pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 4.4K

chapter summary: Fennec feels worn out, Din feels hungover, and Marathel doesn't know how to feel

warnings: fluff, angst, mention of blood and injury, rape aftermath, English and Mando'a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***

Fennec was very, very tired. She hadn't had a full night's sleep since meeting this Marathel woman, who currently lay tranquilized on the cot before her. Marathel, who tried so hard to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, had instead sent the palace into an uproar. The silver-haired woman collected champions everywhere she went. Silnima was ready to adopt her as well as make her chief baker, if Marathel wished. Din Djarin was obviously completely in the most stupid variety of love with her, and right behind the Mandalorian, Cobb Vanth was hurriedly catching up in the adoration race. Boba had admitted to her that even he found her charming, and he was ready to jump into any fray to protect her, like an old mobster uncle would protect his favorite niece.

It might have been more amusing if Marathel was actually manipulative. Marathel was not. She was in fact so simple she was straight. She had no guile, no artifice whatsoever. Cobb had mentioned to Fennec that he thought of her as a full-grown child who had dropped from the sky, an apt description if there ever was one. Everything was black and white in Marathel's world. She had a child's sensibility, a child's gullibility, almost to the point where Fennec wondered if the woman even had object permanence.

Fennec had just witnessed another emotional breakdown from Marathel, the reasons for which were still unknown to Fennec. Marathel had been lying quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, before she suddenly began to weep, and had become hysterical enough to require intervention from the medi-droid. Obviously — at least to Fennec — it was all somehow the Mandalorian's fault. The fact that Din had both cleared the room and turned the lights off led Fennec to believe that he had: one, removed his helmet, and two, most likely kissed her, and three, probably told her he loved her. Both apparently had trouble with complex emotions, but at least Din should know better than to run in, declare his love like a soldier heading off to war, and run out as if a Hoth blizzard were approaching. At least give the woman a chance to reply, thought Fennec. After Din had left — having given her a handful of the Aurodium coins — Fennec had turned the lights back on in the med-bay to see a flushed and bewildered Marathel, sitting up on her elbow, her hand to her mouth, and tears in her eyes as the sounds of Grogu screaming "MAMA!" reverberated through the ship.

Then the ship began take-off, which shifted Marathel from bewilderment to panic until the ship ceased quaking and began to fly smoothly. Marathel had then commented that the persistent engine noise was somehow soothing to her, and she began to relax enough to rest.

It was shortly after this that Marathel's latest crying jag occurred, and Fennec was nearly out of patience. After Marathel was tranquilized, Fennec left the med-bay in search of the Modifier, who was in the cockpit with the pilot. The pilot looked like the average mercenary: faceless, nameless, and uninterested in the cargo.

"Is the commotion all over?" asked the Modifier.

"It's never over with that woman," mumbled Fennec.

"Something new offended her delicate sensibilities?" Fennec sighed, and reminded herself that Marathel was doing her level best to cope. Then the Modifier asked, "Did the Mandalorian provide payment?" Fennec flicked her eyes to the back of the pilot's head. The Modifier nodded. Some things were never discussed in front of a mercenary, regardless of how inconspicuous they were.

Din awoke in Marathel's bed alone, curled up on his side, his mouth feeling as if he'd chewed on a Jawa all night. His nose was stuffed up, his neck was sore, and although his visor kept out the blinding light of the two suns, his eye sockets were throbbing with the dehydration headache. He felt around him, looking for Grogu, for Cobb, or even the Jawa he believed he was chewing on. But he was alone, and the door to Marathel's room was shut tight. Din scooted over to the edge of the bed to peer at the side table, which held a large, beautiful pitcher of glorious looking water, several hydration powder packets, and a glass.

Silently thanking Silnima, Cobb, Frith, whomever had left him this morning-after gift, Din drank the entire pitcher along with all the hydration powder, took a runner-beast-sized piss, and had a quick hot shower to cook out the remainder of the booze from his pores.

