pairing: din djarin x *reverse age-gap* *plus-size* fem!O/C

word count: 7.4K

chapter summary: Din returns to Unmanarall to search for Marathel.

warnings: angst, medical emergency, animal death, mention of physical illness / blood / violence / murder / suicide / rape / child rape / child sexual abuse / child death / object rape, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Din had the sudden sensation that a TIE fighter crash-landed on his chest, and he lurched upward towards what he believed was the excessively rude pilot who apparently couldn't land worth a damn, uttering a gurgling rebuke as he grabbed his blaster.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!" yelled the pilot.

"I'll blast you both apart!" shouted Din, leaning on his elbow and alternating his blaster between the two men who hovered over him, his brain misfiring in every direction.

One of the men, wearing a light blue uniform, looked at the spent hypos in his hand and muttered, "Holy shit, I can't believe that worked."

Din's heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he groaned. "What happened? Where am I? Who are you? Are we enemies? Where's Marathel?" demanded Din of the man wearing an X-wing uniform.

The X-wing pilot held up his hands, and said, "Okay … Let me take those one at a time. You had … a cardiac-type … episode. We gave you a series of hypos for that. We didn't expect you to react so quickly, though." The pilot took a breath. "You're on your ship. When you didn't answer our hails following your distress call, we tractored your ship on board the Luisitz." Din stared at the pilot. The pilot continued, "Yeah, it's a dumb name for a ship."

Din lowered his blaster, not because he felt safer, but because he couldn't hold his arm up anymore. He was also too weak to keep himself up on his elbow, so he lay back down on the floor. The pilot visibly relaxed, and the man in blue — who was apparently a medic — held a scanner over Din's chest.

The pilot continued, "That there is Corpsman Ka'nab." The medic waved. Din nodded slightly in response. "I'm Captain Carson Teva."

Din grunted. "My name is …"

"Din Djarin. Guild Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian. Yeah, we scanned you. Got your chip." Teva pulled out his holopad. "Going back to your original questions, I can safely say I sure as hell don't want to be your enemy. And as far as where is Marathel … I can't say, because I don't know who Marathel is. Is Marathel your cat?"

"My what?"

"Your cat, or whatever pet you have on board. Look, you said you were the only one on board, but we scanned your ship as we tractored it in…" — Din groaned inwardly — "… and there's obviously a second, small, life-form aboard, but it's in a shielded portion of the ship." Din remained silent. "Hey, if I could have a pet in my X-wing, I would. So what is it?"

"A … pet, yes." Sorry, kid. "Not Marathel. She's …"

"That her?" Teva pointed at the console, and Din looked up to see that his holopad was now projecting the image Cobb had sent. Din nodded, and grunted in the affirmative. "Pretty. Heading out to see her, Djarin?"

"Something like that. Am I done, now? May I go?"

The medic said, "If you can sit up on your own, now, I'm done with you." Din slowly pushed himself up and shifted so he could lean against the console. He looked down at himself and saw that the medic had pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass, and had sliced his flight jacket and his underthermal open to get at his bare chest, which had several adhesive sensors stuck to it. Din looked at the medic. "Hey, I only know not to remove a Mandalorian's helmet. That, I did not do. You can take off those stickers yourself, and chuck them out. Captain, I'll send you my report."

"Was it a heart attack?" asked Din.

The medic frowned. "No … not as such."

"Not as such?"

"Well, your blood pressure went to zero and your heart rate was spiking at 200. But the scans showed no heart damage whatsoever. Thenyou had somesort of seizure, like maybe you shot a clot through your heart into your brain, but nothing showed on neurological scans. So the only idea I had was to hypo you with what I would use on someone who was having a heart attack and a neurological seizure." Din turned his head to look at Teva, who shrugged and continued tapping on his holopad. Din returned his gaze to the medic. "Hey, it worked. And I removed that bacta bandage you were wearing, you obviously didn't need it."

Din looked down at his chest again, looking for the bite mark … which was gone. Not just healed, but gone, as if he'd never been bitten at all. "What the …" Din looked up at the medic. "What did you do?"

The medic and Teva exchanged glances. "I … removed a bandage. If you had a wound under there, it's obviously healed now." The medic tossed his equipment into his bag. "I think I'm done here. Safe travels, sir. May the Force be with you." The medic left.

