THEN
Vala Kast woke to a shrill alarm. In the pitch black, she can't tell where she is. The scent of blaster oil is familiar but the woody, musky scent surrounding her isn't. The blanket wrapped around her is too scratchy, too stiff to be hers. Her mind catches up when the bunk door opens. She's on the Mandalorian's ship, hurtling towards Tatooine; fleeing slavers, pain, and memories.
The Child's sharp scream echoed down the ladder shaft. Vala yanked herself from the bunk, snatched up her blaster and knife, and rushed up the ladder wondering if the old ST-70 could survive whatever had raised the alarm. The flickering lights told her that would be a miracle.
"Dank farrick," the Mandalorian groused from his seat at the helm. He flicked controls left and right.
"What is it?" She asked buckling into a seat. She tried to sound calm, unbothered; her voice came out blessedly even.
The Mandalorian doesn't respond. His beskar shone in the low light but half of him was still hidden in shadow. It suited him, Vala decided. This nameless, faceless man was made for shadows. For only showing what need required. She knew enough about Mandalorians to not take it personally.
Impatient, she glanced at the controls over his shoulder. Red warnings flashed across the dash. When she saw the alarms weren't for following ships the tension in her back eased. Until she saw Tatooine was still a sector away.
The Mandalorian silenced the alarm and took the yoke in hand with a heavy sigh.
"Mando?"
"A thruster took a hit in the fight against the slavers." He said without glancing at her. "I thought it would hold till Tatooine but we don't seem to be that lucky." He set a course to the nearest planer, Pzob. It would be safe, quiet even, for a while. "I'll need to mend it so we can make it to Tatooine."
Vala nodded to herself. "I can help…if you'd like." She doesn't know why she offered. It's clear he knew his way around the general repairs having a ship required. It's evident by the fact that the Razor Crest is still flying. Vala expects him to refuse, to keep the shadows pulled around himself.
To her surprise, he said, "I could use another set of arms."
Pzob is warm and humid and green, much to Vala's delight. She pats herself on her back for her foresight in braiding back her curls. It had been a long time since she'd felt the sun on her skin.
Atop the Razor Crest, she passed the Mandalorian a hydro spanner with one hand and restrained the child with the other. The Mandalorian was laid flat against the Razor Crest, half of his body dipped inside the exposed thruster. She learned quickly the extra pair of arms needed were more for the Child's management than assistance with repairs.
Perched on her legs, the Child alternated between watching the Mandalorian work with rapt interest and yanking at the blue stoned bracelet on her wrist. The last item she had from home. Vala doesn't stop his ministrations. Toys were something the Child clearly needed.
"Leave it alone, kid." The Mandalorian said voice low. He hefted himself up from the thruster and leveled his gaze at the Child.
Freezing mid-yank, the Child cocked his head. "Patu?" His ears twitch down and she could feel the confusion in him.
Vala glided a soothing hand over his head. "It's fine, Mando."
This time the Mandalorian cocks his head, gaze heavy on her. "It looks valuable. Are you sure?"
"It's not, just sentimental. An old token from home." She explained rolling a bead between two fingers. "Easily mendable."
"Just don't let him eat it," he huffed turning his attention back to the thruster. Vala bit back the urge to remind him of her familiarity with children's inclinations. Instead, she tried to do something she hadn't done in months. Relax.
Her mind wandered. Her thoughts barely interrupted by requests for new tools or the Child's gentle cooing. It wandered to memories of prison cells and needles and syringes. Things she hoped to forget. An old fear, constant and oppressive, wells inside her at the echo of voices from her past.
"They won't find you here." The Mandalorian said softly; like she was floating high above him, at risk of drifting into the cold abyss and he was trying to coax her back down to the safety of the ground. "They don't have your chain code."
Vala gathered herself slowly. Settling back into her body, she flexed her fingers and toes. Embarrassment burned in her as she realized he caught her staring at the sky, unblinking, lost in the past. "I know. I'm fine."
She gazed into his T-visor wondering what he thought of her. Of the woman foolish enough to risk earning the ire of the largest slaver group in the Outer Rim. Did he see the shadows she's wrapped herself in? Did she seem a mystery to him as he is to her?
"I was wondering where you picked this little guy up from," she lied, "I've never seen anyone quite like him before."
He watched her for a moment, his hidden gaze scorching on her skin. Vala resisted the urge to squirm. When he turned back to his work, he said, "Neither have I. I'm looking for his people, to return him to them."
"Do you know what they are called? Where they might be?"
"No." He rose and pulled a panel back in place. "I planned on figuring that out later."
