* Thank you all so much for the comments and reviews. Me and my editor really appreciate it. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed.

Also, if you give me a single word, I can try to write a chapter around it.

Mental Notes

Given the shootout that just happened in Nevarro, Din sent the Razor Crest into hyperspace as soon as he could. The galaxy became a fast-paced blur. From somewhere behind him, in the passenger seat, a surprised but ecstatic coo rang out.

After only a few minutes of jumping between star systems, Din deemed that to be an adequate amount of distance put between them and Nevarro, and deactivated hyperdrive. Everything around them slowed, almost to a stop, and they drifted through the sky at a normal pace.

Din flicked a few switches, just to stabilize the ship. "That should do it," he muttered to himself, hoping that no one would get any bright ideas about following them.

He glanced back at the Child, who was still giggling from how fun that just was. All the while, he fidgeted with the silver gear shift ball.

Din leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms.

Well. Now what?

He had been a solo bounty hunter for so many years now. He didn't even team up with his fellow Mandalorians that often. Now, he had a small child to look after, of which he knew absolutely nothing about, but he supposed that would come with time.

He guessed the only thing to do was to keep on traveling as he usually did. It was Nevarro that had complicated things. He couldn't ever go back there for obvious reasons. Although, as far as bounty hunting goes, he could always find work elsewhere. He just needed to figure out where to start first.

He was about to turn back to face the controls when something metallic hit the floor. Before it could roll to points unknown, Din snatched up the silver ball and placed it back on the console. He shouldn't have even given it back to the Child in the first place, but for some reason he did. He would be sure not to give in to any of the Child's demands from now on.

He turned around again when he heard something else. A strange and sharp gurgling noise. The Child was clutching his stomach, and whining a little.

Din tilted his head. "Hungry?"

The Child's ears perking up was the only response. He was probably ravenous. Between falling unconscious after the mudhorn incident, nearly being handed over to the Empire, and the Nevarro shootout, neither of them had enough time to eat something until now. And Din wasn't surprised when his own stomach growled. Still, he couldn't help the guilt that clawed at him. He absolutely needed to make sure the Child was more well-fed from now on.

Din stood up. "Come on, then." While the Child was clambering off of the passenger seat, he descended the ladder, into the hull. Once down there, he looked upward.

Wide anxious eyes stared down at him.

"Oh," he realized dumbly, and climbed back up the ladder. With the Child in the crook of one arm, he once again climbed back down. After Din placed him on the floor, he said, "Have a look around. I'll be a minute."

Din went over to the storage containers, one of which he reserved solely for food. He was glad he had stocked up before leaving Nevarro. Their food situation should be good for a while. However, Din only now realized something. He had no idea what the Child ate.

Actually, that wasn't true. He ate a frog not too long ago, completely whole, in one gulp. However, Din never knew if he had done so out of naivety or necessity. He opened the container, asking himself what children normally ate.

Another realization quickly became obvious to him. It looked like he had enough food on this ship for himself and maybe a short-term passenger, but not a long-term one. He would have to sort through it and take inventory. Now thoroughly annoyed at himself, he shoved through the contents of the box, determined to start simple and see what the Child liked.

He came across some bland ration biscuits. It didn't get more simple than that. They were Imperial ones that he had swiped off of a dead stormtrooper just a few weeks ago. He glared at the little rectangles, and tossed them onto the floor. Normally, food was food and Din was opportunistic, but the biscuits would be in poor taste given everything that had recently happened. He planned to throw them away once they landed somewhere. He soon found some more biscuits, just plain ones with no labels or shady origins.

The Child had climbed his way up on top of a cargo box and sat there. He still clutched at his stomach, and whimpered louder. Quickly, Din tore open the clear package. He walked over to the Child, and knelt down in front of him. He broke off a piece and placed it into eagerly waiting claws.

Din winced sharply, listening to the harsh crunching noises as the Child struggled to chew even a corner of it. It also didn't help that there was a look of complete disgust on the kid's face. Din sighed and went back to the storage container, taking the biscuits with him.

He rifled through it yet again, and his hand collided against a canister of soup broth. He nicked a hole in it with his knife. After finding a small bowl of some sort, he rejoined the Child. He poured out the soup and handed the bowl to the Child, who drank from it with loud gulps.

