He was...
Well. Din didn't know how to describe him.
Jumpy, anxious, weak. But intelligent, and witty. When he was thinking he furrowed at his lower lip. When he was confused his eyebrows drew in. When he was afraid his eyes would widen and his lip would quiver. When he saw the child it's like all of his worries visibly melted away.
When he slept, he was peaceful, but awake, he was anything but.
Restless. Radiating with energy. Needing to do something at all times because if he didn't, he would collapse into his own thoughts.
Din had met many people like him. And yet, he was still incredibly unique. There was something there, something was developing between them. But he had no idea what it was. How long have they known each other? Barely a few days. Sure they met about a month ago before everything went to shit but it was in brief passing and, at the time, the doctor hadn't really caught his eye.
The child cooed in his lap, and he sighed. "I know. I just wanted to get out. Staying in that place makes me sick."
He'd developed a habit of talking to the child, even though he wasn't even sure he was being understood. The child would only coo in response, but he supposed that was good enough.
He cooed again, though, and this time it had a different tone, as if to say, 'I want to go back.'
"We will go back. I promise. There's something I want to do first."
The doctor - Pershing, wasn't it? - had this certain aura about him. He never spoke his mind, but there always seemed to be something racing in that head of his. Din tried to read him, figure out what he was really thinking, but he couldn't.
The doctor was kind, and sorrowful, and depressed. He worried about everything. But he was quick-witted and could hold a conversation for as long as he wanted. When he spoke, Din found it impossible to look away. His hands flapped wildly like he was passionate about every word and, he probably was.
He'd never forget how Pershing's expression fell, or how the heart rate on the monitor picked up speed when Din talked about the pain the Empire had caused. And how the words on the tip of his seemed to tongue leave him, and all he could say was that he was sorry. He was sorry. He was so so sorry.
Pershing would apologise relentlessly for working for the Imps, but Din would still tell him it was okay - but he didn't know why, and that frustrated him.
Of course it wasn't okay. None of it was okay. Pershing was imperial, he would always be imperial. So why was Din even bothering? Because of pity? Sympathy?
He found him in the sewers, starving. Beaten. Bloody. On the brink of death. He should've just left him, so why didn't he? Why did he take one look and decide to help? Why did he ignore Cara when she told him to leave the doctor alone? Why couldn't he just listen to other people for once?
There was something about him. Something about this doctor that he couldn't put into words.
He was good with the child, and the child liked him, too. Even though he had every reason not to. Surely if something was wrong, the child would feel it?
Pershing recoiled when Din got too close. He would flinch away, something would flash in his eyes, like he was afraid of being touched. Every time Din caught a glimpse of it his blood would boil. No one deserves that.
But he had no reason to care about that. He never worried about his bounties, never felt sympathy for their sob story, so why should he care about some imp?
I don't know.
Maybe it was because the child cried when he saw the broken body slumped against the wall. That could be his excuse.
The hyperspace came to an abrupt halt. Silversisi faded into view as the Razor Crest grew closer. The child looked up at him apprehensively.
"I know. We won't be here for long. I just want to pick up some things."
The Razor Crest landed not-so-gracefully on Silversisi's surface, just outside the library. He really needed to get the ship fixed. Properly.
"You coming too?" He cast a glance at the child. He took the blank stare as an affirmative. "Okay then."
He picked up the child in his arms, so he wouldn't have to walk, and waited for him to get comfortable before setting off.
He'd been at the Library of Silversisi once before, but it was for a bounty, so he didn't have time to actually stop and read. Especially considering how pissy the security was getting with the scene being caused.
He reached the front door, pushing it open with one hand. It was heavy and large, but he managed to squeeze through. The door slammed behind him, causing an echo throughout the halls of the library.
"Oi!"
Ah.
"I hope you're not here to cause more of a mess, Djarin." The zabrak stood tall over him, arms crossed over his chest. He would have been intimidating, but the round glasses perched on his nose and the tight-fitted vest didn't necessarily do him any favours.
"Just here for some books, Tudua." Din titled his head. "This time."
"Any funny business and you're out, clear?"
"Crystal." He adjusted his grip on the child, who made an unintelligible noise. Tudua's eyes passed over it briefly.
"What's that?" he asked in a monotone voice. He eyed it suspiciously for a moment.
"My son."
"A foundling?"
Din stared up at him for a moment.
