Author's Note
Alright, so this is slightly later than I originally promised to update. BUT in my defense, I was busy. Because I want to Galaxy's Edge at Disney's Hollywood Studios for the first time. And let me tell you, it was an EXPERIENCE! I OWN my own LIGHTSABER!
I'm gonna have to find a way to add Batuu to this fic eventually. And my brain is already developing so many ideas. I can already see Mahin finding her way there and stumbling upon Savi's workshop.
In other news, go onward and enjoy a bit of angst and fluff!
So Much to Lose
"Stay safe, ner ca'tra."
Mahin stretches up on her toes and Djarin bends down to meet her, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'll do my best," he replies.
"You better," Mahin says with mock sternness as she pulls away. "I'm thinking of making cookies while you're gone. Come back with even a scratch and you don't get any."
"Well, if cookies are on the line," he teases, gloved hand stroking along the side of her face.
She leans into the touch, giving him a bright yet sad smile. It's always sad to see him off on a hunt. They never know how long he'll be gone. What kind of trouble he'll get into. She wishes she could go with him sometimes, but she came aboard this ship to stay with the kid. So that the child won't be put in the middle of the kind of danger Djarin gets up to while on hunts.
And so, all she can do is wish him to stay safe.
"I'll comm you in twelve hours," Djarin says as he opens the ship's rear ramp. He knows she doesn't need the reminder, but it's one more thing to say, one more thing to make him linger.
She gives him a nod. The child coos at her feet, leaning against her leg as they watch him slowly walk down the ramp backwards. "We'll talk to you then."
He stops for a second at the bottom of the ramp. Just watching them. Like he's trying to commit the sight of them to memory even though he must have done that a long, long time ago. Then he turns back around, heading across the clearing they parked in and into the forest in search of his prey.
Mahin sighs, bending down to pick up the child. "Alright, you little rascal," she says as she closes the ship back up. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into today."
The morning drags on slowly. Mahin starts with work first, setting the child up with some toys while she does some light maintenance on the ship. Luckily, after months and months of being here, she has the ship running beautifully. Hardly anything ever breaks down anymore so long as she keeps up with her routine systems checks.
It's a wonder sometimes how Djarin managed to keep the ship flying for so long by himself.
After work, Mahin and the child have lunch, and then she starts on the cookies. The child watches from the little pull-out table, as he always does, but then he manages to snag one of the eggs.
"Oh, no, ad'ika," Mahin says softly, holding out a hand to him. "That's not yours. Give me the egg back, please."
The child looks up at her and then back down at the egg he holds between his little hands. She can't tell if he wants to eat it or play with it. Both options spell trouble, honestly.
Can he even eat raw egg without getting sick? Considering all the other things she's seen him put in his mouth, he'd probably be fine. Especially considering all the frogs. She really doesn't want to risk it, though.
Pain shoots out through the Force. Piercingly loud and echoing like a strangled cry.
Mahin stiffens as the feeling washes over her, the egg falling from the child's hand when he feels it as well. Eggshell shatters to pieces against the floor, yolk seeping through the grating in a mess she doesn't know she'll ever be able to clean up. Her heart breaks just as thoroughly. Her gaze snaps in horror towards the closed rear ramp of the ship. Because she knows that presence. She knows who the pain belongs to.
"Djarin," she whispers, voice cracking on that one word.
But the sound of it is enough to force her into action. She scoops up the child, deposits him on her bed with a firm order to stay, and grabs her blaster before locking the child inside where he'll be safe. She then runs for the rear ramp controls.
The ramp lowers slowly, the groaning of the hydraulics grating on her nerves enough to make her want to scream.
Go faster. Djarin may not have a lot of time. Just go faster.
When the ramp finally lowers enough, she runs down it, preparing to jump off the end before the ramp even makes it to the ground, but then freezes.
There, just coming out of the tree line, is Djarin.
He grunts with effort as he drags a body by the arm through the tall grass. If a bounty comes in cold, he usually carries them over his shoulder. Easily. Effortlessly. But now Djarin's shoulders are slumped, breaths ragged as he struggles with the weight of a human man who can't weigh any more than her.
Her eyes drop to a wet patch of fabric on his side. Djarin tends to wear dark clothing, but Mahin still makes out the glistening of damp fabric clinging to his skin between the armor.
Blood.
She doesn't ask what happened. Doesn't ask if he's alright. The answers are obvious and pointless. Instead, she focuses on the task at hand, rushing to his side to grab the bounty's other arm and help drag him towards the ship.
"I've got it," Djarin grunts, not even looking at her. Just focusing straight ahead, on every step needed to get to the ship.
He must be worse than she thought.
"Let me," she insists firmly, eying the trees to make sure there's no one following him.
He doesn't argue further, either because he knows it won't matter or because he doesn't have the strength. Either way, he lets her help him get the bounty into the ship and stuffed in the carbonite freezer. The freezer hisses as it solidifies the body into a slab of metal. Proof of a job complete and to keep the body from decaying.
