pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 4.2K

chapter summary: Grogu still has an upset stomach, Din and Marathel discuss diarrhea, Din receives bad news

warnings: fluff, angst, mention of stomach illness, mention of sexual/physical abuse and rape of adults and children, English and Mando'a cursing

Despite spending half the night tending to Grogu's tender tummy, Din awoke in his captain's chair well before Nevarro's dawn, with a crick in his back, just as he thought he would. Not impressed with his premonitory powers, he checked to see if another message had come through. None had. His knees were stiff from being hyper-extended as he rested his heels on the console, and his back was already telling him to get the shab up. Both knee joints popped loudly as he brought his feet to the cockpit floor. Enough of this chair-sleeping, he thought. Today, I'm buying the best damn bedroll on this rock.

Din stood and twisted at the waist to one side, and then the other. His spine refused to crack this morning, deciding instead to make his sciatica flare. Dank ferrik. He grunted in irritation, climbed down the ladder, and sought out caf in the tiny galley. While waiting for hot water, Din tried touching his toes, and then deep squats to relieve the tension in his hip. Grogu wandered out from his quarters right about this time and thinking that Din was playing the running game again, trotted over and copied Din's movements. Din chuckled. "How low can you go, kid?" Din squatted again, but he was unable to keep his heels on the floor without holding on to something. Grogu, meanwhile, could practically put his little bottom down without lifting his heels. Unfortunately, on the third squat, Grogu let go with a tiny squeaking fart. Din chuckled again and said, "Well, good morning to you too."

Din stood once more and did one final squat, this time with his knees spread to stretch out his groin. Gotta try to keep loose. Can't kick ass with a tight groin, as his buir would say. Grogu copied this move as well, and passed gas again, and the … wetness of the vibrato sound made Din look over. "That did not sound empty, kid," he said with a sigh. Grogu suddenly looked up at Din, looking both embarrassed and ashamed as a little brown-green puddle formed on the floor. "Hey, buddy, no worries. I guess you're not over the trots, huh?" Din found a couple of old but clean rags, and carefully picked up the boy, taking him back over to the vac tube. He sat back down on the crate, got Grogu undressed, and waited for the next wave to pass.

Din was concerned — usually Grogu threw off little bugs like sniffles and trots. He didn't seem to have a fever, as far as Din could tell. Grogu's tummy gurgled again. "What's going on, buddy?" Grogu whimpered. "You haven't had a tummy ache like this before. But then you probably haven't eaten a square klick's worth of sour berries before." Grogu seemed to be done for now, so Din wrapped him up in the towels. "I think I know what might help." Din climbed up the ladder to the cockpit and tapped out a holotext.

DD: I need to speak to Marathel if possible

Din waited for what seemed like an incredibly long time before a reply pinged through:

BF: do you have any fucking clue what fucking time it is

Oops, thought Din. He'd forgotten the time difference between Nevarro and Tatooine. It was still the middle of the night there. He was about to tap out an apology when a message pinged at him.

BF: hang tight

The holopad made its chime that alerted Din that the connection had been broken. Grogu chirped and looked up at Din. "It looks like we have to wait a bit, kid." Grogu snuggled up closer to Din, who stroked his ears. In a few minutes, there was a ping on his holopad. Din opened the connection and was surprised to see Marathel's face projected.

He hadn't been gone but one day cycle, and she looked so different than how he saw her in his thoughts. Marathel looked like she was lying down on her side in bed. There was a pillow beaneath her head, a blanket over her shoulder, and her hair looked disheveled. Still, even in the holo projection, her overall color looked better, and her face wound looked more healed. My mesh'la, my ma'mwsh ha'laa,thought Din, and Grogu cooed with delight at seeing his Mahr.

Marathel smiled, looking both surprised and sleepy at the same time. "Well, would you look at that. It's … like I'm looking through a window!" She tentatively reached out with a finger towards the screen — making Din notice her new finger splints — and then Din saw a shocked look on her face for a nanosecond before the projection disappeared. Din laughed. He waited for Marathel to come back. A moment later, the holopad pinged and Din opened the connection again, this time leaning back in the chair, ankle over his knee, with Grogu sitting on his thigh. Casual, Djarin. Good and casual.