Tudua had been a Mandalorian, and their paths had crossed on multiple occasions when they were younger. Mere years after Tudua swore to the creed, however, he abandoned it to chase after a human he'd fallen deeply in love with.
That relationship hadn't worked out, though; the woman cheated on him with a twi'lek man then died in childbirth, so he was being forced to raise a half-twi'lek son that he hadn't wanted in the first place. Now he spent most of his days in the Library of Silversisi as an honourary librarian.
"Yes, a foundling."
"I've seen that species before."
Din took a mental step back. He stared a moment before clearing his throat. "What is it?"
Tudua only shrugged. "Don't know." Before Din could ask him to please elaborate, the zabrak was walking away with his hands in his pockets, whistling some unknown tune.
Fat load of good that was.
Din sighed, before placing the child onto the cool wooden flooring. "Come on. Let's go find what we're looking for."
It wasn't difficult to locate the section he'd been wanting. Most libraries were filled to the brim on science, it being the very core of how the galaxy operated. He skimmed through the books, tilting his head slightly to read the titles etched on the sides.
He'd always liked physical books, made of paper and everything. Electronic ones were convenient but there was something about turning the delicate pages of old books or blowing the dust off their covers.
He picked out a small selection of things that caught his eye. With a small stack about the size of the child, he marched up to the receptionist desk, where Tudua was flipping through a book on parenting of all things.
"How's your son?" he asked as he plopped down the books. They made a loud bang, but Tudua didn't jump or even look up from the book.
"The same." Without even looking, Tudua picked up each book one by one and scanned them with incredible accuracy. Before long, the entire selection was accounted for. "If you don't get these back to me within a month I'll hire someone from that bounty guild of yours to personally hunt you down."
"You'll have to wait in line." He would have winked, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because it wouldn't be seen through the visor - even if Tudua was actually paying attention.
"And how about your son?"
Tudua finally looked up from the book, just to peer down at the child. There was a faint hint of a smile, but perhaps he was imagining things.
"I don't know the first thing about being a father. But he's fine."
Tudua chuckled bitterly. "You and me both. Receipt?"
"No."
"Didn't take you for the science type."
"They're not for me, they're for..." a friend? An acquaintance? An enemy? "...someone else."
"Mm." Tudua gave him a receipt anyway. "One month, Djarin."
"Don't worry." He tucked the stack under his arm and picked up the child with the other. "I'll return them even if I die. Then I'll haunt you forever as a ghost."
"God, please don't. I'd kill myself."
"Ghost buddies."
"Just fuck off, Djarin."
As aggressive as their banter was, and Tudua's irritating insistence of using his real name, they were friends. Or at least, Din liked to think that they were. Tudua was hostile by nature, especially after the cheating and subsequential death of the love of his life - but he was the only person Din felt he could actually trust with important information. He might've been an angry bitter bastard, but he was loyal and kind at heart.
Soon enough they returned to the Razor Crest and set off onto their journey back to Obroa-skai. As the ship launched into hyperspace Din leaned back into the pilot's seat with an exasperated sigh.
The journey back felt twice as long as the journey from, and he wasn't sure why. It was almost like he was nervous - even though he'd no reason to be.
He merely wanted to grab some books for the doctor so he wouldn't get bored. But the more he thought about it the more he wondered if it was a good idea. Especially after leaving in such an abrupt manner.
The child looked up at him with those wide eyes, like he knew something was off.
"I'm fine," Din reassured him. And he was. Just... confused. Doctor Pershing confused him.
The overwhelming concern that enveloped him when he looked at Pershing's timid structure confused him. The rage that filled him when Pershing flinched away from the slightest of touches or winced at the smallest of movements confused him. The strange feeling developing in his chest confused him.
It made him feel young, which was saying a fucking lot. It made him feel sad yet also happy. It was like a blaster shot him in the heart with affection. Hurt like a bitch but he welcomed it.
He willed it to go away. But it persisted. The strange feeling.
He would ignore it, then. But that was so hard. He had never had difficulties getting someone out of his mind before - except for the child, but the child was his child, so that was understandable.
The doctor was an imperial scientist.
And yet, he had this strange ethereal effect.
Slowly, Obroa-skai faded back into view, and Din was pulled out of his thoughts. He couldn't be like this around the doctor.