Feeling human again, he straightened up Marathel's bed, smoothing the sheet over her pillow. He sat in her padded chair to pull on his boots when he noticed items on her large treatment table that had not been there yesterday: a large, waxed bag that looked as if it contained sweets, three large hanks of yarn, a big ball of near-white fluffy wool, knitting needles, and two jars of dark honey. Set off to one side of these items was a new pair of shoes. The shoes were an ankle-high slip-on style in a deep grey leather, flat-heeled, simple, and very appropriate for someone like Marathel. There was a tiny scuff on the outside of one of the shoes, a few grains of sand on the inside of the other. Din had a fleeting desire to smell the inside of her shoe. That's weird, right? Yeah, that's just weird. I'm still drunk. Din stood, making sure his bandolier was properly buckled, and his blasters were properly positioned on his hips. He lifted his helmet and held it above his head to put it on when his eyes fell on Marathel's shoes again. He dropped his helmet into one arm, grabbed Marathel's left shoe and took a deep whiff.

Well, that was disappointing. All he could smell was new leather. With a laugh, Din put down her shoe, wondering if he would have preferred her feet to smell badly or not. He put on his helmet and opened the door. Cobb was leaning against the opposite wall, drinking from a mug of caf.

"How are you feeling, friend?" asked Cobb.

"Better now. Thank you for the water."

"That wasn't me," said Cobb with a shrug. "I just supplied the hydration packets."

Din looked up and down the corridor. "Where's Grogu?"

"With the other palace kids."

"How did he seem?"

Cobb shrugged again. "Subdued." He smiled wryly. "He ended up between us, and we had positioned ourselves like a little fort around him. Our arms made the roof." He raised his eyes to Din's visor. "It was quite nice. It felt good. Made me a … little jealous of Marathel." Cobb went silent for a few moments, and then he took a drink from his caf. "Look, I gotta head back to Freetown. I trust the new deputy only so far, and I really have no reason to hang around if I can't get my arm worked on."

Din remained silent. Both men stood still for a while before Din reached out to take Cobb's arm. Pulling himself close to Cobb, Din whispered, "You'd leave me?"

Cobb's eyes went wide, but after a moment's thought, he squinted his eyes and said, "You're pullin' my chain."

"Mostly," said Din. "I need to go find buyers for the Aurodium, and I need a distraction for Grogu." Din's hand went to Cobb's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Come with us."

"Uh … no. I'm not stepping off this planet. Jumping around the vacuum of space in a tiny metal box is my personal vision of hell. Not even you can change my mind." Cobb lifted Din's hand from his shoulder and held it. "But give me updates on Marathel. And … consider her staying here for a while when she's better." Closer to me. "The palace is a controlled environment for her. Out there … I think it's hard for her to feel safe." Cobb dropped Din's hand. "She was scared of a Trandoshan she saw in Mos Espa."

"She should at least be cautious. They're assholes." Din nodded. "You're right, though. Here at the palace Marathel would have only a limited number of people to contend with. She'd be safe, even if I'm not here. And Silnima can help her have a purpose. Marathel is not one to be idle."

Cobb grinned. "And she now knows where to buy yarn."

Under the helmet Din was smiling too. "Thanks to you." He leaned forward and hugged Cobb, hard.

Cobb squeezed back, and in Din's ear, he whispered, "Love her." Din drew back. "What?"

Din shook his head. "That's what … the Dahl told me. Rodanthe. I figured … I imagined it. That she'd growled and my brain turned it into words. But she hadn't made a sound."

Cobb tilted his head. "That was something you mentioned last night."

"I did?" Din reached under his cuirass and scratched the bite mark; it was suddenly itchy. "I guess it wasn't a dream after all."

"You don't think it's strange?" asked Cobb. "That this —Rodanthe critter 'talks' to you and then the next day Marathel can seemingly control you?"

Din scoffed. "The whole damn thing is strange. A woman can bond with an animal on a biological – chemical – neurological manner to the point where she allegedly loses physical control and goes into a heat cycle? And drags me into it as well?" Din looked up and down the hall. Seeing no one, Din leaned in towards Cobb. "She could barely look at me at first, and the next thing I know, she's wrapping her legs around me and climbing me like a damn tree."

"And I'm sure you fought that little wildcat as long as you could," Cobb said with a smirk, but then he sobered. "You can't think she's been manipulating you."

"I know she's not telling me everything." Din scratched the bite wound again. "I know she's lied to me. I probably … shouldn't have told her I love her yesterday."

Cobb rolled his eyes. "Someone's got morning-after guilt," he said with a sigh. "Look. You need to fence those coins. She needs to get better. Then you two must seriously talk. And I recommend not starting with, 'Marry me'. Or whatever it is you Mandalorians do."