Din almost sighed in relief. Standing up, he repositioned another cargo box closer and sat down near the Child. He needed to eat something, too, but he didn't quite know how to do that without letting the Child out of his sight. He supposed he could always wait until he fell asleep, but he didn't know when that would be.

The Child took the empty bowl away from his mouth and burped. Dropping the bowl, he grasped at the canister clumsily, and looked up at Din. Taking that as an obvious cue, he poured more soup for him.

As the Child drank his fill, Din took that moment to get up and take inventory of their food supply, dividing it as evenly as possible. All in all, they had about three days worth of food. Maybe less than that, if the Child chose to have a picky appetite, or a big one. Speaking of which, he was now waving the bowl in the air very pointedly.

The Child had managed to down nearly two canisters of soup, leaving the remainder of one of them for Din. He set it aside, for now. For the moment, he really needed to think about the current situation.

Everything about his life wasn't equipped for a child. The bounty hunting, the constant moving, the inevitable fights and battles.

He wasn't equipped to take care of a child.

He definitely had experience with children. Well, at least he knew that they needed shelter and food. Not to mention any training so that they could learn to defend themselves. However, any foundlings he'd ever come across were given to another Mandalorian to be taken under their wing.

This foundling was different. This one was his responsibility. Din didn't know the precise moment when that became fact, but it now was. This child was the youngest foundling he'd ever come across. He wasn't capable of talking, let alone able to defend himself with a weapon. And Din still had no idea what to make of the mudhorn incident. Either or, the Child was under his protection, for however long that might be. And he vowed to make that a priority.

Okay. So, what else did children need?

Shelter was no problem. From a distance, to the untrained eye, his ship looked antiquated, and maybe it was at this point. However, it was a lot sturdier than it looked. Din had lost count of how many times he'd piloted the ship in and out of hairy situations. No matter how many hits and shots were taken, no matter how many repairs were needed, the Razor Crest was damn near formidable. It wasn't a fortress, but it was the equivalent. The Child couldn't be safer here.

Hmm. What else?

Medical supplies had dwindled within the last few days. While he was hoping that they wouldn't run into more trouble anytime soon, it was still better to be prepared.

Again, what else?

That couldn't be it.

Din shook his head slowly. He knew there was probably more, but he struggled to think of any. He would just have to make mental notes as he went.

With a harsh sigh, he rubbed his hand against the forehead of his helmet.

A questioning murmur made him look up. The Child was sitting closer to him now, his head tilted inquisitively to the side as he stared at him. In his little hands was the empty bowl, which Din took from him and set aside. The Child's ears went up and down two or three times, and he murmured again.

Din shrugged. "Looks like we need to resupply after all."

The Child looked away to stare at the storage container holding their food supply. He mumbled incoherently. Then, his eyes drooped, and he yawned widely. Without any further ado, he tucked his legs under him, closed his eyes, and flopped sideways. Din nearly winced when he almost banged his head in the process.

Knowing that wasn't a comfortable place to sleep whatsoever, Din stood up and walked around the hull, looking for a better solution. He came across the Child's old blanket. He wrapped it around the Child's body, picked him up, and opened the hatch to his sleeping quarters. Slowly, so as not to wake him up, Din placed him at the foot of his bunk. The blanket was tattered and thin, but it was better than nothing.

"Sorry," Din muttered to the slumbering infant. "I'll get better at this. You have my word." He closed the hatch.

Deciding now was as good a time as any, he grabbed the soup canister and the remainder of the biscuits. He sat back down on the cargo box. Just as he was placing his hands on the sides of his helmet, he heard a shuffling coming from the bunk, and froze.

Thankfully, the noises stopped after only a few seconds, and Din could hear the Child's breathing become steady as he slept.

Next to the hatch, there was a small control panel on the wall that controlled the lights, door, and air pressure of the living quarters. A duplicate panel was inside, easily within the Child's reach if he ever figured out what all the buttons did.

Din let his helmet fall back into place. Thinking it was best not to risk it, he stood up, took the food with him, and climbed the ladder into the cockpit.

Once he sat down in front of the controls, he looked over a few of his maps and radars, trying to determine the best place to land. While he mulled that over, he decided now would be the best time.

He didn't like having meals in the cockpit, as any passing ship could glance at him and see his face. But there were no ships nearby right now, and he was growing hungrier by the minute.

