Chapter 14

Alone

As Din jolted awake, his pulse quivered in his ear. His hand, resting across his stomach, rose and fell rapidly with his heavy breathing. Tendrils of the nightmare still clung to his conscious even after waking; a vague afterimage of the thief flickered, darted, and danced across his vision. Sharply, Din turned his head and stared at the side of the lounge, attempting to dislodge it from his mind. He grunted softly at the dull twinge in his neck. The constriction and rigidness of his beskar always aggravated it and made it stiff during sleep. The previous night was no exception.

Din reached up to his head. With a shaking hand, he gingerly traced the outline of the visor. He could still get a sense of the beskar's texture through the fabric of his glove, and the familiar slickness, chill, and weight of the metal soothed immediately. His heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as the sensation grounded him, but soon began to gather speed again.

He lowered his hand to his side and curled his fingers into a fist.

What child are you, to be frightened by a dream? This is foolish. A Mandalorian should never-

The thought fell flat. He tightened his fist.

The calming sensation of the helmet diminished and, in its place, the unsettling presence of the dark saber crept in. It began to burn at his side. The weapon felt like a magnet attracted only to his flesh, pushing harder against his hip and beckoning his hand to reach for it. His fingers slowly unfurled and found its way to the dark saber's hilt. A new image flickered in his mind; in this one, he drew the lightsaber and swung it expertly at the thief's neck.

Din jerked his hand away. The imagery disappeared.

He tossed his head to the other side and gazed across the room for a while. Eventually a cold sweat beaded on his brow and trickled into his eye, which made his forehead itch beneath his visor. He resisted the urge to take his helmet off and scratch it - he could hear somebody now, presumably the thief, running water in kitchen sink. The tingling, crawling sensation on his forehead intensified with every moment he couldn't scratch it. While he could simply get up and lock himself in the safety of the bathroom, that would likely mean needing to interact with the thief which he couldn't stand the thought of.

Din pondered tilting his helmet up just enough to allow him to reach the itch. The side of the lounge would likely shield him from the thief's vision...

No. Not a chance. Din couldn't risk it. He was not about to let her see his face again, not even the smallest sliver of his chin.

In attempt to distract his mind, Din stared across the room and tried to focus on the mural with the beast, imagining how he would fight and subdue it if he were to ever encounter one. However, he couldn't seem to focus or hold a thought long enough to find a solution. The itch persisted and nagged. His eye twitched. He scrunched his forehead to relieve it, but that only made it burn with more intensity. To make matters worse, the thief had begun to hum some unfamiliar, happy tune.

Dank Farrik!

The Mandalorian jerked into a sitting position and rose from the lounge abruptly. He beelined for the bathroom.

"Good morning!" the thief chimed as she scrubbed a dish in the sink.

Din ignored her, did not so much as look at her, and hurried towards the bathroom. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't seem to care until he was just about to door. Her humming ceased. He felt her eyes on his back before he heard her voice.

"I'm glad we finally came to a note of understanding."

Din stopped, his leading boot squeaking on the floor. He glanced over his shoulder. Her eyes drifted back to the dishes. She began humming again as he stared at her.

"A note of what?"

He vividly remembered their heated argument in the middle of the night. 'Understanding' certainly wouldn't be Din's first choice of words.

"Understanding. Yeah. Like I forgive you for throwing my plant. I promise not to steal anything else." She ran her nail over a plate to scratch off something sticking to it. "Yeah. How's your leg?"

Understanding?

Was she just going to pretend like their conversation about the Enodarite kid hadn't happened? Annoyance bubbled in his stomach and began to make him feel nauseated. The ominous energy of the dark saber intensified which only served to make the pit in his stomach deepen. He turned and jabbed the button to the bathroom door.

It slid open.

"My plant's fine, by the way," she called as the door shut behind him, her voice flatter. "And so's my head!"

He locked the door behind him, then checked it again.

And again, to be safe.

He glanced into the shower to make sure no person or droid was hiding behind the privacy wall, turned the water dial on to full blast, then he took his helmet off. He threw up in the sink. He'd hardly eaten the last few days, but whatever little was left in his stomach ended up down the drain. The sound of water covered up the sound of his dry retching.