Marathel was looking over the top of the pad. "So don't touch until …"

Din heard Fennec reply. "… Until you're done talking. If you drop the connection again, Din should have captured your signal by then so he can contact you. I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, Din, this better be good."

"Thank you, Fennec," said Marathel with a smile. Din could hear Fennec grumble, and then Marathel's eyes returned to her screen. "This is … I am …" Din could see tears form in her eyes, despite the delight in her face. "You're right there. Both of you. As close as if you're here in my room."

Din nodded. "You look wonderful." Marathel's cheeks colored, and Din realized what he had said. "I mean, you look better. So much better. The treatment is working?"

"It seems to be." Marathel covered her discomfort by tucking some hair behind her ear. "You needed to speak to me?"

I do? Din suddenly couldn't remember. Then Grogu squirmed on his lap reminding him of why he had reached out in the first place. "Grogu, it's Grogu. He still has … stomach trouble after eating all those berries."

Marathel's face pinched with worry. "Oh, my little Godynferth! How many did he eat?"

"I'm not sure. He was outside my care while my helmet was being repaired."

"It is now repaired?" Din nodded. "Your voice sounds … usual again. Does Grogu have a fever?"

"I don't think so." Marathel frowned at Din. "He doesn't feel warm, but then he might show fever differently than we do."

Grogu yawned hugely and grumbled. "Just then, when he yawned, did he shiver or tremble?" asked Marathel.

"No."

"Show me his gums and tongue." Din complied as best as possible, and Grogu gnawed a good hole in the thumb of his glove in protest. Marathel chuckled and said, "Well, I'm not sure what good I thought that would do, considering his tongue and gums are usually grey. Please, take off your gloves, and hold one of his ears against your inner wrist." Din did so. "Do his ears feel hot?"

"Not any hotter than usual, but then I don't normally touch his ears like this."

Marathel smiled. "I suggest you remember how his ear feels now for the future."

"Or I could just tell you that my visor does not show an elevated temperature on Grogu's heat signature."

"I don't understand," said Marathel.

"My visor lets me see temperatures of things around me. If it's warmer, it glows brighter."

Marathel rolled her eyes so hard Din thought they'd pop out of her head. "You knew Grogu wasn't feverish? You great twmffod! Is he even feeling poorly?"

"I'm sorry." He wasn't, not really, for he had enjoyed needling her again. "No, Grogu is still not feeling well. I thought if he could see you, he might feel better."

"What is happening, baby? Does it hurt?" she crooned to Grogu, who reached out to touch her projection.

"His, ah … bowels are still quite loose."

Marathel shrugged. "Without a fever, or vomiting, I'd say it's your usual too-much-fruit. Also, he may not be able to eat those berries, much like you cannot eat clams."

"So, what should I do?"

"Do you know where the berries came from?" Din nodded. "You know the leaves of the berry plant?"

"I do."

"Try making a weak tea from the leaves. It may stop the rhyddolur. Often, the leaves fix what the berries have done. Otherwise, it'll stop when it stops." Marathel yawned, covering her mouth with her splinted hand. "And keep both him and your hands as clean as possible, so you don't catch it too, if it is a catching sickness. I suspect rhyddolur and armor do not go well together."

Din smiled. "They do not."

"If he feels hungry, feed him bone broth, toast, bland white grains. No peppers. No frogs."

"Eggs?"

"Cooked eggs, yes," said Marathel, rolling her eyes again.

"What happens if the tea doesn't work?"

"Brace yourself for immediate vomit."

Din sighed. "Fantastic," he said in the grimmest tone Marathel had ever heard.

"Don't worry, it's usually just one bout, to get rid of the tea," said Marathel with a deep belly laugh, and Din's heart about fizzed with the sound. "The problem is, ah … little ones push in all ways?" To emphasize her point, Marathel pointed in two directions, crossing her eyes for comic effect. Din groaned in mock disgruntlement, forehead in hand. She laughed again, and her face softened as she felt sleepy once more. "I'm sorry you don't feel well, my little Godynferth. I wish I were there to help. I would sing and rub your tummy."

