Night had long since settled on the cool and quiet Nevarro desert. In fact, in two hours, the dawn sun would appear fully over the horizon, drawing in a new day.

But for now it was quiet and peaceful in these early hours, with a screech of a nearby Loth cat being the only noise for a good mile or so all around.

Settled on the edge of the lava flats was a small cabin. Where two of the three inhabitants were now resting, safe inside.

But Din Djarin was still wide-awake and wired, and had been pacing back and forth between the living space and his sleeper since arriving back here in the early evening. Unable to settle.

It hadn't taken IG-11 long to take an unconscious and fever-addled Lysa from Din's grasp back on Nar Shaddaa, as soon as he had boarded the Stinger with her held tightly within his arms.

IG-11 had scanned her and got to work, seeing to her infected wound and placing her into an induced sleep, soothing her fever as best he could.

Karga had kindly tried to draw Din away, reassuring him that the droid had it covered. But feeling angry and defensive, it had taken much convincing from the High-Magistrate to get Din to leave her side long enough for the journey home.

It had taken four hours in total to arrive back on Nevarro. Which, to Din, had felt like the longest journey of his life.

He had kept in touch via the Comm with Karga the entire way home. But even so, Din had felt restless and fretful and being apart from her, while he had piloted his N-1 home.

Grogu had of course joined him, being uncharacteristically quiet. Almost as though he knew how troubled his father was feeling at the loss of Lysa beside him.

And by the time they had landed both ships just outside of Din's cabin. Home at last. Din had been at Lysa's side instantly, as IG-11 carefully stretchered her inside.

"She is resting now. Her fever should settle overnight and her wound should heal over in a week or so," the droid had reassured Din. "If either of those things don't happen I will return and do another assessment."

Din had then helped the Marshal move Lysa onto the bed. His bed. Where Din had been keeping a watch over her ever since. Pacing between rooms, helmet and gloves now off, placing his hand to her head when he could, to feel her temperature lessening as the hours slipped by.

He had been so worried about her, and still was.

Even in sleep, she looked exhausted. Her dress, formerly pale blue, was now torn and bloodied, and her long golden hair was tangled and unkept. Her face still bore the marks of Crix and Xi'an, with scratches and a large purple bruise lining her otherwise perfect cheeks.

And Din vowed that from this day forward he would let nothing else happen to her as long as she lived.

For Din knew just how he felt about her now.

And to think that just a few hours ago he could have lost her…twice.

His heart aching horribly with the ghost of her loss.

She meant more to him now than anything in this world, bar his son.

And if he were to lose her again, he worried that there would be no force binding him to this galaxy any longer.

Din, who was leaning up against the counter in his small living space, surviving off nothing but a small cup of caff a few hours ago, glanced up suddenly as he heard a noise from his sleeper.

Pushing himself quickly from the counter behind him, he strode over to his bedroom, staring around wide-eyed to see Lysa writhing on top of the bedsheets, fighting some unseen demon, while she slept.

Her brow was coated in perspiration and a deep frown hung between her brows, as she gave a fearful cry.

"No…please…I didn't do it…it wasnt me…"

She let out a sob, hitching in a breath, tossing her head to the side, as Din moved around to the left side of the bed to sit beside her.

His bare hand reaching out and smoothing back her hair from her face comfortingly.

"Shhhh..it's ok…" Din murmured out.

"E-Elia…please…" Lysa cried out again in desperation.

But suddenly as quickly as it had come, she settled before Din's eyes. The frown across her forehead diminishing, as she let out a long breath, falling back into a peaceful sleep.

Din stared at her for a long few seconds, keeping his hand in place on her head.

Whatever nightmares she was battling he was going to be here to help her fight them off in any way he could.

There Din stayed as the minutes passed, before, sure she was settled, he rose to his feet and headed back into the living space once more.

Maybe he'd make himself another cup of caff, or perhaps he'd check on Grogu. But taking a seat on the wide cushioned sill that overlooked his front porch and the expanse of scrubland beyond, Din watched as the first weak strains of daylight peeked over the horizon line.

And before he could make another move, the tall Mandalorian had fallen fast asleep, his tired head leaning up against the cool wall behind him.

Shhhwwwffftttt.

Din awoke with a start at the sudden sound of the door to one of the Sleepers sliding suddenly open.

His brown eyes snapped open, only to be met with a bright sunlight that filled the room all around him.

Dank farrik.

The tall Mandalorian got hurriedly to his feet, heart pounding, reaching quickly for his beskar helmet, realising that he was, all of a sudden, very exposed. Having not replaced it before falling to sleep just a few short hours ago.

Luckily his helmet was sitting just a foot away on his scrubbed wooden table, beside his gloves.

And so, shoving it over his head, he stared up through his visor, only to see Grogu come padding around the doorframe to his room.

