Chapter 13

Insomnia

In the early hours of the morning, the whir of an opening door stirred Din from his half-asleep stupor. Footsteps followed, accompanied by a static buzz. The steps sounded light and slow – much too careful to belong to the Enodarite child. The thief. He curled his fingers, ready to unleash an attack with his vambrace should she try anything stupid.

The footsteps stopped.

"Are you awake?"

The thief's voice, hardly a whisper, was almost lost under the howling winds and crackling static. Din remained in silence: partly to see what should would do, but mostly because he really did not want to speak with her.

Unfortunately, she continued moving towards him, her footsteps matching the same rhythm as before. He watched her through his visor as she slid into his line of sight. Even though it appeared she had no weapons on her - all she held in her hand was the buzzing transponder radio - Din did not relax.

He searched for hints of her intentions, but it was hard to study her in the dark. The thief still wore the mother's tunic - Din noted with a deepening frown - but her hair was no longer in intricate braids. It instead hung in messy waves around her face. Even in the darkness, Din could see the welt protruding from her forehead. Her expression, however, impossible to read.

He grimaced and prepared himself.

Yet, the thief simply made her way over to the chair next to the lounge where Din laid. She lowered herself onto the cushion. She held the transponder in in a loose grip in her lap, her thumb absently poking and prodding at one of the protruding buttons.

She cleared her throat and spoke again in a clipping, louder whisper.

"Mandalorian?"

She's not trying to kill me in my sleep, at least.

"What?" he exhaled.

At the sound of his voice, the thief stiffened. Her eyes glinted in the faint light as she looked over to Din. She stopped fidgeting with the transponder.

"I couldn't sleep." She looked away. "I shouldn't have bothered you, sorry. But…"

"What do you want?"

"I want to tell you - I, well, couldn't sleep because I want to tell you I'm sorry."

Din tilted his head just enough to indicate his confusion, but not enough to suggest much more than apathy.

"I mean," Senn began prodding the transponder again. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, the other day. When you were trying to help me with Fio. I should have just listened."

"That's what you're sorry for?"

His voice held challenge and perhaps a touch of rage, but the thief didn't flinch. Even her expression remained unchanged.

"You were trying to be kind and help me with Fio," she continued softly, "and instead of listening, I insulted you. So, I'm sorry."

Din stared blankly at her. What was he supposed to do with that? Her words held a tone and cadence that sounded like genuine regret, but with how softly she spoke and the darkness obscuring her expression, it was hard to tell. Genuine or not, why should he concern himself with her apology?

He let himself sink back into the lounge.

"Okay."

The word dripped with raw apathy, each syllable of it dryer than the dunes of Tattooine. If she was frustrated by his answer, the thief didn't show it. She just looked tired. She said nothing for a while. Was she going to sit there all night?

Is her plan to irritate me to death?

"I am going back to sleep," Din told her.

She still didn't move. He inhaled sharply.

"If you have more to say, say it," he ordered.

"I-" She pursed her lips. "How does one become a Mandalor-"

Din lurched. "No."

The thief leaned back, as if the sudden harshness and finality of his tone had physically pushed her away from him. She furrowed a brow.

"No?"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" She leaned forward again. Her voice flattened with sarcasm. "You have to become one somehow. Or were you born with the beskar helmet? Your poor mothe-"

"You-" he pointed at her, blood roaring in his ears. "-do not become a Mandalorian."

"What are you-? I'm not asking for me," she snapped, the first time her voice rose above a whisper. She leaned forward. "Why would you-"

A muscle in her jaw tensed. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply through her nose, and then looked down at the transponder. Her fingers clutched it so tightly it looked like she was trying to strangle it. She let out a breath, her grip loosened.

"I'm asking for Fio. Fio."

The room went silent, save for the blizzard. He stared at her and she stared right back. Somehow, even through the shield of his visor, he felt her gaze bore into him like a dagger.

"Mandalorian, I'm not sure what to do with him, if we can't, you know… find her. His mother. So, I thought, maybe-"

"Dank Ferrick! Just say what you came here to say!"

"Can you do anything to help Fio if his mother is dead?"

"We've been over this. He is not my problem."

"But-"

"There is no purpose to worrying about that until after the storm ceases. His mother's absence and silence could have many explanation."

"Yes, and one of those explanations is that she could be dead."

"Maybe she is," he replied in a nonchalant tone. "Maybe not."

That got her. Her voice rose to frustration.

"Okay. If she's dead, will you please do something to help Fio? I know!" She raised her hand, as if to silent an interruption. "I know, okay, that you're in a shitty situation. I know you owe me nothing. But Fio, this isn't his fault. And people here, they respect you. A little help from you on this stupid planet will do ten times more than anything I could ever accomplish for him."

The Mandalorian listened to her plea with closed eyes and a grimace.

"Well? Will you help?"

Silence.

Din lowered himself back onto the lounge, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. He stared at the ceiling. "If the mother is dead, how will you find my beskar? This is my only concern. Not you. Not the child."

Din guessed she wanted to curse at him, but she didn't. He closed his eyes while she rose out of the chair. He did not look to see her glare at him as she left, although he felt it just the same, for even her footsteps - harsh and frequent - sounded angry.

He laid awake for a while after she left. And not for a lack of comfort; while his legs did hang off the edge of the lounge, the plush cushions beneath him were far more comfortable than the lumpy mattress at the inn. Still, sleep evaded him, as it had done throughout all that night and most nights since Grogu left, despite his perpetual sensation of exhaustion.

Sleep. Go to sleep, he ordered himself.

Din stiffened suddenly; he thought he heard something. A rustling and a clank. Then a thud. Perhaps the thief again? He scanned and panned the room, sitting up a bit to get a better view, but saw nothing.

He went back to trying to sleep. And eventually, he succeeded.

However, when the Mandalorian did finally fall asleep, his mind descended into a nightmare.

Vaguely aware of the dream-like quality of his surroundings, Din struggled through a blizzard. He could barely keep his eyes open in the lashing, icy winds. His heart leapt has he put a hand to his face and felt bare skin instead of his helmet. But he kept going.

He was searching, for something? For someone?

In the distance, Din focused on the blurry silhouette.

"Hey!" he called to it.

It shifted. Rubbing his eyes, Din struggled to make out the small shape. His mind fluttered with glee as it came into focus.

"Gro… Grogu!"

The ears, they were unmistakeable. They twitched and perked at the sound of Din's voice.

"It's okay! I'm coming to get you!"

He was almost there, just a few arm lengths away, when a brilliant line of green light sliced through the ice between them. Din snapped his eyes shut, for the light was so bright and blinding that it hurt to keep them open. Like looking into a green sun. When the light faded, he opened his eyes just in time to see black, silky water gushing in through the fracture. Din tried to move forward, towards Grogu, but the wind pushed him back and the inky water nearly made him fall to his knees.

It slowly pushed them farther away from each other, no matter when Din tried, until Grogu disappeared entirely from his vision.

But the dream didn't end there.

When he turned around to seek shelter, he found himself in the looming shadow of Fio's house. It didn't quite look like Fio's house, but his sleeping mind told him it was so with unquestionable certainty.

The door hung open. The thief stood in the opening wearing his beskar helmet and the mother's tunic. Her venomous laugh echoed around him. She took the helmet off, resting it in the crook of her arm, and smirked at him. He fixed his eyes on her crooked smile as she closed the door.

The cold darkness began closing in around him, until he could see and feel nothing more - not even his own heartbeat.