The razor crest landed with a groan on the lush green grass just outside the hospital's doors. He grabbed the books in one hand before descending down the ramp, where he was met with one of the ugnaught employees.
"We didn't think you were coming back," he spoke with a thick accent. "We haven't been able to calm door Peri down for hours."
"Peri?"
The ugnaught quickened his steps to keep up with Din's long stride. "Young Mr Pershing, of course. He-"
Din suddenly stopped.
Had Pershing - or Peri, he supposed - thought he was leaving for good? He never intended for it to seem that way. Should he have told him what he was doing?
The ugnaught slammed into his legs with an oof. The child giggled.
"He's okay?" Din turned to stare down at the ugnaught, who was rubbing his nose.
"Well, he's fine now, sir. I can't say the same for our staff."
"What happened?"
"Threw a fit. Or that's what Doctor Avry said. I prefer to call it a psychological mishap. Less offensive."
Din turned back around and continued walking, readjusting his grip on the books. "I take it Doctor Avry isn't well respected."
"Oh, she's respected. But she's Arkanian."
That explained it.
The ugnaught held the door open for him and he stepped inside with a grateful nod. The child followed soon after. He made a beeline for Pershing's room, but a human nurse stepped in front him with her arms outstretched.
"He's asleep right now," she said softly, "you'll have to wait."
"I'm the one who brought him here." Din straightened his back. "I've been staying with him while he sleeps."
The nurse seemed to consider this. Her eyes darted to the child waddling up behind Din before she sighed and relented. "If you wake him up..."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He gently pushed the door open, catching it just as it began to creak. All of the lights were off, but he could see the faint outline of Pershing sleeping on his side, curled up into a ball.
As silently as he could manage he placed the books on the bedside table. The child pawed at his leg. "Come here," he whispered, picking the child up to hold him in both of his hands. "I know you don't like it, but you have to be quiet."
Maybe the child did understand words after all, because he didn't make a single noise in the next two hours.
Unfortunately, that meant he was restless. And... truthfully, Din was restless too. He hated staying in the same spot. He'd always been on the move, switching from job to job to job - it was his lifestyle. But he wanted to be there when Pershing woke up, to explain that he wouldn't just... abandon him.
Even though he couldn't understand why that was. If it were anyone else he would have dropped them off at the hospital and left.
Why was this man any different? This imp? Someone who'd slaved their life away for an empire that only inspired hatred and war. How could such a man be so kind and thoughtful? And why - why - did Din want to help him so much?
Why couldn't he identify the feeling in his chest? Why couldn't he tear his eyes away? Why did he focus on the details, like how Pershing would fidget with loose strings? Or how he'd wrung his hands together when he was anxious?
He hated it, he hated all of it. So why wasn't he making an effort to stop?
Another hour went by, and though he'd tried to doze off, the child was too agitated. He wanted to get out and move, stretch his legs... there was a garden, but going meant leaving Pershing alone. Which he was averse to.
At that moment though, the light flickered on, and the twi'lek nurse entered into the room.
"Oh," said the nurse. "I didn't realise you were..."
"Should I leave?"
The nurse cast an awkward glance over to Pershing, who was beginning to stir from the sudden light. "No, I was just going to replace his drip."
Din had noticed it was running low. It only made sense. But even so, when the twi'lek got close, he felt the sudden urge to shove him away, to keep him at bay.
He clenched his fists. He's doing his job. He's helping. Why are you acting like this? He still remembered the way Pershing flushed when the twi'lek got too close. He remembered wanting to reach over and slap him. Don't you know what he's been through? What are you doing? You're too close. Stay away from him.
But why? Why did he feel so strongly about it?
It was stupid. It wasn't like - it wasn't like he ever went through what Pershing did. It wasn't like he had any particular reason to feel so angry about it. Yes, it was terrible, he wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy, but...
And then there was another conflicting emotion that he just couldn't understand. Jealousy. At least he could identify it but - but it made no sense. What reason would he have to be jealous?
There wasn't one. It was irrational. Clearly he just needed to clear his head. The fuss of the last month was catching up to him, that's all it was.
Din lifted the child onto the floor and stood from his seat. "Let's go stretch your legs, little womprat." He held the door open for the child to pass through, closing it behind him just as Pershing began to open his eyes.
The garden was peaceful. It reminded Din of Sorgen, just without the neon-blue krill, and the large knee-deep ponds. The flowers' scent was so powerful it wafted up through his helmet, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief. This had been exactly what he needed.