"This is the way," muttered Din as he looked again where the bite wound had been, looking for a pale scar, anything that would prove that Marathel had bitten him. "It's like … it never happened."

"Are you sure you were wounded, Djarin?" asked Teva, leaning in to look closer at Din's chest.

Din looked up at Teva, then hurriedly closed his thermal shirt and flight jacket over his bare skin. The helmet was the most important part, but bare skin in general was still … difficult. Even in a medical emergency. "Would you believe that I had a human bite there?"

Teva went back to his holopad and chuckled. "This Marathelof yours gave you a what-for, did she? Or was it … your pet?"

"My … pet … is not human."

"Djarin …"

"Mando is fine," snapped Din.

"… Mando, look, I don't care. I only care about weirdness on my patrol, and you brought me weirdness. For the second time, I'm pretty sure. You're one long way from Nevarro. And from Maldo Kreis."

"So are you, Captain."

Teva chuckled again. "I said it first."

Din looked up at the holo of Marathel. It occurred to him that he'd only seen her looking like this for seven days. Seven days. He'd known her almost three times as long in her injured state. It felt almost unfair. Which Marathel did I fall in love with? Was it the Marathel with the clear skin and the bright eyes, who called him Bounty Hunter and baked him bread? Or was it the Marathel who almost died in his arms and had nearly lost all her blood twice?

Whichever Marathel it was, she had given him his first kiss with a woman. And had broken his heart over and over and over. And had gotten him the closest to not only removing his helmet, but to leaving his Creed altogether.

Teva noticed Din staring at the holo. "Tell me about her."

"It's complicated."

Teva nodded. "It always is. Believe me, I understand."

Din considered the Dahls and a lifetime of torture starting with being sired by a murderous pervert. He sighed and said, "No, Captain, I don't think you do." He looked back at Teva, who was still tapping on his holopad. "Aren't you done, yet?"

"Not even close. I would have fewer reports to process if you'd died. But then, I would have never known that lovely woman's name," he said, pointing at the holo. "And I'd also have to be responsible for your … 'cat'.

Din went back to looking at Marathel's holo. "Captain, let me ask you something. Say … say someone found a planet where women and girls … little girls … have been generationally tortured in the most reprehensible ways. Just how many need to suffer, or die, before the New Republic does something?"

"Is it a Republic or Empire-era planet?"

"Dank ferrik," grunted Din. "Are you taking the piss?"

"I wish I were, Mando. So which is it?"

"It's neither. The settlement is the only site of civilization on the entire planet. Everywhere else is … inhabited only by animals. But there might be artifacts from other planets within this settlement. And let's say that one of those artifacts was … Old Republic."

Teva frowned at Din. "Where is this planet?"

"I'm only speaking hypothetically, Captain."

"How many hypothetical generations are we talking about?"

"Possibly two thousand Basic years."

"Kriff." Teva pinched the bridge of his nose. "Little girls. How young?"

Din swallowed. "Her first memories."

Teva's eyes flicked up to Marathel's holo, then he harrumphed. "Have you ever heard that there's always three ways to do things in the military? There's the official way, the right way, and then there's the way that us grunts take care of things." He did some final taps on his holopad, then stood up. "It sounds like you know about the official answer to your query."

"Primitive culture … blah blah blah."

"Blah blah blah, indeed. Now, theway that a grunt — like myself — would take care of this … l would search for any artifacts on this hypothetical planet that give a clue where these hypothetical people might have come from, originally. That might be enough for some … hearsay … to get in the right ear, for the right thing to happen." Teva sighed, and shook his head before he held out his hand to help Din up from the floor. "My report is good enough for government work. Let me see what I can do to speed up your release."

Din nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome, Mando. May the Force be with you." Teva stepped on the ladder out of the cockpit. "Don't forget to get your pet out of the hold. And, uh … keep me updated on this hypothetical planet of yours."

Shortly after that, the Razor Crest launched and exited the landing tunnel of the Luisitz, Din thinking to himself that it was indeed a ridiculous name for a ship. He set the coordinates back to Unmanarall, and throttled into hyperspace.

