An Unexpected Journey

by AllTheWayMae

The child managed to wrangle himself a caretaker before winding up on a forsaken desert planet, and she's all in. Not that there's much choice now. Once The Mandalorian shows up, they're all bound for a journey they hadn't counted on and don't fully understand. Thankfully, first impressions never seem to stick. ((Slow burn))

20. Chapter's End

Boop. And there's two chapters in one night as promised. Enjoy :)

Chapter 20: Chapter's End

...

"Mama, what are you doing?"

But the kitchen was small. Hanna could see precisely what her mom was doing. Standing at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables as if she hadn't been on her feet all day. As if she wasn't supposed to be resting.

Hanna didn't receive an answer, and she wasn't surprised.

Adelia was far from pleased with her, and they had argued more in the past few days than they had in ...well, a long while. They were so often on the same page - working together. But now Hanna had gone against her mother. It was unprecedented and bold of her. Defiant, even.

"I told you I would be right back down ...go sit," Hanna moved through the room to usher her mom aside.

To the table, at least. If she was lucky, the woman would go to the sitting room to properly relax.

"Oh? I can't even cook in my own home?" the woman stayed right where she was, turning narrowed eyes upon Hanna.

Again: not surprising. Her mom wasn't better, but she was hurt.

Earlier there had been tears; now there was actual anger.

"You're tired," she insisted. "You should rest."

Adelia was always tired these days. Even when she didn't work all day, her energy was lacking. When she did work, Hanna sometimes had to help her down the hall to get to bed and had brought her dinner there more than once in the past weeks alone.

"I'll do as I please," her mom shooed her off.

Hanna caught one of her work-weathered hands in her own. Squeezed it.

"Mom please. You're worn out."

Indeed. Her mother's dark, straight hair fell limp around her face. There were bags under her eyes that were emphasized by skin a hue paler than normal.

Adelia Imbar wasn't alright.

She was proud, though.

"I'll make you dinner if I want," she pulled her hand away and waved Hanna of once again, demanding she sit and mind her own business.

So Hanna did. She sat at the table, still close by so she could keep an eye out.

"You're breaking all of the rules, baby," her mother spoke after lengthy pause.

Hanna sighed. She had not broken a single rule regarding indentured servitude; she had done some research, in fact. But she knew that wasn't what her mom meant, so she let the older woman go on with full knowledge that nothing could be done to change the tide of this.

"I'm your mother. Children don't do this. It's my job to take care of you..."

Hanna wanted to point out she wasn't a child and so no longer needed to be provided for, but she opted not to start that fight.

"You finished school. You are happy. You're supposed to be happy and free and go live your life," she went on, still facing away towards the counter but speaking with a choked voice. "Now you messed it all up like some silly girl. You're not a silly girl."

Silly? Hardly. She'd thought long and hard.

"Go live my life?"

"Yes," Adelia emphasized with a unnecessarily harsh chop against the cutting board .

"How can I do that?" Hanna had already decided her answer to that. "How do I go live my life and be happy when you're falling apart for that damn contract? Every week you're more and more tired ...do you want to fall down dead in that overheated factory?"

Because contracted servants didn't get leeway. Didn't get sick time or empathy when they were hurt or unwell. No. Avik Tan, her boss, hadn't cared when Adelia got sick. He hardly knew her name. However, he had jumped at the chance for Hannah - younger and fitter - to take her place and put herself in his debt instead. Profit before all.

"It's not right to go behind my back," Adelia didn't touch the fact that, no, she had not been doing well.

"...I've already signed the contract," Hanna's reminder was soft but factual. "You can be bad but it doesn't change things. You never have to go back there."

Her mom's slim shoulders slumped, and her sigh was slow.

"This wasn't the plan, Hanna..."

Yeah. They'd had a lot of plans over the years. Had talked about trips they both knew they wouldn't be able to take. Had read books and imagined the many worlds they would like to see. Adelia remembered places she'd enjoyed traveling to when she was younger and had been gracious enough to fill Hanna's head with stories.

But they always needed to return to real life.

Hanna had known their reality a long time, now. She was young, not naive.

