You knew that he was not far behind.
You would run and the Beast would chase. He was hunting, not to simply capture you, but to kill you.
The suns had begun to set and you realized very quickly that you had no idea where you were. You'd been in such a panic when you hijacked the speeder that you'd steered in what you had thought was the general direction of the town. As the evening chill skittered along the lengths of your arms, you realized you should have hit the main strip by now. Dread settled in your stomach when the horizon only offered an endless desert.
Despite your sudden sense of impending doom, you didn't regret your decision, not even a little bit. If you were going to die you'd rather it be out here on the dunes than on that damned chaise, laying beneath the Beast as he drained you of life.
You groaned as the sand lashed harder against your skin. You would have to stop soon, you couldn't see a thing and the wind would continue to pick up throughout the night. If the Beast had taken a ship, you were confident that the sandstorm would obscure his vision.
Sparks flew from beneath your feet. You gripped the brakes, squeezing your thighs against the seat as your body threatened to launch forward. The speeder's electrics went dark and curses slipped from your tongue gracelessly. You threw yourself from the bike as soon as it came to a stop, the hot sand burning against your hands and knees.
Had something blown? Had it overheated? You couldn't smell the tell-tale signs of a blown cooling pump and the cooling unit itself looked fine. Your trained eyes dragged over the speeder, looking for any indication of a mechanical fault.
Your stomach dropped.
There was an EMP spike wedged between the rear deflector plates. It was a precision shot and your breath came as a shaking rasp. He was here.
"What are you doing out here all alone, little girl?"
You scrambled to your feet, flicking sand high with the movement. A man stood before you, barely at arm's length, shifting his weight from foot to foot. And though it wasn't the Beast, that much was clear, he wasn't unarmed. A blaster was pointed almost lazily toward your stomach as a small smile played along the corners of his mouth.
You gaped at him, offering no answer to his question.
"Well?" He prodded with faux curiosity. The man's eyes travelled the length of your body with a critical gaze, almost as though he were evaluating you. You swallowed heavily, wishing the sand would swallow you whole. "Come now."
You were shoved hard from behind before you could come up with an answer. A breathless gasp ripped from your throat as you were forced to your knees, gripping the sand tightly beneath your fingers. A quick peek over your shoulder showed a towering Trandoshan, glaring at you from above.
"Let's not waste time, this one will be worth a pretty price," he hissed impatiently, nudging you roughly with the heel of his boot.
You realized, as more figures emerged from behind the dunes, that these were traffickers- and you'd just driven straight into a trap.
"You don't want to do this," you rasped, shakily. "I already have a master."
The words were bitter on your tongue but at that moment you'd have said anything. The human laughed, his chin tilting upward and his free hand resting on his stomach.
"Not anymore."
You shook your head, manic anxiety creeping into your chest. "No, you don't understand-"
You cried out as you were booted in the back this time, face driving forward into the sand. The Trandoshan rested his foot against your neck, forcing your face into the desert ground and suffocating you in the dunes. You thrashed from beneath him, clawing at his leg before eventually attempting to push yourself from the ground. You couldn't breathe, sand was in your mouth, in your nose, in your lungs- it was everywhere.
Your heart drummed against your ribs and you could hear your own blood rushing through your ears.
The pressure suddenly disappeared and you shot upward like a bolt of lightning. You gasped for air with ugly, heaving breaths. You couldn't raise your head, your vision blurred and spotty as oxygen raced to your head.
Something fell to the ground hard beside you, flicking sand against your skin. The Trandoshan lay lifeless, eyes staring blankly towards the sky.
You froze.
The Beast stood tall above your miserable frame.
The leading trafficker fired his blaster, that lazy demeanour he'd held so proudly was long gone now. The tell-tale 'ping' of shots deflecting across beskar plates told you exactly how this fight would end. You could only pray that you wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.
The night was lit bright with the flashing red blaster fire, screams of traffickers resounded across the dunes and the racing beat of your own heart flooded your senses. The Beast moved like a ghoul, there one moment and gone the next. His speed was inhuman and his strength was something of a myth, snapping a blaster in two with a quick twist of his hands.
You hadn't realized you were crying until the salt stung the abrasions on your cheeks.
From enemy to enemy, the Beast appeared and then disappeared until only one was left standing. The man who had approached you first, the one who had appraised you and with a smug grin held a blaster to your quivering body.
The trafficker fell to his hands and knees as the Beskar Beast spawned from the darkness behind him. A plated foot pressed against the back of the man's neck, pushing his face into the sand painfully slowly. Horror flooded your being when you realized what he was doing.
You closed your eyes, stifling your sobs and trying to ignore the muffled screams as the Beast suffocated your would-be kidnapper in the sand.