I wish you were here, too, mesh'la. And I wouldn't say no to your rubbing my tummy, either. Din colored under his helmet, surprised at this sudden invasive thought."We're heading back tonight; only a couple errands left here."

"Then you'll be back very soon. This will be my last sleep before I see you." Marathel's eyes kept fluttering closed. "Feel better, my sweet, my love, we will cwtch when you get back." She must have the holopad propped up, thought Din. He delighted in the fact that she wanted him to come back as much as he wanted to be there. He wondered what cwtch meant, assuming that rhyddolur was diarrhea. He watched her fall asleep, unable to tear his eyes away from the projection or break the transmission, wanting to imagine that she didn't mean Grogu when she said my sweet, my love. It wasn't until Grogu began squirming again that Din finally turned off the projection, cursing himself for not recording the holo.

Later, after Grogu felt empty again, and the sun had come up, Din went out in search of the berry bushes. He hoped they were where he remembered. Along the way, he encountered another Mandalorian who verified the location of the berry bushes. She didn't know about using the leaves for tea, but she was interested in hearing the results. "Some of the other young ones have had stomach trouble from eating these berries. It was very dry this year; they are much more sour than usual."

Upon finding the berry bushes, Din tried one for himself and it was much more sour than he remembered eating in years past. He took a selection of the softest, freshest leaves back to the covert and used one of the communal kitchen areas to make tea as Marathel directed. It made a light brown tea, which didn't taste like much to him, but Grogu drank it down without incident, along with some cookies made with sinsir root, which another Mandalorian parent said was good for stomach maladies. Din chatted with her for a moment, trading tips on common childhood illnesses, when he noticed the Armorer across the hall.

Hurrying over to her, he said, "Please, I beg you to reconsider …"

The Armorer stood tall. "The decision has been made regarding the Aurodium coins. This is the way."

Din took a step back and looked down to his feet. "This is the way," he muttered.

"I do hope this Marathel of yours recovers. She seems to have a warrior's spirit."

"She does."

"Is she capable of raising warriors?"

Din looked up at the Armorer, somewhat shocked she was asking such a question about an aruetii, an outsider, a non-Mandalor, comparing her abilities to those within the covert. "I believe … she is." He looked down at Grogu. "This one has already adopted her as his mother."

The Armorer hummed in affirmation as she stroked the boy's ear. "Children easily see the truth within their hearts, and the hearts of others. I heard you ate too many sour berries, young one."

"He has been ill most of the night. Marathel suggested making a tea from the sour berry leaves to counteract the berries."

"Has it worked?"

"So far. Marathel helped raise many children; I trust her instincts," said Din, a touch of proud possessiveness in his voice, so subtle that the Armorer wondered if Din even heard it.

"Please give her my regards when you see her, Din Djarin. And safe travels to you and your young companion." Din nodded and left the covert.

Their next stop was the city center itself; here, Din was able to restock his ship as well as find himself a bed roll far superior to his old one. He also managed to find a source for synth-blood, which Fennec had requested as Marathel had wiped out their stores. Din hoped Marathel would no longer require it but purchased both the synth-blood and a large variety of first-aid supplies. He arranged for delivery of his purchases, and then spent some time wandering through the market. If those rom-com holovids (that he had never watched, of course) had taught him anything, he was required to bring something to Marathel, some sort of token gift. But what? He had no idea.

Jewelry was out of the question; she didn't wear any, and what the seller had was too gaudy in his opinion. He saw a pretty yellow headscarf, but upon closer inspection thought the fabric couldn't hold a torch to Marathel's weaving work and would be insulting to give her. Shoes? Shoes would be practical, but he didn't know her size, and after a second thought, that idea was just plain weird, he told himself. Sweets? He didn't know if she had ever eaten candy or would even like it. Din bought a bag of his favorite seaweed balls, both salty and sweet at the same time, and made his breath more palatable inside the helmet. He got some of the blue cookies Grogu liked so much, and then got another box in the hopes that Grogu would be willing to share them with Marathel. He also found an apothecary who had sinsir root crackers and a mild stomach tea that smelled like Marathel's digestive tea that he liked so much.

