A/N: It took exactly 3 weeks to mess up my update schedule, but I'm pretty sure this chapter makes up for it. Also shout out to all the Supernatural fans out there! I jumped ship around season 7, but I just watched the finale and I really don't know what to say. Y tho?

Chapter 19 – Shelter

"No!"

With a sigh, Sinead grabbed the little pincushion previously balanced on her leg and pulled it out of reach of the child, who had been in the middle of pulling out one of the needles. No matter where she put it, he always found a way to get his hands on it.

She was mending a rip in her shirt, grateful for the distraction from the flurry of thoughts that kept running through her head without ever coming to any real conclusion. It was exhausting how she kept getting pulled in different directions, one second happy, the next ready to crawl under her thin blanket and never come out again.

Eventually, she grabbed some needle and thread and started on some of her clothes that were more hole than fabric at this point. It felt good concentrating on something, the repetitive movement of the needle strangely calming.

The child sat beside her and followed every movement with his big, bottomless eyes.

She had just finished the last stitch when, without warning, all light flickered off. The ship started shaking violently, and she dropped the shirt to grab the kid before he fell off the bunk. Somewhere in the pitch-black something crashed to the floor.

As quickly as it had begun, the shaking stopped and left behind an eerie silence. The telltale hum of the engine was gone.

Sinead pressed a hand to her forehead and breathed out slowly, trying to still her hammering heart.

The kid giggled.

"Oh, you think this is funny, huh?"

He babbled a reply.

"Okay, then."

Carefully, Sinead got up with the kid safely tucked into her arms and made her way over to the ladder, where she climbed into the cockpit one slow step at a time. The ship was entirely dead.

The cockpit was bathed in a cold blue glow from a star directly ahead, with a single planet orbiting it.

"What happened? Is that Zessol?"

Mando unfurled from where he had been crouched under the control panel, with a small torch affixed to his helmet. The light reflected off his armor. "I don't know. Ship suddenly lost power and dropped out of hyperspeed." He disappeared under the controls again.

Sinead strapped the kid into his seay and plopped down onto her own. It was too dark to go poking around the controls, and she would probably be more hindrance than help.

"Damn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"The energy cycler got fried when we dropped out of hyperspace."

"Can you unfry it?"

"… maybe." Mando got to his feet, mumbling a long string of Mando'a. He went to the navicomputer and pulled off a metal panel underneath it, exposing a mess of wires. After a couple of minutes, it sparked, and the controls lit up, piercing red in the darkness.

"Life support's back on. At least we won't suffocate."

"We still might," Mando said, trying and failing to turn on the engine. "The star's interfering with the comm system. I can't send out an SOS."

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine," Sinead mumbled, trying to keep the growing worry at bay. She reached for the kid. "You okay, space bug?"

The kid babbled a string of nonsense, seeming totally unconcerned about their situation.

Suddenly, the ship lurched forward, catching Sinead off guard, and she hurriedly strapped herself into her chair. The turbines were still off, but Mando had managed to patch into the back thrusters, slowly sending the ship towards the planet which seemed pitch black against the backdrop of the star.

"You think we can make it in time?"

"We have to."

The planet slowly turned green the closer they got, details appearing the closer they got. As the ship entered the planet's orbital pull, it started shaking so hard that Sinead's teeth rattled.

She had to force the words out of her mouth. "You sure you can land it?"

Mando didn't reply. She was grateful for that.

The green surface turned into a forest that had to span most of the planet's surface. Very slowly, Mando let the Crest drop inch by inch until it flew just above the canopy. Sinead held her breath.

Finally, Mando spotted a clearing and angled the ship towards it. They touched down with an echoing boom, sending Sinead's head spinning from the sudden stop.

Stepping out of the ship was like stepping into another world; light came down through the leaves, creating flickering shadows on the ground whenever the wind rustled through the trees. A thick layer of decomposing leaves made the ground feel soft and swallowed the sound of Sinead's footsteps as she walked off the ramp. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. There were no soldiers to fight, no arena to infiltrate, no droids to smash. For a moment, there was only the breeze and the sweet smell of earth.

