* This is the sequel to Scattered Moments - Part 1. Hope you enjoy it. Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Warnings and genres: Drama, fluff, family, protective Din, humor, PTSD, canon-typical violence, swearing, action, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-compliant

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mandalorian.

Edited by: PrintingPisces

Prologue

The Razor Crest flew serenely amongst the stars, headed for the nearest planet that showed up on radar.

As meticulous as always, Din flicked a few switches on the console, just to make sure everything stayed in check during their voyage. They weren't going anywhere of importance, just a place to land for a while. They were currently in a desolate part of the galaxy, and by the time they got to their destination, it would also be time to replenish fuel.

From behind him, Din heard a drowsy trill, and some light clacking.

He then flicked some other switches in front of him, activating autopilot. Standing up, he figured that now was as good a time as any to get some sleep. In actuality, this was the Child's idea. He was curled up on his side, in the passenger seat, eyelids drooping heavily. His little claws were clicking against the silver ball in his grasp.

Din picked him up and held him in one arm. As they descended into the hull of the ship, the Child let out a sleepy coo, and rested the side of his face against a pauldron. Din knew that couldn't be comfortable, but the Child was fast asleep all the same.

Hovering next to the sleeping quarters, just outside its door, was the pram. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Din lowered the Child onto its cushioned surface, and placed the blanket over top of him. It wasn't the blue one, as that had been lost somewhere on Nevarro, but it was a blanket nonetheless.

Keeping the pram doors open, Din walked away to duck inside the sleeping quarters. After lying down, he shut the hatch, and set his helmet aside. He tuned his senses in to the sounds and vibrations of his ship. The hum of the engine, the creaking walls, and the way it balanced always played a part in helping him fall asleep. With a deep exhale, he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

After an hour or so, the ship jostled. Din was vaguely aware of it, but not too worried. It could've been from grazing some space debris, or maybe an aftershock from a distant solar flare. Nothing too out of the ordinary, and nothing the Razor Crest couldn't handle. So long as the alarms weren't blaring, this was par for the course for any long flight.

They hit turbulence again, this time a little harsher. Still nothing bad. Din was determined to get a few more hours of rest.

From outside the sleeping quarters, there was a sharp squeak, and a thud as something small tumbled across the floor.

That was all it took for Din to become wide awake.

His eyes shot open. He snatched his helmet, put it on, opened the hatch, and all but leapt out of the bunk. In the process, he nearly tripped over the Child, who was now on the floor, shaking his head and muttering crankily under his breath.

Almost instantly, Din scooped him up, holding him securely in both arms. Trying not to dwell on how natural it felt to pick him up that quickly, he asked if he was okay. In response, the Child dazedly shook his head again, and gave a groggy coo. A little rattled, but unharmed.

Pensively, Din leaned his back against a wall. He hadn't bothered to close the pram. He not only wanted to leave it open as often as possible for the Child's sake, but also because it could be opened from the inside anyway. Even though it hadn't been a hard fall, and the Child didn't seem too upset by what just happened, this sort of thing would inevitably occur again.

Suddenly, the Child was leaning downward, as best as he could in Din's arms. He was reaching towards the pram, signaling that he wanted to go back to bed. Din shook his head a little, impressed as always by his stubbornness, even if it was just to get some more sleep. Instead though, Din placed him on the foot of the bunk.

The Child turned to face him, and his questioning coo echoed in the small space.

"Hold on," Din told him. "I'm gonna find a better solution." He began searching around the hull for ideas.

He moved some cargo netting aside, and looked through the storage containers. Not finding much, he closed everything up. But as he reattached the nets, it hit him.

For the next several minutes, he moved about the hull, gathering supplies.

First, he grabbed a small utility knife from the weapons locker, and then he went back to the cargo. As he cut a small section of the netting, he realized he would need a way to secure everything. He looked for a spool of sturdy wire that he knew was somewhere nearby. Once that was found, he could then get to work.

Inside the sleeping quarters, just above the foot of the bunk, Din was attaching everything to the ceiling. With large and sleepy eyes, the Child looked up at him, watching intently from where he was sitting.

Din glanced down at him. "I know," he murmured. "Almost done."

When his task was completed, he gave the netting a yank to test its weight. Satisfied, he put the knife and wire away in their designated areas. After that, he returned to the Child, who was staring curiously upwards at what Din had created.

"You wanna test it out," he asked.

In response, the Child stood up.

Carefully, Din placed him in the little hammock.

Almost instantly, both of his small feet fell through the webbing of the net, which Din should've expected. It wasn't exactly detrimental, as the Child was still inside it, but it still wasn't ideal. Din briefly went over to the pram to retrieve two things from it, one of them being the blanket. It was big enough for the Child to be swaddled in it, and he tucked it beneath him to prevent his feet from falling.

All of this had taken longer than anticipated, and Din stifled a yawn. He brought out the second thing, the little silver ball, and passed it to the Child.