"I know," Hanna signed, too, and she rose to go stand with her mom. Not to take over, this time, but to just be with her. "But you've bent over backward for us long enough. Let me give you this..."

...

.

Hanna sighs and stills her hands on her latest weaving project.

She has been ruminating on this memory a lot. Her surety verses her mother's wishes.

Of course ...Hanna's plans had not panned-out either, had they? Her mom had started doing better, and that had been delightful. Worth it. Then Hanna had been sold-off to Baevis and made to uproot for Castillion - a move her mom couldn't afford to make even if the relocation had been practical.

Being alone hadn't been the plan ...

.

And now here she is.

.

Her attention is drawn from her musing by a soft snuffle near her lap.

With a sigh, she pulls back the edge of the sling to peer down at the kid. As soon as light filters in, he snaps his eyes shut.

Like he think's he's sly.

"You're not tricking me, buddy," she smirks and pulls the canvas open further.

Not only is his wide gaze a hard one to hide, but she has felt him puttering and heard him muttering nonsensically for the past half hour or so. She'd hoped the dark and quiet would lull him into some extra sleep, but clearly that was a pipe dream.

He probably thinks he's going to get chastised for not taking the lead.

On a normal day, he might be be correct.

But the past couple days haven't exactly been normal, and Hanna is afraid she might be the reason the kiddo is short on sleep. The teetering anxiety sitting in Hanna's gut like a heavy knot has rubbed off on him; she's sure of it.

So it's not his fault.

"Come on," she coaxes him out.

Slowly he stands and stretches his arms up for a proper cuddle.

Hanna cradles him against her chest, where he continues to squirm a little. He's not begging to be put on his feet right away, so she sways with him gently. She feels at a loss for the moment but is encouraged by the soft smile Omera sends her for her efforts. It's been nice getting some motherly advice and approval here in the village - it's reassuring and one of the many things here she's thankful for.

She stands to pace around and tries to think of fun, peaceful things to clear her mind and hopefully his, too. Remembers the contentment of watching him chase tadpoles. Sitting out front with Cara and the Mandalorian around a little bonfire. Of stargazing.

This cheers her up some; she has to hope the little guy feels it.

.

He doesn't nap, so she lets him find distraction.

He had shown interested when Winta invited him to play, and Hanna allowed it in hopes that the other children would raise his spirits. She'll deal with the inevitable crankiness later; that's a small price for him to enjoy himself a while.

So she continues her weaving practice while maintaining a cursory eye on the children.

"How long ago did you adopt him?" Omera catches her pausing to watch.

Hanna starts. Not because it's a bizarre question. It's natural, really, but no one has seemed concerned before now. She'd assumed the ask would never come.

"Oh...a little over a year now"

She wishes she could be more precise about it, for herself if not for Omera. But cycles aren't the same on every planet and, anyway, she hasn't kept a calendar on-hand. Still, it would be nice to celebrate anniversaries. Or would that be morbid in some way? They hadn't come together by happy circumstances, but...she is happy to have him. She should pick an anniversary.

"He's older than he looks, then..."

Hanna almost laughs out loud at that.

"A bit. Yeah."

Omera smiles. Nods along like she understands.

Sometimes Hanna forgets how strange their situation truly is.

Though maybe it's not funny...

.

She glances across several ponds towards the Mandalorian, where he is seated at an outdoor table in discussions with Felix and Nadette. About his travels, maybe. Or security after his coming departure. Plans.

Hanna has not insinuated herself into the making of them to know the details. Doesn't want to get emotional with him and the other two.

"He's going off planet, I hear," Omera has followed her line of sight.

"...yeah."

"For how long?"

Hanna's already played that game. Let herself dwell on that idea. He had not explicitly stated he would never be back, but he had implied enough. More than.

She squirms.

"You'd have to ask him"

She won't; Hanna is confident in that. Omera has had several curiosities when it coms to the Mandalorian - Din, though she know's she's not supposed to say it - but, like most, still finds him daunting. To date, questioning Hanna on the topic of him is as far as Omera has gone.

"...apologies."

Hanna's being rude.

She blames the ill-manners on the gnawing feeling in her gut. The one that has been there since she'd woke up a couple mornings previous. She had feared, then, that the Mandalorian would wake, pack up, and leave without further preparation.