The peace was broken by Mando, who let out a frustrated grunt. He ducked under the ship and was poking around a bit of exposed machinery, the covering lying on the ground by his feet.

"Doesn't look good?" Sinead said even though she already knew the answer.

Mando slotted the cover back into place with more force than necessary. "The cooling unit is shot. We won't get through the atmosphere without it."

"I don't suppose you have a cooling unit lying around somewhere, do you?"

He pointedly ignored her. "I think there's still enough power to scan the planet. Watch the kid, okay?"

The child came shuffling down the ramp, his big eyes growing bigger as he took in the new surroundings. When his feet hit the ground, he bent down and buried his hands in the dirt. After a moment he pulled out a fat worm that wriggled furiously in his hand.

"Hey, no, don't-"

She started running, but it was too late. The kid popped the worm, dirt and all, into his mouth.

"No!" Lifting him up, she gave him her most stern look. "No. Spit it out."

The kid gave her a toothy smile.

"Spit … oh what the hell. I have no idea what you are, you could just as well have an entirely worm-based diet."

Mando appeared in the opening of the ship and looked up at the bright sky. "The closest settlement is about a day's travel. You two can stay here."

Sinead looked at the quiet ship and chewed on her lower lip. Staying an entire day in one place with only the kid for company meant a long time for certain thoughts to sit and fester. "Or we could go with you. The kid's been cooped up in the ship for too long anyway, all that recycled air can't be good for him."

As if on cue, the child started wiggling in her grasp.

"He'll slow us down."

"I've already waited five years. What're a few extra hours."

Mando watched her for an uncomfortable amount of time, long enough that Sinead started to wonder if she had offended him somehow before he shrugged and disappeared into the ship.

She and the kid waited outside while he gathered supplies. They weren't stocked for a trek through the wilderness, but if the weather kept up and the undergrowth stayed as sparse, it wouldn't be a problem. Once he was ready, they set out in the direction of the settlement, walking slowly while the kid ambled back and forth between them. He kept wandering in front of Sinead whenever something caught his attention, and when he stopped to watch a sprawling anthill, she let out a huff.

"I told you it'd be slow."

"It's fine."

They walked on in silence. The forest teemed with invisible life; birds hid in the treetops where they trilled out a warning as the trio passed by; somewhere far off, an animal bleated, and the sound echoed between the trees. When was the last time she'd felt this calm? Not since before Loovria, at least.

That reminded her ...

"You never told me why you hate droids. Back on Loovria."

"I ... didn't." He fell silent again until Sinead was starting to regret asking. Then again, he had heard her tragic backstory; now it was time to hear his.

"I was ..." he paused again. They passed a lone dead tree that shed white bark in thick curls. "I wasn't born a Mandalorian. My village was attacked by droids. The Mandalorians took me in. Trained me in the Fighting Corps." He spoke slowly like every word had to be carefully considered.

She chanced a quick glance at him, even though his helmet would reveal nothing. He walked stiffly and kept his helmeted face turned away from Sinead.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He shrugged.

"You know ..." she said without being sure how to continue. The words hung in the air while she wracked her brain for something to add. "I'm Corellian, but I've only been to the planet a handful of times. My mother hated the place, she never wanted to tell me why. My father was a real Corellian, would've spent the rest of his life among the stars if he could." And in a way, he got his wish in the end. "Now there isn't really any reason to go back." She honestly didn't know why she was telling him this.

Mando was quiet for a long time. He finally looked at her, head slightly tilted to the side. "Sinead doesn't sound like a Corellian name."

That wasn't quite what she'd expected. "That's because it's not. I'm named after an Alderaanian woman who saved my mother's life. She got wounded behind enemy lines, and Alderaanian Sinead dragged her to safety. My mother was never the sentimental type, but I guess getting carried through hostile territory for days leaves an impact."