Djarin takes two steps further into the ship, just far enough to stumble to the ramp controls to close up the ship, before his legs give out.
Mahin leaps forward, catching his arm to slowly lower him to the floor. It's more of a controlled fall than anything, really. With his taller stature and all the beskar, he weighs a kriff-ton more than her. Still, she manages to get him down without breaking him further. She leans him back against the wall, close enough now to hear his heavy breathing crackle against the modulator. She drops her blaster to the floor so her hands can fly to his side where blood still seeps into his clothes.
He grabs both her hands in one of his to stop her. "It's fine," he coughs weakly. "It's just a scratch."
"Dank ferrik, Djarin, you will let me help," she snarls, yanking her hands free to pull her knife from her boot. Carefully, she cuts away at his shirt, opening up a slit that she then yanks apart to get a look at the damage.
She sucks in a deep breath. Panic grips at her chest. Squeezing to the beat of her rampaging heart. A lucky blaster shot hit his side right below the beskar, slicing a deep furrow through his flesh. Blood still flows freely despite the heat from the blaster fire. Not all of it cauterized all the way, leaving a line of raw and mangled flesh. The wound is too deep. Something important likely got nicked.
Her mouth feels dry and sandpaper rough. It takes clearing her throat twice before she manages to croak out, "Is…is this the worst of it?"
Djarin only has the strength to give a little nod.
Stars above, she does not have the medical training for this. But she has to try.
In the space of one of Djarin's ragged breaths, she darts to the wall cabinets, yanks out the medpack, and falls to her knees next to him again. Her hands shake as they struggle to open the simple zipper. She yanks roughly in her frustration, practically tearing it open. Her eyes dart over the contents. Gauze. Suture kit. She needs to seal the wound. But, no, the gash is too large for stitches. Cauterizer? It might come to that, but if it's too deep then she could end up doing more damage than good.
Her fingers brush over a syringe. A bacta shot. Pure, top-grade medicine meant to be injected straight into the body, capable of sealing up most major injuries within a few hours. Experimental, since it doesn't always seal the body back up quite right. Also expensive. They only have two of these, reserved for dire emergencies.
Well, Mahin would call this an emergency.
She starts to slip the syringe out of its pocket in the kit, but then catches movement out of the corner of her eye.
The child coos worriedly when she turns her head to look at him, standing just a few feet away with ears drooped low.
"I know, buddy, I know," she tells him, voice shaking despite her efforts to remain calm for him. "But I'm gonna make your buir all better. One shot of this and he…he should be fine."
Kriff, he better be fine with this. It better work right. It better be enough.
The child takes a few toddling steps closer, reaching out towards Djarin's side.
"No, no, ad'ika," Mahin says, cupping both of his hands in one of hers before he can touch the wound. "Don't touch that. It'll hurt him."
"W—" Djarin lets out a ragged cough. "Wait. Let him."
Mahin's brow furrows. "Djarin, I really don't think that's such a good idea. And there isn't time, you—"
"Just let him." His head lists to the side so he can look down at the kid. "Trust me."
Mahin hesitates but nods. She trusts Djarin, more than anyone, and he seems to need this. Understanding why doesn't really matter. "Okay." She leans back on the balls of her feet, allowing the child to step closer but ready to intervene if needed.
The child reaches out to the wound on Djarin's side and closes his eyes. His little brow furrows in deep concentration. Mahin's own brow furrows in confusion. She only ever sees that look on the child's face when he uses the Force.
In what way could the Force help them now?
Then she sees it. The blackness of burnt flesh fades to a normal, unblemished tan. The edges of Djarin's wound ripple like a shifting coastline. Slowly, slowly, the gap closes, the wound stitching itself back together, but not with needle and thread. With new muscle. New skin. The blood recedes back into Djarin's body.
The child heals him. By the time it stops, no trace of the wound remains. Not even a scar.
Mahin sits there wide-eyed and gaping, almost missing the child falling to the floor.
"Oh!" She flies forward to cup her hand behind his head before it hits the grating. It's not very far of a fall for him but it would probably still hurt. Gently, she lowers him to lay on the floor, his soft little snores indicating he passed out in exhaustion like he usually does after using the Force.
"What the kriff just happened?" she breathes out, turning back to Djarin. With shaking fingers, she runs her hand over where the wound was just seconds ago. The skin feels completely unbroken. Smooth. "How did he do that?"
Djarin snorts softly, taking her hand away from his side and linking their fingers together. "I don't know how he does any of the things he can do."
"But...it shouldn't be possible!"
"Neither should floating a mudhorn in the air. And yet he does."
This is different, though. Maker, she wishes she could explain to Djarin how different it really is.
And how truly valuable that makes the child. To the Empire, and anyone else who might want to abuse such power.
