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You turn your head to look at Din with a hint of a smile on your lips. “This isn’t looking too good.”
Din tilts his helmet at you and lifts his blaster. “We’ve seen worse.”
Despite your words and the group of angry Aqualish surrounding you, you know Din’s right—and you were never worried about the outcome for even a second. You adjust the grip you have on your blaster in one hand and the hilt of your knife in the other. With your back against Din’s, you’re certain you could take on the entire galaxy all at once.
When the first Aqualish makes their move, you and Din respond in simultaneous and fluid motions. You’ve done this what feels like a thousand times together. Jobs are what first brought you together, but instead of getting a few credits in return, you get to receive valuable information about Din’s covert. The return to familiarity—between the jobs and Din’s Mandalorian family—has been good for both of you in the aftermath of Grogu’s departure.
That is, until you hear the hum of Din’s newest weapon.
“ Riduur ,” you pause as you focus on lunging forward with your knife, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use that!”
Din’s response comes through gritted teeth in the midst of his struggle to wield the weapon. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
You glance at him over your shoulder before you punch an Aqualish and twist their wrist to disarm them. “This isn’t desperate enough for that! ” Din doesn’t say more. Instead, you can hear his grunts of pure strain and effort, a rare sound for him to have to make. His movements behind you have become unsteady, clumsy. “You haven’t trained with it!”
“I can…” Din pauses as he swings hard and grunts, “handle it!”
You furrow your brow in worry for his safety. He lifts the blade to strike it across his body and you try not to panic on his behalf. “You’re gonna hurt yours—.” Din swings down hard with the blade and fails to anticipate its weight. It pulls him and the blade to the side, where the heat of it brushes against your side. It’s not a hard touch, but it’s enough.
The white-hot pain explodes in your side and takes your breath away. You freeze for a moment before you fall to your knees and let out an exclamation of agony like never before. It burns… it burns… and you can’t focus on anything except the way the wound tears at your flesh.
The galaxy around you is a haze, but you come to realize you’ve dropped both your blaster and your knife in favor of clutching the long and charred wound. You look down at the wound and almost lose your full consciousness from the sight of it. Your skin is so hot it glows like embers from underneath your torn clothes.
The only thing that starts to pull you back to reality is the presence of two gloved hands on your face. Your head is turned to face Din’s helmet as he holds you with hands that fidget and clutch your face. He speaks to you, but his voice sounds parsecs away. “You okay?” He gives himself a moment to assess you and you nod, despite the fiery pain that threatens to consume you. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” You’ve never heard Din’s voice in such a panic before. Your eyelids flutter for a moment until Din grips your face even tighter. “Stay with me!—I… You can do this cyar’ika —I… I’m so…”
You’ve noticed that blaster bolts have been bouncing off Din’s beskar. You swallow hard and manage to speak. “Fight, riduur .” Your voice is weaker than you want it to be, but it’s the best you can do at the moment. When Din hesitates, you lift your hand to the side of his helmet. “Fight for me.”
That’s all it takes for Din to pull himself away from you and do just as you’ve told him to. You bite your cheek to keep yourself from gasping in pain when you lean forward to take your blaster and knife and put them back in their rightful places. By the time you’re done, you look up to see that every last Aqualish is dead—and each one in the most brutal way possible. But as Din makes his way back to you, you can see that the Darksaber isn’t on his belt anymore.
“Where is it?” Your question comes through gritted teeth as Din kneels beside you.
“Where’s what?” Din’s voice trembles even more than before. The modulator can’t hide that from you.
“The… saber.” You heave a sigh when your words tug on your burnt skin.
“That doesn’t matter.” Din remains gentle as his hands wrap around your wrists to ease them away from your wound. “Let me see.” A short gasp escapes you when the wound meets the open air and you can feel Din’s grip around your wrists tighten at the sight of it. His chest rises and falls in quick and uneven breaths as his visor remains fixed on the sight in front of him. When he speaks again, his voice is low and broken. “What have I done to you?”
