pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 5K

chapter summary: Marathel leaves Tatooine.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, mention of incest, sexual abuse, inbreeding, and suicide, violence to women, English and Mando'a cursing

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

It was nearly dawn on Tatooine, and the sky was just beginning to glow a deep pink. Two windows in the palace had their shutters open, and two people were staring out at the sky. It might have interested Din and Marathel to know that their positions nearly matched, and that neither one of them had slept.

Din sat on his bed, his hand lightly resting on Grogu's warm belly. He'd removed his helmet, so that he could see the true colors of the rising suns. Grogu coughed in his sleep, making Din turn immediately to look at him. Grogu remained asleep, and his breathing went back to normal. Din smiled at the boy, his boy. His boy, who would be losing his Mama again. Din's smile fell and he went back to watching the sky. He wasn't sure why he was spending time doing this, but he knew it was preferable to walking down to Marathel's door and telling her it was time to go.

Give me strength, he prayed to a Maker he didn't believe in. Help me to not take her back. Help me not hate her for making me do this. He asked his buir, so long gone now, for guidance. Nothing you ever told me prepared me for this. You taught me to fight, negotiate, come up with a plan, live my life as a Mandalorian. You taught me how to be a man. I was out of my element when I took in Grogu, but I had learned by watching you care for me. What am I supposed to do now? Where in the shab is the manual for this situation? What ancient Mando'a chant is there to guide me on this path? I need something, here. And you too, Frith, you not-a-rabbit son of a bitch, tell me what to do about this woman, who believes in you. Din sighed deeply. Clear my mind of what doesn't matter. Clear my mind of what doesn't matter. Din continued to study the sky, growing pinker, knowing that regardless, he would go as she demanded, for he loved her, and he felt compelled to do as she wished.

Marathel sat on her bed, her hand lightly resting on the bag she had packed with her new possessions. New clothing, her new blanket she'd been given by Eliadu. All the little tubes of the moisturizers she'd enjoyed so much since she'd been here. The shampoo, the soap for her hair, even though she still didn't understand its necessity. A new hairbrush that had been used on no one's hair but her own. The medications from Cieroprac. The yarn and needles she'd received from Cobb at the market, but not the honey or the candy. The two jars of honey had gone into a loaf of dark rich bread and several fruitcakes that were heavier than a Mandalorian's helmet. The bag of sweets went to Silnima to give to the children, as a gift from her, for she'd enjoyed hearing the happy sounds of children again. Marathel wore the new shoes on her feet, the ones that she'd told Cobb she was not allowed to wear, but she couldn't not wear the shoes, because they'd been a gift, and to not wear them would be rude, somehow.

Marathel had seen many sunrises. More than I realized, she thought. She surely must have lived long enough to be a natural Diwhyn. Why, why, had she been out there so long, alone? Marathel hadn't counted the number of times she had taken eggs to the Hold. The Dahls laid every other season, that was, the time between the hot and the cold, and then again in the time between the cold and the hot. How many times she had collected eggs for the Hold, she had no idea. She remembered that the first few times she delivered the eggs to the Hold, she had entered and done the Passing-Over ceremony, which she would have performed when Din took her in, except she had usurped that moment to present herself as the Bishop's Whyn and admit her guilt at letting someone have her before the those first few times, she delivered the eggs to the Elders themselves, singing the proper part of the only song, wearing the plain knee-length skirt and unadorned tunic of the Changing Girl — the not-yet Whyn, the future cunt. But then … Olba had told her that she didn't need to do the ceremony anymore; Marathel only needed to bring the eggs to the gate. She had forgotten that.

Thirty years. That must be … such a terribly long time. Why was I left alone? Within walking distance of the Hold? If I were so important to the Bishop … why allow me to live so long at the hut? Was he waiting for me to come back of my own accord? Or had he … forgotten about me?

This thought hurt Marathel in a surprising way. Being forgotten didn't hurt more than being made a Belwhyn, but still somehow the same. Perhaps she wasn't important to the Bishop after all. Perhaps, her presenting herself to the Bishop had been … unnecessary?