The child was enticed with the flowers, and probably the smell, and seemed to sift through them like he was looking for something possibly frog-shaped. For the sake of the garden, Din hoped there weren't any.
He sat down on one of the benches. The garden was small and narrow, but large enough for a couple of children to run around in - which was probably the idea. He almost wished he could take off the helmet for a while, bathe in the sunlight and the pleasant breeze - then quickly shook that notion away.
Not even the child had seen him without his helmet. Technically it was allowed, the child was his son now, a foundling. But...
He would think on it later.
His moment of alone time was disturbed by the doors abruptly sliding open. Immediately, he jumped up from his seat and his hand shot to where his blaster rested, but it was only an old espirion man being wheeled out by a nurse.
"A Mandalorian!" the old man exclaimed in a croaky voice. His back was hunched and he was riddled with old age, but still bore a large smile on his face. "I have never seen one before!"
I'll never get used to that, Din thought as the old man wheeled himself over. The nurse stood in the corner with her hands behind her back.
"Hello, young man." The espirion held out a shaky hand. Din shook it as lightly as he could, but then the old man's grip became suddenly very tight. "It is an honour to meet a Mandalorian in the flesh."
"The honour is mine." He hoped his discomfort didn't show through his modulated voice. If the old man noticed, he didn't say anything.
"And who is this little one?"
The child was now waddling over with a small assortment of flowers and leaves clutched in his hand. It cooed.
"My son."
"Does he have a name?" The old man reached over to pat the child on the head.
"I'm... yet to give him one."
It hadn't been something he'd put much thought into. He admitted, though, it was getting repetitive, calling it "the child" or "the baby" or "my son" or "ad'ika"... though that one was usually only in private.
The old man hummed, before leaning back into his chair with a satisfied sigh. "He is adopted."
"Yes."
"I have seen one like him before."
Din turned his head slightly so he was facing the man. "You know his species?"
"The species? Goodness, no, Master Yoda was one of very few and I only ever saw him from afar so I never had the opportunity to ask..."
Din's eyes widened under the helmet. " 'Master Yoda' ?"
"Oh, yes... let me tell you something about him..."
Din never got to find out what he was, though, because just then the nurse strolled over to interrupt. "You should come back inside," she spoke with a thick accent.
"But I was just telling this young man about-"
"You can tell him later, you have to have your medicine, okay, Druan?"
She shot an apologetic glance back towards Din as she wheeled Druan away, as though the old man was being at all bothersome. That could have been vital information! Din would have to find the man before he left.
Not too soon later, the nurse re-entered the garden, but without Druan. "I am sorry about that," she sighed as she patted down her dress. "He is... his mind has gone. He thinks there are people who can lift things with their mind and it is a mess."
An order of sorcerers called Jedi. The Armourer's words rang in his ears. As if on cue the child tugged at his leg plate, holding out his hands as a universal expression for "up".
Druan knew about the sorcerers. Better yet, he knew about someone who could be related to the child. Was this Master Yoda also one of those 'Jedi'? How is it that no one knows about them? How had such a powerful race become merely myth and legend?
He placed the child on his lap, who shifted a bit, before finding a spot that was comfortable. "What does he say about them?" Din asked. The nurse sighed like she'd heard about it one too many times.
"That they are all dead. And yet he claims to have met them. It makes no sense." She cast a glance around at the garden before sighing once more. "I must go. But it was a pleasure meeting you."
Pleasure. "Yeah."
Even though this new information was incredible news, something in Din's heart stung. He wasn't ready to give up the child. Especially not to an enemy race. Not so soon. Preferably not ever, but... this is The Way.
Mandalorian culture consisted of two very important things: armour and children. The foundlings were the future. Protect the children at all costs - whatever it takes - even if it took the lives of elders. Deep down he knew that giving the child to these sorcerers was the right thing to do, but that didn't ease the hurt.
The child was his son. The Armourer said as much. They were a clan of two, and Din bore the signet to prove it. How could he possibly give his son away?
Besides, what if the child didn't want to go with these sorcerers? Or what if the sorcerers rejected him? What if Din accidentally stirred up an age-old war, thus dooming the Mandalorians to extinction?
Or perhaps he was just being paranoid. That's what Cara would have told him, with a slap on the back.