“It’s okay.” You find your strength to reassure your panicked and protective husband. You have no doubt that his mind is torturing himself for this accident and you can’t bear to see it—and you know you need to work fast to treat the wound. Your hands grip the sides of Din’s helmet as you make him face you. “Bacta.” You take a deep breath and wince when it pulls at your skin again. “We just need to find bacta.”
Din nods. “Yeah.” He leans forward to take you in his arms. “Bacta. We can—I can do that.” He picks you up and keeps you held tight against him.
“I can stand.” You rest your head on his shoulder despite your words.
“No.” Din shifts his weight. He knows where to go, but he’s frozen in place, as if he’s lost.
“The saber, Din.” You gesture with your head to where the beskar hilt of the Darksaber lays on the ground. “Don’t leave it.”
Din’s visor looks at it with a low tilt of his helmet. “I…” he pauses, “I can’t touch it again.”
“Please, riduur .” You swallow hard and prepare to speak the most you have since you were wounded. “This should show you how… dangerous it is.” You pause to let yourself catch your breath. “You can’t let it fall into… someone else’s hands.”
Din considers your words for a moment. He then makes his way over to the saber and kneels down without loosening his grip on you. Din takes the saber and hooks it on his belt before he starts to walk off with you.
“Bacta.” Din repeats the word to himself under his breath, over and over again. “Bacta.”
You tighten the grip you’ve since taken on his cowl. “You’re shaking.” You feel Din’s hold on you strengthen even more, but he continues to tremble. “It’s okay.”
Din shakes his helmet, unable to produce a response for a long moment. His voice is a quiet whisper of two words you never thought you’d hear from him. “I’m scared.”
You close your eyes and will all your strength not to tear off his helmet and comfort him with the kisses that work every time. “I know. I know, riduur .” You lift a hand to cup his beskar cheek. “I’m gonna be okay. Just…” you let out a groan when another wave of pain hits you, “find the bacta.”
Din nods. “Bacta.” He goes back to repeating the word.
The panicked breaths only stop when you reach the city’s marketplace. Din’s quick stride picks up into a jog as he looks at every stand to see where he can find the medical supplies. Your galaxy has since become a haze again, with your grip on Din’s cowl being the only thing that keeps you grounded to reality. Din’s voice sounds far away just like before when he speaks to the vendor. “Bacta.” He nods at them and shifts his weight. “Yes. Oh—uh, spray? Spray, yeah, that should work. Yeah. Yes. Thank you.”
One of Din’s hands leaves you as he grabs the necessary credits. You tighten your grasp on his cowl as a warning. His visor looks at you as he adjusts your position in his arms.
“You’re okay. Right? You’re okay. Stay with me.” Din murmurs these words to keep them private as he exchanges the credits for the bacta spray. He thanks the vendor and keeps his attention on them. “Where’s the nearest inn?” Din nods again. “Thank you.” He sets off at an even faster pace than before and begins repeating a new phrase. “Almost there. Almost there, cyar’ika . Almost there.”
You know better than to try to calm his rambles, and at this point, you’re too close to slipping away into unconsciousness to make the effort. Your one goal is to stay awake, for your own health and for Din’s sanity. He’s gone through enough. He doesn’t need to think he’s done something even worse to you.
Din takes you two inside a building and speaks to someone, no doubt the innkeeper. You don’t listen to what he says in the midst of your fight to stay awake. The adrenaline and shock are wearing off, which means you’re feeling the full brunt of pain from the wound. Din moves one of his hands to hold your head against his shoulder as he moves forward. You start to become more aware of the galaxy around you again when Din sets you down on a bed. He holds your face between his hands. “You still with me, cyar’ika? ”
You blink a few times and nod. “Yeah.” Your voice is a mere croak and you clear your throat to make it stronger. “I’m here.”