Now...she wonders whether it would be easier if he had.

Knowing he is leaving but still seeing him hurts. The dissonance makes her nauseas.

"Don't be. I ...we just don't really agree," she explains as best she can.

"I see..."

Unlikely.

But maybe. Omera is something of a mystery, herself.

.

Hanna returns to her dutiful disregard of what the Mandalorian is talking about over there. She could obsess too easily. He has borrowed the rickety speeder for a trip to his ship already; what else does he want from them? Or do they want something from him before he leaves? What information might they have for him?

She is going to have to ask.

She knows that.

She always does.

She'll...

Omera clears her throat in an overzealous way, and it pulls Hanna's attention from her fingers, which she still needs to watch closely as they twine reeds. She glances up and watches the older woman tilt her head toward the ponds, deciphers that for what it is, and twists around expecting to see the kiddo returning.

She finds the Mandalorian marching their way instead. She wonders if maybe Omera thought she would want to slip away and sends her silent gratitude in a smile.

But she stays where she is.

"Where's the kid?" he asks when he comes to a stop and stands over them.

"Playing," she points off to the side of Omera's home.

A handful of children are hunkered down with sticks in their hands jabbing at the dirt. Drawing, maybe. More likely engaged in one of their little puzzle games. Their little guy doesn't understand those, but he does like sharing space and laughing with the others regardless.

"Hmmm..."

He shifts his weight and hooks his thumbs into his belt. It's a casual move. A familiar one, which carves something spiky into her chest.

"Hanna, do ...can I steal you?" he glances between her and Omera.

A petty part of her wants to tell him no. A more realistic portion of her brain figures that this is goodbye. Thinks maybe she should go get the baby...

"I'll take these home and go check on them," Omera offers to excuses herself before Hanna can stretch up to her feet.

She swipes up her work - which is much further along than Hanna's, but it's the effort that counts, okay? - and scampers off. Entirely ignores the Mandalorian's "wait" and Hanna's insistence that they'll go, that they don't want to be rude.

.

Once they're alone, it's much quieter. Too quiet. Hanna twists the weaving in her hand and thinks of how to break the silence. They haven't talked much since the morning they'd woken up in his cot. Speaking in hushed tones, him with his helmet already back in place.

That had been nice. A last bubble of normalcy before tension and anticipation took root.

"You're getting better," he squats down beside her and trails his fingers over the sack of the basket she's constructing.

She hasn't made a ton of headway, but the weave is tight as intended instead of fumbled with loose, uneven bumps.

"Yeah, I guess ..."

His hands pull back and he clasps them together again, resting his forearms on his knees. He breathes deep; she can hear it through his helmet.

Pauses.

Waits.

"Just say it," Hanna implores him.

"Hmm?"

"...are you leaving today?" she thought she had prepared herself, but saying it bubbles alarm in her chest.

The Mandalorian grunts softly and shifts on his haunches. Pauses again.

So Hanna continues, anxiety moving her lips..

"...because if you're going to go...you need to go." Maker, that's not what she wants but her insides have been squirming for too long. "I don't want you to - not without us. I'll miss you, but..." she blinks and dares a glance at him. "...you just lingering and...and waiting? It's not fair."

"Hanna... ..."

"It hurts," she stares back down at her hands to admit this. "Seeing you like it's normal ...but it's not normal."

For a bare moment it seems like he's not going to answer at all.

"Right?"

"I -"

.

He cuts himself off when a high-pitched sound shatters across the village.

.

Hanna knows the sound of blaster fire, but doesn't compute it right away. Can't reconcile what she knows to this quaint morning.

The Mandalorian, of course, has no such lag.

He's instantaneous

Instinct propels him.

So she finds herself pressed heavily into the grass before she even realizes that he's lurching forward. His body covers hers, and she grabs him on reflex without comprehending what she needs to hide from.

.

Realization slams home in the next second, and then adrenaline is only a breath behind.

The kids!

Her hands squeeze into the fabric covering his arms, and then she scrambles against him. Pushes at the stiff arms that have wrapped protectively around her head despite knowing damn well she can't move him. She twists her face to the side, trying to stare into the helmet tucked just beside her.