Needing to get back to sleep, and knowing the Child now had a more secure place to do the same, he went inside the bunk, and closed the hatch. He almost took off his helmet, with this being one of the seldom times he would normally do so. But he quickly reminded himself that he wasn't alone. He turned to face the ceiling.

The Child was inspecting the hammock with much interest, his claws grasping at the netting. He drummed the heels of his feet against his blanket, testing if they were going to fall through again. When that didn't happen, he then maneuvered onto his belly to look at the wires that secured everything to the ceiling.

Din tilted his head. "So," he asked. "What do you think?" The hammock wasn't perfect. It was crude and impromptu. But Din's logic was that, by swinging with the motions of the ship, there would be less of a chance for him to fall out.

The Child peered over the edge of the hammock, now seemingly fascinated by how high up he was. So much so, that he wanted to get a look at the underside.

Din bolted upright, almost banging the top of his helmet against the ceiling, and he caught the Child before he could fall face-first onto the bunk. Though a little startled, the Child giggled loudly as he was placed back inside the hammock.

"Don't make me eat my words, kid," Din muttered. Though he had to hunch awkwardly, he remained awake for a while, at the possibility of more mischief.

Thankfully, it seemed that the Child was finally done. After searching for his ball, which had been hiding in a fold in the blanket, he yawned. Plopping sideways, he clutched the ball with both hands, and closed his eyes.

Din laid back down. He reached for the control panel next to him, pressing the necessary buttons to turn off most of the lights in the sleeping quarters. He looked at the ceiling again, at the slumbering infant.

It was odd. Before this, he had no problems with the Child resting just outside of the sleeping quarters. But now, simply being able to look up and instantly see that he was safe was reassuring. Din closed his eyes.

It took a while for him to fall asleep. This was for two reasons. One, he wanted to keep an ear out, to make absolutely sure that the Child was okay up there. And two, there was still a task that he needed to accomplish, but he had no idea how to go about it.

Where, in this entire galaxy, was he supposed to find a Jedi?

He barely knew anything about them. The only thing he knew was some of their history with Mandalore, and some of the sorcery they could perform. But where he was supposed to go from there, he didn't know. He had many questions, of which the Armorer might have answers to, but he had no idea where she was now. According to a recent transmission sent from Greef, she had disappeared.

His entire covert was now completely gone.

Din inhaled sharply. Something twisted in his throat, but there was nothing he could do for it. For any of them. Mandalorians were already far and few in between. This was something beyond his control. What he could do – what he always did – was follow the Creed. He needed to stay focused.

In a matter of hours, they would be stopping at a star port to refuel. Din would ask around, see if anyone knew of any Jedi. He couldn't help but scoff at himself. For the past few weeks, that was all he'd been doing, and getting nowhere.

Still, he would keep trying. This was the Way.

He eventually fell asleep, listening to his ship, and the soft snores of his foundling.


The planet they landed on was only slightly more honorable than places like Tatooine, but that wasn't saying much. However, the Razor Crest needed fuel, and Din needed to do some scouting around.

Once the Child was inside the pram, he pushed a button on his gauntlet to ensure it would follow him. Only, nothing happened. He tried another button, one that was designated for his jetpack, and still nothing. The next several minutes were spent troubleshooting. Din discovered that neither the pram nor his jetpack responded to the gauntlet at all, suggesting a short circuit. Which meant he needed to buy parts.

He sighed. He could leave the jetpack behind. After all, he'd gone the majority of his life without having one. Not having it for a few more hours wouldn't be an issue. The problem was how he was going to transport the Child.

From inside the pram, he looked up at Din with a tilt of his head.

Luckily, Din already had an idea. Hanging on the wall of the hull was an old satchel. He'd gotten it at a marketplace a couple months ago, hoping to find a use for it someday. It was similar to the one IG-11 had, but that had also been left on Nevarro. The material was soft, and looked to be about the Child's size.

Din took it from the hook as the Child clambered out of the pram to investigate. "Alright, then," he said as he knelt down. "Let's see if you fit." He placed the satchel on the floor, opened it, and waited.

The Child peered at the inside of the bag. Much to Din's confusion, his ears twitched back as if startled. A scowl appeared on the Child's face. However, after looking up at Din for only a moment, he seemed to relax. Awkwardly, he climbed inside.

Din didn't know why the Child hesitated just now. At least the apprehension only lasted for a moment of or two. Din stood up, lifting the satchel and subsequently the Child. Only his face and ears were visible as he peered up at Din. He shifted around a little, getting comfortable, and cooed approvingly.

With the satchel slung around his shoulder, Din exited the main entrance of the Razor Crest. This port was busy with other travelers, and finding someone to refuel the ship might take a while. As he wandered around, he ignored the many odd looks that were given to him, but these stares weren't out of the ordinary. A Mandalorian was rare enough, and seeing one with a child was even more so. Especially with the way said child was being carried. Din flexed his shoulder a little, testing the weight of the stachel.

