#every time I try to inject more compassion into my conscious thoughts someone does something terrible

[trippedandmissed]

If any tumblr witches want to curse whoever stole our truck last night I’d appreciate it

[vercopaanir]

He Would Never

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 6

Masterlist for this series

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian is on a hunt for a bounty, and while you recuperate, you struggle with your protective feelings over him and the child.

Ratings/Warnings: None. If I do miss something, please let me know!

Notes: This chapter ended up being so long that I split it in two! It was really fighting me, so I’m very self-conscious about this one. The next chapter is going to be a bit of a punch in the gut (in a good way?), if I’ve gauged things right. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading, tagging, commenting, and reblogging!!!

AO3

When you explain how you came by the pain in your side, the physician helps you out of your dress to examine you. You suck in a breath when her cold fingers tap along your back and up to your ribs, feeling the tender skin where bruises have started forming. She deduces quickly, trauma to the area of your back having caused significant nerve pain. All you remember is watching the Mandalorian with his son, so gentle and attentive that you forgot yourself. You’d been content in the warmth of their laughter, softened by the affection, and then harsh red lights and blaring alarms and-

“Spend time being thrown against walls?” the doctor asks, her light and teasing voice bringing you back to the present. You turn your head towards her as she moves your shoulders to the left and right to check your flexibility.

“Well...” you puff, face pinched with pain, considering the story that got you into this.

Shaking her head, she sets to work and makes a quick job out of you, narrating every step to keep you aware of what’s going on. “I’m using a micro-sonic vibration injector to administer an analgesic. The pain you’re feeling should disappear in a minute or so.” 

You don’t even feel the injection, which she administers into the fleshy curve of your waist before you can question her about it. She applies a healing sheath around your abdomen after that, and she instructs you not to remove it for a full twenty-four hours. You use your fingers to feel the edges where it lays flat, beneath your bust and down your abdomen to create a comfortable seal that still allows you to move. The sweat on your brow is quickly cooling as the discomfort recedes to a dull ache, as if you’d been struck in the side rather than stabbed by the control switch.

“I’m giving you two sterile heating cloths to sleep with. Try to lay as flat as you can so you don’t put pressure unevenly on your back. Make sure you don’t accidentally lay on anything,” she said, placing the packaged cloths in your hands after you pull your dress back up. “Or anyone,” she adds with a smile.

You blush at that, smiling in understanding, and nod.

Stepping behind you, she helps straighten the collar of your dress before saying, “You know, that hunter who brought you in was quite worried about you.”

You shut your eyes in mortification, rubbing between your eyebrows. Maker, what must he think? It’s been so long since you’ve fallen, not since you were younger and at least a foot shorter. You’re so careful now, and your pride is wounded to think of him treating you like glass, skittish and scared. Your fingers tighten around the cloths she’s given you.

“Pestered some of my staff for a while until he finally left. Wouldn’t sit down. It was making people anxious, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Your stomach tightens at her words, and it’s all you can do to meet her face with your own as you turn around. “He has a lot on his mind,” you mutter, thinking of the child sleeping so quietly back aboard the ship. You can’t stand it knowing he’s alone, and the longer you linger, the worse you feel.

The doctor hums, and you think she must be smiling when she says, “Seems to me you were the only thing on his mind.” 

Her words echo in your ears as you step outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. An odd, prickly emotion builds in your chest as you ruminate, because you know the Mandalorian has the capacity for compassion. His care and love for the child alone are evidence of that, but you wonder where you fall on that scale. You are both a boon as the child’s caretaker and a liability as an extra item on his list to be concerned about. This entire fiasco won’t endear you, and you’re upset with yourself all over again. The confusing feelings sliding back and forth like an uneven scale cause your head to hurt, and the bright sunlight of Tatooine hardly does you any favors.

It takes stopping and asking a pedestrian where the hangar is located before you can make your way to it, and when you enter through the same door the Mandalorian had shouldered you through, the mechanic pops up from being seated at a small table surrounded by her pit droids. 

You come to a stop, your heart dropping on the sandy ground when you see the child in her arms.

“He, uh, found some work. Said he’d be back,” the woman says, bouncing the child, but by the fussy noises he’s making, you know she’s been unsuccessful wooing him to sleep. “The Mandalorian, I mean.”

Your eyes trail to the dark shadow of the Razor Crest, unable to make anything out besides the black, blurry shape of it, before looking back at the child. 

