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- - - - -
Another week, another world.
Since losing the Razor Crest , and… Saying goodbye to the kid, Din has found it increasingly difficult to stay in one place for too long. Sure, he’d thought of putting down roots at first—even gone back to Kuiil’s now-abandoned farm, tried to see what could be done with it—but it’s like there’s an itch inside the Mandalorian that he just can’t scratch… And the only way to keep the restlessness at bay is to hop from planet to planet, looking for odd jobs just like he used to do.
Of course, he used to have his own ship—
And he’d never had anybody but himself to worry about.
Because, even though Grogu is long gone now, Din is the furthest thing from alone…
From behind the safety of his visor, the Mandalorian spares his travel companion a glance.
She’s got her head leaning against the viewport, languidly gazing out at the sea of stars beyond the transparisteel. Pale light casts soft shadows upon the graceful contours of her face, giving her all the appearance of some beautiful, melancholy painting. With her lids half-shut, any other passenger on this starliner might suspect her of dozing off. Din knows better.
She hasn’t been the same since they said goodbye to the kid.
Din understands, of course; neither has he.
And yet, as attached to Grogu as they both were, the Mandalorian knows that his partner’s worries are more complicated than his own. After all, she first joined the crew of the Crest with the primary purpose of serving as a caretaker to the kid… And where does that leave her now?
Where does that leave either of them?
Early on in life without the kid, she and Din seemed to form an unspoken agreement not to talk about the situation. In theory, the moment Din was a childless man once more, the woman could have bid him a polite farewell and walked right out of his life—but she didn’t. She hasn’t . And though he is quietly grateful to keep her familiar face around, he can’t quite figure out why she hasn’t left him.
She’s whip-smart and tough under pressure; Din thinks that she could stride into the galaxy and do whatever she sets her mind to.
So what’s keeping her here … With him?
Of course, the Mandalorian has continued to pay and protect her throughout their travels… He even offered her a bonus last month, thinking it might be what she needs to break free and start over someplace new, but she refused it with an air of confusion and something like… Hurt .
So it must not be the money. Din hopes it’s not, at least.
She’s not on the run; he had looked into as much before he’d even hired her. No family, few connections… A walking ghost.
Din makes an effort to take a deep breath, letting his tense muscles relax ever-so-slightly in his seat beside her.
He’s more grateful to have a partner in this life than he can admit even to himself—and yet, he finds himself probing into the intent behind her presence far more than is good for either of them.
Where to next?
That’s what she always says, whenever Din returns to their camp or lodgings having finished another job. In that much, at least, he knows that the two of them are of similar minds—
Keep moving.
Where to next?
Right now, the answer to that question is Lantec: an unassuming little forest planet that, like many scenic stops along the Outer Rim, is increasingly offering odd work to travelers looking to evade the New Republic’s watchful eye.
They also have a Samhain festival around this time of year that is supposed to be set against a backdrop of brilliantly-colored foliage.
Perhaps that will bring a smile to her face, if Din himself cannot.
- - - - -
The air on Lantec is cool and crisp, especially once you and Din leave the last vestiges of civilization behind for the beginnings of the forest.
Due to the planetwide festival currently underway, over an hour of searching for lodgings left you and Din empty-handed—not a single vacancy to be found, apparently. You don’t mind too much, though, as you and your employer have become quite used to camping when other options were either unavailable or impractical.
Besides, it’s a beautiful evening.
The warm glow of sunset serves only to further highlight the dazzling array of colors found amongst the leaves overhead: coppery reds, rich golds. It’s been a while since you and Din have visited someplace so lush with vegetation.
Somewhere in the distance, a strange bird sings a lazy tune.
“Careful here…”
Mando’s static-laden voice cuts through the serenity of nature, and your attention lowers to meet him. There’s a rather sizable fallen log blocking the barely-trodden path you follow. It’s covered with pristine white mushrooms that glisten in the dying light of day.
From the other side of the obstruction, Din shifts the weight of his travel bag to reach a hand out toward you. You take it, allowing him to brace your weight as you take a wide step over the obstacle.
Even when your mind is occupied by trying to keep your footing, your heart still takes notice of the steady feeling of his gloved hand in your own. The contact, so rare yet precious, sends warmth blossoming through your chest.