"Oh? What should I start with?"

"I suggest you tell her about the land mine to your sack. That should give you two a lot to talk about." Cobb shifted sideways. "We should both get going, you know." The two men clasped each other's hands, and Cobb began to walk towards the landing tunnel, whistling. After about 5 meters or so, Cobb turned and said, "Man, you didn't even tell me about the land mine. That's classic." Din shot him the finger, and Cobb walked off, laughing.

After Cobb had left, Din heard the pounding of feet and happy shrieks of children coming from the opposite direction. He turned, and a whole passel of kids were running full tilt straight for him; one of the taller girls was carrying Grogu on her shoulders. Upon seeing Din, Grogu squealed and leapt from the girl's shoulders to Din's arms, doing a forward flip in mid-air. The other children cheered; the noise went right through Din's helmet and exploded somewhere behind his hung-over eyeballs. One of the boys yelled, "Let's get something to eat!", leading the other kids to run to the kitchen.

Grogu bounced on Din's arm, chanting, "Mama? Mama? Mama?" while slapping Din's cuirass with his little hand.

Din took hold of Grogu's hand, shaking his head. "We haven't heard anything yet, little guy."

Grogu scowled and jerked his hand away. "MAMA!"

"I want to know how she is just as much as you do, buddy, but … Mama needs to go far away for a little while. She needs special doctors who can help her. Special … secret doctors."

Grogu grunted, his face in a deep frown. "See-kit."

"See-kit, that's right," said Din, a flush of pride going through him at Grogu saying another word. That's my boy. Din held Grogu close, pressing his helmet to the little green fuzzy head. "What say we go fly while we wait?"

"Fy!"

"Wizard. Let's go."

Fennec got a message from the medi-droid that Marathel was waking up. She got into the room just in time to see Marathel roll to her side, rubbing her eyes. Fennec sat back down on the stool next to the cot. "Doing better?" Marathel still looked distressed, but she nodded. "Can you tell me what upset you so much?"

Marathel swallowed and closed her eyes. "He lied to me. The Bounty Hunter."

We're back to calling him Bounty Hunter. Dank ferrik. "What did he lie to you about?"

"The Bounty Hunter still had the coins. He was … he was supposed to give them to his covert, but he still had them!"

Fennec sighed inwardly. "He gave me some of the coins to pay for your treatment, wherever it is we're going."

"But he's not supposed to still have them! Why would he lie to me about what he was going to do? "

Maker, save me. "Marathel … please consider that there is a perfectly logical explanation."

Marathel sniffled. "Like what?"

"Perhaps the covert wouldn't accept them. Those coins are … very old, and they don't exactly work as money anymore. Perhaps Din needs to find a buyer for the coins so he can exchange them for usable money."

"Then why give them to you?"

"Well, it's not as if we had a lot of time to figure things out. We needed cash in hand for whomever these Reconstructionists are. Now, please, Marathel, please try to stay calm. Try to not worry about every damn thing so much!"

Marathel colored and looked away. "I'm sorry," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Don't be sorry. Be calm. Be quiet, and we will all get through this," hissed Fennec, near the end of her own rope.

Marathel took a shaky breath. "Yes, Fennec," she said in such a conciliatory tone Fennec felt bad for snapping at her. Fennec dropped her face into her hands for a while, upset herself. Now she had these damned coins to deal with. Either this Bishop was completely daft, or the men on that planet had no clue what those coins were worth. When Boba had first shown them to her, Fennec insisted they first count them, just so she could feel the gold in her hands, and then they spread out the coins on the bed and … well, rolled around on them a while. They had quite a time locating all the coins after that.

Fennec still had no idea where they were going — the Modifier was being very tight-lipped about that — but she needed something to go on in case she needed to find buyers for the coins herself, and she was already nervous about this whole escapade going sideways.

Fennec looked up at Marathel, who had been quiet for some time now. Marathel's face was as blank as fresh quarried slate. Her eyes were unfocused, and her breathing was slow, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted. The slack look on her face put Fennec in the mind of someone who was mentally challenged, or in a fugue state. Fennec shook Marathel's arm. "Marathel? Are you all right?"

Marathel's pupils constricted, and she blinked. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I was just … being still."

"That's what you mean by be still? You just… check out and go into a near-trance?"

