A/N: Well, I can genuinely say this is the longest I've ever left a story and actually come back to it eventually. 2 years is... a lot longer than I had planned between updates. But I mean, it did happen eventually, so... XD
It was late in the evening by the time the medics deemed Paz fit enough for them to reconvene the trial. Even then, it was was with the strict order that he remove himself from the room if the strain of it became too much. Din had been given the same order as well, following Paz's brief report to the Baar'ure upon their questioning about how the beroya was handling the stress.
Much to Din's disdain, Paz's retelling of earlier events (altered to exclude his temporary doubt of the Way,) prompted the medics to buzz around him busily, taking his pulse, temperature, and blood pressure, all while asking far too many questions about his mental health that he wouldn't have answered well even under normal circumstances. Paz tossed a nutrient drink at Din's head before opening downing one himself. Din glared at him over the rim of the drink.
"Stop pouting and start drinking, di'kut." Paz called out, as one of the medics shoved the straw up and under Din's helm.
Din grumbled but did as told. Food never sat well with him when he was stressed. It rolled around in his stomach just enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to bother doing anything about. But he needed the fuel and he knew it, could feel his body was still more tired than it ought to be, despite feeling infinitely better than he had the day before. He managed a little over half the drink before his stomach told him more wasn't a good idea, and he tossed the bottle to the side.
Unfortunately, the pain in his ribs was returning with something of a vengeance following his brief rest, and his body was already sore and coiled with tension even without the added shooting pain in his ribcage every time he tried to take a breath.
With a concealed wince, Din pushed himself to his feet, quickly reaching out to steady himself against the wall.
"Beroya?"
"I'm fine." Din responded, "Just- just stiffed up a bit from lying there for so long."
True to his word, the pain did improve once he started moving and stretching out a bit. He was walking almost normally by the time they returned to the great room for the results of the second trial, and the proceedings of the third.
Din was still... undecided as to what he wanted to happen in the trial. Wasn't entirely sure that what he wanted mattered either, wasn't sure that he could look at this situation with clear eyes.
Din couldn't help but to think that he had let Grogu heal Karga. Not entirely on purpose, but he hadn't stopped the child either. Was that situation really that much different from the one Cara found herself in? Faced with a dying friend and only one way to save them. But Cara had also known it would exhaust the child. Possibly even harm him. Din hadn't known, hadn't understood well enough then. Cara's use of Grogu's powers was deliberate. Din's had not been, necessarily.
Cara had even attacked their baar'ur, in order to allow the foundling to continue to exhaust himself.
Din... Din wasn't sure what to do with that information.
Especially because in the end, it had all worked out. Paz was alive and Grogu was fine. The baar'ur, while startled, didn't seem much worse for the wear. Cara's plan had worked. But what if it hadn't.
Din wasn't sure whether or not that "what if" warranted the punishment they were discussing for Cara.
Cara walked into the room, head held high and ready. Thravaa had told her he honestly wasn't sure how that last little outburst would play out with the trial. He hadn't been sure what the Armorer would make of it, and surprisingly enough, wasn't quite sure what to make of it himself. Threatening the baar'ur, again, probably wasn't the best move, but it had saved Paz from the pain of another seizure, one that possibly could have bedridden him once again had it been allowed to continue on.
The Armorer stood at her post, as intimidating as ever, but Cara refused to cow. If she was going to die, she might as well do so with her dignity intact.
"A conclusion has been reached." The Armorer announced. "Please rise."
Any Mando'ade that had been seated rose, including Din and Paz, who both got shoved back into their chairs by each of their medic babysitters, respectively.
"Cara Dune, in the court of vencuyot, you are found... dar'burk'yc."
A loud muttering erupted amongst the crowd.
"dar... dar... that means no?" Cara leans in towards Thravaa, "what does that mean? It good?"
"The elders have decided that you pose no further risk to the Covert. They've decided that this incident was a fluke. A temporary lapse in judgement rather than a pattern of behavior. You... got off lucky. Really lucky, after that show you put on with the baar'ur. Somebody must be batting for you."
"Really?" Cara asked, "Who would-"
Cara's eyes fell on Faik, seated next to the elders, one of the youngest among them.
"Oh."
Faik wasn't all that old, just a five year or so older than Paz really, but she was wise and fair, and well respected amongst the covert. Her body was young but her soul was old and kind.
"You should thank her, at some point." Thravaa said mildly, "Doing well at this trial guaranteed your right to a warrior's death."
"I thought that's what the last one did?"
"No, that one just gave you a chance of it."
The Armorer looked on as the trial of ruyot commenced.
The facts were clear.
Cara had knowingly endangered the life of an ik'aad in order to save the life of a fellow warrior, her friend's vod.
Cara had verbally threatened, and committed physical harm against the baar'ur to ensure she was able to do so.
What was also clear, however, is that Cara's intention had not been to hurt the ad, but to save her burc'ya. She had the intent to heal, not to harm.
However, intent only goes so far and action weaves the rest of the tale.
Faik was able to convince the elders that Cara was of no further risk of harm to the foundlings. Reports from Thravaa indicate that although she would not change her decision, she does feel guilt from it. She has learned the lesson and sees the risks.
An argument could be made that she made the decision while emotionally compromised. Which, while it couldn't excuse her decision, could at least explain it. She and Din Djarin were quite close, she must care for Paz Vizsla by extension considering he is Din's vod by akaan - it is likely she also felt the stress of his illness. And she had the potential for loss of aliit so blatantly exposed to her because of their lack of acknowledgement that Din's extended aliit had become her own. That part, at least, was no fault of her own, but rather the Covert itself.
Supposing, that is, a factor that did indeed effect her decisions.
Justice would be served, in whatever form it may take.
Of this the Armorer was certain.
A/N: So I just realized that Thravaa and Crosshair have similar vibes. Thravaa isn't quite as snarky as Crosshair on a normal basis, but it does come out on occasion. He's behaving himself particularly well because of the situation and the necessity of him remaining unbiased. But I wrote Thravaa before I saw Bad Batch, so I did not in fact steal him, I promise XD. In addition... I do indeed intend on continuing this story. More reliably than I have for the past 2 years. I can't say I'll be 100% consistent, but this story is not abandoned. It's just sort of been on the back burner while I tried to re-acquire the zeal I once had for it. But. Here I am. Zeal reacquired.
Baar'ur = medic
Beroya = bounty hunter
di'kut = idiot
vencuyot = future
dar'burk'yc = not dangerous
ruyot = past
vod = brother
akaan = war