Righting yourself, you clear your throat.
“Thank you,” you murmur with a smile—and an unintentional squeeze of his fingers before you separate once more. He only nods in response before you both continue moving.
Maker alive, get a hold of yourself .
With each passing day, the tenuous thread maintaining comfortable silence between you two comes closer and closer to snapping.
You know that you have no purpose here, anymore, at his side—none beyond keeping him company.
And you know that he knows this.
It wasn’t until Grogu was gone, though, that you had realized just how comfortable you had become around the Mandalorian. When the natural time had come for the two of you to potentially part ways, you found that you couldn’t —
Or rather, that doing so might break your heart.
The sleek lines of that armor, the kind yet cautious man that lies beneath—all have become daily facets of your life, ones you don’t want to give up.
You saw the Crest destroyed, saw the child taken from his father’s arms… And it has all taught you a singular, invaluable lesson:
That home can be more than a place.
A strong breeze picks up, caressing your cheek with its pleasant chill. You breathe in the smell of pine and damp soil, watching orange rays of light reflect off the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet as he walks.
The beauty of the moment nearly takes your breath away.
You’re finally beginning to accept the facts—that wherever Din goes feels like home .
But your Mandalorian—should you dare allow yourself to think of him as yours —is an immovable force of nature… It is, admittedly, one of the things you love about him.
It is also the reason why you have no idea if Din could ever feel the same way as you do.
So, you carry on—next planet, next job, next planet, more work. It’s a rhythm that feels both familiar and new, like taking your own pulse.
Come what may, Mando doesn’t yet seem tired of your presence.
Perhaps that will have to be enough.
- - - - -
After the long hike out here, the campfire provides soothing warmth to the Din’s tired muscles.
Fireflies flutter around him and his partner as they sit in companionable quiet around the beginnings of their camp. The brisk air is only getting colder, though, and stubborn winds are beginning to buffet them. Even through his helmet, the Mandalorian is able to detect a storm brewing in the air.
A dart of movement catches Din’s gaze; off to his right, some miniscule, scaled creature runs up to the scraps of the animal that Din hunted for their dinner. The pest seems to almost glance away for permission before tearing off a bit of furred skin and running off.
Seated on the rock beside him, Din’s companion lets out a huff of laughter at the scene.
“The kid would’ve tried to make a meal out of that little guy,” she muses quietly. When Din glances sidelong at her, a fond, sad smile has crept its way onto her lips.
It’s like a blaster bolt to his heart.
“Yeah,” the Mandalorian agrees, and he curses the hoarse quality that manages to escape his vocoder. The weight of emotion in the air seems to draw a wince from her.
With a tentative hand, she reaches for him, then—not too quickly, giving him plenty of time to shoo her away…
But he does not.
Her palm finds its way to his own hand where it rests upon his lap, and Din has to stifle the sigh of relief her touch inspires.
So much has changed—from Din’s comparatively miniscule existence, to the galaxy at large… But through it all, she has remained his constant. He hasn’t had to endure alone.
Words tangle in Din’s mind, hesitant yet sincere. He’s just about to say something—
When, as though shocked by an electric jolt, she pulls away and rises to her feet.
The wind picks up into a howl.
“I’m going to walk the perimeter of the clearing… See if there isn’t a better place to get out of the storm.” Her reassuring smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
He wants to stop her—it’s so dark in these woods.
But he needs time to think, too.
“Alright,” Din concedes after a long pause. “But take your blaster.”
She pats the weapon gingerly where it sits within her thigh holster, sparing him one last weighted glance before disappearing into the treeline.
- - - - -
You can’t carry on like this—something has got to change… For better or for worse.
Because you’re not sure how much more your heart can take.
Flicking on your small flashlight, you keep careful watch of where you tread as you make your way across the forest floor.
Your hand still feels hot where it had reached out to comfort the Mandalorian—the touch had started as perfectly innocent, and yet the moment your skin touched the worn leather of his glove, an inescapable surge of longing had knocked the wind from your lungs.
You wanted to comfort him.
You wanted to kiss him .
But what would a man like Din make of such feelings? His existence in all the time you’ve known him has been consumed by duties and obligations… And while you’ve long since begun thinking of him as more than just your “employer,” you don’t see any reason why such soft feelings should be reciprocated.
