day that they had a tight bond, different species or no. Mando was his daddy. Unless…
“He wanted to stay with his own folk?” Cobb prompted gently.
“I don’t know. I didn’t even get to see him.” His voice wavered. “It was for the best, his gaurdian said.”
Maker. No wonder Mando couldn’t believe that someone would want to see him just for the sake of who he was.
Cobb closed his eyes. It was almost too much, feeling Mando’s pain on top of his own. Had it been anyone else in the galaxy, he would’ve shooed them away. This was Mando though, and for the first time ever, they were truly alone.
Time to really say what you’ve wanted to say, Cobb.
Cobb opened his eyes, and waved Mando over. “C’mere.”
“Where?”
Cobb patted the side of his bed. “Sit here. Beside me.”
Mando hesitated, then did as Cobb asked. He lowered himself gingerly, as if afraid he’d break the bed, and Cobb along with it.
“Mando, I need you to understand me. You don’t ever need a reason to come see me, alright? You’re always welcome here, whether you have a reason to or not.”
“I…” Mando took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you.”
The warmth spreading through Cobb chilled as he remembered some very important details.
“That is, as long as there’s a ‘here’ to come back to,” Cobb said quietly.
“We’re going to take care of those Pykes,” Mando said, conviction strengthening his voice. “We’ll get you back on your feet and in fighting shape before you know it.”
Self-consciousness knotted Cobb’s belly anew. “’fraid not, partner. I’m sitting this one out.”
“Marshal—”
“Cobb,” he corrected, then sighed. “I’m not fit for that title no more anyhow.”
“Marshal.” Mando said it again, with more force. “You had a bad day today. No one blames you for what happened.”
“Tell that to Scott.” Cobb pressed his lips together tight, a lump forming in his throat.
Mando was quiet again.
“I know how it feels to lose good people,” he finally said. “People who didn’t deserve to meet violent ends.”
“It’s a cruel galaxy.”
“That’s why it needs people like you, Cobb Vanth. Brave people who won’t stop fighting to keep innocents safe.”
Cobb’s throat closed even tighter. Maker, he wanted to believe Mando, but the pain radiating from his shoulder and his heart told a different story.
“I’m too old for this fight, Mando,” he whispered. “I already lost one person due to my lack of judgement. I can’t risk losing more.”
“You made a miscalculation. You didn’t know how big this Pyke situation was.”
“They’re the fucking Syndicate! Of course, I knew. I just thought I was strong enough to handle it on my own.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
Cobb blinked against the pressure rapidly building behind his eyes.
“You’re plenty strong, Marshal. You’ve been keeping people safe on your own for years. You don’t have to, now, though. I’m here to help.”
“You don’t have to because you feel sorry for me.” Cobb grated out. Dank ferrik, he was gonna fucking cry.
“I don’t feel sorry for you. I want to help,” Mando said softly, “I want to…to be here with you.”
It was too much. A ragged sob tore from Cobb’s raspy throat. He covered his mouth with his left hand, trying to hold the sounds in, turning his face away from Mando. It was bad enough he was seeing Cobb so broken down, but to see him fucking cry…
“Hey, it’s OK.” Mando’s gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Let it out.”
Cobb couldn’t help himself anymore. He was too exhausted, too hurt, too damn scared. The tears came hot and fast, and his quiet sobs wracked his body so hard that they sent spiking pain through his chest and shoulder. Mando said nothing, though. He simply sat with Cobb, rubbing his shoulder as they let Cobb’s grief run its course.
When his breath came in hiccups and his tears slowed, Mando handed him a kerchief from Cobb’s bedside table. Cobb took it, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. He didn’t feel much better, but at least he didn’t feel like he was choking on his shame anymore.
“Regret is a heavy thing to live with,” Mando said, “and it doesn’t help anyone. Least of all, Scott.”
As Cobb finished cleaning his face, Mando poured out another glass of water from the waiting bottle. Cobb took the glass and sipped at it, rolling Mando’s words around in his head. He knew Mando was right. Wallowing in pity sure as hell wouldn’t bring Scott back to life, and it wouldn’t keep his town safe. But…
“Mando, I’m not as spry as I used to be.” Cobb waved up and down over his injured body. “There comes a point when a person’s gotta step aside before their pride gets bigger than their reach.”
“There does. It’s not your time yet, though. You’ve got a lot of good years left in you, Cobb.”
Cobb snorted, and he raised his glass to his lips to try to hide his blush. “Bet you say that to all your friends.”
“Just the ones who faced down one of the galaxy’s deadliest bounty hunters and lived.”
Cobb cocked an eyebrow at Mando. “You know who he was?” The vision of those sinister red eyes returned, and Cobb shuddered.
“From Jo’s description of him, yes. His name is Cad Bane. He’s been a gun for hire since before the Empire.”
“Great, so I get taken down by an old man,” Cobb scoffed.
“You survived, Cobb, and only one of your folk lost their lives. That’s a hard victory, but a victory all the same.”
“Sure as hell would’ve gone differently if I’d had my armor.” It was a low blow, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when Bane himself had known of Cobb’s weakness.
Mando perked up, though. “Wait here.”
He got up off the bed, and headed out into the living room. Cobb barely had time to wonder what he was doing when he returned with a large, black bag slung over his shoulder. He placed it carefully at the foot of Cobb’s bed.
“I spoke with Boba Fett about your situation,” Mando said as he rifled through the bag, “and he and I came to an agreement.” Mando pulled out a heavy black blast vest, followed by a set of pauldrons, gauntlets, and thigh plates. “You need armor. Your entire town needs armor. Every person who volunteers to fight will receive a blast vest in addition to their payment.”
“That’s a mighty generous offer.” Cobb took in the armor, the sleek black lines, and clean mesh. “It looks almost like new.”
“It is new. All of it will be. Because you deserve it.”
Cobb swallowed hard. He hadn’t had anything new ever in his entire life.
“What’s the catch? He want us to paint them in his colors, make us look like his personal army?”
“No. He wants you to stay safe.” Din paused. “I want you to stay safe. Which is why I bought this full set for you.”
Cobb was stunned. “You…bought this for me?”
“Yes.” Mando said, sounding suddenly unsure. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s yours whether you chose to fight or not. I just…” his words trailed off.
“Wanted to help,” Cobb finished.
“My…friend.”
“I…” Cobb didn’t know what to say. Twenty minutes ago he would’ve refused the gift, but now…
“Thank you.” Cobb said, sincerely.
“You’re welcome.” Mando sounded relieved, almost pleased. “It’s not beskar, but it’s the next strongest alloy that’s still lightweight.”
“It’s perfect.” Cobb said. “Though maybe I will paint it up. Black gets awful hot in the sun.”
“I thought you might want to.” Mando pulled out a couple of cans of spray paint from the bag. “I brought some options.”
“You bring red?” Cobb asked.
“Three different shades.”
Cobb could hear the smile in Mando’s voice, and it tugged his lips up at the corners.
“Next time I come, I’ll bring some bacta patches for your shoulder.”
“Next time?” Cobb asked. There was something about hearing Mando say those words that made Cobb’s heart skip a beat. “You’re not telling me you’re leaving already?”
“Not as long as you want me here.” Mando’s voice was soft, downright tender.
Cobb let his smile grow. “Like I said, you’re welcome as long as you want to be here.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” Cobb said, sinking back onto his pillows. His eyes drifted closed, and this time, he didn’t fight the sleep that was coming to claim him. He was still exhausted, still in pain and grief, but somehow, it didn’t all seem as impossible as it had before.
“Rest up, Cobb. I’ll be here when you wake up.”