He removed his helmet.

The biscuits were pretty damn stale – no wonder the kid had a difficult time eating them – but filling nonetheless. The soup was a concerning matter. Din was hungry enough to drink multiple canisters, almost the remainder of their supply.

As he ate, he eventually found a decent place for them to resupply.

Din didn't bother looking at the name of the city or spaceport that they landed in. All he knew was that this planet was consistently neutral, had plenty of bazaars, and that he could come and go without interference. A particular marketplace that he knew of attracted all sorts. Farmers, mechanics, bounty hunters, teachers, pirates, and that was just to name a few.

It wasn't the classiest place in the galaxy, but it also wasn't the worst, with everyone generally staying out of each other's business. Din was hopeful that they wouldn't be hassled here and that they would blend right in. The Child included. He wasn't quite sure if leaving him alone on the ship was a good idea just yet, especially after taking apart the gearshift right under his nose.

The Razor Crest's main door opened, revealing the bustling streets of the marketplace just up ahead.

Din adjusted his gauntlets and glanced down at his blaster, just double-checking that everything was in order. Standing right next to him was the Child. Calmly, he looked between Din and the marketplace, at all those people. After a few seconds, he looked at Din again and muttered questioningly.

Din heard this and nodded once at him. And they walked down the ramp to begin their busy day.

Din had to walk slowly. Very slowly. Just so that the Child could keep up. Din didn't mind it too terribly, and it certainly wasn't the Child's fault that he had such small strides. But at this pace, any and all errands could take a few hours.

Din sighed. He needed to find him a new pram, first and foremost. The old one had been carelessly thrown away by the Client on Nevarro.

They went from merchant, asking for any local mechanics who might be selling, or willing to build one. The answer was always the same. 'No smiths are in today', 'try the next vendor', or 'we charge extra for special orders, more than a bounty hunter makes'.

Din clenched his fists at that last one, but spun around to leave, listening to the vendor scoff.

Mandalorians were either unknown to some, or thought to be completely extinct. And those that knew of their existence sometimes feared them, or didn't want anything to do with them. Respect was occasionally rare. Din prided himself in knowing how to pick his battles, and moved on.

He looked down at the Child, who was trotting along as best as he could. His head kept turning, eyes looking this way and that, both fascinated and probably overwhelmed by everything. It had been a while since they'd stopped walking, so Din thought it best to do so, just so he could get his bearings.

The Child noticed, and he stopped as well, huffing and puffing a little. He wasn't used to all this walking. Once he caught his breath, though, he kept going. Din shook his head and followed, letting him dictate the pace for the moment.

Din was yet again struck by just how abnormal the Child was. The streets of this marketplace were utterly packed today due to the nice sunny weather. Kids ran around and shouted playfully in the streets, vendors were hocking their wares, and customers were sometimes pushing and shoving each other along. Having just come from a loud and deadly shootout in Nevarro, he expected something more fearful from the Child.

Din would've bet what remained of his credits that the Child was the smallest and most vulnerable creature here. However, instead of being intimidated or shaken, the Child seemed to be driven forward by stubborn curiosity, not caring how often he almost got trampled, or the odd looks people gave him. It was rare that he approached anyone or anything with caution.

Din realized that the Child wasn't afraid of much to begin with. A droid getting shot in front of him, being surrounded by Jawas, a charging mudhorn, Nevarro, and so on. Din could honestly keep adding to that list if he got nitpicky about it. He crossed his arms as he continued to observe the Child, not denying he was a little impressed.

Stubborn curiosity was a good way to put it. And brazen.

The Child led them to a food stand, and he stopped directly in front of it. He stood on his tiptoes, as if that would help him see everything better. He babbled in fascination, looked back at Din, and pointed enthusiastically at everything. Din stepped up beside him. Before he could start negotiating, the Child was already taking a bite out of a piece of fruit that was almost bigger than his head.

Well. It was already being eaten anyway, and it was nearly lunchtime. Wordlessly, Din tossed a credit at the vendor, who didn't look too pleased at the kid.

They negotiated for a few minutes, but this stand didn't have any protein or non-perishables. So, as well as paying for what the Child was currently eating, he also bought a small pouch filled with berries. If the Child didn't eat them, then Din would, but he was now beginning to learn what Child would eat. It was a start.

