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Din’s movements were frenzied by the time they made it back to the ship, punching the hatch closed the moment they were both up the ramp and locking it from the inside, refusing to risk any uninvited guests. Bo’s grip on his pauldron was beginning to loosen, her body shaking from blood loss as he eased her into one of the drop seats. One of his hands pulled her helmet from her head while the other found her cheek, his eyes seeking hers through his visor. “How do we do this?” His voice was urgent, blood running from her leg and pooling on the steel plating he was kneeling on. Her head lent into his palm, the heat of his hand through his glove comforting. His fingers dug into her cheek, jostling her enough to keep her awake. “Bo-Katan, how do we do this?”
“Tourniquet,” she whispered, the sound breathy and weak, “above the knife, slow the bleeding down.” Her fingers wound into his cape, tugging lightly and he understood her intent. Letting go of her face he tore a decent strip of fabric off, enough to go around her thigh twice before knotting the material above the blade. Her head lent back against the seat as she shook it, “tighter. Or I’ll bleed out.”
Din looked at her then, her eyes glassed over with pain and the adrenaline in her system not enough to fight the shock she was slipping in to. “How? I’ve never done this.” It seemed stupid; he’d never learned how to stop someone bleeding to death when a knife went into an artery, only ever been taught how to cause such an injury. Mandalorian’s were trained to kill, not heal.
She pulled the Dark Saber from his hip and pressed it into his hand. “Twist. Under the tourniquet.” He watched as she guided his fingers, understanding dawning. He followed her instructions, turning the Dark Saber like it was a screw, Bo’s pained hisses stinging his ears and her leg bouncing under his hands, the fabric band tightening with every twist until the blood pouring from her leg slowed down to a trickle. Din knotted it in place once he deemed it tight enough. She was panting by the time he was done, eyes screwed shut in pain and her teeth sunk into her lip to stop herself from screaming. He sat back on his heels, knowing he’d bought them a few minutes, giving her a chance to catch her breath, his hand on her cheek again, soothing as much as could.
“Where are your med-packs?” He wanted everything ready for when pulled the blade out of her femoral.
“Cockpit locker.” With one last brush of his thumb on her cheek he pushed himself up and took off for the ladder, pulling himself up and rifling through her ship until he found what he was looking for, leaving everything else out in his wake. He’d clear it away once Bo-Katan had stopped trying to bleed to death on him.
He was back by her side in a matter of minutes, his chest constricting when her saw her closed eyes and her hands slack by her sides. “Bo!” At his shout her eyes rolled open, unfocused and hazy, seeking out the shine of unpainted beskar. “Stay awake for me. Stay awake.” The contents of the pack scattered around him as Din loaded up an injector with painkillers and coagulants before ripping the leg of her flight suit open to expose the wound, jamming the needle into her thigh above the tourniquet. She hissed as the needle went in, her fingers clenching on his shoulder at the sting. He hoped it would take effect quickly for her sake, he knew she couldn’t afford to lose much more blood, the amount she’d already left behind on their escape was staggering, and worse, easy to follow.
Din’s eyes bounced from Bo to the knife in her leg, his mouth dry as he examined it, remembering seeing it as flashed in front of his helmet during the fight. Serrated on one side and hook toothed on the other and now it was lodged deep in Bo-Katan’s thigh. His hand wrapped around the handle and Bo winced at the slight movement. “I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”
One of her hands curled around his bicep, the other gripping the bar above her head, bracing herself as best as she could. “Just do it.” He tried to ignore the way her voice shook.
Din didn’t wait, ripping the knife out immediately, apologising again and again when Bo screamed, her world brightening momentarily as the pain burned through her. Another needle pushed into her leg, injecting the bacta deep enough that it would set her body on healing itself. He took his time cleaning her leg as best he could, pouring antiseptic into the wound and covering it with as much bacta gel as possible, trying to ignore the breathy gasps and half sobs torn from Bo-Katan’s throat as her tolerance for pain ebbed and broke, relieved when the worst was done. The pile of bandages beside him signalled the least distressing part of his task.
