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perfinn · 24 days ago

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the tree remembers

din djarin x oc

wc: 4.1k

summary: din djarin takes a what seems to be a safe bounty on ferrix, and finds himself accidentally entangled with a woman stubbornly tagging along to help him.

cw: slight violence but nothing extreme, din gets a lil horny ✊😔, otherwise rlly nothing

read on ao3, banner by saradika

Din Djarin takes easier jobs now.

Maybe easier isn't quite the right word, but he needs to be choosier now. With a child in tow – his son. He rather likes being able to call Grogu his son – there's the issue of safety. Much as Din is sure the child would like to deny it, Grogu is vulnerable. So he takes care in choosing which pucks he takes.

Ferrix is a quiet place these days. The Empire was quite soundly ousted from the planet after it fell, and the residents are far too stubborn to let them occupy any space there again. It’s perfect, really, especially toting around his valuable-to-the-Empire son. He can’t blame his quarry for thinking it's a good place to hide. Quiet, unassuming, easy to blend into a crowd. Not the prettiest planet in the galaxy, sure, but it’s a smarter choice than some. Not nearly smart enough to outmanoeuvre Din, though. Few are.

“Get a good look at it,” Din says as he adjusts the beskar-mail under Grogu’s robe. The puck, lit up with the image of their quarry, is held precariously in Grogu’s claws. Grogu coos at it, clearly studying it very intently. “Shout if you spot her.”

Grogu looks up at Din and blinks those big eyes, looking very serious as he babbles at his father. Behind his helmet, Din smiles to himself and takes the puck back to tuck it away. He gently places his hand on Grogu’s head, the most affectionate gesture he can muster as he mentally places himself into a hunting mindset. The puck said that she wasn’t a violent quarry, nor was she known to be armed. But the information the guild has isn’t always sound, and he’d been almost caught unawares by violent bounties that Karga had failed to disclose. (Almost. That he was standing here living and breathing was proof enough, he supposed, that he’d never been caught unawares. Discounting the many times he’d been caught unawares.)

That margin of error is reason enough to make Din worry.

“You know what to do if there’s danger,” he says sternly. He makes certain the pram is connected to his vambrace before turning and making his way out of the Crest.

Ferrix is cold and dry according to the display in Din’s helmet, not that he can much feel it. He makes no attempts at conversation as he pays the parking toll (frighteningly low, lower than he’s probably seen in months) and the young man behind the counter seems content with that, his attention captured instead by whatever’s playing on a screen he has propped up against a radio. Din glances at it for a moment, wondering if all customer service is this detached and impersonal on Ferrix. He hopes so.

Din moves on before the young clerk can glance at him again, practised eyes scanning the streets. It's a quaint, industrial sort of place, built of brick and mortar covered in creeping vines and carved stone. The ground is gravelly, the colour of clay, and it crunches softly under Din’s boots. Should he need the element of surprise, he supposes he’ll have to be more careful than simply sneaking up on someone.

There are some planets where Din can go up to someone, ask about his quarry, and be directed to someone who fits the description. And that would be it. Ferrix doesn’t strike him as that kind of place, if the way no one seems to want to look at him is any indicator. Din is used to being given a wide berth, so he’s not feeling particularly bothered about it. If anything, he prefers it. Doesn't make his life any easier, though.

He makes his way into what looks like a tavern and orders soup for Grogu, taking a seat in the corner and leaning back to watch. Grogu coos as the soup is served to him, climbing forward to sip at it. “Be careful,” Din warns quietly, met with indignant gurgling from his son.

The place is lively as sundown nears, most everyone seems friendly with one another but keen enough to avoid the obvious intruder in the corner. Din observes silently, eyes catching a woman sitting at the bar, dark hair pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail as she laughs over a drink. She reaches across the bar, snagging a bottle of something and refilling her glass. The bartender, seeming familiar with her, scolds her and Din hears him say he’ll add the whole bottle to her tab. As she’s complaining, Din must tilt his head just so that the light glints off his visor and alerts the woman to his presence. She looks at him, and somehow manages to lock eyes with him on the first try– most don’t manage it. Her smiling face immediately drops into a scowl Din could almost describe as hateful. He’s been carefully ignored and skirted around until now, no one has outwardly shown disdain for him. Part of him wonders why she stands apart, but most of him knows he doesn’t have the time to ponder on it. There are more important things at hand.

