NOW

Her screams. That's what haunts Din the most. The sound of her voice calling for him, begging for help, for someone to grab the kid as the droid twisted her arm back and shot into the air. His name was the last word he heard as they rocketed toward the Imperial cruiser. The dread set in as they became little more than pinpricks in the blue sky. Everything he cared about was gone; his kid, his partner, his ship. Din wanted to scream. Fire pumped through his veins.

After the ship shot away, he searched the field for a trooper still alive. He wanted to hurt them, to break their bones, to make them scream like his family had screamed. It was lucky for them they were all dead.

Clenching his shaking hands, Din struggled to stay composed. He managed only because he had to. With Fennec Shand and Boba Fett watching, there could be no display of weakness. So, Din did the only thing he could do. He started planning.

Sifting through the ruins of his ship, he crafted a plan to get them back. Guns, soldiers, a map, he would need them all. Yet, all of it was moot without a ship. That had to be solved and it was when Boba swore his help. Din accepted despite his doubts. He would take what he could get.

As they shoot toward Nevarro, Din's mind races. He needs more help, a way to track them, a way to get them out. If there even is still a them.

The Empire wanted the Child, not her. So why?

'Why take her too?'

Din pushed the question from his head. The futility of worrying is not lost on him. He needs to focus. He needs to get them back. He has promises to keep, even if some were uttered without half a thought.

THEN

"You don't have anywhere else to go?" It's not really a question, Din already knew the answer. He glanced at the woman next to him. Vala Kast stood statuesque, bandaged arms crossed over her chest. Her black hair, a mass of curls, sways in the wind, shining in the light from the smoldering ships before them. One of them had been hers. The others belonged to slavers who she had been evading for months.

Vala let out a sigh, her long dark eyelashes fluttering closed. Din had met her by accident, entered a cave without checking for signs of life to avoid the deadly storm beating down over them. Her ship didn't come into view until they had disembarked from the Razor Crest. He had turned to leave but blaster fire erupted behind him and Vala raced in, her sleek black armor speckled with mud and blood. They'd almost shot each other before she realized he wasn't with the slavers.

"No, no I do not," she answered solemnly. "That ship held my whole life."

'Of course it did.' Din cursed himself inwardly for ever having suggested they use her ship as bait. His plan had worked—they usually did—but he had not anticipated the slavers' willingness to destroy a perfectly good ship to stop one woman. Though, he should have considered it a possibility when she admitted to freeing more than fifty children from under them.

Tears well in her eyes threatening to fall. Her brown eyes aren't filled with pleading though, only a restrained rage. Whether it's rage at him or the slavers Din doesn't want to know. From their brief time together, Din has already decided the anger of Vala Kast, freer of children and nuisance to slavers, is not something he wants to earn. No, she is better as an ally.

As the flames lick across the ships' hulls Din makes up his mind. The stab of guilt in his chest makes it an easy decision. It would be cruel to leave her here, on a backwater planet, alone when he is—partially—the reason her ship is gone. Who knew when another ship would make a stop here? Who knew how long she could survive the lightning storms, the hail, the trembling, splintering ground? It hadn't even been Din's first option and he was trying to hide. Trying to find a planet just unwelcoming enough, just unhospitable enough to keep others away. To keep the Child safe.

'Safe.'

Bitterness runs through him. The sight of the Child being yanked from his cradle rises unbidden in his mind. He'd turned his back for just a moment to check the trail, to make sure they were going the right way on the plateau. It looked the same whichever way you turned. Flat and gray and jagged with angry clouds amassed overhead interfering with their compasses and nav pads. The shot had grazed past Din and clipped off the side of the cradle. The mercenaries were on them in the next instant.

Even with Vala at his side, it had been hard to fight them back. They had no cover. The wind whipped dust from the cracked earth obscuring their view. It was luck that kept him and Vala from shooting one another. Well, luck kept Vala from shooting him. Din could tell it was her by the silhouette of her hair. Like a cape snapping in the wind, loose and wild; it didn't make sense how she could see with it like that.

Din didn't see the man until it was too late. When hands dipped into the cradle, pulled the Child up by his suit, and laid a gleaming knife at his throat. The world slowed as he watched. He wouldn't make it. Not with the hands wrapped around his arm, straining to bring him down and pull the blaster out of his hand. Fear caught in his throat.

Then Vala was there. Rising from the dust cloud with teeth bared and a knife of her own. The merc fell before Din could end the one tangled around him.

And he paid her back by getting her ship destroyed.

Pain lances his chest again.

"Come with me." It's all he lets himself say, lest she figure out guilt is eating at him, voracious with needle-sharp teeth.

Vala followed without argument.

Back on the Razor Crest, Din gave simple instructions. What she could and couldn't touch, what she should and shouldn't leave in reach of the kid's grasping hands, and where she can sleep. He surprises himself when he offers his bunk.

'It's rational,' he argues to himself. 'One jump to Tatooine and she would be gone.' He can go without till then. He can't say the same about his guest.

From what he can tell, Vala's been looking over her shoulder for months. Rightly so. The slavers had hired more than one bounty hunter and more than one aspiring merc to try and bring her in after their own attempts failed. Din was genuinely shocked at the price on her head. Enough for a cycle's worth of food, of fuel; yet no one had been able to collect. He chalked it up to the volatile biosphere she had chosen.

"I couldn't," Vala said shaking her head, "I can make do on the floor. I'll stay out of your way."

"You won't be in the way," he assured, "take my bunk. You deserve that at least after keeping the Child from the slavers."

She gave a dry chuckle. "Who knew that good deed would get my ship blown to pieces. But…no," her tone turned serious again, "I'd prefer to stay awake in case any more slavers decide to try and even the score."

"I doubt they'll be able to recover fast enough to catch us anytime soon. Besides, I can keep us safe." Din grabbed a ladder rung and hoisted himself up. "Get some sleep." He means it to be the end of the conversation. Vala stops him with a question before he makes it to the second rung.

"Is that a promise?"

Din glanced back at her. Her gaze was glued on him, intent and sharp. Her black curls trailed down her shoulder exposing the tan skin of her neck. It held his attention longer than it should.

"It is." He said finally.

A smile flashed across her face. "I'll hold you to it then. Thank you, Mando." Din catches himself watching her lips, plush and bowed, as she forms the moniker. Deep in the pit of his stomach an uncomfortable tightness took hold and worried at his guts. Din nods to her and retreats up the ladder without another word. The less he says the better.

She doesn't need to know what else is eating at him.