“Okay.” Din’s voice trembles even more than before as he pulls hands away from you and reaches into the pouch on his belt. “It’s okay. I’ve… the bacta, it’s right here.” Din takes it out and shows it to you. It shakes in his hand so violently you’re surprised he hasn’t dropped it. “Just like you asked, ner kar’ta . I’ve got it right here.” He’s gentle as he starts to lean towards your wound. “You’re gonna be okay. Right? I’ll just spray this on here… and it’ll hurt a lot, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry… but it’ll all be okay…” His voice breaks.
“Din.” Your first call for him goes unnoticed amidst his panic. Din’s still mumbling to himself, his gloved fingers fumbling with the spray as if he’s never used it before. “Din, wait .” He freezes at the urgency in your tone. You hold his helmet between your hands and search his visor. “I want to look at you.” You pause and furrow your brow in severity. “ Please .”
Din doesn’t speak or move and you figure he can’t. You start to lift his helmet and give him the chance to stop you, but he doesn’t. His chest rises and falls in rapid motions as the helmet lifts higher and higher on his head. You set it aside, but you can’t tear your gaze away from Din’s. His brown eyes have lost their usual sparkle as they avoid your own, the white now stained with red as tear stains paint his pale cheeks. Your heart shatters in your chest, but Din speaks before you get the chance to console him. “I’ve gotta help you.” He hardens his jaw as he adjusts the bacta spray in his hand. “It’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
The apologies don’t stop as he starts to apply the bacta. You gasp and groan in pain, urging Din to come closer as you bury your face in his cowl. He keeps one hand on the back of your head as the other finishes with the bacta. You can feel his chest heave under your cheek even after it’s all done. The fiery pain has started to diminish as the bacta works and cools it. You catch your breath and start to smile for Din when you lift your head from his chest. “It’s working.”
Tears continue to pool in Din’s eyes as he nods. “Good.” His words are still shaky and rushed as he looks around the room. “I’ve got to get you some food, now. You need to eat. And drink. The inn should have something, right? Maybe they have something you can take for the pain. Yeah.” He tries to grab his helmet, but it tumbles from his hands and hits the floor with a sharp sound. “ Damn it . Sorry.” Din leans down to pick it up again. “So sorry. I’ve got to go—to get you some food. Something to drink.”
Din starts to stand from the bed, but you stop him by taking a hold of his arm. “Din.” He glances over at you, his pale face flushed and his lips trembling. You frown at him and shake your head. “You’re in no condition to be going anywhere right now.”
“I’m fine.” Din forces the lie through a tightened throat. “I’m not the one who’s… who…” he clears his throat, “I need to help you. Keep you saf… s-sa…” Din hiccups on a breath and looks away from you. His jaw tightens even more than before as his gloved hands fidget on the edges of his helmet.
You take his face between your hands and urge him to look at you again. Tears have escaped his eyes once again as his gaze avoids yours. You rest his forehead against your own. “Don’t hide from me.” Your words are nothing but a soft whisper as your fingers brush away his tears. “Let me take care of you.”
Din hiccups on another breath. “I should be taking care of you .” He hugs his helmet in his lap to try to control his trembling. “You’re the one with the wound.”
You wait until Din’s gaze meets yours to respond with all the honesty you can muster. “The wounds you’ve given yourself…” you pause and tap his temple and then the place over his heart, “are far worse than my own.”
Din closes his eyes and shudders with a sob he refuses to release. His voice is a broken croak when he manages a response. “It should’ve been me.”
You hush him and encourage him to bury his face in your shoulder. “Don’t say that.”
Din wraps an arm around your uninjured side. “I’m sorry.” His shoulders tense as he fights for composure. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know, my love.” You run your hand through his hair to soothe him. “It was an accident.”
He shakes his head and holds you tighter. “It shouldn’t have happened. You warned me.” Din whimpers in his effort not to cry. “I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You stroke his head and kiss it as you repeat the words over and over again. “It’s okay, Din.”