Above him, Bo watched his hands with a growing detachment from her body that should have concerned her, the world going quiet as he wrapped her leg in bright, white bandages and the pain becoming increasingly distant from her, the touch of his hands invisible on numb skin. Privately, she hoped it was just a side effect of the medication he’d pumped her full of.
Finally, he stood, his arms sliding around her back and pulling her up to stand, her arm going over his shoulder again on instinct despite the ship tilting around her, Din supporting her completely. “Just relax, I’ve got you.” With care that she’d previously seen reserved only for his son, Din helped her to the small crew quarters on board the ship, his hands gentle as he lowered her down onto one of the bunks and soft as he helped her release her armour and set it aside, leaving her in the torn kute she wore underneath. The painkillers had already pulled her into unconsciousness by the time he pulled a blanket over her legs.
It was only then that Din realised he was trembling, his gloved hands sticky with her blood, his clothes stuck to him with sweat and his mouth tasting metallic with adrenaline. He pulled the gloves off and dropped them by Bo’s armour, his fingers finding the pulse in her throat, the beat slow but steady and enough to reassure him that she was still alive. His head thumped back against the bulkhead behind him as he slid down to the floor, his heart hammering as he tried to slow his frantic breathing.
He didn’t know how long he sat there for, counting his breaths while watching Bo’s chest rise and fall with her own, wondering how it had all gone so wrong. Eventually he stood, checking her pulse one last time before heading to the cockpit, stepping over the mess he’d left in his rush to get the supplies he needed and setting a course back to Nevarro, the nav console confirming their route and the time it would take to arrive. The blue of hyperspace turned his beskar a shifting kaleidoscope of colour as he thought about how long the next day would be.
-
Din split his time between checking on Bo-Katan and clearing up the mess they’d made on their return to the ship. He moved the medical supplies left over to the bunk above the one where she was sleeping, knowing that at a minimum they would be needed for redressing her leg. There wasn’t that much left in the kit, the painkillers and coagulants already gone, half of the bandages and bacta used up, and the antiseptic solution almost empty. Why her ship was so barren of supplies he would never know, but then again, hadn’t that been the purpose of their trip, to resupply themselves in preparation for building on Nevarro.
The troop bay was a mess, one he could barely stand to look at. Most of her blood was still wet, still dripping sluggishly from the seat he’d pushed her into in some places and still shiny on the deck plating. The knife he’d torn from her leg was where he’d dropped it, the blade covered in more than just Bo’s blood and tissue; Force knows what ground into the handle and something Din didn’t even want to acknowledge trapped between the saw – like teeth. What it had left behind in Bo’s thigh he dreaded to consider, the implications causing knots to form in his stomach. Din scooped her helmet up from where it had fallen, tucking it under his arm before he retreated, glad to turn his back the bloody troop bay.
With nothing left to do, Din headed back to Bo-Katan’s side, checking her pulse again before beginning to repair their armour. The fight had been long and vicious. An old base from the Clone Wars, supposedly off the map and untouched, only coming to light when one of their scouts came back with the location. Since Bo-Katan had been the only member of the Covert with a ship built for more than one person and with space for cargo, the Armourer had requested that she lead the mission with support from Din. It had taken them some time to agree a strategy, Din had been reluctant to be assigned to the mission at all, insisting Paz or someone else would be more suitable but the Armourer had been firm. They were the best team for the mission, with experience fighting side by side, relying solely on each other. Quietly the Armourer had reminded him to value those he loved; Mandalorian’s tended to love strongly and passionately, and often only once. He’d followed her focus to where Bo had been teaching the foundlings on the lava flats, correcting stances, and improving aims while Grogu chirped happily by her side, realising that his emotions weren’t quite as private as he’d hoped.
At the Armourers insistence, Grogu had remained at the Covert, deeming it more important that he attend his lessons. He’d been grumpy about being left behind, trying to sneak onto the ship more than once but Din was grateful now, his son was thoroughly attached to Bo-Katan, despite the distance he had tried to put between them, his feelings towards her confusing him more and more. If Grogu had been there to see Bo wounded, to sense the panic and fear in his father’s heart he would have been scared for life.