"We have to...we have to..."

Go!

Get the kid.

See if he's alright!

Kriff.

He ticks his chin and raises his head to look around, though he doesn't raise his weight and let her up. Not right away. Only when he sees no apparent threat does he shift back and rise to his feet, blaster unholstered in a smooth motion she barely spots.

Hanna shoves herself to her own feet in a much less fluid manner, but her clambering is just as effective. And then she darts away.

"Hanna!" he is after her in a flurry of movement but thankfully not to stop her as she expects.

They both dash between ponds and skirt farm equipment to reach the children, who merely look flummoxed. The Mandalorian does beat her there, but he scoops the kid up by the back of his robe only to shove him straight at Hanna. Her hands are shaking, but she accepts him greedily.

He's alright. He's in one piece, looking a little startled by the manhandling but ultimately pleased to see her. For a second she'd feared ...well, the worst. Funny how she always does that with him. She should have grey hairs by now.

.

Omera is already ushering the lot into her house. She's hushing them. Telling them it will be alright, to let things get sorted.

"Go home," the Mandalorian steps in Hanna's way so she can't follow after the other children to help. "Grab a weapon."

"Yeah..." she likes that idea. Wants the security of the gun.

'The things I do for you, kid...'

.

Once Hanna is back to the barn, she snatches a pistol from one of the boxes now stacked neatly near the foot of the Mandalorian's bed.

Next she marches to her own side of the barn, wraps the kid in a blanket, and shoves him under her cot. Pushes a couple bins and a bag in front of him in case he tries to crawl out, as he is so wont to do. He squeaks at her a few times, but Hanna pretends this doesn't faze her.

Then she eyes the room. She considers some of the tactical talk she's been a part of - or, more to the point, has listened in on - with Cara and the Mandalorian. What would they do?

That answer was simple: charge out into the woods to see what the kriff was going on.

Well. Out of the question.

Hanna posts up in the corner behind the door instead.

Then she listens.

Watches.

Waits.

.

She can't help but think of the last time she had hidden the kid like this. She'd closed him into his old bassinet and shoved him under a tarp amongst sandy, miscellaneous supplies. The same day she'd first met the Mandalorian. They'd kicked off this journey the moment he spared her life and killed the droid in that desert camp.

A couple months ago. If feels like longer. Like maybe she'd been a whole different person then. He'd been a whole different person.

Maybe.

To her, at least.

Kriff.

This isn't the time. Now is the time to focus.

Hanna tightens her grip on the blaster and leans in towards the wall to listen for commotion outside. She tries not to imagine what is out there, but can't help picturing more raiders coming back for revenge. Can't dispel the recollection of the haggard, half-dead Klatoonion who'd been reaching for the kid in the woods.

.

She's not sure how long she stands there, tense and primed for inevitable disaster. Minutes? Ages? Too long for her nerves.

.

She hears next to nothing right up until steps thud onto the porch. Then the door rattles, and she squares her shoulders.

"It's me," the Mandalorian's gloriously distinct voice announces itself before the door shakes a second time.

Hanna exhales deeply. Drops her hands. Tension leaks from the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

"Hanna?" something hits the door. Impatient.

She envisions it's the flat of his palm.

But she is being a bit rude. She shuffles forward to twist up the lock, and the door immediately swings open. The Mandalorian strides in. Sweeps his gaze through the barn.

"Where is he?" he demands.

Hanna nods to her bed, where the kid has managed to remain remarkably silent.

"I hid him."

He nods.

Pauses.

Then stomps to his corner and rips his privacy curtain from the careful rigging he's been using all this time.

"What..."

But he's paying her no mind. He's already snatching his cot so he can wrench it away from the wall hard enough that it slides across the slatted floor. Then he knocks over several stacked boxes and kicks them where they land as if he hadn't been the one to meticulously pile them there in the first place.

"Hey..." Hanna moves forward but then flinches away when he grabs the small table they've been using for weeks and weeks and throws it into the wall.

It splinters and he stares at the pieces, chest heaving. His hand clench and unclench. Like maybe it isn't decimated enough. Like he's going to grab up the chunks to snap them further.

"What's going on?" she approaches again.