You rock him and start to smile when his body begins to relax. His gloved hands knead the material of your shirt as he steadies himself with deep breaths. Once the warmth from his tears on your shoulder has gone cold, you speak again.
“This is just a lesson, nothing more.” You lift Din’s head from your shoulder and rest his forehead against yours again. The tear stains on his cheeks have dried, though the devastation in his brown eyes remains. You release a light laugh and smile at him. “I’m actually glad it was me, because if you’d hurt yourself, you would’ve learned nothing.” Din musters a chuckle and you kiss his nose. “You can be very stubborn like that.”
Din shrugs and looks away for a moment. “That’s… different. This was…” he tightens his lips and meets your gaze again, “avoidable.”
“It’s not much different at all.” You brush your fingertips over the small scars on his face. “What about these wounds you got from protecting Grogu and I on Nevarro? Or the others you’ve sustained in fights to keep me shielded from blaster fire?”
Din takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders fall in defeat. He swallows hard before he speaks. “My worst fear ever since the day we partnered up was you getting hurt because of me.” His lips start to tremble again, but he blinks away his tears. “Now… I’m the one who ended up hurting you.”
“Not you.” You gesture with your eyes to the hilt that hangs from Din’s belt. “The Darksaber.” You nod at him. “That’s what hurt me.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “You tried to fight it, and it won. All this means is that it’s going to take more time for you to wield it with the power and discipline it demands.”
Din’s eyes start to brighten, but they’re still uncertain. “I couldn’t protect you from it.”
You run your thumb over his cheek. “Not many can.” Your hands move to Din’s pauldron as you trace the signet on his armor. “Don’t let it hold you back. Let it drive you forward.” You hold his face again. “Because you’re Din Djarin, and you always get back up after you’ve been knocked down.”
Din searches your gaze for a long moment. After he’s considered your words, he starts to smile. “Yeah.” He sets his helmet aside and holds your face. “I’ll make it pay.”
You laugh and press your nose against his. “Okay, Mr. Mandalorian, you don’t need to get revenge.” Your chest warms at the sparkle that’s returned to his brown eyes. “You just need to do what you do best: work hard.”
Din nods. “I can do that.” His brow wrinkles in genuine care and concern for you. “Now that I’m okay, how are you? Honestly?”
“The bacta’s working fast.” You glance down and notice the wound’s already lost its ember glow. “I think it’ll make for a pretty badass scar, though.” Your gaze meets Din’s again as his eyes wrinkle with a sweet smile. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re already a badass.” You chuckle and watch as his gaze flickers to your lips. “Do you think that a…”
“… Kiss will help?” You finish Din’s thought for him and he nods with a shy smile. You chuckle and brush your lips against his. “Absolutely, I do.”
Din’s smile melts against your lips as he makes the move to shower you with the affection you both need after such a scare. His apology is spelled out in the way he draws you closer while minding the healing wound on your side, each movement of his mouth on yours a promise of how he’s going to correct his mistake. You accept it with all the affection and trust you have for him to remind him of why you first fell for him so long ago—and how many more wounds you’d endure for him. When Din pulls away, he adds a kiss to your forehead and faces you with all of his familiar warmth. “Now, can I go get you something to eat and drink?”
You nod and raise your brow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hungrier than I am?” Din shrugs and you laugh with a fond shake of your head. Before he can move away from you, you cup his cheek to make him face you. “Remember, Din, it’s okay to still be upset.” You grin when he leans into your touch. “Just don’t hide from me. I’ll talk you through it. Okay?”
Din nods with a smile of his own. “Okay.” He kisses your palm and stands from the bed. “Let’s get you fed.” Din slides his helmet on and gives you a Keldabe kiss before he leaves the room. You smile and rest against the pillows with relief washing over you like sweet summer rain.
You know that Din will always do his best to protect you no matter what, and now, you know that Din trusts himself to do so, too—no matter what happened today.