Once they were set on their way, Din dropped out of the cockpit and pulled the access panel open. "Kid? You can come out now." He heard Grogu chattering, and then the boy jumped out of the access panel and into Din's arms, bawling. Din was still unsteady after experiencing whatever it was that had happened to him, and he sat down hard on the floor, hugging Grogu. "It's okay, kid. I'm okay. Everything's okay. We're going to get Mama back. We're on our way to Mama."

"Mamaaaaaaa…" wailed the tearful Grogu, and Din would have rather cut off his arm than to see Grogu cry. "Bah daws! Bah daws!"

"Bad Dahls, you got that right, buddy. We're gonna show those bad Dahls a thing or two."

Grogu stared at Din with his tearful eyes, runny nose, and trembling lip. After a couple of hitches, the child quietly asked, "Patu … Mama?"

Din sighed, and found a cloth to wipe Grogu's nose. "Blow," said Din, and Grogu complied. "Ad'ika … I wish I knew what to tell you about Patu Mama. The first thing to do is to go back and find Mama. We're on our way back now. We don't know what we're going to find when we go back, so we need to be ready for anything. It's time to be Mandalorians. This is the way." Grogu made a bleat in the affirmative, but still looked incredibly sad.

With the time skips his mind had taken, Din figured they had a day or so to get back to Unmanarall. He stripped off his sliced jacket and thermal shirt and inspected the damage. He had some needle skills, but he didn't think even Marathel could fix this. Din noticed that this jacket was one that Marathel had embroidered the Mudhorn signet, so he ripped off the embroidered pocket and deposited it into the bin with his other keepsakes. Getting full in there, he thought. He rolled up the cut shirt and jacket and shoved them down the back of his clothing bin, still loath to toss out something Marathel had held in her hands, despite his confusion regarding his feelings for her. He grabbed a clean thermal shirt and gathered it in his hands to pull over his head when his eye caught the yarn bracelet he'd bought. He'd originally intended to give it to Marathel. Now, he decided he'd wear it until it fell off, or until he and Marathel figured out just what the shab there was between them … if anything.

One thing at a time. For now.

Din redressed and collected all his armor. He cleaned and polished every surface and every crevasse of every piece of armor, saying each Mando'a incantation out loud. He did this not only for his own benefit, but also for Grogu's, for it was high time the boy started learning these things. Din used one of the new felted wool cloths Marathel had made, and perhaps he was biased, but he thought the handmade cloth was far superior to anything he could have purchased for the task.

That chore completed, Din then moved on to his weapons. He'd been far too distracted recently, and he hadn't been maintaining his weapons cache as he should have. Ni ceta, Manda'lor. He dismantled each weapon in his armory, cleaning, polishing, and calibrating each part to working perfection. He even tinkered a bit with his antique bolt blaster and vibro-blade, both inherited from his buir. Both weapons had been handed down in buir's family for several generations.

When Din was a boy and still relatively new under buir's care, buir had taken him out to the canyon the covert used as a shooting range, and let him fire the old bolt blaster. It was the first time Din had handled a weapon, and the recoil landed him right on his ass. Once buir stopped laughing, he began weapons training with Din. Buir had been the most patient of teachers, and it was his calm and positive reinforcement that Din always tried to emulate as he passed on the Mandalorian traditions to Grogu.

By the time the chores were completed, there were only a few hours to go until the Crest reached Unmanarall. Din made bone broth for both himself and Grogu, and they split a ration bar. Din decided that they both could use a nap, to be fresh for whatever awaited them when they returned to Marathel's planet. Din put his feet up on the console, and Grogu curled up against him, murmuring Mama before he dozed off.

Din projected Marathel's image again —the one that Cobb sent — and he stared at it for a while. Din worked out what she had been doing at the time this image was captured. Marathel was making bread at the palace while all the others watched and did their best to convince her to not return to Unmanarall. He was the only one not there. She had revealed to him her sad life, and he had rejected her because of it. But he'd always known, deep in his heart, the depth of her lifelong suffering, who her father was, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. He'd been such an unmitigated asshole to her. All she'd wanted was kindness. He'd granted her some kindness, but not enough. Only enough to suit him. Only enough so that he could remain comfortably within his Creed.

Din absently put his hand over the bite mark — scratch that — where the bite mark used to be. Okay, why did the bite mark burn like I'd been dipped in lava, sending me into a 'cardiac episode' … and then disappear?