She even reaches for his arm - which is either brave or stupid, she's not certain - but he rounds on her before she can.

"Okay! What?" Hanna yanks her hand away. Her heart had calmed when he'd first returned, but it's pounding again because it's hard to rattle him yet here he is. On edge. "What happened?"

"A hunter."

For a split second, she can't understand him. Thinks he's being melodramatic. Can't quite consolidate the idea of someone hunting in the woods causing such a colossal overreaction.

A. Hunter.

As in...

.

"Wait..." she clears the lump of fear out of her throat. "What?"

"You heard me. A hunter looking for the kid...and you," his shoulders are still heaving, but he has stopped trashing his corner in the name of conversation and that, at least, is an improvement.

"But..." unease slither's down Hanna's spine; her fingers go cold. "How can you...are you..."

She doesn't quite ask. She knows, deep down, that he must be definite. That he isn't prone to hysterics. That he looks for reasons and proof and -

"I'm sure. Cara found him with a sniper rifle and this," he digs a cracked, palm-able device from his belt and throws it at her feet.

Hanna recognizes it at once. Can't pull her eyes from it. She can practically hear the faint beeping that had stalked them through the streets of Nevarro.

"Maker," she breathes and forces her eyes away from the tracking fab to stare up at him again. "So...what does this mean? What now?"

"You know what now," his anger only simmers in his voice, but it's vibrating through his body language in tense waves. "Now we leave. Pack your things.

"I..."

"Unless you'd like to sit here and wait for the next one," he sneers.

Hanna glares across the scant space between them, suddenly wanting more distance. He doesn't get to do that.

"Don't get mad at me - I'm just catching up," she justifies herself. "I'm panicking, too, okay?"

"I'm not panicked," his answer is snappish and quick.

Too quick, maybe. Because the debris he's created in his swirl of outrage would wax a different story.

"Right..."

He stares back at her, his helmet blank but his gaze somehow hard. Finally, his shoulder do slump, the discussion perhaps bringing him back to himself.

"I'm not mad at you," his concession lowers Hanna's defenses, too. "I'm mad at me..."

"Myah..."

They both twist to watch the kid shimmy out from Hanna's bed. He's clearly freed himself of the speedy swaddle job, and he beams when he sees he has the attention of both adults. Even claps his teeny hands together to congratulate himself for gaining his freedom, like this whole ordeal had been a game.

"...they were this close to him," the icy dread won't leave Hanna's chest.

"...yes," the Mandalorian rasps. "And you."

It's not that Hanna doesn't know that or doesn't care about her own safety. It just always seems less pressing. Less real than the threat that hangs over the baby. Maybe that's a selflessness. Or maybe she just still thinks of herself as a nobody in this entire affair; can't believe what she is a part of.

So she just nods to his words and tries not to think of a sniper in the woods. Doesn't want to think of who the hunter had been taking aim at or wonder what would have happened if Cara hadn't happened upon it. Giving that more than a fleeting thought makes her want to vomit.

"...are you..."

"I'm okay," she promises, though it's a lie and he'll know it as such.

Well, she is okay. They all are- thank the Maker- but she's afraid. Still silently panicking, just like she'd said.

"You need to start packing," he states plainly and with less heat than before. "I was putting it off, but we have to get our things together and go. Today."

That ...makes perfect sense. They definitely need to do that. It's not safe for them here. It's not safe for the villagers, either.

.

She looks round to him and wants to say something. Feels she should acknowledge that she knows this wasn't his plan. To ask if he's more upset or relieved. Yet she finds herself at a loss. She wonders if she's nervous to hear his answer or if she merely remains stunned by how the day has turned.

"We'll be alright," he addresses whatever worry he sees in her face.

Hanna can't be sure how much he believes that, but he is placid again. More himself, if a little perfunctory, now that he's hastily compartmentalized whatever he needs to in order to keep moving. Like he's finding solace in the routine of making plans.

Which is good. Plans are good.

She seizes onto his procedural manner and tries to calm by it, too.

.

Silence permeates the barn as they begin to pack, the Mandalorian in his corner and Hanna at the opposite wall filtering through her belongings. The kid is quiet, too, while he stands in his crib and watches. The poor guy. They owe him some light-hearted days.