"She was a soldier?"

"A mercenary. Didn't like being called a soldier, which I always thought was a bit backward. My father was a pilot, ran cargo most of his life." She wanted to ask about his parents but figured she wouldn't press her luck. "He taught me how to fly. It's a shame you won't let me touch the Crest."

"You have flown it."

"Once. And that doesn't count! Your arm was hanging on by a thread; it was either that or stay on Loovria and get eaten by a nexu."

"If it makes it into the air again, you can fly it all you want."

Sinead flashed a smile. "I'm honored."

"Just don't crash it."

"Oh please! Didn't you hear me before? I'm Corellian! We don't crash ships."

Mando's shoulders moved with what might have been a silent snort. "Right."

"It's true. We may do what in certain aviation circles is called a forceful downward trajectory terminating in an acute surface touchdown."

"And is the ship able to take off again?"

"Eventually."

This time she was sure she heard a soft chuckle, and she pursed her lips to keep from smiling. Perhaps the fresh air was getting to him too.

They wandered through a grove of thin white trees with sparse crowns that allowed sunlight to stream through the leaves. Thick moss covered the ground, and Sinead wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a nap between the trees. The kid seemingly had the same idea because when he passed a particularly soft-looking tussock, he slumped down, his little face weary. Sinead scooped him into her arms. "You've had enough walking for now? Lucky for you, you're so small, I can just keep you in my pocket."

"I can take him," Mando said, watching her as she shifted the child to rest on her hip.

"It's fine. You're carrying the supplies. And I think he's already asleep."

"It's a long walk for him."

"Yeah ..." she looked down at the already sleeping child. "You've ever thought about giving him a name?"

"Not really."

"Well, you should. I can't keep calling him kid in my head. Just because you're fine with having no name doesn't mean it works for everyone else. He's gonna grow up very confused."

Mando was silent for a moment. "When the Guild business is over, I'm sure whoever raises him can give him a name."

"What?" Sinead stopped abruptly, staring at him like she'd never seen him before. "You're gonna leave him? Just like that?"

"A ship's no place for a kid."

"I grew up on a ship, and I'm fine."

Mando was silent for a moment. "It's too dangerous. He deserves to grow up somewhere stable."

"And that's impossible if he stays with you?"

He started to walk again, and she hurried to keep up. "You saw what happened on Tatooine, and the droid. What if we hadn't come back to Loovria? It's better this way."

She looked down at the sleeping child in her arms. His small hand had gripped a fold on her jacket. It didn't feel right, Mando without the kid. She didn't know what to say; it wasn't her business, after all, so she changed the subject. "Do you know how old he is? Can't be more than a couple of years, he's so tiny."

"He's 50."

She let out a snort. "Right."

"I'm serious."

"He can't speak, Mando. He's not older than us. Or me, anyway."

"I have the last four digits of his chain code," Mando said, sounding annoyed.

"And what does that mean?"

"That I know his age. It's why his tracking fob is off. It's the only reason the Guild hasn't caught up. Some species mature slower than others."

The kid made a soft sound in his sleep, and Sinead pressed her palm against his head, so warm and fragile. She felt a pang of sadness; even if he was 50 years old, he was still a small kid lost in the galaxy. Who knew how long it had been since he'd last been with his family? "I guess he has enough wrinkles to pass as a 50-year-old." It wasn't very funny, but she didn't know what else to say.

"I think, maybe ..." Mando trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"I think he might be a Strand-Cast."

The word rang a bell and brought Sinead back to a half-remembered conversation overheard on Sriluur. "That's a clone, right?"

Mando shifted the pack on his back. "Close. It's more like a … a type of engineered creature."

That was harder to believe than the kid's age. She studied his small face, trying to find any signs of him being … what? "What makes you think that?"

"I just ... think it's a possibility."