Who was to say the Jedi even existed anymore, anyway. Clearly they haven't been seen or even heard of for decades upon decades - since no one seemed to know who they were, or those that do know of them are regarded as one who believes in myths and legends.
Then again, the Mandalorians were becoming somewhat of a myth themselves. At least, that was before they revealed themselves on Nevarro...
The thought lingered in his mind.
The sight had made him sick, and thinking about it now only did the same. Those discarded helmets. Blood staining the floors. The thought that his entire clan might've been killed. His family. Even as they lowly regarded him, he would still find himself with a soft spot for them. Even Paz.
Paz wouldn't hesitate to call him a hu'tuun. Or aruetyc. Even if he hadn't technically done anything wrong.
He would then proceed to save Din from the Guild, thus revealing the covert, and getting himself fucking killed. That was his helmet.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when the child began waving and cooing at someone by the doorway.
"I-I thought you left," came a familiar, soft voice.
Pershing.
He was still dressed in the hospital gown, but it was tucked into a pair of grey pants. It was an odd sight to behold, especially within the serene confines of the garden. Yet, somehow, the loose shirt paired with the tight pants wasn't off-putting.
"I did. But then I came back. Did you like the books?"
"Um." Pershing stared at his hands with the intent of a thousand fiery suns. If Din didn't know any better he'd say the doctor was angry, but he was probably just thinking really hard. "Yes, they're... you got them for me?"
The doctor finally looked up, and they locked eyes. A strange feeling shot through Din's chest. "Yes. I thought you might want something to read while you're stuck here. I do have to return them eventually, though, so make sure you don't let your science side take over and scribble notes on every page."
Shockingly, Pershing actually cracked a nervous smile, which... made Din happy, even if the smile was gone as quick as it came. "I'll make sure they're as pristine as the day they left the library. Where did you...?"
"Silversisi."
"But! But that's... at least a two-hour journey from here, even with the fastest hyper-space! You travelled for four hours and then-some just to get me some books? I-I'm sure I would have managed, really..."
It made no sense. It baffled Din, how the doctor would shy away from people who were trying to be nice. It was as if he believed he didn't deserve it.
...then again, he was Imperial.
Din decided to change the subject. "I heard from one of the staff that you had a... psychological breakdown."
Pershing flushed a fierce shade of crimson red. Any eye-contact that they had was immediately broken as the doctor averted his wide eyes to the ground. "I see."
The silence that followed was stifling. Din hadn't intended to embarrass the man. Fuck if he knew how emotions worked... sometimes Din wished he wasn't so emotionally stunted. "I just wanted to ask if you're alright."
He couldn't see the doctor's facial expression, but he could hear the sharp intake of breath and a shaky sigh. "Fine. I'm fine. Um, who's the one who told you that?"
An odd question. "One of the ugnaughts. I didn't catch his name. Why?"
"Nothing. It's fine. I'm fine."
It was very obviously not fine. But Din had at least picked up something regarding manners in his many years: it's not polite to pry. "Why were you so upset?" That, of course, didn't mean he knew how to keep his mouth shut, though. He already knew the answer, of course, but he still felt perhaps it would be better to hear it from the source...
"There wasn't a reason."
The reply was as immediate as a bullet and as sharp as a dagger. There was something in Pershing's tone that made him want to retreat, but being Mandalorian, surrendering wasn't exactly his forte. "There must be one."
"Why?" Pershing snapped. Their eyes met again. The doctor's face was still flushed, but his expression was angry and piercing. "Why does there have to be a reason? I was- I was just upset, okay? I don't remember it. And it's none of your business, you... you can't just pry like that. I don't like it, so don't."
I don't like it. It was the type of phrase a child victim of bullying would say to the perpetrator, and it would never work, because that was the point of bullying. To make them miserable.
But Din hadn't wanted Pershing to get upset. He definitely didn't want the child to make a sad noise, either; or frown up at him, like he just disappointed the entire galaxy. And honestly, he felt like he had.
And it's not like he could just apologise. Or... or well, he could, really, and he should, but he couldn't even remember the last time he so much as muttered those two forsaken words and he feared it would come out as awkward and forced, but- oh, it was too late, anyway.
In the time he took to think about his reply, Pershing had turned on his heel and left without Din even noticing.
Damn you, Djarin. Learn to fucking speak.
