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“Do Mandalorians have a god?”
A shining beskar helm lifted across the table from you. You took that as a sign that he was listening, even if you wouldn’t get an answer.
“I mean, I know you have the whole suit thing,” you gestured to his body covered head to toe, “but you just don’t seem all that religious.”
No response from the Mandalorian but you weren’t surprised. You’d been flying with him for almost four months now and had gotten used to having one-sided conversations. It was funny, you actually used to be quiet, only speaking up after carefully considering your words. Now, you talked a lot. Something had to fill the silence of the Crest and the child’s babbles weren’t cutting it. So you learned to talk. You spoke to Mando with little reply and you spoke to the kid, who was much more responsive despite the lack of speech skills. You spoke to the traders on whatever planets you stopped on, trying to keep your measly rations stocked. Your companion chimed in every once in a while, but never more than a few words. You were fine with that. Really.
“Or you’re like a priest and I’ve been deeply offending you this whole time.” You looked back down to the fabric you were attempting to mend. The kid had ripped a hole in his little clothes toddling after a bug. You were trying to fix it while he slept. It was still looking very much like a hole and you’d been working on it for ten minutes now.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You hissed and jerked back your hand. You’d stuck yourself with the needle. Again. Dropping the whole project on the table, you went to the fresher to wash away the growing droplet of blood on your finger. Some healer you were.
When you returned to the table, you expected the Mandalorian to be gone. He sat with you more often than he used to, but he still preferred the solitude of the cockpit. However, Mando wasn’t gone. He was still sitting at the table, hunched over a small bundle of fabric, with one bare hand confidently weaving the needle in and out. You stood perfectly still, almost laughing at this wall of a man’s unexpected talent with something so delicate and small. The other part of you, the part you usually hushed, was mesmerized by the tan fingers at work. This was the most of his skin that you’d ever seen at once, and you wondered if maybe he didn’t want you to see it. You were turning to leave when a modulated voice stopped you.
“We used to have gods.”
You turned back around but still hovered in the entrance, caught off guard by this new dynamic.
“We have stories about them, but they are only stories.” He tilted his helmet up, almost like he was checking that you were still there. “We believe in each other. Our collective…being.” His sigh was barely picked up by the modulator but you heard it. It was like he couldn’t find the right words to express such a big topic. You moved back to the table and slowly sat down, watching as his fingers picked up their movement again. He was almost done mending the hole and you were already dreading the inevitable disappearance of his skin.
“That’s…beautiful, actually.” Your words weren’t quite right either, but his shoulders relaxed a fraction. “So…not a priest, then?”
You earned a laugh. It was small, but still a laugh. You grinned. It was quite the accomplishment, and you treasured it the few times it had happened. It was like seeing his skin, a reminder that he was someone under that beskar as much as he tried to hide it.
“Not a priest. I’d be a bad one.”
“I don’t know, you’re pretty good about that vow of silence.” You were still watching his sewing. He was tying it off now, nearly done. The two of you had fallen back to quietly sitting when he slid the clothes toward you and began to pull his glove back on. You were almost too focused on the motion to hear him.
“Does it bother you?”
You looked up, confused. “Does what bother me?”
“The silence.” Were you wrong or did he sound…concerned?
“Oh. Not really. I’ve gotten used to it ,I guess.” You shrugged, wondering where this was coming from. “You talk sometimes. You’re talking now.”
Mando nodded but he didn’t seem very convinced. You waited for him to stand up and leave. He didn’t. “Do you…have a god?”
Now you were really thrown off. The amount of personal questions he asked you had previously started and ended with your name and ‘are you hurt?’ on a particularly rough landing. This was…new. “I never wanted a god. It…never felt important.”
He nodded like he understood, surprising for a man who took his beliefs seriously enough to never show his face.
You searched for the words you wanted, and he waited patiently. “I believe in myself,” you started, “Not that I’m a god or anything, just that, I don’t know. I can control my own life, even if it’s just in a small way. I can choose what I put into the universe and what I take out. I can be an asshole or I can help. That’s what we’re all doing, right? Figuring it out as we go along?”
He was quiet for long enough to make you feel self conscious and shift in your seat. To be honest, you weren’t sure what to do with this much of his attention focused on you without the kid as a buffer. You had almost resigned yourself to the conversation having ended when he finally spoke again.
“I don’t think you’re wrong.”
Well, you’d take that. He kept going, though. This was definitely the most the two of you had ever spoken in one sitting.
“Am I a helper or an asshole?”
It was your turn to laugh. Was Mando actually joking with you? It sure sounded like it. He had a playful tone even through the modulator. “You know you’re a helper. I wouldn’t have stuck around if you weren’t. Not even for your impressive sewing skills.”
The Mandalorian shrugged, a subtle movement of his shoulders. You hoped he was smiling under the helmet. You wondered what his smile looked like, not for the first time.
Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a rising confused babble from further in the ship. The kid was up, and working towards a scream it sounded like. You rose to comfort him, sometimes he got scared waking up alone. Something you couldn’t name stopped you for a moment, leveling your eyes at Mando’s visor. “I believe in you too, by the way.” You don’t know why you said it, but you knew it was true the moment it was out.
Thankfully, you were out of the room before he could see the blush spread across your cheeks. The kid calmed down pretty quickly after seeing you, but you picked him up for a cuddle anyway. Mando was gone when you walked by the table again, kid on your hip. You could picture him sitting up in the cockpit, watching the stars, and smiled. That night you fell asleep easily and dreamed of tan hands, fixing.