"Hm." She moved the kid from one arm to another, careful not to wake him. "Would explain why the Imps want him back." The implications made her stomach twist, and she subconsciously held him closer. "You notice anything special about him?"

Mando waited for an odd amount of time before he answered, "No. I haven't."

... ... ... ... ...

Din didn't know why he had lied to Sinead. While he usually trusted his senses completely, there was something about the child's powers that made him uncertain of what he had actually seen. The mudhorn had almost caved in his chest, and he had only been saved by the strength of his armor. The ground had shaken as it charged at him, pain exploded across his chest when he breathed. And suddenly, the beast was lifted into the air. The child saved him even though Din wasn't his ally.

There was a tightness in his chest, a phantom pain from the battle with the beast.

They walked until the sky started darkening and the wind picked up. Save for the grove of white trees, the forest stayed the same. The child had woken up sometime before and watched the surroundings with curious eyes. Maybe he thought they were back on Sorgan.

"I think it's starting to rain."

As he turned to Sinead, a raindrop hit his helmet, the sound so much louder in his ears. It was followed by a rapid patter of rain on leaves, and soon the rain came down hard, obscuring his vision.

Sinead was barely visible through the sheets of rain.

"Of course this planet has crazy weather," Sinead shouted over the sound of the rain. "This is on me for thinking we could have a nice walk through the woods."

He peered at Sinead through the rain and the darkness. Water dripped from her hair and into her eyes, and the kid had turned his face into her jacket. With a sigh, he undid the fastenings of his cloak and thrust it at Sinead, hoping that she would take it without a word. She offered him a wan smile. The already sodden fabric was better than nothing.

The ground was soggy, and it wouldn't be long until the whole forest was a muddy swamp. The settlement was hours away, but they couldn't keep going like this.

"We have to find shelter," Din said, motioning for Sinead to follow him through the trees which were running with water, little pools forming between the roots.

"You know, I don't think we're gonna find a cave anywhere near." Sinead held the kid close to her chest, trying to shield him from the worst of it.

"Follow me."

Before long, cold water had soaked through his clothes. He kept glancing back at Sinead, who looked like a misshapen lump under his cloak. The kid had to be freezing.

Desperation crept up his spine, and he started to move faster.

It had come to the point where he would have accepted a hollowed-out tree or a wide branch when his visor indicated there was something between the trees. He pushed through a thicket, wet branches slapping against his armor, and there, in a small clearing, stood an old cabin. The windows were dark and empty, and the roof drooped under the weight of dead leaves. Nobody had been there for a long time. Years of rain and rot had warped the doorframe, and Din had to shoulder it open, the wood nearly buckling with every shove. It finally gave out with a loud crack.

A lantern hung on a hook beside the door, and Din pulled it down. Amazingly, it spluttered to life with a hiss and cast a weak light on the drab surroundings.

The cabin was a single room covered in a thick layer of dust and animal droppings. There was an overpowering smell of mildew and earth, and the last inhabitants had left multiple stringed cans hanging from the ceiling that clattered when the door was forced open. Most of the furniture left behind was broken. There was a mount of ash in the soot-covered fireplace. A single bed had been pushed into the corner.

Sinead hurried into the cabin and turned in a circle. "It's better than the cave on Luria."

"How is he?" The pack thumped to the ground and Din let out a soft grunt. His muscles were stiff and aching.

She pulled back the cloak to reveal the child. "Okay, I think. He's cold."

Din grunted and set to work. It didn't take long before a fire was lit from the remains of a chair Din took apart. There was no way he would be able to find any dry firewood outside. It sounded like the rain had picked up since they entered the hut, coming in near vertically and thudding against the grimy windows.

Sinead sat cross-legged in front of the fire with the kid on her lap. He looked solemnly into the dancing flame and now and again would bite into a piece of bantha jerky with a strange sort of ferocity.