The kid deserves that.

She supposes they all do.

She's ...conflicted about what's happening. She has gotten what she wanted, after all, but it has come at a price she hadn't considered.

Hanna stares at the kid who's clutching one of the knit loth-cat dolls Millie had made for him. He's completely clueless, so far as she can tell, that they aren't safe.

Again.

Still.

She mourns for him, in a way.

"Hanna..."

Right. She should be moving. Packing with more urgency.

He still sounds calm, his tone even inviting, but Hanna doesn't look away from the kid until the Mandalorian has crossed the barn and drawn close. Until he strokes a gloved hand through her hair. Smooths along her neck to squeeze her shoulder.

"We'll be alright," he insists a second time.

Hanna nods up at him even though she's only half sure herself.

"I know ...I know, just ...he's not safe. He deserves to be," she glances down at his wide, blinking eyes and the way he spreads a toothy grin for them. "I don't know the last time he was safe for long. I want to give him that."

It scares her how much she wants that.

And maybe. Maybe she feels it for a second. That ensuring the kid's safety would've been worth the Mandalorian's plan. Worth him leaving even if. Well, even if it broke her heart a little. Because this kid could break her heart, too. If something happens to him...

"We will," Din promises. Answers the question she hadn't brought herself to ask

They will.

Makes sense. She's not sure she can do it alone.

She glances up at him again even though she knows her eyes are wet.

"Sounds good..."

Sounds scary as hell. But, yeah. It sounds right.

Hanna finally musters up a smile again and is only mildly discomfited that it squeezes a tear out of her eye. Din swipes it away before she reaches for it.

It's intimate. Even more so given the recent distance they've maintained. Also because she's tried to refrain from being that emotional in front of him. However, she likes the reassurance of it just now. She turns further toward him and cranes her neck up for a Mandoa-kiss.

That's what she's been calling it in her head ...what had he called it? It was a longer word, but it is one she should ask for again and memorize. Like how she recognizes ad'ika or elek or gev by now.

Regardless of precise terms, he grants the gesture. Leans in to meet her. The cool metal feels nice. Familiar. Safe.

.

"Well, well, well..." Cara arrives in the doorway and the kid squees in merriment. "Hey to you, kiddo ...I guess mommy and daddy are back on the same page now?"

"Mind your business," the Mandalorian straightens up to grouse.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Cara smirks. "No."

They are still ...whatever they are but Cara sounds about right. They're on the same page, it seems.

But the soldier doesn't dwell. She's come so that she and the Mandalorian can do a perimeter sweep. His last one. It's the least he can do, not to mention it's plain common sense.

"Keep the kid close?" he tilts his chin to Hanna.

"Of course"

He couldn't convince her otherwise if he tried. Not today.

Or ever, to be honest.

"And stay armed," he pats the small of her back where he wants her to put the gun and then trails out after Cara, who flashes her a thumbs up before they disappear.

.

By the looks of the Mandalorian's corner, he is essentially ready to go. He'd been half packed-up before and has shoved away whatever was left out. He's tidied his frenzied mess, as well.

Hanna is behind, but...she hadn't been entirely unpacked.

The day after his announcement, she had started clearing up her things. Had hunkered into stubbornness and resolved to leave with him no matter what he preferred. She had been at it a while, too. Right up until the kid had started twirling her bootlaces in a fit of boredom. That had brought her up short. Reminded her why the Mandalorian was doing this in the first place... ...

None of that matters now, of course.

Point is: she's partially packed even though she has gained a few extra belongings while living in the village.

.

As it turns out, the work is slow-going anyway.

Once everyone knew what the gunfire was about, word also got around that the trio would be leaving. Children flood in to protest the departure, specifically because they don't want to say goodbye to their littlest friend. Others come to say their farewells, too; some bring gifts. Hanna can't help but wonder if the Mandalorian had predicted the sentimentality and that is why he'd decided to bail with Cara.

But, no. Checking for safety was habitual. It's fitting that he wouldn't leave without doing so.

