"You're going to stay?"
The question rang in his ears and echoed in the silence of the Razor Crest.
He was used to being alone; the Razor Crest was outfitted for one person comfortably, for the long term. He had been flying solo for years, stopping for bounties, to refuel, to repair the ship, to visit old friends. Had just a few weeks of being with others resurrected his childhood comfort of being surrounded by allies?
As a foundling, he had never been alone. As an adult, and as a signet wearer, he knew where to go to find other Mandalorians. He knew which of his kinsmen he could reach out to if he wanted another fighter to join him.
Din found himself wanting someone else to help him with the Child.
At the same time, he was grateful to have the little one all to himself.
They had a routine; while the pram was always directly behind Din, the little one far preferred sitting on his lap, his three little green fingers resting on Din's hand. This worked for both of them; the baby could see where they were going and what Din was doing to navigate the ship, and Din had him pinned so that he couldn't touch anything. When he inevitably fell asleep, the pram was available.
He chittered more than ever, as if he needed to give Din all of the words he would have shared with Greef, Kahlil, Cara, and IG-11.
And Din responded. With no idea of what the little one was saying, Din imagined he wanted to know where they were and what they were doing. He started explaining the star maps that led them from one system to another; he started telling him where the hyperjumps were, what different systems had, where the Imps were, and the places they were avoiding.
Din would point at the map, and the baby's short arms would mirror him. The child started pointing on his own; it was hard to tell where he was reaching, so hot-and-cold became their favorite game. Din started pointing around the cockpit, and the child would coo the closer he came to the target.
Din had a feeling the foundling wanted to learn how to fly the ship. He was too small, obviously, but Din wasn't sure what else to talk about or what else to teach him. So he began describing all of the buttons, all of the commands, on and on until he got thirsty or the baby decided to nap.
And every time they sent an update message to Cara or Greef, Din made sure that the little one got all of his words in. He seemed to understand how messages worked, and he had plenty of things to say.
Din hated how hot his helmet suddenly became every time Cara responded.
The Jawwas had shared the news that Moff Gideon had miraculously escaped; Cara herself had examined his ship. She and Greef were busy reaching out to their contacts, to the Guild, to other former soldiers, hunting for information on where he had gone and how he had left the planet. There had to be an abandoned headquarters somewhere on Nevarro where he had hidden; surely he had wanted to be close to the Client so that the child would be available as soon as it was found.
But what had they been doing to the foundling?
Din half wished he had captured the scientist; he also knew it wouldn't have gone well for the man either way, and he may not have had many answers anyway. Underlings never did.
While Greef and Cara tracked Moff Gideon, Din looked for the little one's family. He was a bounty hunter; he was used to finding people who wanted to stay hidden.
"You're going to stay?"
He wished Cara had stayed with him. But she had chosen to stay on Nevarro; it was good for her to be there. Greef didn't carry the same authority she did; he couldn't glare like her or hold a gun with the same cockiness and confidence.
On the other hand, he hadn't offered for her to come with him.
He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone; it was far easier to travel with just the little one rather than another human being. He followed the weak trail that the Armorer had given him; he researched the Jedi as best he could. And all the while, he found himself waiting for a message from Cara, and a legitimate excuse to reach out to her.