Din watched as Sinead removed her braid and combed through her hair with her fingers. He had never noticed how long it was. She stared into the fire in an almost hypnotized way, her long fingers working through every section of hair. The firelight cast deep shadows on her face, making her look unreal, like a painting.

"Mando?"

He blinked. He hadn't noticed her looking at him.

"You okay?" She tilted her head slightly. "There's room for you by the fire if you want. You must've gotten as soaked as us."

He suddenly became aware of how cold and wet he was, his armor feeling impossibly heavy and constricting. Slowly, he sat beside her and immediately felt the warmth radiating from the fire through layers of beskar and clothing.

"You've really never taken your helmet off in front of anyone?"

He watched her from out of the corner of his eyes, grateful that the helmet hid his face. "Never."

"You weren't born with it. When was the last time someone saw your face?"

The fire crackled and threw up sparks.

"When the Mandalorians took me in. I swore to the creed."

"And that means never showing your face?"

"Yes. This is the way."

She looked into the fire with an unreadable emotion in her eyes that made Din look away. "I heard Xi'an say something like that. I didn't know what it meant, and then there were sorta more important things to deal with."

The memory of her dealing with the droid sprung up in his mind; the way she looked standing over the broken corpse with fire and rage in her eyes.

And she'd done it all for the child.

"I'm sorry for all of that."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I contacted them."

"Which you did because of me. You didn't know they were backstabbing bastards."

Maybe he hadn't known, but the revelation hadn't exactly been shocking.

"Well, it all worked out in the end. We have a new lead." Her voice faded away as she stared into the flames.

It was suddenly hard to look at her.

She let out a yawn and looked at the bed. "It's probably time to turn in. How long to the settlement?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If the rain lets up."

She made a disgusted sound. "I definitely need some sleep if I'm gonna survive tomorrow." Getting to her feet, she cradled the kid in her arms. "You coming?"

His spine straightened as he looked to the bed. "Uh ..."

"C'mon." Sinead shrugged. "The bed's big enough for both of us, and you need sleep just as much as I do."

Din stood as Sinead went over to the bed and started pulling back the sheets, which disintegrated in her hand. When she sat down, the mattress released a cloud of dust.

"It's better than the one in the Crest," she said while bouncing up and down. The mattress springs screeching with every movement.

Din turned his back to her and pretended to go over the supplies, hands going still when she lay down to a wailing chorus of springs. He didn't often share a bed with someone else and generally it wasn't for sleeping. When he couldn't put it off any longer, he turned to face the bed where Sinead was lying on her back. The kid was swaddled in a blanket, fast asleep beside her.

Get a grip, he told himself as he sat on the edge of the bed to a cacophony of squeaking springs. He tried to control his breathing, but it felt like his heart was beating twice as fast. They had been sharing the same living space for weeks, and sleeping beside her gave him heart palpitations? Giving himself a mental shake, he lay down on the mattress, which was lumpy with age and just marginally more comfortable than the floor. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to focus on a spring that had worked its way through the outer layer and was trying to shank him. The rain pattered against the roof in a hypnotic rhythm, and the dying fire cast a warm light over the small room.

Between them, the child let out a little sound in his sleep.

The mattress dipped as Sinead turned onto her side, and Din's concentration shattered.

"You're okay sleeping in your armor? Isn't it uncomfortable?" She spoke quietly as to not wake the kid.

It was. The fire had only succeeded in drying the outer layers and leaving everything else cold and constricting. Even if it weren't, it was doubtful he'd get much sleep anyway. "I'm used to it." It came out in a breath.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sinead prop her head to her hand and give him a faint smile. "'I'm used to it' implies that it isn't." She smiled gently, her dark eyes glinting in the firelight.

Despite himself, he rolled onto his side. The child slept between them, acting as a buffer.

"It's fine."

"Okay."

Safely hidden by his helmet, Din studied her face; still damp hair lay in soft-looking waves across the mattress, and there was an unreadable look in her eyes, in the way her smile seemed to slowly slip from her lips. She plucked at the kid's blanket. "How were they, the Mandalorians that took you in?"