Near the far end of the market, Din nearly tripped over two children selling woven bracelets, made of fine yarn in complicated patterns. They cowered at the sight of the giant Mandalorian towering over them, but they then softened at Grogu peeking out from his bag. Din also opened the extra box of cookies and offered one to each of the children … and one for Grogu, of course. One of their bracelets featured yellow, green, and brown, so Din naturally chose this one. The children offered to give it to Grogu for nothing, but Din countered the bracelet wasn't for the child, and paid double their asking price, much to the children's delight. He brought the bracelet into the sunlight, noticing that there was a metallic silver thread within the weaving, making Din even more certain he had made a good choice.

Din had dithered so much in the market he had to rush to his meeting with Karga. Fortunately, Karga had run late on his previous appointment, so no one's time was wasted, and Karga invited Din into his sumptuous offices. "Mando, good to see you!" Din nodded in return. "Sit, sit. I am sorry that we were not able to assist you with your injured bounty. Were you able to get them help?"

"I was able to get her to Tatooine," said Din.

Karga pounced on the pronoun her. "A woman? That was the bounty on that nowhere planet? Well, now, I'm interested in hearing about that." Din just looked at Karga with a level gaze. "So, wait. The coins were real … you got the coins and the mark?" Din did not reply. "Come now, friend, you have to give me something."

Din wondered if Grogu could squeeze out a bit of diarrhea on Karga's desk. "The bounty payment was in fact the Aurodium coins."

"Your covert must have been delighted."

"The coins … were not accepted. I need advice on how to fence them." Din tossed one to Karga, who caught it expertly and held it up.

"Kriffing museum quality, Mando." Karga turned it over and over, looking closely at the maker's marks, the reeded edge. "As far as I can tell, this is legit." Feeling the weight in his palm, he said, "I don't know enough to say if it's more valuable as the coin or the amount of gold it contains. What I do know is that this would have been more valuable during the Empire. People went crazy, wanting to hold on the the Old Republic gold standard. And you actually got 167 of these?" Din nodded, and Karga leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I suppose this ties into the question you messaged me."

"It does. And take the coin out of your pocket."

Karga grinned and tossed the coin back towards Din. "Once a thief, always a thief." Karga's smile dropped off his face. "You wanted to know what the New Republic's attitude was towards societies that are outside the influence of either the Empire or the Republic." Din nodded. "The short answer is, they don't give a shit. The longer answer … if it's a primitive culture that has had no influence of an outside society, be it Republic or Empire, then they leave it alone. Something about preservation of indigenous culture. Not that they cared much about that before, but apparently, it's a new era."

Din tilted his helmet. "But it's not a primitive culture. They speak Basic as well as their own language. They had Old Republic coins. They had a beskar hammer. And they were able to send a sub-ether message. It's not as if that Hold dropped out of nowhere. They are all humans. Those people came from another place."

Karga shrugged. "Perhaps they had visitors long ago that left artifacts behind. Maybe they crash-landed there a few millennia ago and never left. What does the woman say?"

"She doesn't know anything. The society is highly misogynistic and cruel to women."

"So that's the trouble," said Karga, leaning forward with a smile. "Your desire to rescue maidens fair."

"Brutally raped women and little girls forced into pregnancy pisses me off, yeah." Karga's smile faded, and he looked down to his desktop with chagrin. "So, what I'm hearing is that the Republic will do nothing?" asked Din.

"Sorry to say, Mando. You're on your own with this one." Karga leaned back again. "I can give you four thousand for that coin right now, and I may have a buyer for another one. But … you're never going to get what they're worth."

"Then I'll get what I can." Din still wasn't sure whether to tell Marathel about the coins, but he knew they were worthless unless changed into credits. He kriffing wasn't sure of what the shab to do about that Hold of hers, or even if it was truly his problem — he had his own damn shit to clean up, and he was a bounty hunter, not the kriffing galaxy police.