When all fell silent, you dared not raise your head.
The Beast had come all this way for you, he had killed these men to secure his prey and now it was your turn to answer to the predator before you. He was going to kill you with his drive still triggered and blood on his hands.
"Please," you whimpered, forehead pressed against the sand the same way it had been in the town square. Bowing before the unofficial King of Nevarro, pressed into the ground and begging for his mercy. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please-"
You were forced upright, your pleading interrupted as you flinched away from the creature that held you.
He wasn't even going to waste his time listening to your cries for forgiveness, the Beast had had enough of you. His fingers gripped you tighter, restraining any inch of movement.
"Are you hurt?"
The question was rough and manic, almost a demand. You gaped at him, your eyes scouring the visor inches from your face. He shook you as if trying to rattle an answer from your mouth.
"Answer me!"
You shook your head quickly, "no! No, I'm not hurt."
"Good," he rasped. Then, again but quieter, "good."
The Beast's grip loosened on your biceps and his shoulders heaved with relief. You took a second to acknowledge the position he was in, on his knees.
His head bowed as his hands slid along the length of your arms to rest on your wrists and you could do nothing but gape at him. Heat flushed across your chest and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead when the creature said nothing further.
You both stayed like that for a long moment before you found the courage to speak.
"What…" you cleared your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. "What are you going to do?"
Would he punish you? Would he take you back with him and act as if nothing happened? As the adrenaline settled in your system, questions flooded in its stead. But the Beast only hummed distractedly in response and you frowned.
You leaned backward slightly, evaluating the slumped figure before you.
Something wasn't right.
"Are you okay?" You whispered, half expecting his gaze to snap upward and for him to remember his anger. However, the Mandalorian only gave another hum, quieter this time, as his head dipped lower.
You pulled one of your hands from beneath his limp grip and reached for the space between his pauldron and neck. You grit your teeth, gathering all the courage you could muster as you laid your fingers against the fabric bundled against his body.
It was wet.
You snatched your hand back with a gasp, inspecting your palm. It was slick with red, soaked in his blood. The Beast was hurt.
And as he fell forward into the crook of your neck with not a sound to be made, you realised the opportunity you'd been given.
You could be free. The whole of Nevarro would be free.
You jumped to your feet, letting the creature crumple onto the sand without a second thought. Excitement flooded your system as your mind raced with the implications. No woman would ever have to die at the hands of this Beast ever again, your sister would be safe, and you could go back and open your own shop. You'd be free to be the best mechanic this sector would have to offer. You'd sponsor your own racing team, you'd build the fastest speeders and ships and you'd never have to worry about another fucking Biennal draw ever again.
You could break the cycle.
You ripped the EMP spike out from where it had wedged itself, jittering as you shakily flicked over the isolator switch and primed the engine. The speeder bike roared to life and you could have screamed with happiness.
Your excitement faltered as you peered at the Beast's collapsed figure.
You assumed he was unconscious when he said nothing, not while you prepared to leave him to die in the dunes and not when you mounted the speeder. Your fingers froze on the handle, unable to force it backward, unable to send yourself towards freedom.
He'd asked if you were hurt.
He hadn't attacked you, he hadn't used the last of his energy to punish you; instead, the Beast had desperately needed to know if you were hurt. He'd needed you to be safe.
Right there, on the dunes painted red with the blood of his victims, you realized that the Beast cared.
He was cursed, not evil. He'd never gone out of his way to hurt you, he'd never let you suffer needlessly and he'd offered his entire castle to you with the frail hope that it would distract you from the reality of it all. He left his life in your hands, knowing that you would leave him to die because, perhaps, he wanted it to end as much as you did.
You threw your head back and let loose a despaired scream, the one that had been bottled deep in your chest for days now. You screamed and screamed until your voice was hoarse, smashing your fists against the seat of the speeder.
Then, you grit your teeth and got off the bike.
The sound of the fire crackling filled the room, drowning out the silence with pretty white noise. You were leaning against the doorway, watching the back of Beast's head as he rested in a chair before the flames. He wasn't asleep, you could tell by the occasional groan of discomfort.
The vulnerability made him seem so much more human, and although you reminded yourself that he was anything but, you couldn't help that your guard had lowered.
"Usually, I'm the one that lurks in shadowy doorways."
You raised an eyebrow, unsure why you were surprised that he knew you were there. Of course, he'd known.
"Judging by your calmness, I'd say you're probably better at it," you shrugged, pushing off of the frame. The Beast snorted softly but didn't turn around to look at you, eyes remaining on the dancing flames before him.
"Yeah," he agreed softly. "Probably."