"Yes, it … it quiets the mind when they… make you do things to them."

"Make you do things to whom, Marathel?"

Marathel took a shaky breath. "The Elders … the Bishop, of course."

Fennec felt uneasy. "Even before you left the Hold?"

"Ever since I can remember," said Marathel, matter-of-factly. Fennec nodded. She thought so, but it was still painful for her to have it confirmed. No wonder Marathel was so wounded. The poor woman's never had a damn chance. Fennec was wracked with guilt for her unkind thoughts about the silver-haired woman. "Fennec? Don't pity me."

Fennec nodded again, and angrily swiped her knuckles under her eyes. "I should check your wounds."

"Fennec ..." said Marathel, reaching for her hand. "My wounds are not getting worse, nor will they get better with anything you can do. Just … sit with me, please." Fennec held Marathel's hand, and in her eyes, Fennec could only see a kind of … sad tranquility that spoke of defeat. "Tell me again what I'm to say if they question me."

"You're to say that you managed to escape from a Red Room; that you don't know where you are, or how you got there."

"Yes, a Red Room. I couldn't remember. I was thinking Dark Room. What is a Red Room?"

"I don't think you need to know that, Marathel."

"I think I should know … I should know about what lies I need to tell."

Fennec sighed. "A Red Room is where … people pay to watch and/or participate in the torture and killing of … another person."

Marathel furrowed her brow. "Why in the name of Frith do things like that exist?"

"It's a sick, sad, galaxy. I'd like to say it's gotten better recently, but … not really."

"Is a Red Room always red? Or is it named … because of the blood spilled there?" Marathel sighed. "I suppose that doesn't matter." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I miss my little hut. Life was so simple there. Make bread, set traps for food. Weave if I wanted, pick flowers if I wanted, do flat-out nothing if I wanted. Even when … Din and Grogu showed up, it was still such a lovely uncomplicated life. Made them meals, sewed their clothes. Made them bread. I made more bread for those two in that short time than I would ever make for myself in three moon cycles, those greedy guts." Both women chuckled. "And I got to pretend I had my own family. We had fun, the three of us. I even got to hear Din laugh."

Fennec pulled a face. "I don't believe that man knows how to laugh."

"He did! He laughed at me; that's why I had to throw eggs at him." Marathel launched into the story of the morning she wore her yellow dress and ended up in a tree because she had the temerity to scold a Jedi toddler. By the time Marathel was demonstrating where Din's hands had ended up on her breasts as she dropped down from the lowest branch, Fennec was near howling with laughter. "So, I chucked an egg right at his helmet. Splat!"

"Oh, kriffing hell! Then what?"

"He said that I should be a … oh, what did he say … a storm …?"

"A Stormtrooper?"

"Yes! What is that?"

"A soldier of the most useless variety."

Marathel frowned. "Should I have been insulted by that?"

"Absolutely you should have."

Marathel giggled. "Good thing I hit him with another egg and told him to piss up a rope." Fennec laughed. "I stomped all the way back to my hut; I was that angry. Later, Grogu brought me flowers, and Din brought me my favorite fruit to apologize. No man had ever given me a gift before." Marathel smiled. "The next day, Din made me breakfast. The man made a meal for me. Never had I considered a man would do such a thing. We weren't allowed to eat what we made for the men, not even the scraps from their plates. But Din cooked for me."

Fennec smiled as well. And we're back to calling him Din. "Men can be different when they're from other places."

Marathel was silent for a while. "I didn't even know that there were other places until Din told me. I didn't believe him. How was I supposed to understand that a tiny point of light in the sky was another big place like the one I lived on?"

"Well, not all those points of light are planets. There are also stars."

"He said that too, but I don't know what a star is. I don't understand half of everything he said to me. He probably thought I was quite dumb, which is true … I don't know much." Marathel sighed. "When he asked me to come with him, it terrified me, because I knew I would only be a burden to him."

"Din asked you to leave your planet with him?"

"Yes … we had been digging clams, even though clams make him sick, but he didn't tell me that. I was dancing in the water with Grogu, and Din put his arm around me, held me close … and said I should go with him and leave the Aurodium behind."

My, my. "But you said no."