He glances down to check on Grogu, and when he looks up again the woman has gone. Grogu has evidently grown bored now his soup bowl is empty, the child climbing up onto the table and waddling over to Din with the intent to climb up onto him. Din helps him into his lap with a soft huff. “You’re a terrible bounty hunter, kid,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I’ll stay in one place for hours, you know.”

“Patu!” spits Grogu, giving voice to his dissent at the very idea.

“You’ll learn,” Din says, sighing almost imperceptibly and standing up with Grogu easily nestled in the bend of his elbow. His quarry looks to be smart enough to lay low, so he won't find her in here. At least the kid’s been fed. He drops a couple credits on the table as a tip for the wonderful service of being left alone before heading for the exit into the waning sunlight.

The twilight makes the planet seem ever colder, so he turns and sets Grogu in the pram, making certain he’s nestled in the blankets. He worries sometimes that the tips of his ears will get cold. He smiles to himself, gently rubbing Grogu’s ear before brushing his gloved hand over his head and standing upright.

His helmet alerts him to something in the shadows. A heat signature in the corner of his vision. Din tips his head just enough to get a better look at the shape of it, waiting patiently for an analysis. Humanoid, female, leaning up against an alley wall with something very hot held to her lips. A smoke of some kind. Din curls his lip. (He’s spent much of his life making expressive faces with no consequence.) The last thing he wants is Grogu inhaling the smoke, so he makes certain to head the opposite direction from the figure and into the adjacent alleyway.

As he goes, though, he hears the crunching of footsteps on the gravel behind him. He pauses, lowering his head and turning it just slightly. The crunching stops. Before he can turn all the way around, a weight has landed heavily on his back. To his credit, he’s solid as a rock and doesn’t stumble forward with the new weight, but it does take him by surprise– especially when a lean arm wraps around his throat. He can’t imagine he’s a comfortable ride with the jetpack digging into his attacker. He’s quick to grab who he assumes is the woman who’d been smoking by the arm, trying to tug her free. She’s stronger than he expected, and when he tries to throw her off she only wraps her legs around his torso.

What exactly is her goal here? She has no leverage this way, and despite her strong grip she’s not heavier than Din and his twenty pounds of armour. And Din can’t decipher why she’s doing this at all– is she stupid? He’s almost amused by it until she grasps the bottom of the helmet with her free hand. Before she can gain and purchase and lift it, he turns and slams his back into the wall. A grunt of breath rushes out of her and her grip on him falters as she sucks in a strangled gasp for air. Din grabs her arm then, hauling her forward as her legs loosen, throwing her over his shoulder and onto the ground. She’s got just enough breath to land her feet on the ground, straining as she grapples to be freed from Din’s grip. She finds her footing before Din can drag her to the ground, crying out as she thrusts a punch toward his throat. Din lurches up. She misses, her knuckles clipping the edge of his breastplate.

The woman gasps, drawing her hand back. “Fuck!” she cries, a startled yelp escaping her next when Din kicks at her shins and brings her tumbling down to the ground. Din goes with her, placing all of his weight on top of her to pin her down. She wriggles beneath him, apparently unwilling to give up even in the face of obvious defeat.

“What is your problem?” Din growls, and it comes out more threatening that he intends it to through the gritty vocoder of his helmet.

The woman beneath him, he now sees, is the one from the bar. The one who had glowered at him like he’d committed some kind of faux pas simply by daring to be there. He wonders, briefly, if she has some vendetta against him he doesn’t know about, or against people wearing armour like his. He supposes it wouldn’t be the first time. But few are so stupid as to physically attack him. Most would just use a blaster– which, now he’s looking her over, he can see she has tucked into the inside of her jacket. What kind of idiot–

“Get off me!” She growls back, trying to shove him off of her. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“What?”