Din bickered with Karga until he got ten thousand for two coins, along with the promise for future leads on potential buyers. The idea of having to sell the coins piecemeal was chapping his ass, but Din had little choice. He could potentially ransom more beskar using the coins, but the words the Armorer kept coming back to him — this was not his bounty to keep, but Marathel's. Well, I doubt Marathel would begrudge me a percentage. We'll call it a finder's fee.

"So, when do I get to hear about her?" asked Karga, shaking Din out of his thoughts.

"Who?"

"Your secret Jawa harem. The woman you brought back from the nowhere planet!"

Din smirked under his helmet. "Nothing to tell."

Scoffing, Karga turned to Grogu. "Well, kid, got anything to say about the lady you two brought back with you?"

Grogu, finally feeling a little better, said, "Sad Mahr, pree Mahr."

Karga looked back at Din. "Translation?"

"Her name is Marathel. She is often sad." With every right to be, and I can't seem to help her.

"And Pree Mahr?"

"That one is new." Din stood and said his goodbyes to Karga; he needed to get back to the Crest and return to Tatooine.

The supplies arrived at the same time Din and Grogu returned to the ship, so Din got everything squared away and ready to leave. He got the Crest into the air and on its hyperspace course without incident. Din made some of the tea he had purchased for both himself and for Grogu, as well as some bone broth and the sinsir crackers. Not a Pree-Mahr-quality meal, but better than ration bars, thought Din, still wondering what the shab preemeant. Grogu was now feeling much better, so they played a low-cardio version of the running game until Grogu felt sleepy. Din bathed the boy — making sure to meticulously scrub his own hands again — dressing him in the little sleepwear Marathel had made, and tucked Grogu into his little hammock with the traditional Mando'a goodnight.

Grogu conked out almost immediately. Din unfurled his new bedroll, this one so thick and cushy he had to get new undersheets for it. Din lay down with a sigh. So comfortable. I'm getting so soft in my old age. The second-to-last thought he had before falling asleep himself was that the only thing that would make this bedroll better was for it to crackle with dried rushes and herbs.

No, scratch that. What this bedroll needs is Marathel curled up next to me, her hair spread over me like a silver blanket.

This thought carried Din into a deep sleep, not quite dreamless but nothing more substantial than images of Marathel's hair floating around him. It was a few hours later that his holopad — still in the cockpit — began incessantly pinging, the noise finally getting through his helmet and into his sleep. He woke quickly, alert almost immediately after a fulfilling sleep for once. Grogu was still asleep. Din pulled himself up into the cockpit, grabbing the holopad and seeing a string of messages from Cobb.

CV: Are you on your way back
CV: You need to get back here as quickly as possible
CV: GET BACK NOW
CV: I will be sending a message every ten minutes until you respond

Din took a breath. Something terrible must have happened to Marathel. With a shaking hand, Din tapped out to Cobb:

DD: What has happened?

CV: Her treatment has failed

Din wanted to hyperventilate, but he quickly got his breathing under control.

DD: What happens now?

CV: She needs to go to the Modifier's contact, but she won't leave until she sees you and Grogu in person. How far out are you?

DD: About four hours, how bad is she?

Din watched the blinking cursor for what felt like a lifetime. Finally, the message pinged:

CV: She might have about three hours

Din immediately set the controls to push the Crest's engines as hard and fast as they could go, hoping for as near as an extra point five as the ship could manage.

DD: Just go now. Shoot me the coordinates of where you're taking her, I'll catch up

CV: Can't do that, just get back here

Din frowned in confusion. What possible reason could there be to delay getting help for his Marathel?

DD: Why the fuck not?

CV: Not on holo

Din suddenly wanted to punch the living shab out of someone, and now Cobb just made his shit list.

DD: Tell her we're flying as fast as we can

CV: Will do

Din's fingers hovered over the holopad, wanting to message: Tell her I love her. He decided those words could not, would not be uttered to her over a holopad. Din twisted the little yarn bracelet around and around his fingers, thinking, keep hanging on, ne'kar'ta, cyar'e, mw'mch ha'laa. My wounded acorn, you held on before, you can do it again. Please wait for me, I'm coming back.