"What else in Frith was I supposed to say? I was already ruined, I'm … nothing. I'm plain, fat, and stupid. Sullied. Filth." Marathel sobbed, tears running down her face. She rolled over to her side and curled up in despair. "And I knew I was going to finally die — just sooner than later — but I also knew if I could help him in some way, then … my life could have meant something to someone. Even just for a few days, to a frightening man made of metal and his little green boy. I love Grogu so much, Fennec. And he's calling me Mama. He shouldn't be doing that. Not someone like me." Marathel was weeping again, to her dismay. She was so tired of weeping but could not stop any more than she could stop her slow loss of blood. Fennec held Marathel's hand and said nothing. She had heard things like Marathel spoke of before, and no number of words to the contrary would change Marathel's mind in her current state. Not all fears or hurts or ugly thinking could be slayed with logic.

After some time, when Marathel's current storm seemed to have passed, Fennec asked, "So, what did Din say to you when he came in here?"

Marathel sniffled and scrubbed her nose with her hand. "Well, he turned off the lights, and then I felt something heavy drop on my lap. It wasn't until he was kissing me that I realized it was his helmet."

Fennec gave a small smile. "So, he did kiss you."

Marathel's cheeks flushed. "Did you know how heavy those helmets are? I thought he tossed a rock on me."

Fennec rolled her eyes with a chuckle. "So, he did kiss you."

Marathel shyly dropped her gaze. "Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"He said …" Marathel took a breath. "He said, 'I love you, Marathel, ma'mwsh ha'laa, nothing else matters.'"

"And what does ma'mwsh ha'laa mean again?"

"'Wounded acorn.'"

Fennec chuckled again. "That's so adorable it's almost sickening. What was the kiss like?"

Marathel frowned. "Hard."

"Excuse me?"

"Hard. He pressed his mouth very hard to mine." Marathel put her fingers to her own lips; they were almost tingling with the memory. "But I could tell he had a mustache. And I touched his cheek; he had facial hair, and his skin was soft. He had told me his eyes were brown, and I saw his brown hair once, briefly … he was throwing up the clams in the tall grass, and I could just see the top of his head."

Fennec wasn't about to tell her she had gotten a glimpse of him without his helmet; it probably would upset her, and Din wasn't looking his particular best at the time, what with the concussion and the blood everywhere. "Din doesn't sound like he's very good at kissing."

"I wouldn't know. Kissing is only for Diwhyns and babies where I'm from." Marathel glanced sideways at Fennec. "I suppose Boba is a good kisser?"

Fennec's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

Marathel squeezed Fennec's hand. "Boba Fett is good to you, isn't he?"

It was Fennec's turn to blush. "I didn't think we were that obvious."

"Well, I noticed. And if I noticed, I'm sure Cobb did too." Fennec groaned. "And Silnima knows too, but I don't think anything gets past that woman."

"And that's why she's such a good Headwoman. She would love it if you'd stay at the palace once you're well. She has designs on you being her chief baker."

Marathel curled her lip. "I don't know if I want to be a kitchen drudge for the rest of my life."

"No one's talking about forever, just for right now, for kriff's sake." Fennec sighed. "So how do you feel about Din? Do you share his feelings?"

Marathel thought for a while before answering. "I told him that I loved him before I went into the Hold; at least, as much as I knew how to love anyone. I know that I'm grateful for him, grateful that he took me away from there. But … it's … it's his Creed I'm having trouble with."

Fennec frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The day before he took me to the Hold, I asked him if he would take off his helmet, that he could have me if he wished," — Fennec frowned at this — "but … without the helmet, so that I would have his face as a last memory. He said no, of course. He told me that his affection for me was less than his devotion to his Creed. And I suppose I understood that, but then … he asked if I would sleep next to him, so he could hold me, caress me while he slept. Fondle me. As if I were only a toy. Not a person. Certainly not an equal." Marathel sighed. "Perhaps he does love me, but … I'm afraid I will always be in the shadow of his Creed. That shadow may be too cold for me to bear."

"Well, Marathel, that's certainly a valid thing for you to feel." Fennec patted her arm. "It seems like you two have much to discuss."

"I wouldn't know how to even begin."

"The truth is usually the best place to start. But … for now I suggest you concentrate on what's coming up with these Reconstructionists. Okay?" Marathel nodded, then sat up enough to hug Fennec hard. Fennec hugged her back. "It's going to be okay, Marathel."

"I hope so." And she did.