She pauses in her squirming, finally going still beneath him. She looks up at him, dark eyes blown wide in the dusklight and brows knitted tightly together. (A combination of the pain of punching beskar and confusion, Din imagines.) Din’s a touch ashamed to say that the sight of her like that does something to him– he puts it down to not getting any for a while and promptly ignores his cock stirring.

“You-” she grunts softly, apparently still short of breath from being knocked on her back twice. “You’re a bounty hunter. Mandalorians are bounty hunters.”

Din bristles. “We’re not all bounty hunters,” he says. “I am. But not all. You thought I was here for you?”

The woman shifts again, now awkwardly. “I…” She shifts her gaze, looking at the bricks of the alley wall. She seems now acutely aware of the position she’s put herself in by making such an assumption and choosing – for some inconceivable reason – to fight her would-be captor instead of escaping.

Din stays still for a moment, deathly still. “I’m here for an Utai,” he tells her, leaning closer so there’s less than an inch between his helmet and her nose. She tries to shrink away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. “Should I be here for you? Hm? Are you worth more than she is?”

He hears her breath hitch in her throat and yet again her eyes somehow manage to find his. Like she’s looking right at him and not at a menacing helmet. It’s kind of eerie, actually.

“There might not actually be a bounty out for me,” she blurts out in one hurried breath, erratic. “I just assumed.”

Din grunts. “Who did you piss off?”

She hesitates to answer, shifting the best she can beneath him. She glances off, answering half the question for him. Someone powerful. Someone rich. Din could do rich, but he’s not certain he’s safe to bring Grogu around someone powerful.

“The Empire,” she murmurs.

Dank farrik.

Apparently listening to the conversation, Grogu gurgles with discontent. Din shifts his head to look at his son, currently trying to climb out of his pram. “Stay there,” he says sternly, only met with protests from Grogu. “Grogu.”

The woman beneath him looks over, then back up at Din. “You seriously bring your kid with you on bounty hunts?”

“You know of many babysitters willing to be carted around the galaxy?” Din says back, grunting and moving to get off the woman. If she is wanted by the Empire, that has to be none of his business. No matter how sweet the bounty, that’s the deepest line he has to draw in the sand. He stands, offering out a hand to her. She hesitates to take it, but she still looks to be regaining her breath so she relents, clasping his arm and letting him tug her to her feet.

“I suppose not,” she says slowly, releasing him and taking a wary step back. Oh, now she hesitates? “You’re not… going to turn me in?”

Din moves over to Grogu, firmly placing him back in the pram. “No. I don’t need any trouble with the Empire.”

Grogu coos up at him, little face contorted in anger. Din knows he’s come to associate that word with pain and fear. He hates that that’s his fault. But he’ll never experience that again, not as long as Din lives. He gently rubs Grogu’s ear to reassure him, not needing words to comfort his son.

“Usually when I mention the Empire people tell me I’m crazy,” the woman goes on, lifting her knuckles up to look at the damage. Din looks over his shoulder at her.

“Those people are crazy.”

She snorts.

“But you’re also crazy. Just for different reasons.”

The woman huffs a laugh then, flexing her fingers. She’s quiet for a moment, rubbing at the quickling purpling skin of her knuckle. She must have burst a blood vessel nicking the beskar. Din almost feels bad– after all, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually aim for his chestplate, she just missed.

“Why is there a bounty on that Utai?”

Din recognises the tone of voice. That's the ‘I know something that could help you, but I’m holding it back out of moral obligation’ tone. He looks her over, helmet making a better assessment of her now. She has the blaster, obviously, but he thinks she has a blade somewhere too. Her boot, probably. He looks her in the eyes. “Worried family.”

The woman quietly assesses him for another moment. “Black sheep?” she asks.

Din nods sharply.

“Mm,” she hums. “Well, I know where she is.”

She doesn't say more, and neither does Din. The two are locked in a silent standoff. The sun is all but gone now, leaving them in the distant lamplight. Din figures he knows what she wants. Credits, a cut, he's heard it all before. He’ll give her enough to get the information out of her, but she’s dreaming if she thinks she's getting a cut of the reward.