The bite mark burned on the second night of the Dahl's mating, and then in the Hold, when Marathel told him to be still. Actually, any timeshe told him to be still. Din had believed that she controlled him through the bite mark, which … might be only partially true. She had told him to be still in order to make him remove his weapons, so that she could sacrifice herself. To make him take her back, and to leave her behind, in essence, to sacrifice herself again. And she made him be still to prove to him she was nothing more than a … body to be used for his pleasure.

The other times the bite had burned, he'd attacked her, brutalized her, frightened her, both awake and in his dreams. But in all those times, she never told him to be still … instead, she begged him to let her go.

But if she controlled me, why would she beg me to let her go? She could have just told me to do that! And once I'd taken her back, then why would the bite still burn? Why did I forget her? And why don't I … love her anymore, for kriff's sake!

Did I have a not-a-heart-attack and lose a scar because … Marathel is now …?

Din flat-out refused to complete that thought. He refused to believe it even if he did. So, instead, he decided to follow his buir's advice: take a nap; things will be clearer when you wake up. It wasn't until he was an adult that he realized what buir was actuallysaying: kid, shut the fuck up for a while; I need to rest my eyes. Din gently patted Grogu's back and watched the little green boy sleep until Din dozed off himself.

Din woke up to the hyperspace alarm going off. We're here. We're back, Marathel. You told me to leave you here and not come back, but I'm not one for following orders. And I'm thinking about ignoring your request to not take revenge on that Hold. Especially if you broke the promise you made to me and leapt off that cliff after all.

Din dropped the Crest out of hyperspace above the planet, and his thoughts about the best way to reduce the Hold to rubble were suddenly stopped. He had entered orbit just above the Hold coordinates, and the atmosphere above that point was a cloud of grey smoke. The shab? Din looked down at Grogu, who looked back up at him, asking, "Mama?"

"Looks like Mama's been busy, kid. Hold on."

Din circled the Crest into the atmosphere and landed where he had the first time he'd been here. It was pointless to prevent Grogu from going with him; the boy was in his floating pram and waiting by the ramp door before Din could get out of his chair. As they made their way to the Hold gate, Din could smell something distinctly chemical in the air. He associated it with hot springs and geysers, which confused him as he did not recall this odor here before. They came out of the woods to see the large wooden gate leaning against the stone pilaster, and part of the stone wall collapsed. But these sights didn't confuse Din as much as what he didn't see, and that was the Round Building.

As Din stepped through the gateway, he could now see the where the Round Building had been was now a smoldering ring of rubble, blown from the center out. Dank ferrik; Marathel didn't mess around. As he came forward, he heard a couple of shrieks and noticed some women scattering at the sight of him. One came forward, braver than the others. The blonde woman wore a light green gown that was torn and dirty … a Duke, thought Din. "You ... You came back." She held what looked like a fireplace poker in front of her. "Stay back, metal man. You brought her back; are you here to finish us off?"

"I wish you no harm, madam, I am only looking for Marathel."

To Din's surprise, another nearby woman, this one with the curly black hair of a Captain, spat on the ground. "The Belwhyn bitch wrought this destruction. She and her demon creatures have killed us all." This woman wandered off, wringing her hands and muttering.

Din returned his attention to the woman in green, asking, "Did she mean the Dahls?"

The blonde woman nodded, and lowered her poker. "They came in after her … we knew she'd gone into the Round Building, looking to kill the Elders. The building began to burn. The men were running out. But she'd left the gate open, and all the Dahls ran in, running straight to the men trying to escape the fire, and killed them all. Men were going back inside, preferring to burn than to face the wrath of the Dahls. The Dahls ripped them limb from limb. Then ... they went after the children ..." The young woman sobbed. "The children. The babies. Gone. The children ran to us for protection. The Dahls snatched them from us, and killed them too." The woman continued to cry.

"All the children?"

"Just the boys."

Din looked at the destruction around him. Bodies — parts of bodies — were still everywhere. Women wept, holding the corpses of infants. One, he saw, no longer had a head; but the woman cooed to it as if it were still living. Two other women were gathering remains of men to put into another pyre. A little girl, hardly larger than Grogu, helped the two women, carrying smaller human parts: a hand, something that looked like a child's leg. Other females merely sat on the ground, rocking, their faces blank slates of horror. Grogu whimpered in his pram.