Before they continued on, the Child looked back at the fruit vendor and waved rapidly at him in thanks, cooing happily and completely oblivious to the merchant's glare.

Din shook his head at the Child, and made a noise in his throat. It almost sounded like an amused chuckle, but Din himself wasn't even sure.

Next on the list was more food, which he found was being sold near the doorway of a cantina. Basically, they were getting rid of all the stuff they couldn't sell in their establishment, but it would all keep for a while. Din took his pick, and also bought a small crate so as to carry everything.

Next were medical supplies, and a blanket, both of which were being sold on a side street, where a group of local kids were playing a game of chase. They stopped what they were doing to stare downwards.

"Mum, what is that thing," one of them asked, pointing at the Child.

"Don't be rude," his mother scolded. She stood up from her chair and gave Din a smile. "Forgive my son."

Din only shrugged.

The vendors here were all different species of folks, with only a few humanoid creatures. The woman was the latter.

"Anyway," she said after a moment of awkward pause. "What can I help you with?"

Din pointed to her left. "Bacta spray. And how warm is that blanket?" The one in question was a sort of blue color, and maybe a little worn, but well-made.

While Din and the woman talked prices, the Child watched the other kids as they played and shouted and taunted each other. The Child stepped towards them, but stopped short when they accidentally kicked some dirt up, causing him to cough and stumble backwards. His back collided with Din's ankle, and he pushed against the boot to stay upright.

Din nearly jumped, and immediately put his attention on him. He then took a swift glance around the alley, hand hovering over his blaster. When he realized that there was no threat, he exhaled silently. The Child's coughing stopped, and Din looked at the woman again. She was smiling warmly, almost grinning, as if she knew something that he didn't.

"It's quite alright," she assured. "He can play with the others."

"I'd rather he not," Din said curtly. "We're not from around here." He gave her a handful of credits.

"May I ask how old he is," she inquired as she gathered the items he had paid for.

Din shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She only nodded at that. "Do you need anything else?"

He shook his head. "Unless you have any other medical supplies."

Thankfully, she did. They haggled some more, and they reached an agreement on price, but Din was running out of room in the crate. The woman saw this, and took down a brown satchel that was hanging off the corner of her stand.

"I'll throw this in," she offered. Din was about to reach into his pockets for more credits, but the woman stopped him with just a stern look. "I don't need any more of your money. Our stand often gets overlooked." She nodded towards her son. "Me and my boy will eat well tonight. Thanks to you."

Without another word - because what was he supposed to say to that - he slung the satchel over his shoulder, grabbed hold of the crate, and walked away, looking down to make sure the Child was following. The Child did follow, but not before glancing at the other children one last time.

As they walked all the way back to the spaceport, Din did some mental math, thinking about the credits he'd spent today. He needed to figure out how much he would have to earn back with whatever job he picked next. Nodding to himself, he realized he had some time before that was needed. He had just enough credits for probably one more supply run after this one.

An inquisitive murmur stopped him, and he turned in the direction of the sound.

The Child had stopped in front of one of the mechanics, staring at all the things being sold. They had already been there earlier, and walked away nothing. They didn't sell prams. Nobody in the market did, and those that could build one refused to do business with him.

"Come on," Din called.

The Child ignored him and took a step towards the stand, ears perked forward. With a sigh, Din walked over and stood next to him. What caught his attention was a metal sphere, probably a ball bearing.

Din pointed to it. "How heavy is that," he asked the vendor.

"Lightest material this side of the galaxy," he coaxed. "Even better than your beskar, I'd wager."

Beneath his helmet, Din was glaring scathingly, but he knew it was all jesting. The vendor took the sphere off the shelf for him. Din tossed it up in the air once, testing its weight. Finding no lie, he knelt down and passed it to the Child.

Little claws snatched it right out of his palm. The Child held it close to his face, cooing in awe at either its own reflection or how shiny it was, or both. The sphere was just small enough for him to hold, but not so small he could potentially swallow it. Even though it wasn't exactly a proper toy, it was probably safer than the gear shift ball back at the Razor Crest, so Din purchased it.

On their way to the ship, the Child marveled at his new toy the entire time, babbling and giggling.

Once inside the Razor Crest, he closed up the main door, and got to work taking inventory of his purchases.