“I want to help you,” she says. Din has the decency to be startled then, but he doesn't show it. “She deserves to know her family is worried about her.”

That’s… oddly sentimental. Din can see that something personal is driving her here, but he’s not going to ask. “Have you spoken with her? Is she violent?”

“Yes, I have,” she says. “And no, she isn't. Just… troubled. I think if you bring me with she’ll come quietly.”

Din stares at her with a furrowed brow, considering her offer. It’s no secret that Din is an imposing figure, he tends to make people run or fight on instinct. Fight, in this woman’s case. In the past, Din might have denied her, taken the information she had, and left. But he supposes these days, he could benefit from a violence-free job. He glances down at Grogu, who tilts his head up at him. “Fine,” he says after a moment. “Lead the way. If I suspect anything is wrong I won’t hesitate.”

The woman nods, giving him a mock salute. “I’m Lucia, by the way,” she says.

Din lifts his head to look at her. Lucia. It’s a nice name, he thinks. Suits her. He doesn’t say anything in response, and if she expects to hear his name in response she doesn’t push him for it. Din appreciates that.

She turns then, making her way out of the alley. She leads the three of them down the road to what must be a hostel of some kind, ducking inside. She glances back at him as they approach a door, gently gesturing for him to stay back. Din obeys, making sure Grogu is firmly behind him.

Lucia knocks on the door and not a moment later is it being opened by the very woman Din had carefully studied on the puck. She almost has to crane her neck to look up at Lucia, blinking her protruding eyes at her. She looks at Din next, and notably straightens up.

“Kaylac, right?” Lucia says, voice low and gentle. “We spoke at the tavern a few days ago.”

Kaylac looks about ready to slam the door on them, but she appears to think better of it. She speaks in her croaky voice, Basic a bit stunted by her differently shaped tongue, Din supposes. “I remember,” she says.

“You told me about your family,” Lucia continues. “About how you don’t think they understand you.”

“I said I remember,” Kaylac says, sharper this time. Din knows he’s the reason she’s on edge. He’d make himself less imposing if he could, but he’s just standing here. Not trying to intimidate her. “What is this about?”

Lucia shifts, undeterred. “Well maybe they don’t understand, but they are worried about you. They put out a call to come find you.”

A call is an awfully nice way to say bounty, but sure.

“Mando here took the job, and he’s gonna take you home if you’re willing.”

“Willingness isn’t a factor,” Din interrupts. Lucia whips her head around, shooting him a venomous look. He almost startles at the sudden change in demeanour. She really has perfected the mean-mug. He adds, guiltily, “I… have orders not to harm you unless it's in self defence. I mean to follow them.”

Kaylac looks between the both of them. “I’m not going with him–”

“Kaylac,” Lucia interrupts. “I know the idea of going back to your family is daunting. I know. But they’re never going to understand you if you don’t let them try. Look how much they love you, Kaylac, they sent out a plea to the galaxy to find you and bring you home. Let Mando take you home to them. I know that if you do, things will change.”

It’s hard to read the expressions on Kaylac’s face, but Din supposes she feels moved. He thinks he probably would as well if he’d been given a similar speech. After a moment she nods her head. “I guess it’s worth seeing,” she says quietly.

Behind Din, Grogu coos happily, apparently pleased with the outcome.

Lucia smiles brightly, gently patting her shoulder. “Good,” she says. “I hope it goes well for you, Kaylac.”

With Lucia’s help, Kaylac goes without trouble. She hesitates when presented with the carbonite freezer, but somehow Lucia manages to assure her that it’s not so bad. And she goes in without trouble, leaving Din, Lucia, and Grogu alone in the hold of the Crest.

Lucia turns to Din, hands on her hips as she sighs. Din contemplates her words to assure Kaylac.

“It’s really not so bad. Like when you take a nap, but you never really felt asleep, you know?”