The question caught him off guard. He watched a spider crawl up the wall behind Sinead while he thought.

"They treated me as an equal, fed and trained me, even though I wasn't their kin."

Sinead's eyes were warm and inquisitive. "Were there others like you?"

It had been a long time since he thought back on those days where alternating grief and gratitude had made his head spin. "We were foundlings. Lots of children were affected by the war."

"Where are they now? Your clan."

He searched her face for any sign of an ulterior motive almost hoping that he would find it and shut the conversation down without a second thought, but he didn't find any; she looked as calm and curious as before. "After the great purge, they went into hiding." He hoped that was enough of an answer. It was all he could give.

"Oh."

The silence stretched between them, only interrupted by the rain and the sound of some small animal running across one of the rafters. Din considered pretending he had fallen asleep when Sinead started talking in a voice barely above a whisper. "Back when … before I was …" for once she seemed lost for words. "Before everything happened. My parents were cargo runners, willing to go pretty much anywhere in the known galaxy even with a little kid in tow. As I said, my father was a pilot, and my mother was in charge of security. As a kid I honestly couldn't imagine a better life than living out among the stars. I still remember the day I learned that most people go their whole life never leaving their home planet. I couldn't wrap my mind around it."

His armor dug into his side, but he didn't notice. Her words came out softly like she was soothing a crying child.

"We were a pretty tight-knit group. Our co-pilot Raans, I used to call him Uncle. Don't remember a time where he wasn't a part of the crew. He was married to the navigator Tir Farr. Quite the couple."

Farr. Were all her aliases taken from people she had known in the past?

"We were our own little village. Our old gunner, who I never actually saw leave the ship, taught me how to cheat in sabacc. Said it was better learning from him than after some guy fleeced me out of all my credits." The sound of rain seemed to melt away as she talked. A sad smile played on her face as she told him about the rest of the crew, looking so small curled up on the bed, and Din felt something stir in his chest. Suddenly, the space between them seemed to shrink. If he wanted to he could reach out and touch her.

"I had this old, really cheap voice recorder that I would go around and interview the crew. Must've ended up with hours of stories."

"Why?"

"It was something my father told me once that really stuck with me. 'As long as someone remembers you, you're never really gone.' And in my child mind it meant that if I made sure they would always be remembered then they'd never leave. When I got older and found out that wasn't how it worked, it sort of became a habit. Every time we landed on a planet I'd find someone who was willing to talk to me. Ended up with a pretty comprehensive collection."

She trailed off, and the hut was once again silent. The fire had burnt down to glowing embers.

"What kind of cargo did they run?" His throat felt constricted and the words came out harsher than he intended.

"Whatever paid the most, which, as you know, more times than not were less than legal. They thought I didn't know about the smuggling, but I pretty quickly learned what was in the crates they hid under the flooring. I overheard my parents argue over when to tell me. They agreed that once I turned eighteen …" he heard her swallow thickly. "That's why I have to find Kyen. He's the only family I have left. No matter if … if he's changed, I have to know. I owe it to him."

It was too dark to see her face and for that Din was grateful."I'm sorry." It sounded so hollow coming from him, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. Me too."

They fell silent. The fire had burned down to glowing coals, and Sinead was a black silhouette in the darkness.

"Mando?" She whispered. "Are you asleep?"

"No."

Minutes ticked by. Eventually, Sinead's breathing turned slow. He watched the contours of her chest rise and fall and tried to time his own breathing with hers, but it was like a band had constricted around his chest, making it uncomfortable to breathe.

Forcing his eyes shut, he resigned himself to a sleepless night.

… … … … …

A/N: Would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and also on the last two episodes! Especially episode 3 because that was A LOT.

I've made a tumblr for my writing, so head over to spoon-writes if you feel so inclined. I have a couple of mood boards in the works for the story.