"So it's true."

Din startled; he had been focusing on the destruction around him. "I beg your pardon?"

The blonde woman pointed at Grogu. "Olba said you had a child with you. She only saw it from a distance. She said it was sweet. And green. And Marathel loved it." She sniffled. "My boys are dead."

Din reached out to the woman in green and she recoiled from his hand, brandishing the poker again. "Please, good lady, can you tell me what happened to the Round Building?"

The woman spread her arms wide. "Big boom."

"Why did that happen?"

"Marathel." The woman looked at his visor again. "You're the one that brought her to the Hold. You took her away, and the marchwyl. I was whipped, because I wouldn't tell them it was Hylma who stole the marchwyl, even though I was glad it was the others ..." The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Others told. Then the Elders killed Olba and Hylma and Tymfy and Lorica. They'd brought her out, they'd taken the marchwyl, and she still had the Dilimgau. The Elders do not suffer thievery, but… I'm glad the Dilimgau is also gone."

Din wasn't sure whether this woman was going to remain relatively calm or not. So far, she'd been very helpful, but she was also using the same flat, unemotional tone of voice that Marathel used when she catalogued the terrible things the men did to her. This woman seemed to be unafraid of him as well as Grogu, and she didn't seem to want to use that poker on him, and he wanted to keep it that way. "Marathel is not here now?"

The woman scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "She left and took the Dahls with her." Din was relieved to hear that at least Marathel left here under her own steam. Then Grogu quietly whimpered Mama, which startled the woman. "That thing can speak? It can say mama?" She dropped the poker and sat down on the ground, weeping. "I'm not a mama anymore."

Din knelt in front of her, not wanting to get closer. "I am so sorry." He let her cry for a few moments before he asked, "Madam, may I look through the debris?"

The woman looked at him in confusion, as if she'd never been spoken to with deference before, which was most likely the case. "Why?"

"I want to help you. I can tell people to come and help you."

The woman frowned at him. "Come from where?"

Din pointed skyward. "From up there. You saw my flying metal box? There are others out there, many others, and I think your people came from somewhere else, long ago. I need to find some evidence of where your people might have come from."

The blonde woman looked around her in despair. "We are beyond help. We are all dead. No more men means no more babies. Some women have killed themselves already." She began weeping once more, and dropped her poker on the ground.

Din muttered apologies again, but moved away from the blonde woman as quickly as he could towards the wreckage of the Round Building. Grogu stuck close and remained quiet, seemingly affected by everything around him. Din leaned over and touched his head to Grogu's. "I know, kid. Some very bad things happened here. But no one will hurt you. I promise." Grogu looked dubious.

Din peered down into the hole left by the apparent explosion. The chemical smell here was much stronger, and burned Din's nose. Grogu began coughing, so Din closed the pram lid, and sealed his helmet. The smell was familiar, somehow, but he couldn't quite place it. He carefully stepped down into the crater, sliding down what must have been a large door. There seemed to be a lot more metallic debris in the crater than he anticipated. He'd figured this building had been constructed of stone and wood, which it was, but it appeared that there was a large metal component.

The blast had obviously disintegrated the stone, and the wood had burned away, but the interior layer of the Round Building had been sheet metal that broke apart in panels, curling against the intense heat that had occurred from the fire. He moved towards the center of the crater, balancing carefully on the rubble. He turned in a circle, finally realizing that this building was not engineered in a circle, but was built arounda metal cylinder. Din pulled out his holopad and began taking stills.

There is no way these people made a metal cylinder this large. They don't have the means to make sheet metal like this.

Din moved towards a section that was still fairly intact and attached to other pieces. Riveted together.

It's a ship. This was a ship.

Din nearly pumped his fist in the air. He had been right, after all. He got closer to what was undoubtedly part of a fuselage when some markings caught his eye. Bending down, he wiped some soot off the wall and saw what was unmistakably Aurebesh lettering. He could only make out a couple of letters, however.