“You two shouldn’t leave your baby alone. A little one like this needs someone to take care of him,” she went on with a disapproving huff, and it was all you could do to stay standing upright from seeing a stranger cradle the child. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t sit well with you.

“May I...please have him?” you ask, holding your arms out and stepping closer. You feel like demanding she give you the baby, a panic ready to bubble in your throat that’s been lying in wait since the dogfight between the Mandalorian and the starfighter. But you can’t bring yourself to it. Your natural inclination has always been pacific, polite, and you don’t like the idea of making enemies.

“Oh...oh sure,” she says, quickly putting the child in your arms. The baby curls into you instinctively, pressing his face near your collar and fluttering his ears in happiness at your familiar scent. You drop down into one of the seats between two of the pit droids, winded and exhausted. The healing sheath keeps you from slumping in any way, but it also prevents the discomfort you felt before from returning. You hug the baby close, laying your cheek against the small wrinkled brow, and close your eyes against the prickle of tears forming under your lashes as relief washes over you.

“I’m Peli, by the way,” the woman says, stepping back to her seat and sounding suddenly unsure.

“Thank you, Peli,” you murmur, smiling when the child grabs a lock of your hair like an object of security. You open your eyes, pale and sightless as they are, and try to meet her own. You are often told you are always just a little off from holding eye contact, but you still try. “I didn’t want to leave him alone, but-”

“Nah, I get it,” Peli says quickly. If you didn’t know better, she seemed uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. “You didn’t look so great before…” She pauses, leaning forward urgently. “He didn’t do that to you, did he?”

You can’t keep the laugh from bursting from your mouth, and it takes you physically putting your hand over your lips to stop yourself, on the edge of exhausted hysteria. “N-No,” you finally say, swallowing hard. “No, he would never.” 

The words hold more truth than you intended, and you’re surprised by them yourself.

“Well, good.” She sits back, satisfied with this answer if put off by your outburst. She cocks her head to the side and says, “Fed him a little while ago. You hungry? You look pale.”

“Oh, I’m alright now,” you say, brushing your fingers over the child’s forehead. “Thank you.”

The truth was, you were spent. If you could lay down, in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t wake up for hours, but the time spent away from the child had unsettled you. Knowing he was alone, and then returning to find a stranger holding him sent a bolt through you that wouldn’t easily be shaken. Even if Peli was a good person, it leaves you feeling discomfited, and you aren’t sure that sensation would go away until the Mandalorian returns. Being at the mercy of others never felt good, but it was all you’d ever known. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to feel secure no matter where you are. You think the Mandalorian must know what that feels like.

You were also starved for interaction. As Peli went on to say you should at least try to drink some tea, snapping at one of the pit droids to fetch it, you realize that even if she just simply spoke to you, the presence of someone else felt nice, at least for a while. 

“You’re very kind,” you murmur, letting the child sit properly in your lap as you pick up the clay cup with a warm, floral note in the steam. You take careful sips, the soothing sensation relaxing your shoulders.

Peli hesitates. “Started working on your ship. Fixed the fuel leak, at least, but it’s got plenty more fixing to do.” You nod, listening attentively as you continue to sip. “I’m guessing he’s good for the money, since he’s got a couple mouths to feed.”

You set the cup down and nod. “He is. Where did he go? Did he say where he found work?”

“Well, he set off on a speeder bike with some young kid. Probably your age. They were making their way out towards the Dune Sea,” she pauses here, rubbing her chin. “He told me to tell you not to wait up.”

A smile curves your lips, thinking of the last time you’d tried and failed to wait up for him. Then, a small thought that he could be gone overnight occurs to you, and you frown, rubbing your arm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“What’s someone like you doing with someone like him?” 

The question is not what you were expecting, and the surprise must show on your face. You rest your hands on either side of the baby, furrowing your brow. “I’m...sorry?”

“I mean-” Peli’s frowning, now, you can hear it. She slaps her hands on her knees. “Bounty hunters aren’t really known for being friendly. When you two stepped off that ship, I thought he’d kidnapped you. You seem like such a nice girl.”

Your response is immediate. “And he’s a nice man.”

“You sure about that?” Peli challenges, and your hackles go up. Your social capacity is quickly filling as your energy wanes, and you wish once again that you hadn’t gotten hurt in such a stupid way. It isn’t as if you ran for miles or got stabbed. Maker, you fell over. “Look, I didn’t mean to step on your toes,” she says when you’re silent for too long. “I’m just...surprised, is all.”