It had been easy enough to get into the base, most of it buried deep beneath the surface, a structure that spiralled down into the ground. They got down ten levels before they realised that it wasn’t empty, the airtight seal they’d broken when they came in hadn’t just been designed to keep people out. After that it had been a fight to climb back up every step they’d taken down, people pouring out of every corridor and hallway.
At some point Din had ignited the Dark Saber, and when its weight became unbearable, he’d thrown it to Bo-Katan, watching as she wielded it with ease. Still, there had been nothing either of them could do when a group had dropped down from the level above, slamming feet first into their shoulders and knocking their weapons from their hands. Din had been closest to the Saber, using his whip cord to snap it back into his hand before he’d turned back into the fight, his back against Bo-Katan’s as they fought their way back up.
Daylight had been visible to his left, their attackers switching to blades instead of blasters to kill them with when Bo-Katan had hissed, her back pressing into his to stabilise herself. “We need to go Din.” The gasp in her voice had him turning enough to see her, her head dipped low, and her hand pressed against her thigh, blood pouring from between her fingers. He’d turned instantly, heart suddenly pounding in his ears, pulling her arm over his shoulder and taking her weight as they made their escape. Surprisingly, the door to the base had sealed closed once they were outside, their attackers unwilling to venture outside after them.
-
Somewhere between fixing his own bracers and beginning to work on Bo’s he realised she was awake, her eyes unfocused but on him. “How are you feeling?”
She nodded against the pillow, “I’m okay.” Her hand reached up to him, “help me up,” Din’s came out instantly, his grip gentle at her elbow as he helped her sit up, his free hand settling between her shoulders as he eased her back against the bulkhead. Under his fingers he could feel her muscles shaking, her hand cold in his, and when he pressed a glass of water into her hand, she couldn’t hold it steady.
His hand curled around hers, helping her hold it so she could drink, taking the glass when she was done. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His thoughts went back to the troop bay, to all the blood on the floor, to her so still and silent in that bed, drained of colour.
When he looked back to her though her eyes weren’t on his helmet, instead she was looking at his hands. “Your gloves are gone,” she said softly. Apart from the back of his head the only part of Din she’d ever seen was a strip of skin at his neck when he’d unwound the back of his cape. Her fingers curled around his hand, pulling it closer as she turned it over palm up and examined it, her thinner fingers tracing the creases on his hand before examining the scars.
Finally, she went to let go, hazy eyes turning to Din’s helmet with an apology already forming on her lips, an apology that died instantly when she saw his bowed head, his hand remaining cradled between hers. “Din?”
For a moment he was quiet, his mind still processing the feeling of her skin against his own, the featherlight touch she had used on his hand before his head popped up to face her, grateful the helmet hid everything his face was saying. Now wasn’t the time. “How does your leg feel?” He asked at last, diverting the conversation away from himself.
Bo watched him, felt him pulling away from her again and she sighed before shifting her attention to what had brought them here. “Numb.” Which probably wasn’t a good thing. Between them they undid the strip of cape from around her leg, the Dark Saber being returned to Din’s hip while Bo coped with burning of blood returning to her lower leg.
Carefully, he undid the stained bandages, Bo doing everything she could to remain still as the material peeled from the wound. Din was grateful to see the bacta had done its job, the artery in her leg closed over and her blood not pouring over his fingers anymore. It was the heat of her skin that worried him the most, the area around the tear swollen and tight, even his lightest touch making her hiss in pain, her whole body shaking. He poured the rest of the antiseptic onto her leg, repeating his apologies when she groaned, knowing that it would do little good. Infection had already set in, the bacta not enough to stop it.
Her eyes met his, understanding clear in her expression. He said nothing as he rewrapped her leg, his hand smoothing the bandages flat when he was done, his hand staying there for a long moment before he sat back. “You’re all set,” he whispered, watching as she nodded. Bo surprised him when she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her hands gripping onto his shoulders when the ship spun around her, her vision spotting. Din responded instantly, his hand curling around her arm and the other returning to her back. “What are you doing?” He struggled to keep the shock from his voice.