Din then looked down to his feet, and he could see a sublevel below him. He picked his way to an area he could access, and dropped down. The flat surface he landed on shifted under his feet, and the section began to fall further into the hole, so he fired his jetpack so he would not fall with it. As he lifted into the air, he noticed some of the women shrieking and running again at the sight of him flying. Din sighed, remembering how jumpy Marathel had been when she first saw him and Grogu. He took a few holo stills from this vantage point, as it showed the fuselage/building well. A panel had fallen inward, and from here he could now see lettering on it, in both Aurebesh and an old script he did not recognize, but the inscription was obviously the name board of this ship:

DRESO LLONG'WYR

SYSTEM LEW'EL

Lew'el. They came from the Lew'el system! There was also a string of numbers, and Din was unsure if it was the old style dating system, or the ship's registration, but in any case, it was old.

Din then noticed several round objects behind the building, near the uprooted tree, the tree Marathel had nearly fallen out of. He touched back down to the ground, picking up one of the round objects, recognizing it immediately as a lid for a chemical storage barrel. There were quite a few of them on this side of the wreckage, making Din think that the blast was more directional than just up. As he dropped the lid, he noticed that his glove was coated with a blue-grey dust. What the … Mist? He looked over the area around him, and realized that this whole side of the building was covered with Mist dust. Why in Frith were they …

"Are you a machine?"

Din had not been expecting to hear a voice, and he whirled around to see a small girl standing behind him. She was a sweet-looking child, with long brown hair that was seriously in need of a good brushing. She also had large, dark brown eyes and a face full of dirt. Her dark green tunic and skirt were stained and torn, and her bare feet were utterly filthy. If he'd been running around this dirty at her age, his mother would have had a conniption and hosed him off in the front garden. His buir, meanwhile, would have simply drop-kicked him into the river. "No, child, I am a person."

"Why are you made of metal?"

Remembering that Marathel didn't understand the concept ofreligion, he said, "My people wear armor and a helmet. Those are the rules my people live by."

Seemingly satisfied with this explanation, the little girl said, "Belwhyn Marathel did all this." Din nodded. "The Elders made her a Belwhyn because she fucked you, and she was only supposed to be fucked by the Bishop." Din could not reply, as he was stunned by these words coming from this little girl. She didn't seem to mind, as she went on without prompting. "I was there when they made her a Belwhyn. She screamed as they all fucked Captain kicked the Dilimgau into her cunt."

"… What?"

"She came back and killed them all. The Bishop is over there," the little girl said, pointing. "I was supposed to be the Hunter's Whyn, but he's dead now. I was branded and everything. See?" The child lifted up her skirt to show Din, and she was naked under her skirt. He turned away as she exposed herself to him.

"Lower your skirt, child," Din muttered.

"But I don't have an Elder anymore. Are you going to be my Elder?"

"No."

The girl dropped her skirt and began to cry. "But … I'm supposed to suck your cock now, aren't I?"

Din backed up from her. "No. No! Go back to the women, child. Just … get away from me." The girl ran away, crying at being rejected by him, leaving Din feeling both repulsed and saddened. Mostly repulsed. It made him think of Marathel's brand, made him think of her as a child just like the little Hunter girl. No wonder Marathel was so damaged in her mind. And hearing that the Captain had … His hands curled into fists, and he wished the Captain was still alive so he could kill him. Din considered burning down the rest of the Hold and killing the remaining survivors as a mercy to them. He took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing that he could not do that. Perhaps these women could be rehabilitated ... Perhaps their minds could be repaired ...

Perhaps I could just give up my Creed and join a traveling underwater circus!

Din lined up several barrel lids and took holos. He believed he had enough. Now he needed to find Marathel. He walked around the fallen tree and back out to where the women still milled around. He didn't see the little girl, and he was thankful for that. Din approached Grogu's pram, still closed, and he gently maneuvered it away from the fallen Round Building. "Kid? Are you okay in there?" He heard some shuffling inside. "Knock once for yes and twice for no. Are you doing okay in there?" There was a light, single tap from within. "Okay, buddy, just stay in there a little longer, alright?" Another tap.

Din looked over the yard again. Nearby was a dead body that was oddly enough, still intact. He went over and looked down at the corpse of the Bishop. His eyes were gone, and his mouth was open and full of blood. There were multiple stab wounds all over his body, a couple right in his crotch. Too good for you, you son of a bitch. Rapist. Child rapist. You carved a gash down a beautiful woman's face. You destroyed her before she was even born. You broke her mind so much she dreamed I was you! And I wish you could come back to life so I could kill you myself, you … "MOTHERFUCKER HU'TUUN!" growled Din as he drew both blasters and alternated firing shots into the corpse, over and over. Din holstered his blasters, reared back, and kicked the corpse in the groin. He then raised his helmet enough to spit in the corpse's eye socket before stepping back and setting it on fire with his flame thrower.