No normal Jedi can do what the child just did. No normal Jedi can use the Force to heal. It is not something even any Sith was known to do. They did not teach it at the Jedi Temple, for no one knew the Force capable of such a thing.
Wait...no.
Mahin stares down at their linked hands, the flicker of a memory trying to surface in her mind. Of her parents' teachings. And of the Jedi texts they smuggled out of the Temple. Mahin read through them dozens of times when she was younger, even before her Force lessons began. She was mystified by the Force and what it can do, wanting to understand it and embrace it like a close friend.
She remembers one of the texts saying something about healing, but she can't recall exactly what. Every time she tries to bring the words into focus, the writing blurs together like a morning haze. She hasn't read any of the texts in over a decade and it was not one of the texts her parents often used during lessons.
Could it give answers about this Force healing? Could it give answers about the child and what he is?
Mahin sighs deeply. It doesn't matter. She hid the texts long ago along with everything else from her past. She's not even sure how she could convince Djarin to go there, and then she would have to try to retrieve them from the planet in secret.
The mystery will just have to stay a mystery. She doubts figuring it out would really help them with anything anyway.
Mahin slides along the floor until she can lean into Djarin's opposite side, too paranoid to put any pressure where the wound once was. He might still be tender there, at the very least. Djarin's arm wraps around her waist to draw her closer while his other picks the kid up to settle him in Djarin's lap.
"That...that scared me," she says, voice muffled as she presses her face against his cloak above where it tucks into his breastplate. "I thought...I thought that you..."
"I'm alright," he tells her, gently yet firmly. Like he always knew everything would turn out alright in the end. Despite the severity of the wound. Despite the pain and the blood and how truly weak he became. "I'll always be alright."
"But what if...," she presses herself closer to him, "what if, one day, you're not?"
"I'll be okay."
"But-"
"Mahin," he cuts her off. He takes her chin between his fingers, tilting her face to look up at him. "What I do is dangerous. This life we have is dangerous. But I am a Mandalorian. I have the training and the skill and the tools that most don't. I am as safe as anyone can be doing this. And that'll have to be enough. We can't think of failure. Those thoughts will only drown us."
Mahin closes her eyes, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she nods. Djarin releases her chin to cup the side of her face. She leans into the touch, the worn leather of his gloves soft and warm.
She knows it's pointless—unhealthy, even, as he says—to think about the worst-case-scenario. He's right, it'll just drown her if she allows herself to feel all of that worry and fear. All they can do is hope for the best. Djarin already goes out as prepared as he can be. And she has to trust in his judgment. She has to trust in his ability to get himself out of those tight spots.
She has to trust that he'll come home to her. To them. And he did. Despite how close it was this time, Djarin still made it home.
Maker, she loves them both so much.
That thought thrills and invigorates her, filling her chest up until she can hardly breathe. It also terrifies her.
So much to gain. But also so much to lose.
Mahin finally opens her eyes to stare into his visor. The backs of them sting. She struggles to push the feeling away, willing her tears not to fall. "You better take good care of yourself when you're out there," she whispers hoarsely.
"I always do," he promises.
"I mean it. Because I can't...I can't lose you, Djarin. I can't."
The thought of going back to being alone, so alone….
His hand slides to the back of her head, bringing their foreheads together to touch. "I know," he sighs, the modulator of his helmet barely picking up the sound. "I can't lose you, either. I swear on the Creed that I will always do whatever it takes to come back to you. To stay by your side. Always."
Mahin settles herself against Djarin's side again, wrapping her arms around both him and the child. Holding them close. Holding them tight.
She'll protect them, however she can. She'll do whatever is in her power, too, to keep them both safe.
Her fingers gently stroke through the soft hairs on top of the kid's head. He, especially, needs protecting. She never realized just how much until today. He is special in a way she may never understand, but she does know one thing. No, actually two things.
One, he needs to continue in the ways of the Force. He has a profound connection to it, to be able to heal like he can. Of that much, she is certain. And it's important for him to grow that connection.
And two, Mahin needs to find a way to help him. Even if it means giving him away to a Jedi Master.
Author's Note
At one point, I realized that I never showed Mahin explicitly finding out that, hey, the kid has this weird magic healing thing. That he can use the Force, yes, but not the healing. I could have just implied that Djarin told her a while back, but I kind of wanted to have her find out on her own. So then this chapter happened. This also let me lay down some building blocks for my eventual endgame for this fic. Which is still a kinda vague blob in my head, but things are starting to take shape. Don't worry, the end is still a LONG way off so you're not getting rid of me yet!
Next chapter is very heavy in the hurt part of hurt/comfort. But don't worry, there will be comfort. Because I suck at letting angst last too long.
Hope you enjoyed, PLEASE REVIEW, and see you all next time!
Translations
Ca'tra - night sky
Buir - mom/dad, parent
Ad'ika - little one