Still, the added attention makes packing a lot more tedious and a little more bittersweet. The adults come to say their piece and go, better understanding the choice that's been made. As Hanna won't let the baby out of her sight, the children linger, complaining and talking in hushes tones about how they will miss him. Some even bring little toys for him to take. A bouncing ball. Another little knitted animal - this one a frog because they say he'll miss the pond frogs and that if he chews on this one it won't be disgusting.

They're kind, both endearing and sad.

.

Some of the children fade away when the Mandalorian returns. It is the usual effect he has on crowds; truth be told, Hanna is grateful for it.

"Can't you stay?" Millie, no longer fearful, sticks around with her fists planted firm on her hips.

"No," the Mandalorian doesn't give.

As per usual, he also doesn't shoo her away. He's indulging her in his own way, just not catering.

"But why?"

"It's too dangerous"

"...I thought you said you're more dangerous."

He stares down at her a few protracted moments.

"...I also have work to do."

"What kind of work?" Millie perks up. "We could help."

"The work isn't on Sorgan," he ups the ante. "Are you ready for hyperspace?"

"... ...no. Space is big and it scares me," Millie's sigh is long and tortured.

The Mandalorian only nods, pleased to have won with simple reason.

"...are you going to be safe?" the girl plows on.

"I'm always safe"

Hanna has personally seen evidence to the contrary, but she doesn't comment. She loops the kids sling over her shoulders and checks the boxes around her. All of her things with the newly added gifts of food and trinkets that have been giving. It's all there.

That's ...it. Done.

When she turns back around she finds Millie plucking something from the Mandalorian's palm.

"For me?!"

It's a long, slim...something. A monocular, Hanna deduces once Millie holds it straight up to her eye and starts looking around.

"...it's foggy."

"It's old. You'll have to keep it clean," he advises.

"Wow ...I can see everything..."

"You should always have an eye out," is his last bit of advice for her.

"...can I tell Emil he's not allowed to play with it?"

"...it's not a toy," the chide is light, if truthful. "But sure."

Millie punches a fist into the air happily and then grabs the Mandalorian around the waist in a hug. He pats her head, uncertain, but the girl doesn't care. She shouts a swift "thank you!" and then shoots out the door. Likely to find the boy she competes with so hard.

Hanna thinks to comment on the exchange but fears that would ruin it. Cheapen it to something silly or cute.

"Your chariot awaits!" Cara shoves through the door to diffuse the moment for her. "...everybody looks ready."

.

The droid-drawn trailer is packed quickly and everyone bids their last well-wishes. Omera talks longer than strictly necessary. Winta sheds a tear or two over the baby. Millie gives Hanna one last hug and then bestows the Mandalorian a longer one. Even Cara is reticent about the goodbyes.

"...I can give you an escort," she offers and Hanna smiles.

The Mandalorian, however, waves her off. Tells her she should stay put. Promises they'll be fine.

Which ...they will. They have figured everything else out; they'll figure out this next step, too. Whatever it is.

"Fine. Have it your way. Here," the soldier tosses a leather something into Hanna's lap where she's already seated on the edge of the trailer.

Frowning, she picks it up and twists it in her hands.

"Thanks...?" she can tell it's a gun holster, but it's not the one Cara leant her during the battle and the hooks confuse her.

"It fits inside your waistband," the Mandalorian supplies from where he stands.

Because of course he doesn't need to inspect it any closer.

"Uh-huh. It's a big galaxy out there ...you might need it," Cara smirks. "And you can't keep shoving guns down the ass of your pants."

"Why? I might shoot something off?" Hanna chuckles.

"You laugh! But I've seen weirder..."

Still smiling wide, Hanna slides off the trailer and holds her arms out for an embrace.

"Ah. You don't have to do that..." the other woman's lip curls.

"I'm doing it," Hanna creep closer but does so slowly just incase.

She accepts, though. Grabs Hanna in a hug that is a little to tight, and the slap on her back is a little too rough. But it's very much Cara.

"Don't lose track of him, huh," she ticks her chin toward the kid.

"Never"

"Mmhmm...don't lose this one, either - you're in charge, you know?" she teases and then faces the Mandalorian; her partner in crime around here. "Until our paths cross again?" she offers him a hand.

"Until then," he agrees and clasps her hands tightly.

They do not hug.