Finished now, Din turned, placed his hand on Grogu's pram, and walked them both out of the Hold gate, not looking back at the women and girls who stood staring at him. "C'mon, kid, let's go find your Mama."

Din decided to return to Marathel's hut on the Crest. On a normal hunt, he'd leave his ship where it was and walk. He liked having the time to settle his thoughts, make a plan, and creep up on his mark quietly. Right now, however, he felt the need to hurry. Although Marathel walked out of the Hold, he wasn't sure how long ago she did that, which direction she was going, or what state she was in when she left. The rest of the women were still shell-shocked by the explosion and the Dahl's attack, but they didn't go on a rampage like Marathel had, fighting off and killing however many men.

Din and Grogu went back to the Crest, lifted off, and touched back down in the grassy field just outside Marathel's yard. From here he could not see anything too out of the ordinary, but as he and Grogu approached, he could see that the brown panels Marathel had hung were no longer there. Then he saw her bag lying on the ground where she'd dropped it. Hoping she may be still in the hut, Din hurried forward but stopped short at the four rounded piles of flowers.

Four. The four women who brought her out.

"Stay here, Grogu," muttered Din. He went up to the steps. There was a burned-out torch — Marathel must have intended to burn the hut down — a whetstone, and bloodied footprints. He looked up to the ridge pole to see the four ropes the women had been hanged from. He did not wish to unwrap the women to see what they had suffered. More of Marathel's footprints went through the large blood spill under the four shroud-wrapped bodies. Din could smell the decay of flesh, and flies buzzed everywhere.

Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, Hylma. I am so sorry. Ni ceta. Thank you for being good women to Marathel. Thank you, Olba, for mothering Marathel the best you could.

Din took a step back and chanted the Mando'a prayer for the dead, something he hadn't spoken since the death of his buir. He believed these women were fully deserving of this honor, and that Manda'lor would accept their souls for their sacrifice. This completed, Din stepped up into the hut. He decided that there were certain items that he needed to collect before he left this place. He rummaged around until he found what he wanted as well as a bag to carry the items in.

Din stood in the center of the hut and looked around one last time, feeling as if he were seeing ghosts of lifetimes past: Marathel cooking at the fire, Marathel playing with Grogu, Marathel in his arms. He took one last look at the post near the corner. Her leaning post. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and walked down the steps to the yard. Once there, he turned, aimed his flame thrower, and set the hut ablaze.

Din stood for a few minutes, watching the hut burn. The roof thatching went up like a rocket, and soon it collapsed, leaving just a burning shell of posts. Now, he was finished here. As he and Grogu returned to the Crest, Din snagged Marathel's bag, hoping that she would need it back.

Din flew the Crest low, searching for life signs on the scanner and wondering where she would go. How far could she get? Din assumed she was injured in some way; Marathel was not a trained warrior and had probably been running on adrenaline. He felt fairly sure that she was heading for the cliff, but he had no idea where this particular cliff was. It was within running distance from her hut, he knew that. Grogu stood on the console, peering through the view screen as Din followed the coastline, searching for this cliff of hers.

The scanner began beeping. Din looked at the monitor to see a large convergence of life signs coming up ahead of them. As they got closer, the sensor picked up one single additional weak life sign. Din steered the Crest in from the high ledge, fifty or so meters above the crashing waves. The ledge was a mostly a grassy field with the foliage growing right up to the edge of the cliff. There was a large, flat boulder some ways away from the edge. Din was thinking he could see a couple of small objects on the boulder, when Grogu suddenly shouted "Mama!"

Din immediately brought down the Crest, and was out of his chair before the ship had fully settled, and practically leapt through the ramp door. He ran to the boulder, where he saw a cracked wooden cup, the remains of a spear, and a bloody handprint. Din immediately panicked, thinking, damn you, Marathel, you promised me you wouldn't kill yourself! You promised me that you would live out the rest of your days on this fucking rock! I promised I wouldn't take any revenge, and I promised that I would leave you behind. Well, I broke both of those promises and you've broken yours. We are just a fucking pair, aren't we?