For a minute she focused on her breathing, wary of speaking as nausea swelled in her stomach. “It’s cold down here,” she mumbled once it had passed, and Din remember how her body had shook when he gave her the water, how cold her fingers had been when she held his hand. “The cockpit is warmer,” she added. He didn’t like the idea of her moving, worried she might reopen the wound in her leg, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to stop her when she set her mind to something. Bo-Katan was possibly the most stubborn person he’d ever met.
With a sigh Din wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her, her body tucked against his while she gripped his chest plate for stability. It took some manoeuvring in the tight corridors of her ship, Bo’s coordination far from perfect and her legs hardly able to hold her up, but eventually they made it, Din lowering her into the pilot’s seat and passing her a blanket, watching as she wrapped it around herself. Her voice was quiet when she turned to him, her eyes already closing as exhaustion caught up with her again, “vor entye.”
Din smiled beneath his helmet, nodding once in acknowledgement, keeping watch as she slept. It would hardly be the best place for her to rest and recover, but Din was loath to argue with her. He knew he’d only lose, and seeing her happy and at peace was something he’d begun to crave. If being in the pilot’s seat would do that, then he was happy to help. The brightness of hyperspace around them and the warmth he’d set to be piped in lulled him into his own sleep, the first he’d had since before they’d left Nevarro.
His dreams were of Grogu and Bo-Katan, watching her teach him how to fight with staffs on the beach where the Covert had been hidden, the rest of their people around them, doing their own training. Grogu’s high trilling giggle and Bo’s own laughter made him smile while he watched them, sand kicking up around her boots while Grogu bounded through the air over her head, the wooden blades clashing together with dull thuds.
His own clan, happy and whole.
From behind him there was a hum of approval, and he twisted to see the Armour nodding as she watched the duo and Din felt himself smile beneath his helmet. He turned back to his aliit, watching as Bo crouched beside Grogu, adjusting his grip on the blade in his hands, leading him through another series of strikes and parries, praising him when he succeeded and encouraging him when he made mistakes, even as he became frustrated. A murmur by his ear had him turning, seeking the voice on his left, the beach beside him empty of their Covert. Din glanced around, seeking the Armourer behind him to see the cave entrance empty and gaping, the sands suddenly smooth and undisturbed.
Confused he turned back to Bo and Grogu, worry growing in his chest as he pushed to his feet, watching as they began a complex dance of movements, the blades in their hands clattering together faster and harder until Bo fell back into the water, the wooden sword in Grogu’s hands glowing and black and pressed into the flesh of her leg. Wrongness pressed at him, knowing his son would never do anything to hurt Bo-Katan. His knees sank into the water as he dropped to Bo’s side, pulling her into his lap as the water turned pink around them.
“Din.” Her voice was soft and kind, and again wrongness pressed at him when the sound didn’t match the panic in his heart.
“You’re going to be fine,” he promised, to himself or to her, he wasn’t sure, his eyes scanning the sand to ask Grogu for his help, his panic only growing when he couldn’t find him. The sands around him still smooth and empty of his son and covert. He looked back down to Bo’s face, falling back into the water when he realised she was gone, his finger suddenly gripping at the bloody water and not her body. Again, he looked around, realising he was alone, everyone he loved and cared for vanished as though they’d never existed in the first place. He felt it tear through him, fear and pain and anguish all in one leaving him doubled over in the water and screaming at the sky.
“Din!”
He woke with a start, tears still streaking down his cheeks beneath his helmet and his head spinning towards Bo’s shout, the sight of her beside him nearly knocking him from his seat in relief.
Her hand reached across the space between them, fingers hooking under his pauldron to find his shoulder. “You’re alright,” she promised, her voice urgent, “just a bad dream. Nothing more.” His fingers circled around her wrist, the feeling of her skin against his palm grounding him. “You’re alright,” she repeated, watching as his chest dropped into something closer to a normal rhythm. They sat in silence for a long while, the hum of hyperspace around them the only sound. Din watched as Bo‘s eyes fluttered in and out of her own doze, grateful that she was simply beside him and not vanished into the waters of his nightmare.
