#since apparently??? the og trio didn't do a good job?? even though they're all about family????

[wreathedinscales]

Ren wakes violently, lightsaber flying to his hand, fist clenched around the worn blanket falling over his lap.

"Easy," a faceless helmet tells him. It's shiny like the rest of the stranger, polished despite its scuffed age. The room is like them: worn and serviceable.

"Who are you?" Ren snaps. His periphery tells him little else: seems like a bunk, a ship's bunk. They're not flying, though. He'd feel that, even disoriented as he is. "Tell me!"

The helmet tilts slightly to him. "If it weren't for me, you'd be dead."

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

One of the stranger's raised hands points to the wall. "Blizzard set in not too long after I brought you here. Would you like to check?"

Ren grits his teeth, saber hissing in response. "Who are you?"

"I'm a Mandalorian. Just passing through." They nod to him. "Put your laser away and we can talk."

Laser? "Are you an idiot?"

Cautiously, the Mandalorian lowers their hands and side-steps their way to what passes as a wardrobe for this tiny room. They bring out a medkit.

"I know you're." They gesture. "One of those. My armor can block it."

Ren surges to his feet and nearly collapses.

The stranger...doesn't let him fall.

"I said easy," they say, making no move to kick the now dull lightsaber away. "You're wounded."

"I can have your ship destroyed with a snap of my fingers," Ren snarls, clawing ineffectively at their pauldrons.

"Sure, kid. Come on." With terrifying ease, Ren is deposited back on the cot. "Stay down. I need to check your bandages."

"I can," Ren nearly shouts, "I am Kylo Ren, and you will show me respect!"

The Mandalorian pauses halfway to him. Ren wants to grin, simmering in anticipation for when this mighty warrior backs away and pleads forgiveness.

They reply, "Are you...a local warlord or something?"

Ren. Can't remember the last time he wasn't angry. Right now, his shock is so powerful it blocks everything out. Just for a second, but it's enough to almost, almost, feel like a reprieve from his rage.

(He doesn't want to be angry. But he also does, so much he breathes with it.)

It comes back quickly. "What did you say?"

The Mandalorian carelessly sits near Ren's ankle and opens the medkit. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. Like I said, I'm just passing through. I don't know your planet's politics."

"I'm not a local," Ren spits, "I am Apprentice to the Supreme Leader of the First Order! You are nothing compared to—"

The Mandalorian presses on the gash in Ren's leg, containing his thrashing cries with their other hand.

"This might hurt," they say.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"Uh-huh. Hold still."

()

The Mandalorian is not afraid of him.

It's not out of defiance, a front that so many of the Resistance put up. They genuinely don't know or care who Ren is. They'd seen someone they thought needed help (which he hadn't) and acted.

Ren refuses to believe he's bothered by it beyond the obvious. He will make the Mandalorian remember him.

He just has to get off this ship first. His commlink is gone, but the idiot hasn't taken his lightsaber out of the room. He very much doubts the armor can actually block a Sith's blade.

()

Except that it can. Very effectively.

"You done?" the Mandalorian says flatly, as if Ren is something stuck to his shoe.

It's very satisfying to watch him choke. Until a fibercord yanks Ren's lightsaber right from his hand, making him lose focus.

The helmet is suddenly in Ren's face. Ren hates his reflection. He looks like a scolded child. He tries fixing it, but he finds his snarl does nothing.

"Listen, kid," the Mandalorian says.

"Kylo Ren!"

"Kylo Ren. Even if you can walk on that leg, you'll be going to your death out there." The Mandalorian shoves off. "I won't let that happen."

The shock crashes back. Ren doesn't want to think about how dumb he must look.

"You...don't want to kill me."

The Mandalorian shrugs. "I have no quarrel with you. Though if you keep swinging your laser sword around, we might have a problem."

"It's called a lightsaber."

"Fine, lightsaber. You don't use it on me, I'll finish taking care of you and we'll go our separate ways."

Kylo Ren sneers. "What a good Samaritan you are."

The Mandalorian sighs. "Anyone ever tell you what a brat you are? Where are your parents?"

"What did you just say?" he roars.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry." It sounds. Genuine? "You said you're an apprentice, right? What about your master, are they around?"

Ren leans forward. "I can take care of myself."

He calls to his saber, already picturing that fucking helmet rolling on the floor.

The Mandalorian holds on. His hand doesn't shake from resisting Ren's power.

"Sorry, Ren." That one's not genuine. "I have experience with your kind."

"Not with me."

Another, louder sigh.

Ren's saber is taken apart, crystal neatly extracted and freely allowed to answer Ren. He feels the blood drain from his face.

"I can't let you kill me," the Mandalorian says, "I've got my own kid to think of."

Ren white-knuckles his screaming kyber. "Then where are they?"

"I'm on my way back to him. I was about to send a message when you woke up. He'll understand."

Of course they assume that. Children are expected to just allow their parents to put them off.

The Mandalorian sets the saber parts in the tiny wardrobe with surprising gentleness. They put a secure lock in place and nod to themselves.

"I'll contact him now. You can borrow mine if you want, after. I'm sure your master must be worried."

Ren clenches his teeth. "Stop pretending you know nothing about me!"

"I'm not pretending."

"My Master is the Supreme Leader!"

The Mandalorian puts his hands on his hips. "I don't have anything to gain from lying to you. I don't know what this 'Supreme Leader' is, or a 'First Order.' I've never met you in my life. What I do know is that I'm going to be late to see my son." He takes a threatening step forward. "And if you aggravate that injury, I don't care what your Master thinks. I'm taking off as soon as this storm passes whether you're on board or not."

"I'd like to see you try," Ren hisses.

They stare each other down.

The Mandalorian's hip beeps. They retrieve their comm as they leave, the door closing on their affectionate "Hey, kid."

Two simple words. They echo painfully in Ren's head, until it's not the Mandalorian's voice at all, but a teasing drawl bouncing off a rust-bucket.

Hey, kid. Hand me that wrench, would you?