Just two more days.

He glanced briefly at his pale face in the mirror.

You've survived much worse than this, Mandalorian or not.

He shut his eyes.

The dark saber felt heavier than ever, as if gravity functioned on him twice as much as it did for the rest of the planet. He sunk to the ground.

The itch, at least, had finally subsided.

Din remained on the bathroom floor the rest of the morning and would have stayed in there the rest of the day if the Enodarite kid hadn't knocked on the door to ask him if he was okay and if he would be done soon. Din told him to leave. Of course, the child continued chatting about a time when he was once ill with a stomach bug and what, in great detail, remedies and philosophies his mother had given to soothe his body and mind.

Din clenched his jaw.

I cannot. I cannot make it here two more days.

He covered his ears with his hands. Eventually, the chattering child left.

Perhaps it is wise to cut my losses and try to navigate the blizzard. My armor will protect me from the cold. I will return here and find the thief when the blizzard ceases.

His shoulders relaxed at the thought of leaving this place behind and returning to the inn, where he could be comfortably alone. Navigating in whiteout conditions would be dangerous. Dangerous, but worth it. Din rose to his feet, shifting his weight carefully back onto his injured leg.

I should talk to her again before I leave and learn anything I can about the loan shark.

With a sigh, he put his helmet back on and exited the bathroom.

A lopsided structure made of pillows, blankets, and pelts occupied most of the area in front of the lounge seating. Strings of blinking star-shaped lights outline the only gap in the blankets. A pillow fortress, as promised. The Mandalorian's heart softened, just a bit. At least Senn'ika had done something right.

A head poked out of the opening.

"Finally!" Fio exclaimed. "You took forever. I thought you were dead. Well, not really, but I thought you might be dying. I had an uncle who once slipped in the shower and hit his head and apparently he bled a lot, so I thought, maybe that might have-"

"Where's the thief? Is she in there with you?" Din asked, thinking she should have come out of the fort by now.

Fio tilted his head. "Senn'ika?"

Din gave a nod.

"Oh. Mom's room. Do you want a tour?" the Enodarite replied. "Not of mom's room. Of my fortress! I call it Fort Fio. Senn helped a lot to build it, but she said it was okay if I named it after just me, so I did."

Turning his back to the child, Din walked over to the door to the mother's room. He knocked, no answer.

Fio made a loud shushing noise. "She said she's taking a nap. Mom doesn't like being woken up from naps to play and Senn is like mom sometimes so you shouldn't bother her either. It's not polite. Mom says I should be nice and polite always but especially to women."

Din halted mid-knock. Unmoving, he considered whether he should allow Senn'ika to rest. She probably needed it just as much as him. None of them had slept well and perhaps she would be in a better, more reasonable mood after a bit of sleep. He lowered his fist.

The Mandalorian waited a few hours before trying again. In that time, he almost considered staying. The winds sounded fiercer than ever and the visibility remained at almost zero. Ultimately, he decided to stick with his plan of leaving and traversing the blizzard. After a few hours and a quick meal, the Mandalorian returned to the door and knocked again.

Nothing.

"Senn'ika."

He tried again.

"We must speak. Now."

Silence.

"Senn'ika! Come out now or I willl take this door down."

Still, nothing.

His heart began to pound. When he scanned through the door to detect life forms, he found nothing. No heat except that radiating from the radiators lining the walls.

How? My sensors must be malfunctioning.

A horrible feeling of suspicion crept over him, and his hand instinctively went to grab the dark saber. It hummed an ominous note as he unsheathed it. With all his strength, he swung it at the door. His deltoid flexed to its capacity as he forced the weapon through the metal, the blade hissing furiously on impact. Cutting through the door sapped must of he strength, but he finally managed to slice out some sort of odd polygon that he could squeeze through. He wedged his torso in first and clumsily stepped into the opening.

He stood still, statue-like, on the other side. His eyes flicked from the vanity, to the bed, to the transceiver sitting on the bed. The dark saber remained unsheathed at his side, hanging in his hand. It felt lighter than ever as the realization hit him: the room really was empty.

The thief was gone.