You slowly rounded the chair, spotting the unopened first aid kit on the floor. The man's gaze tracked your movements as you came into his line of sight. He watched as you picked up the first aid kit, watched as you opened it and watched as you finally brought your eyes up to meet his.
He just loved to watch you.
As though he'd never witnessed anything like you before. Like it was his first time seeing a human in centuries, every single time.
He wore an oversized shirt, the neckline large enough to expose the entirety of that gaping, bloody wound.
"Hold still," you murmured, waving a sanitizing pad. You needed to clean the wound before treating it and by the way the Mandalorian's lips pressed together, you assumed he wasn't used to prolonged injuries.
You pressed the pad against the wound and he flinched away from your touch with a hiss, crimson eyes hard as they glared at you from beneath his lashes.
"Gentle!" He growled, strained. You frowned at him, leaning back lightly.
"You know," you drawled, "If you'd hold still it wouldn't hurt as much."
The Beast opened an eye to peer at you in disbelief before straightening up fully. "You ran away. You don't get to lecture."
The nerve.
You scoffed, throwing the sanitizing pad onto the kit in order to cross your arms over your chest. "You told me to."
"I told you to get out, not steal a speeder and find a group of traffickers halfway across Navarro," he snapped, reaching for the sanitizing pad. "I'll do it myself."
"I thought you were going to kill me, I was fucking scared. Of course, I took 'get out' as an invitation to run." You snatched the pad back from his hands and the Beast stared at you tight-lipped for a long moment. You pulled the shirt from his neck and gave him a meaningful glare, silently reminding him to stay still as you attempted to treat the wound again.
This time, he obeyed, remaining stock still with nothing more than a light hiss.
As you reached for some gauze and bacta spray, the Beast observed you in the firelight.
"You saved my life." The words were barely a whisper but his gaze was intense.
You swallowed heavily, busying yourself with spreading the bacta onto the wound and then the gauze. You didn't respond for a long moment and you thought that maybe you wouldn't, maybe there weren't any words for you to explain why you had done it.
But you realized it wasn't a question, he'd simply stated what you'd done.
"Well," you said shakily, clearing your throat. "You saved mine first. It was only fair."
The Beast snorted softly. "No, it wasn't."
You agreed quietly. No, it wasn't. But you weren't going to say that out loud, not when he stared into the fire like he wished he could burn with it. Not when he was so vulnerable beneath your hands.
Instead, you held the bandages up within his vision. "Do you need this or will you heal?"
The Beast's gaze flickered from the dressing in your hand to your eyes and then back to the fire. You watched his fingers curl until his hands were balled into fists in his lap.
"I'll need them until I can… feed," he spat the word and you wondered if that was how he'd always spoken but you were just too blind with fear to have seen it. Shakily, you lowered the bandage back into the box.
You couldn't bring yourself to say the words, couldn't force the question from your lips. Your heart had softened to the Mandalorian before you but your mind still couldn't comprehend what you really were to him. Sustenance. Energy. Life.
The Beast studied your face as you simply watched him, attempting to decipher what your stare meant.
Finally, the corner of his mouth lifted to flash his fangs almost playfully. "You offering?"
Your heart thrummed in your chest and when you said nothing, his smile dropped. Without a word, you unbuttoned the top of your jumpsuit and pulled the collar from your neck, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists.
The Beast's fingers found your own and you flinched lightly, forcing yourself not to recoil completely. Your eyes were glued to the wound, reminding yourself that you had inherently caused it, and you were simply fixing it out of goodwill.
But the terror churning in your chest would not subside and you bit your tongue as the Beast slowly guided you closer until you stood between his knees.
"Verd'ika," the Beast sighed, slowly doing back up the buttons of your clothes. Your breath was a shudder as you watched him with wide eyes and your hands rested gingerly against his arms to steady yourself as he worked. As he rearranged your collar, he shot you a wistful quirk of his lips. "You've been through enough for one day."
Before you could stop yourself you whispered a "thank you" but the sentence went unfinished.
You didn't know his name and calling him 'Beast' seemed almost inappropriate. It had gotten under his skin the last time you had spoken to him and you'd only ever referred to him as 'the monster' or 'the creature' in your mind.
The Beast blinked slowly, as though reminding himself to do it under your watchful gaze. So human in appearance but so obviously different, this man was an enigma. He felt the emptiness of your sentence, he knew what you were musing over. But offering this part of him would change everything and he knew that as well as you did.
"Do you want to know my name?" The Beast asked softly, almost vulnerable as he offered you the chance to decline. He would let you continue to dehumanize him if it made this easier for you and you could tell that he wouldn't hold that choice against you.
But, instead, you nodded and the Beast's gaze softened.
"My name is Din," he whispered. "Din Djarin."