Hanna hadn't expected them to.

"I'll miss you," she bids Cara.

True. She wishes Cara could join them; she'd even heard the Mandalorian offer her to come with them a while. He'd promised to take her wherever she wanted to go next. But Cara isn't done with Sorgan, yet. She wants to soak up the quite life a little longer, and the Mandalorian had agreed she deserved it.

"Eh. You have more excitement waiting for you, I'm sure."

"I'd prefer not, actually."

"Nah. Take one of his guns, use that holster, and shoot a few idiots - you'll like it," Cara promises. "Take to it like a krill to water..."

Hanna had told Cara about the man she'd shot on Nevarro. Cara seemed to understand her squeamishness but had also given her a rousing speech about survival instincts. Then she'd declared that practice made perfect - an idea that's ominous and not particularly welcome.

"We'll see..."

"Let's go," the Mandalorian pats Hana's hip to usher her back to task.

.

They both climb onto the trailer bed, legs dangling over the back, and the droid gets moving as soon as the Mandalorian shouts the order. Cara and the others who had lingered to wave slowly grow distant. Hanna waves back and sears the faces into her brain.

They'd been family for a while.

The kids brushes against her leg as he installs himself between the two adults so he can wave, too. His three little fingers wiggle goodbye until they're fully immersed within the trees. Then he just looks up at his two keepers, blinking slowly.

Hanna takes pity first and pulls him into her lap, where he snatches Cara's gift to sniff it and then begin nibbling at the edges.

"Uh, no," Hanna chastises and shifts it aside and out of the way.

In exchange, she reaches into the sling she's still wearing to fish out a toy for him. Her fingers find his floppy froggy, and he takes it with a gleeful smile. Instead of chew on that, however, he just tucks it up under his chin and leans against her side.

It's clear he's sentient enough for nostalgia.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian has taken up her new holster and runs his hands over it, rubbing and twisting, to inspect the quality.

"...it's a nice gift," he grades.

And all Hanna had given Cara was a hug.

"Yeah ...I guess she's right. It'll be good to have. It's a big galaxy..."

Part of her hopes he will assure her that she won't need it, but she knows that's not something anyone can promise. It would be pointless to pretend, and he's not someone who talks just to hear the sound of his own voice.

"It is."

.

The ride back to the Razor Crest is long but graciously uneventful. They're mostly quiet save for some tragically stilted smalltalk when Hanna tries to feel him out; test his mood. He responds to everything she say, but his body is coiled in a tension that makes him uninviting so she opts not to push.

Discussion isn't needed when they unload the trolly, either; they work in easy tandem without many words. When they finish, the Mandalorian amuses the kid and Hanna ventures back out to program the droid for its return home - he probably would have been leaving it sit there to rust.

.

The hull is empty when she reenters, so she seals the ramp and climbs up to the cockpit where the Mandalorian is firing his ship back to life. Charging the engines, flipping switches, and checking read-outs like he's hadn't been gone at all. The kid is perched in his lap, happy as can be to listen to the gauges chime and watch colors light up along the dash. He doesn't seem to be bothering the man's concentration, so Hanna leaves him and takes her own seat. Buckles up as if this has been their plan all along.

Perhaps it's best that night has already fallen. That they are able to take-off without having to watch the lush greenery fad slowly away.

They're just...gone.

This chapter is over. Just like that.

.

"Look," Hanna starts once their altitude has leveled off. "We both said a lot of things back there. If you ...shared more than you wanted to, I understand. If ...well. Is there anything you want to take back?"

That opens the door for a lot of things, she is well aware.

But she trusts he knows the thing she means.

His name.

She can't forget it. Not ever. But he could forbid her form using it. He'd obviously wanted to share, but the situation has changed and maybe ...maybe it's too much. She can understand that.

Well...she sort of can't.

But she will try.

"No..." he only pauses a moment in programming flight settings. "There's nothing."

A soft grin tilts Hanna's lips, though she knows he can't see it with her chair staggered back from his as it is.

The galaxy is huge, sure.

They don't know what's out there, and they have some things to straighten up.

But, yes. They're going to be alright.

She feels that, finally. Isn't just hoping and crossing her fingers.