To him, you’re just another obligation.
A clearing in the shrubbery ahead catches your eye; you begin making your way towards it, pulling your coat closer all the while. Even if you could just find a cliff-face to camp against, it would certainly help you both wait out the storm.
Perhaps you should just break down and ask Din if he needs you around anymore—which would be a joke, really. What have you really been doing for him since the kid left? Yet you accept the Mandalorian’s credits all the same.
In your wildest dreams, he might ask you to stay just to be with him .
And if he doesn’t?
Well. Maybe that would make parting ways a little easier.
The trees disperse into an overgrown clearing, making way to reveal…
A house?
It’s a simple, stone-and-durasteel structure with a garden in the front yard. Some sort of gourd grows wild and unkempt, huge leaves splaying over each other.
The building itself has shattered window panes giving way to total darkness within. Across one such pane, a spectacular spider web glistens in the moonlight. You shudder.
The front doorway appears to also be in a state of disrepair, one half of its sliding metal surface permanently retracted into its frame to allow entrance.
By all accounts, the building looks abandoned… You chew your bottom lip, debating.
And then the rain starts.
You barely have time to register the change in weather before heavy droplets of moisture are soaking you to the bone, pouring unrelentingly from the heavens. As cold seeps beneath your skin, you act on instinct, running into the cottage through the broken entrance.
You inhale sharply as the sound of rain grows into an aggressive rhythm, pounding the rooftop overhead. Grasping your flashlight with shivering hands, you move it to look around.
The house is almost entirely devoid of furniture, with dirt and leaves littering the floors. A low archway leads to what looks like a kitchen, and to your right, a short corridor leads to two more doorways.
A chill creeps down your spine; the eerie nature of this forgotten place seeps into you like the cold air itself. You glance back outside, where the storm shows no signs of letting up.
With a reluctant sigh, you find a place against one wall to sit and rest your back.
The Mandalorian might be worried about you, you realize with a frown… You doubt that either of you had expected the change in weather to happen so suddenly, but then, you’re both unfamiliar with this planet’s climate.
You should’ve taken your comlink with you when you left, or something . Damn it. Leaning against the cold stone wall, you try to take a deep breath to calm your worries.
A skittering sound in the other room draws your attention, and your hand darts to your blaster—but stillness takes over once more. It was probably just another one of those lizards.
You opt to turn your gaze out the doorway to watch the treeline glisten in the rain.
You hate places like this.
Before joining up with the Mandalorian, you were admittedly no stranger to squatting in shitty, abandoned buildings, alongside countless vermin and whoever you were calling “friends” at the time… But that doesn’t mean you ever got used to it.
Din’s presence, his overall demeanor—it makes you feel safe , and not just because he’s usually armed to the teeth. In the state you were in when you met him, most people barely deemed you worthy of basic respect, much less a second glance…
But he saw you.
And what’s more, he welcomed you into his life .
Regardless of your constant questioning of his intentions, that’s got to count for something… Right?
You swallow thickly as you stare out into the night…
You like to think that Din has kind eyes.
Another rustling sound jostles you from your contemplations, and you flinch. This time, though, the noise is scratching at the front door.
You dart upright. Maker, how long have you been sitting here?
Your fingers find their way to your blaster pistol.
“Hello?”
No answer.
You’re about to draw your weapon—
When Din darkens the doorway, bag in tow and soaked to the skin.
“There you are,” his modulated voice sighs. Panic and subsequent relief lace his tone, and as he catches his breath, he steps inside, dropping your shared supplies at his feet.
“I’m sorry, Din,” you wince. “I saw this place just as the storm started, and I didn’t think I’d be able to find my way back in the rain anyway, and I—”
“Are you hurt?” Before you can blink, the Mandalorian has closed the distance between you two to place both gloved hands on your shoulders appraisingly. You’re suddenly grateful for the biting air; perhaps it can disguise your blush.
You nod.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Just… Damp.”
Mando’s shoulders seem to visibly relax, at this, and he allows his grip on you to fall away. For the first time, he looks around.
“This place is empty, huh?” His helmet tilts in the direction of your nod. “Better than sleeping in the rain, I suppose.”
“I should hope so,” you agree with a weak smile, before your eyes dart quickly back over your shoulder. “Just, uh… There might be. Animals, or something.”