For a long time he sat there, afraid to move and dislodge Bo’s hand from his shoulder, holding her arm in place gently with his hand. Irrationally afraid that she’d disappear as she had in his nightmare, so he kept her arm where it was, let her fingers curl into the fabric of his kute and carefully he turned to watch her, to notice everything he possibly could. In sleep she looked younger, the freckles on her flushed cheeks standing out in the glow of hyperspace and her red hair striking where it clung to her clammy forehead, not quite covering the scar there.
When he’d become so dependant on having her by his side, Din wasn’t sure. When they’d first met on Trask he had been curious about her as well as appalled, he’d never even considered there would be other Mandalorian’s out there. How little he’d known about his own people then still shocked him, about their history, good and bad. It had been his own ignorance that had infuriated him. Ignorance that over the last few months together, Bo had helped to correct, going over Mandalorian history from the blockade of the Hydian way to her own part in Death watch. Thousands of years of Mandalorian history. She’d hid from none of it, and it had only made his respect for her stronger.
Respect that had definitely trailed into something more for him. He’d never expected to want to have someone beside him, in the same way he’d never expected to want to have a child with him, but both Grogu and Bo had changed him, and now he couldn’t imagine them ever being gone from his life.
Beside him, Bo stirred slightly, her voice slurring as she spoke, not quite as a sleep as he’d initially thought. “What’s on your mind?”
Din felt his cheeks flush, grateful his helmet hid it from her, but when her eyes rolled open he saw the haze in them, knew she’d probably not remember this conversation when she was back on her feet, and again he felt that care run deep, that need to protect her. “I’m trying to work out when you became so important to me.”
Bo blinked hard, trying to clear her vision and her head, the thing they’d been dancing around for weeks finally coming out. Still her mind struggled. “What do you mean?”
His hand tightened around her wrist, honesty slipping out without much thought. “I never want to be without you. You’ve become such a big part of my life, of Grogu’s life that can’t imagine you not being with us.” His nightmare came back then, her vanishing from his arms and him being alone, the utter devastation of it filled his heart again. Bo-Katan had become a part of his clan dispite their initially rocky start, whether he’d planned it or not and now he couldn’t imagine her not being there, not hearing her laughing with Grogu or not holding his heart in her hands. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice filled with the emotion he so rarely showed.
One side of Bo’s mouth turned up in a half smile, trying to deflect, just in case. “Din, I’ve got an infection, I’m not dying.”
“It’s more than,” his voice taking on a pleading edge, “I want you to stay with me and Grogu, even after we’ve reclaimed Mandalore. I want you to be a part of our aliit.” He knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I want you so much it hurts.”
Bo had never seen him so open, never seen him share so much of what went on beneath the beskar helmet and she knew she didn’t need to see his face to see the love there, to feel it all the way to heart. “Why haven’t you said this before?” Before she’d taken her helmet off and before she’d been quested to reunite all Madalorians. Before she’d felt so utterly unsure of where she stood in the Covert she now called home and with the man beside her.
Din turned away from her, his focus on the stars blurring past. “I thought you would leave eventually, and I didn’t want to you to feel like you had to stay with the Covert,” his voice no more than a whisper, “You didn’t always believe in The Way, didn’t follow it so strictly as I did, and I thought you would eventually feel trapped with us.” Silently he’d worried that their different ways of following the Creed would come between them. He’d never expected it to make them a stronger team.
Whether he meant with the Covert or with himself and his son, Bo wasn’t sure. It was fear she’d initially shared, the confines of beskar could become overwhelming eventually, but the longer she’d stayed with the Children of the Watch the safer she’d felt, the closer she’d grown to her own Mandalorian heritage. The closer she’d grown to Din and Grogu.
“When you walked with the Armourer without your helmet I thought that you had decided to leave, that now you’d given us a new home you decided it was time to move on, to leave us behind.” He hadn’t been able to move in that moment, the fear that had burned through him had paralysed him and it had only been Grogu’s worried chirps that had brought him out of it enough to listen to the Armourer speak.
“That’s why you didn’t want to come on this mission with me,” she murmured softly. How many times had she done the same thing? Pushed the people she loved away to protect her own battered heart.