Din flicked the heat sensor on his helmet, and detected a life sign a few meters away. He ran over as fast as he could, sliding to a stop next to the crumpled form of Marathel. She lay in a heap, not far from the dead body of Rodanthe. Marathel's arms were twisted beneath her as she half-curled into a fetal position. Under her hips was a pool of thick, half-dried blood. No, not again, thought Din as he leaned over her, touching her exposed and sunburned cheek with his gloved finger. Her eyelids flickered, and Din whispered, "Oh, ma'mwsh ha'laa." He couldn't tell where she was injured or where the blood pool had come from, but she wasn't dead, oh, thank you, thank you, she's not dead.

Din carefully turned her over, realizing that her collarbone was broken and her shoulder was dislocated. She had a gash on the side of her head, with maggots in the wound. She was terribly sunburned where her skin was exposed. How long had she been out here? But before he could fully assess any of her injuries, he heard Grogu cry out, "Patu! Bah Daws!"

Din straightened up, seeing Grogu standing on the flat boulder, pointing at the tree line at the edge of the grassy field. He looked at the tree line, and the heat sensor on his helmet showed many signatures, many living creatures, and they were coming straight for him. Din ran forward, brandishing his blaster as hundreds of Dahls charged. He skidded to a halt, firing at several Dahls, killing them, causing the creatures to trip over each other, but still they came. Din holstered his blaster and fired his flame thrower, but he'd been fire-happy recently and he could only swing the flame once along the front line of the Dahls before he ran out of fuel. It did, however, bring them to a stop, and they stood their ground, chattering their keh-keh noises at him, clawing at the dirt.

Din screamed at the Dahls, "Get away from her, you fuckers! You leave her alone! You've taken her entire life away! Get out of her head, get out of my head, and leave us both alone!" He grabbed both blasters, shot several more times at the feet of the closest ones, and the pack began to move backwards. "That's right, you back the fuck up and LET HER GO!"

Unfortunately, this infuriated the Dahls, and they charged forward at Din once more. He lifted his blasters again, intending to strafe the front line for as long as his blasters held out, when the Dahls simply stopped, as if they were crashing into an invisible barrier. Yelping in pain, the Dahls clawed at the air, at each other, confused. Din was just as confused as the Dahls, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Grogu holding out his little hands, holding back the Dahls with the Force. Din returned his attention to the Dahls, who were backing up once more, now fearful of the metal man and the little green creature.

"Go away from here! Get out of her head and leave her alone. You've had her for thirty years! You're done with her now. She doesn't want you anymore. You let her SUFFER! You NEVER loved her! NOW LET US GO!"

Snapping, hissing, the Dahls continued their retreat as Grogu released the Force barrier and sat down in exhaustion. Din kept his stance, brandishing both blasters, firing a warning shot at the feet of any Dahls that attempted a forward move. Eventually, the Dahls disappeared back into the tree line, but Din held his ground until the creatures were out of range of his visor's sensors.

Din slowly backed up himself, scanning the tree line for any sudden movement, until he was back within range of Marathel. Holstering his blasters, he turned to Grogu, sitting on the boulder. "You okay, kid?" Grogu bleated weakly. "You did good, buddy, I'm proud of you." Din went to one knee beside Rodanthe, hoping that at least this one last Dahl had been true to Marathel. He stroked the animal's head, wondering if his cardiac episode had occurred at the time of her death. If so, then what was the reason for him to lose his love for Marathel?

Not having any answers, Din decided that the best course of action was to care for the still-living woman. He carefully lifted Marathel from the ground and carried her to the boulder where Grogu sat. "Hey kid, grab that cup and spear, would you?" asked Din, figuring that if Marathel meant them as a suicide note, they were important to her. Grogu did as his Patu asked, and looked up wearily at Din. Din nodded his head at the ship and said, "Going my way, pal? Hop on. Mama won't mind, I don't think."

Grogu leapt into Marathel's lap, whimpering Mama, curling against her. Din carried them both into the Razor Crest, closing the ramp behind him. The Dahls moved forward again to the tree line, and watched as the small ship lifted off the ground, and winked away into the sky, leaving Unmanarall for what Din hoped was the final time.