Din only shrugs before bending over to begin unfurling your compact bed rolls.
- - - - -
More than an hour since the rain began, the storm shows no sign of subsiding anytime soon. Usually, you find the pitter-patter of raindrops and deep rolls of thunder to be soothing…
And yet, your brain refuses to find sleep.
The creepy house certainly doesn’t help , that’s for sure. Your wide-awake gaze has spotted multiple spiderwebs decorating the dimly-lit corners, causing you to twitch nervously every time you imagine something crawling across your skin.
What’s worse is that you can’t seem to keep your mind off of the man lying not a meter away from you.
Your thoughts keep lingering on the overwhelming sense of relief you felt when he appeared in the doorway of the cottage earlier—a sense of relief that, you believe, was mutual.
Thinking of his hands running their way down your shoulders to your arms sends a fresh shiver down your spine that isn’t altogether unpleasant.
It’s not much—but it’s enough to kindle the slightest spark of hope .
Maybe tomorrow—
From one of the room’s countless dark corners comes yet another skittering sound, and you flinch with a sharp gasp.
“You’re still awake.”
Din’s modulated voice gives you yet another reason to startle. It’s not a question—merely stating the obvious.
“Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. Then: “I used to sleep in places like this all the time, you know… But I guess I still get the creeps, sometimes.”
You feel the weight of his helmet turn sidelong to gaze at you in the dark—with whatever tech is in that visor of his, perhaps he can see straight through the soft beams of moonlight and at your apologetic grimace.
Then, something incredible happens—
Din stretches out one arm.
“Come here,” he ushers quietly, before stumbling over his words in a matter most uncharacteristic. “I mean—that is, if you—”
“Okay.”
The surety of your voice surprises you both. You don’t give yourself time to overthink before you’re scooting your bed roll over to lay flush with his own.
Moving gingerly, you lay back down—head resting in the crook of his shoulder, carefully positioned between the hard lines of his plate armor. Achingly slowly, he relaxes his bicep… Moving his hand to rest against your further arm, holding you to his side with only the slightest amount of force.
It’s a simple gesture, yes, yet fathomless in its tenderness. Din has never shown such affection before, and yet it feels like the most natural thing in the world between you two…
And perhaps this is exactly what you’ve been needing to ignite that spark of hope into a flame.
“Thank you for coming to find me,” you murmur, folding your hands atop your abdomen to keep them from fidgeting. Through the muscle of his shoulder, you feel his helmet turn slightly to assess you.
“I shouldn’t have let you go out alone,” Din counters through a weary sigh. “We don’t know what’s out here. I was… Worried.”
The softness in his tone makes you smile.
“Well, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Regret at your words pierces you instantaneously; you suddenly want to fold in on yourself in embarrassment.
Why the hell did you —
But suddenly, Din is rolling over on his side to face you, even with one arm still cradling your neck. It steals the breath from your lungs; you gaze at the planes of his helmet with wide eyes in the darkness.
“Is that what you think?” The Mandalorian’s tone is low… You think you can even hear a bit of his voice unfiltered beneath his helmet, close to him as you are. “That I want to ‘get rid of’ you?”
You swallow hard, eyes fruitlessly searching his helmet for an expression you will not find.
“I don’t know what to think, Mando,” you say, voice dropping to a whisper barely audible against the pouring rain. “I know that we don’t talk about it. I know that… That we’ve both been hurting.” Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, but your proximity to him seems to embolden you. “But I also know that I want us to stick together.”
Silence hangs in the air, and it feels like the longest of your life. Then:
“...I’d like that. I—” Mando’s voice has gone hoarse; you recognize the swell of emotion as a mirror to your own. “I want you to stay. With me.”
His other gloved hand finds its way to the dip of your waist. Pleasant warmth spreads from the place of his touch. It encourages you: you lift your own hand to cradle the crook of his neck, finding it hot beneath his cowl. All the while, you quirk a mischievous eyebrow.
“As an employee?”
Din whispers your name; it pierces the core of you.
“You know you’re so much more than that.”
You could turn molten just from his touch, here on the cold floor of this forgotten place… Your heart is soaring with the promise of what’s to come, but for now, your body tells you that the miniscule distance between the two of you is still too much.
You lean forward—
And you melt into him.