It’s too specific to be second hand knowledge. She’s been in carbonite before, and seemingly come out of it fine. She didn’t mention hibernation sickness to Kaylac, though. A kindness, Din supposes. A kindness she didn’t have to give, an omission to reassure the nervous quarry. Many wouldn’t have done the same.

“Well, I think you owe me a drink,” she says.

“A drink,” Din echoes. “What for?”

“For helping,” she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “She came willingly, without violence. Sometimes that deserves to be celebrated.”

Din holds back a sigh. He suspects she’s not the type to give up, so maybe it's easier for everyone if he just relents. “Right. Fine, if you insist.”

“I do,” she says with a smile. It's a nice look on her. She's… nice looking. Which isn't the most eloquent way of putting it, he knows, but it's true. She's sort of rugged, unrefined, but undeniably pretty. He doesn't get a lot of downtime to stare at pretty women. Maybe this is excuse enough. She’ll be good enough imagination material for late nights in his bunk. Hell, he's imagining it now.

“It's a nice ship you’ve got,” says Lucia as she begins to make her way out. Din follows, Grogu floating along beside him. “Looks like she's seen better days, but.”

Din follows her gaze up to the patch job that is the Crest now. “She has,” he says. “One shot from an Imperial light cruiser and…”

It's hard to miss the disgust on Lucia’s face at the very mention. “Say no more,” she says. “Amazed she survived at all.”

“It's a salvage job. I keep meaning to fix her properly, but I can never seem to find the time.”

Her eyes crinkle with an understanding smile. “Come on,” she says, jerking her head toward the city.

It's a short walk back into the tavern, which is still open but has long gone quiet, only who Din assumes to be the heavy drinkers still scattered about the bar. Lucia heads up to the bar, getting herself a glass of spotchka before glancing back at Din.

“He’s paying,” she says with a grin. She sips the drink, sitting down at a worn down table once Din has paid for her drink. “I can't imagine there's much time for ship maintenance with a kid around.”

Grogu climbs out of his pram and onto the table, babbling and waddling over to Din. He must be tired, Din thinks. He lifts him gently, settling him in his arms. “No,” he tells Lucia, glancing up to see Lucia smiling at his son. “He's… a handful.”

“I can imagine,” she says. “Sounds like you need an extra pair of hands.”

Din’s quiet for a few moments. “I manage.”

He could, though, even if it's hard to admit. Being a father and bounty hunting is more work than he anticipated.

He doesn't really know Lucia. Doesn't know that he can trust her. But she’s kind. Clearly hates the empire as much as he does. She has a way with people, a way that draws them to her. It's certainly worked on Din– why else has he sat here and listened to her at all when he probably should have just ignored her after she stopped being useful?

“Why did you help me?” he asks.

Lucia taps her finger against her glass a few times, pursing her lips. “I’d spoken to Kaylac,” she said quietly. “She told me about her family, about how she didn't feel like they ever tried to understand her. When I found out they were looking for her, I…” She looks away, out the window at the darkened sky. “My own family didn't really understand me. And I didn't get a chance to fix things with them before…” She stops, swallows, and looks back at Din. “This galaxy tears families apart. If I could help you make just one whole again, isn't that worth something?”

A moment of silence stretches between them as Din considers her words. The silence is broken by Grogu yawning, the child clearly trying his hardest to stay awake. This quarry had been safe, but they won’t all be that way. As much as Din likes to believe he can, he won't always be able to protect his son. An extra pair of hands… it doesn't seem like such a terrible idea.

If it goes sideways and she hurts Grogu in any way, Din’s not afraid to make her pay.

“The pay wouldn't be anything big,” says Din. “It won't be glamorous.”

Lucia lights up with that pretty pretty smile again and Grogu coos softly, almost affectionately. Din doesn't blame him.

“Alright,” says Lucia. “Brilliant. Well, glad to be working with you, boss.”

“Mando is fine,” he says. “Don’t get comfortable. If anything goes wrong, it’s your neck.”

Lucia only continues to smile, offering a salute– not to Din, he realises, but to Grogu, who giggles tiredly. Din can’t help but smile to himself. He supposes there are worse people he could blindly trust with his son.

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