“I was a slave,” you say quietly, feeling your heart quicken to utter the words out loud. You had gone for so long without saying it that it felt like a sacrilege. “To a man on a planet closer to the rim. Before that, I was an indentured servant to an Imperial family, and-” You stop, feeling a tiny three fingered hand rest on your wrist. You look down to find the child staring up at you, his small mouth pursed in worry. You smile at him, lifting your other fingers to trace his ear. “-and the Mandalorian freed me, when he could have walked away. I don’t know why he did it, but it is the first kindness I have known in a long time.”

“That’s a fine thing to do,” Peli allows, her voice shrewd. “And you’ve never asked him why he did it?” 

“I assume he needed someone to take care of this sweet thing,” you say, tracing the shape of the baby’s ear and smiling wider when he sighs against your hand. “That’s what has made the most sense to me.”

“Well, you seem to be doing right by the little one. Just don’t let that bucket head leave him alone anymore,” Peli adds, standing up and stretching her back. You smile good-naturedly and nod, standing up yourself. 

“I think I’m going to rest. If he comes back, will...will you tell him that I’d like to see him?”

Peli pauses, hesitating at your turn of phrase.

You snort and wave your hand. “You know what I mean,” you say, walking off towards the Razor Crest.

“Right! Sure!” she calls, sounding anything but.

You climb aboard the ship, managing to make it up the ladder and shuffle into the cockpit with the baby in your arms. It takes you longer than normal to get him to relax, even once you’ve tried to tuck him in. Perhaps he’s still keyed up from all the excitement of the day, from meeting new people? You sigh, kneeling by the co-pilot chair that holds his cradle, and you begin stroking his ear. When his movements slow, a little smile curves your lips, and you start to hum. It isn’t any particular song-you don’t know many-but the combination of gentle touches and a soothing voice has his big, blinking eyes slowly drooping. Soon, the only sound in the cockpit is the soft snores coming from his tiny nose and mouth, and you step out into the passageway once you’re sure he won’t wake up.

The pain in your side has all but disappeared, only a faint tugging sensation when you move too quickly. You consider going back down into the hull to sleep in the bunk, but the thin padding of the cot providing no support doesn’t inspire your enthusiasm. Perhaps you could use your next bit of earnings to invest in better sleeping arrangements.

An idea strikes you, then, remembering when the Mandalorian crossed into the room across from the cockpit to dig out the cloak you’d borrowed on Quanera. Perhaps you can find something else to pad the cot with.

It takes you a few moments to find the door’s access panel, but when you open it and step inside, you’re hit with icy air. It’s completely dark, and you frown gently as you walk forward. The room itself is small, which is unsurprising for such a ship as the Razor Crest, but what does surprise you is when your legs bump into a short ledge. You nearly fall face first forward and catch yourself with your hands, landing on something...very soft.

A bed.

A real bed.

The sheets are tucked in military fashion without a wrinkle, a thick woolen blanket folded at the end. There’s one pillow, plump and firm, without any indentation. You realize you’re in the Mandalorian’s quarters and shoot up straight, biting your lip. 

Considering your own bunk, you trail your fingers over the soft sheets and sigh with longing.

You shouldn’t. You should really sleep in your own bed where he told you to stay on your first day aboard-or even moreso, in the cockpit with the child. Even though the air is frigid in this room, you have the sterile heating cloths and the softness beneath your fingers is more tempting to your body than any sin you could have committed.

Mesh’la, he called you, and you don’t know what it means, but the memory makes your heart ache. It’s a decision in itself.

It takes only a small bit of fumbling with your dress to pull it over your head, and you lay it across the foot of the bed, slipping your boots off quickly after. You’re left in a thin tunic and your underclothes, the healing sheath still hugging you around your middle. By the time you climb beneath the sheets and pull the blanket around you, the cold air has chilled you through, but the heating cloths on your back and side warm you up. You sigh in relief, allowing your body to sink into the cushioned mattress, and your head falls back onto the pillow. You’ve left the door open for a bit of light, and to make it easier for the child to find you, but it doesn’t truly chase away the scent lingering under your nose.

Forest and skin and soap, you think, having smelled it so many times passing by his beskar. It’s faint, though, and you wonder when the last time it was he allowed himself this bit of comfort. The room felt uninhabited. You knew for a fact he often slept in the pilot’s chair, near the child, and as your eyes begin to fall shut, you promise yourself to make sure he sleeps in it from now on.

-

Mesh’la - Mando’a for “beautiful”

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