Still, Din couldn’t look at her. “I wanted to protect Grogu, and myself from everything you meant to me and to him. Everything you still mean.” It made him ashamed, that he’d tried to pull them away from her, that he’d been so afraid of being hurt that he’d tried to deprive his son of spending time with Bo.
Bo sighed beside him, her hand creeping up from his shoulder to the cheek of his helmet. “I never planned to leave. Never. What you and your son have given me is so much more than I could have ever hoped for. You gave me more than my life back.” Having a family had always been a distant thought, something that others had, but she could never gain, her actions pushing her away from the people she cared for to the point where she’d nearly given up. “I don’t want to ever leave you,” she whispered, knowing he would hear the truth in her words.
Beneath his helmet, Din smiled, his hand coming up to cover hers as he slid from his seat and crouched beside her. As gently as she could he pressed his helmet to her forehead. “Then don’t.”
-
It was dark on Nevarro when they landed, the tents where the Covert had begun to make their home either glowing from within or cast in darkness. The Armourer was waiting for them when the ramp dropped, Grogu whining at her feet and Paz stood guard behind her. Again, Din pulled Bo-Katan to her feet, settling one of her arms over his shoulder so he could grip her wrist while securing an arm around her back to keep her standing, bracing his hand on hip so she could try and walk. Even with all that, Bo struggled to stay upright, her balance shot to hell and her right leg unable to take any of her weight at all, every movement sending pain lancing through it.
What worried Din more was how listless she’d become in the last hours of their journey, their hazy talk of their future seeming so distant as she’d slipped in and out of a fevered sleep, the infection only getting worse. When they’d been within comm distance of Nevarro, Din had contacted the Armourer and told her what had happened, knowing that the Covert wouldn’t have the necessary supplies, but Greef Karga would. The Magistrate owed him enough favours that he had no fear of asking him for his help.
The Armourer met them on the ramp, her arm looping around Bo’s other side. “The med centre is waiting on us.” Her voice was calm and helped recentre Din’s flagging emotions as Bo tried to take her own weight off their shoulders, her limping gait slow and unsteady as they supported her. It was a short journey, the edge of their current camp not far from the outskirts of the City there. The medics immediately took Bo from them, and Din felt the need to follow, to stay by her side but his son demanded his attention.
Grogu had followed them with ease and was still holding close to Din’s boots, his little arms outstretched in a request Din knew well. His little clawed hands curled into the front of Din’s chest plate as his ears drooped, unsure of what to make of the emotions he’d been able to sense of from his father and afraid of had happened to Bo-Katan. Din was quick to reassure his son, “she’s going to be alright kid.” His promise was as much to himself as to his son.
Grogu’s eyes bounced from Din’s helmet to the doors where Bo-Katan had been taken, still able to sense her and the pain she was in. His worry was obvious to Din and again he was surprised at how his son had bonded to her, that Bo cared just as deeply for the child in his arms as his boy did for her. They were already a family to Grogu, his son taking Bo into his heart as he had Din. No matter what, Din knew he would never be able to break that bond, although he knew he would never want too. Not when it gave him certainty that Grogu would always have someone to love him and guide him as a parent should.
Beside him, the Armourer watched silently, appraising everything she had seen since the Kom’rk had touched down. From the way Din had held Bo, to the way her head had tipped towards his, to the reassurance he’d given his son. It all lead to one conclusion and it was a relief to her mind. The pair of them had been balanced on the edge of their feelings for each other since Din had brought her to their Covert. “I see you have solved what is between you and Bo-Katan.”
Din could swear he could hear the smile in her voice as he turned towards the Armourer. “We have, but until Mandalore is ours again we will stay as we are.” It was the thing Bo had been concerned about, her ‘you will be king when we reclaim our home,’ had reminded him of the weight on his hip, the responsibility he didn’t want and his place in it all. The only responsibility he wanted was his son and Bo, and the aliit they would have between the three of them.
A problem for the future, not right now, not as the medical staff led him and Grogu through to the bacta tanks where Bo was now healing, showing a place where he could take up watch beside her.