At this, Din couldn't help but let out an internal sigh of relief. But almost cursed himself for doing so.

After all they had been through over the past couple of days, it truly put things in perspective for Din how much he could have lost.

And although he had spent his entire life up until now dedicating himself to the Creed. Was hiding his face from those he cared about most in the galaxy truly how he wanted the rest of his years to go?

He huffed out a sigh, as Grogu shuffled nearer, suddenly coming to stop outside the door to Din's sleeper, where Lysa still lay asleep inside.

And pointing up a tiny green hand towards the sleeper door, his son gave a tilt of his head.

"Mi-tah?" he croaked questioningly.

Din gave a frown. Those same syllables coming from Grogu so often of late - they surely had to mean something.

But Din's mind was not up to dwelling on such frivolous matters right now.

"She's still resting," he muttered, wandering over and lifting Grogu up from beneath his armpits. "Come on, kid. Let's get you something to eat."

The day passed by slowly, with Din making no effort to venture anywhere else. Wanting to make sure he was here when Lysa awoke.

But despite having been to check on her several times, and having found her temperature having thankfully returned to normal, Lysa had not yet roused from her sleep.

Din still remained restless, and his pacing hadn't faltered, save for those few hours of sleep this morning.

It felt tortuous just waiting like this.

He wanted to see her. Speak to her. Reassure her that he was here and that nothing was going to hurt her again.

He had said only a few short words to her, since rescuing her, and yet his heart now ached for her. A longing like he had felt for no other as long as he lived.

And to think she was now just feet away, still lost in some feverish nightmare world where she remained. Still fighting ghosts, far worse it seemed, than Crix.

Din longed for her to wake and for him to look upon those eyes of hers. To just be able to tell her now that everything was going to be ok.

The sky outside had grown dark by the time Din was sat at his scrubbed wooden table with Grogu. Rapping his gloved fingers across the surface impatiently, watching the foundling before him play with his usual metal gear knob, rolling it across the table and back again using his powers.

That was until the sudden whoosh of the Sleeper door to Din's right disturbed the pair, causing them to look up suddenly at the sound.

Din gave a swallow as his eyes caught sight of Lysa. Standing there, looking wide-eyed and worried. Her long blonde hair tangled around her.

She gazed around the room for the briefest of moments before her eyes fell to Din.

Immediately Din rose to his feet, the wooden chair he was sat on, screeching back loudly as he stared her way.

Like two magnets drawn instantly to one another. Like they had always been heading in the same direction.

Din could not forget Ran's words.

For him leaving the group of Mercenaries was the very reason Lysa had met Crix Val'shif. He was the reason she had endured years of hurt and pain at his hand. The guilt of that, eating at his insides.

"Hey…" Lysa said in a sudden quiet, hoarse voice. Din could see her chest rising and falling hard now. Her hand clutching onto the doorframe, looking like she was steadying herself against it.

"Hey…" replied Din, a frown littering his brow as he moved over to her. "Are you…alright?"

He watched her carefully, seeing that it was now her turn to give a hard swallow.

"I-" she began, as tears brimmed at her green eyes. "...I don't…know. I-"

But she trailed off, shaking her head, looking like she was still shell-shocked by what had happened. But Din noted that there was far more colour in her face than there had been the previous day.

"Sorry," she murmured, her gaze dropping hurriedly from Din's.

But the tall Mandalorian moved forwards, his gloved hand reaching tenderly for her warm cheek, drawing her eyes to him once more.

"It's ok," he uttered in a low, reassuring voice. "There's nothing in this galaxy that you need to apologise for….ever."

Lysa chewed on her lip, tilting her head as she stared up at him. Her eyes were soft and sweet, and yet oh-so lost.

And Din Djarin knew that he would do what he did on Nar Shadda fifty times over if it meant protecting Lysa from further harm.

Wanting this to be the only last time he ever saw her like this.

Din nodded over towards the cushioned block couch to their left.

"Sit," he said smoothly. "We need to look at those cuts of yours…"

Lysa's eyes instantly travelled down to the wound on her shoulder, now bandaged over by IG-11.

But Din just shook his head.

"No. These," he said his thumb ghosting over the scratches that littered Lysa's cheek.

He could also see that her wrists were red raw from where her wire binds had cut into her.

Lysa closed her eyes at her touch, allowing a single tear to slip down that same cheek. But Din just swiped it away gently.

"Come on."

Hope that was ok. Just a short little filler chapter to tide you over while I'm a bit busy this week.

Thanks so much to those who reviewed my last chapter: Freya2Xana, Hand Spun Yarns, MsRosePetals, Lockheart96, smichale, chipiam and WriterMonkey0626. I'm certainly happy to carry on with this story if you're all happy with that.

Please review! Id really appreciate your feedback on this one. :)