The Child felt this, murmured, and glanced up at him. As they walked, not once did he squirm or giving any indication of being uncomfortable. In fact, he appeared quite calm and content.

On Din's end, this was quite new to him. He would've thought that something like this would feel constricting. Instead, he felt the opposite, like a weight had been lifted. Though it wasn't the pram, the Child was still nearby, and he could still keep a close eye on him. Much like the hammock above his bunk, this was reassuring.

He finally found a shipwright that could refuel his ship, and Din tossed him some credits. He also asked him if he had any parts for his gauntlet. It was a little unconventional, given that most people on this planet didn't design armor, but Din listed off some parts he could jerry-rig until he found suitable replacements.

The shipwright had what he needed, and Din followed him to a small supply cache, not too far from the Razor Crest. While the shipwright looked through his inventory, he eventually asked a question. "You, uh…" He glanced at the Child. "You two been to Nevarro in the recent weeks?"

Din tilted his head. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On who's asking and why."

The shipwright snorted. "I'm not an idiot. You're a Mandalorian. I won't go toe-to-toe with beskar. I'm just saying…" He shrugged, and started collecting the parts that Din needed. "Not too long ago, I hear talk of some Imperial chaos happening there. And that a Mandalorian fought against 'em." He glanced at the Child again. "And that he travels with some sorta green creature."

Din tensed, but didn't show it. "And who told you that?"

Another shrug. "Some bartenders at our local cantina were talking about it. They used to do trade with Nevarro." He eyed Din. "It ain't any business of mine. Truthfully, I thought all you Mandos were extinct. I found it interesting, so I listened."

Din relaxed a little, and paid him for the parts.

Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised. He and the Child had caused so much commotion on Nevarro. It only made sense that others had heard about it. The fact that they weren't being pursued by anyone – hunters especially – was something to consider, and meant that all of this was just gossip.

Before Din walked away to allow the shipwright to begin fueling, he needed to ask him something. "It sounds like you hear a lot. Know anything about Jedi?"

The shipwright scowled a little. "What kinda species is that?"

Din was about to say that even he didn't know, but didn't feel the need. He was about to move on, until a thought occurred to him. It was a simple one, too. And he wished he'd thought of a while ago. "What about other Mandalorians? See any of them?"

The shipwright shook his head. "No."

Din sighed. Never mind, then. He walked away. It had been more than two weeks since he left Nevarro. He couldn't deny that he was frustrated. At himself. He was a bounty hunter, had been for so many years now, and he couldn't even find any trace or evidence of these beings.

There was a soft coo. The Child was staring up at him, his head tilted slightly.

Din sighed again. He rested his palm against the side of the satchel, and spoke softly to him. "I'll find you a Jedi eventually."

"Hey, Mando!"

Din looked in the direction of the voice. Leaning up against some cargo was an Abyssin. "I overheard you and the shipwright talking," he said. "You looking for other Mandalorians?"

"I am," Din responded curtly.

"Well, you're in luck. My brother always talks about them. If anyone would know where to find some, it'd be him. He lives not too far from here."

Din turned to fully face him, interest piqued. "Is his information good?"

"Oh, sure. Everything about him's good," he said quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Hell, he practically owns the town he lives in."

Din nodded once. "Where does he live?"

The Abyssin told him about a small city on the other side of the planet. By the time the Razor Crest was done refueling and when he finished repairing the gauntlet, he could arrive there by evening.

"His name is Gor Koresh," the Abyssin explained. "And he owns the only fighting ring in that town. Best to go there at night."

From beneath his helmet, Din's eyes narrowed. Fighting ring, not a wrestling arena. There was a difference. But if it would lead him to other Mandalorians, he had to investigate. Din figured, given their history with Mandalore, that other Mandalorians might be able to help him find a Jedi.


Din wasn't worried about the Child being here. Everyone was far too absorbed in the fight to take much notice of them. There were dozens of people here, all shouting and jeering for their fighter to win, so as to put money in their own pockets. Din shook his head slightly. He never really understood the appeal of gambling, but to each their own.

The building the fight was being held in was small, and everyone was packed tightly together. Before coming here, Din had made some last minute adjustments so that the pram would hover in closer proximity to him. He was now glad to have thought of that, lest his foundling get lost in this crowd.

If the Child was overwhelmed, he certainly didn't show it. He gazed around at all the shouting and fighting. While he wasn't anxious, he also didn't quite know where to look.

The Abyssin at the port had described what his brother looked like. Din found another Abyssin in the front row falling under that description, and sat down next to him.

"You know this is no place for a child," Gor Koresh remarked.

"Wherever I go, he goes," Din said.

He chuckled, only slightly amused. "So I've heard."