Food went into the storage container, and he was feeling accomplished at having found more soup canisters. He even managed to find jerky. Given that the Child seemed carnivorous, he was hoping he would like them.

Bacta spray and bandages were put in a med-pack.

He even managed to find a few small parts for his ship, and set those aside for now.

The crate he had been carrying all this stuff in the entire day was now empty. It was a dented old thing, and had clearly been repurposed many times over the years. Still, he didn't want it to go to waste. Hmm. He could probably strap it onto the passenger seat, to give the Child a more secure place to sit while up in the cockpit. He still didn't have a pram for him. He set the crate near the ladder, so he wouldn't forget about it.

It was evening now, and Din realized it would be best to spend the night here, and then leave at first light. The Child let out a yawn, and he nearly dropped the sphere. Din heard him loud and clear, and quickened his pace to put everything away.

What remained was the contents of the satchel. He brought out the neatly folded blanket and placed that on the foot of his bunk. The woman was also kind enough to suggest some rags, given how messy kids could be. The only rags he had on his ship had a layer of grease and oil on them.

Maybe it was how easily the woman had caught on to him being new at all this. But for some reason, in that moment, he didn't want to admit that he was grateful for that bit of advice. For any advice. That said, he had still thanked her before walking away.

He found some more medical supplies at the bottom, put those away, and then held the bag up. It was a large tan satchel, nothing too special. Normally, Din would've scrapped something like this, as it wasn't often that he needed to drape a bag around himself. However, it was surprisingly sturdy for how soft it was. Thinking it was best to keep it as is, not knowing when he might need it, he hung it on a random hook near all the other cargo.

The Child was nearby, once again fast asleep on the lid of a cargo box. The ball bearing he had been so transfixed by was nowhere to be seen, but Din supposed he could look for that later. He grabbed the blanket, wrapped the Child in it, and placed him in the empty crate. Din scowled, not liking how cold it looked, but it would have to do for now. He figured it wasn't any better or worse than the pram was. And he still had to find a replacement for that. In the meantime, the crate would have to do. He made yet another mental note for later to make sure it was a little more comfortable.

He went over to his bunk, climbed inside, and shut the hatch. He let his head fall on the cushion with a heavy sigh. Although he was tired, he couldn't imagine how exhausted the Child must be. He had walked and ran around that marketplace all day. Although he kept up well enough, it still wasn't fair to expect him to walk everywhere like that.

Din might have to leave him alone on the ship after all, for any future outings. It would be inevitable, especially when it was time to find more work. Staying on the ship might be safer for him anyway in those instances.

Din closed his eyes, almost too tired of all the little things he had to consider, and was ready to fall asleep. He reached for his helmet, ready to remove it, when a clacking noise reached his ears.

It almost sounded like a piece of his ship. Perhaps a loose part? Concerned enough that something might be faulty, Din put his helmet back on and exited the bunk. He followed the clacking noise…

…all the way to the crate.

The Child was still curled up inside, sleeping soundly. However, in his hands was something silver and small. It wasn't the ball bearing they had gotten from the marketplace.

It was the little silver gear shift ball, the one that belonged on the control console. The Child held it close, gnawing on it, and making a contented trilling noise in his sleep.

Din stood there, confused and floored. They only just got back a few minutes ago, and the kid couldn't even climb the ladder to get to the cockpit.

…How?

Din shook his head, way too tired to want to think too hard about this.

He crouched down. At this point, he was losing the battle of trying to keep the ball away from him. He kept using the argument that it should be attached to the ship, or that the Child could choke on it. But he let him play with the ball all day yesterday, and the Child never was quite able to fit it in his mouth anyway. He didn't seem to want to eat it, preferring to hold it, chew on it, and play with it.

He stood up, coming to a decision. "Fine," he huffed. "But I'm not buying you anything anymore." His words sounded annoyed, but there was no real anger behind them.

Upon hearing his voice, the Child's eyes peaked open blearily. He looked up at Din, and then at the ball in his little claws. His shoulders hunched expectantly.

Din sighed again and shook his head. After a moment, somehow understanding, the Child relaxed and snuggled into his blanket. His breathing evened out, and he was back to sleep in seconds.

Din walked back to his bunk, but only after muttering, "Goodnight, kid."