"Later? How long have you two been together?"
"A month now."
Vala balked despite herself. "Oh, stars. You found him on his own?"
"No." He climbed down the side of the ship and motioned for her to pass the Child to him. She did, careful to hide the suspicion growing inside of her.
A bounty hunter with a child made little sense. And Vala wasn't foolish enough to think he wasn't one. Though exhausted, she had been observant when he brought her to his ship. The carbonite machine, the weapons locker, the rations, the cuffs, they screamed his occupation well enough. But he was gentle with the Child, caring in a way she hadn't expected from him. It soothed her worries enough to keep her from needling him with more questions.
Climbing down, Vala opened her mouth to ask if they would make it to Tatooine but she was shocked into silence when the Mandalorian grabbed her wrist just as her feet touched the ground. Her first instinct was to fight. She spun and tried to get her knife out but he was close, too close, the emblem on his chest a hair from her nose. His shadow engulfed her as he towered over her. The light of the sun glittered off the edges of his armor.
Fear egging her on, she reached for the vibro-blade at his back. The Mandalorian stopped her with his other hand clenching around her fingers.
"Your bracelet," he said simply.
Her mind stuttered. The Mandalorian jerked his chin up and she followed his gaze.
While lost in her memories, the Child had managed to knot two beads together creating a noticeable kink in her bracelet. It was snagged on a bolt just above her head. "Oh," she laughed, relief sweeping over her, "you scared me. I told you it's easily mendable." Pulling down she meant to snap the wire but the Mandalorian's grip tightened on her wrist.
"Don't," he said sharply, "you care about it. No point in breaking it when it can be fixed." This close she can hear his voice—his real voice under the modulator—laden with concern. It sent a shiver rolling down her spine. Freeing the hand that had reached for his blade the Mandalorian turns his attention to her bracelet.
His scent wrapped around her, woody and musky, like his bunk. Warmth seeped through his gloves soaking into her skin, alighting arousal deep in her that is impossible to ignore. Mouth watering, Vala pursed her lips and tried to steady her quickening breath.
Mistaking her attraction for discomfort no doubt, the Mandalorian said, "I've almost got it."
"Mando-"
"There." He declared stepping back. Wind washed away his scent, his warmth, and for a moment Vala's heart dipped in disappointment. Quickly, she reminded herself arousal was perfectly natural after being alone for so long, that the Mandalorian wasn't special. Just warm and big and there.
Pulling her wrist to her chest, Vala saw it was indeed fixed, righted back to its original form.
"I'm sorry for scaring you." The Mandalorian said.
"It's alright. I've just been on my own for a while, and this…well it's odd." She admitted. "Thank you though, really." Willing her confidence back, she changed the subject. "We could stop here for a moment, find something fresh to eat."
The Mandalorian nodded and turned to glance at the Child. "I can hunt. Can you watch him?"
"Of course."
He paused; a sign she's learning means he's worried. "You can't let him out of your sight too long. He's smart."
Picking up the Child, Vala raised an eyebrow at him. "Mando, I can take care of him. Promise." She said easily, not realizing what it meant to him.
NOW
With her left arm pounding in pain, Vala forced herself to stand. She doesn't let herself scream, doesn't let herself show the pain she's in, just grimaces and rises. The Empire was watching from somewhere she knew.
She takes in her cell. It is windowless and bare save for a bed built into the wall and a toilet. Vala runs her good arm along the metal walls. She's looking for a nick, a dent, anything that would let her rip off a strip of metal. She doesn't find anything. The cell is perfect.
'Useless.'
Vala sits on the hard bed as bile rises in her throat. She wants to lie down, sleep until this nightmare is over, but that isn't an option. Her arm won't let her. Neither will the guilt.
'Din will come. He'll save him if I can't.' She tells herself over and over. That's who matters, Grogu. If he gets out whatever she's suffered, will suffer, will be worth it. 'Din will save him, he has to.'
Her brain reminds her that may be a lie. Images of labs and scalpels and restraints flood her mind. No. It would be better if she died before then, before he got word she'd been found.
Throbbing pain radiates from her arm. Vala digs her nails into the bed. Daring a glance at her arm she catches the gleam of yellowed bone and can't stop the rising nausea. She lunges towards the toilet but isn't even able to take a step before her vomit splatters on the floor and her boots.
The exertion is too much. Her head spins, the room pitches to the side, and she falls, narrowly missing the vomit she's painted the floor with.
As the room fades to black, a square of white opens before her, and a dark silhouette steps inside.
"Sergeant Kast," Moff Gideon smiled sinking to loom over her, "welcome back to the Empire."