Before she could process that thought, there was a flurry of light taps on her door. Assuming it to be the Bounty Hunter, Marathel stood and opened the door, to see Cobb standing there with downcast eyes. She fully opened the door and waited. Cobb reached for her hand, raising his eyes to hers, saying, "Please forgive me."

Marathel allowed Cobb to interlace his fingers into hers. "You've done nothing that requires forgiveness."

"Forgive me anyway, honey, it may be the only way I let you leave this place," said Cobb, letting go of her hand and drawing her into his arms. "I know Tatooine sucks. I'm sometimes not fond of it myself; too much weird shit happens here on this backwater whirlpool of dust. But it's a much better place with you here." He kissed her temple, holding her tightly. "You're going to go, aren't you? You're going to make him take you back."

"Yes."

Cobb stepped back from her, dropping his hands, his face pinching with sadness. "Can you … really control him, like he says you can?" asked Cobb, knowing the question sounded ridiculous as he was asking it.

Marathel's face was decidedly blank as she replied, "I don't have to control him. He is taking me back because I asked it of him … and he says he loves me."

Cobb backed up to the doorway, shaking his head. "Right now, at this moment … I hate you, Marathel."

Marathel sighed, raising her eyebrows. "I know."

Cobb noticed movement to his right; Din had come down the corridor, resplendent in his armor and weapons, the formidable sight only softened by the little child peeking out of the bag he wore over his shoulder. The two men stared at each other. There were many things both needed to say to each other, but they would remain unsaid. Marathel looked at them and watched a friendship fall apart before her eyes. This, she would greatly regret. She meant to only sever her relationship with them, not the relationships amongst them. Din lowered his gaze from Cobb and turned to her, asking, "Are you ready to go?"

Marathel's eyes dropped, and her hands went up her sleeves, and both men felt their hearts hurt at her gesture. "May I go to the kitchen and pack some of the bread for our journey?"

Din nodded. "As you wish." Marathel picked up her bag and brushed the remaining wrinkles from her bedspread. She stepped out of her room, and Cobb smoothly took the heavy bag from her shoulder as she passed between them. Both Din and Cobb turned to watch her go, then they looked back to each other briefly before dropping their eyes to their feet.

"I'm sorry," whispered Cobb.

Din nodded. After a long moment, Din whispered back, "Me too." However, neither of them was fully sorry — and neither of them was truly in a forgiving mood — regardless of whether apologies or forgiveness was necessary between them. They both stood silently in their embarrassment and regret, until Marathel reappeared with another bag, this one ostensibly full of bread. Din turned to her, asking, "Ready now?" She nodded, and Din turned away from her and walked down the corridor without a word. Marathel followed about a step and a half behind Din, Cobb silently following behind her. Along the way to the landing tunnel, the solemn procession picked up three more people.

Once they reached the landing tunnel, Din did not pause but went straight to the Crest, opening the back ramp and entering the ship. Marathel turned to the small group that was also awake early this morning, seeing sadness and bewilderment on all their faces. Boba happened to be closest to her, so she addressed him first. "Boba Fett, I am sorry that I did not get to know you better. Thank you for what you have done for me."

Boba put a hand on her shoulder, and said, "I wish you peace, little sister." Tears sprung to Marathel's eyes due to the simple endearment, and she hugged him tightly.

Fennec came next, and as Marathel embraced her, she whispered, "I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

"No, you don't. You don't, and I will never understand why you are."

"Then I hope someday you'll forgive me," said Marathel, before moving on to Silnima, who kissed both her cheeks but didn't say a word. Last was Cobb, leaning on one hip in the way he had — so like Din —looking down, biting his lip. Marathel put her hands on his cheeks, and softly kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Cobb lifted his sad eyes to hers, and Marathel wiped a tear off his cheek with her thumb before turning and walking up the ramp into the Crest. Din looked briefly at the four sad and confused people Marathel was leaving behind and shut the ramp.

Shortly after, the Crest fired her engines, lifted off, and left the landing tunnel. After the ship was gone, after standing there a long time in silence, Cobb pointed a finger at the open space where the Crest had recently stood. "Did we … just let that happen?" Not receiving an answer, Cobb scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Well, dank fucking ferrik." Cobb sighed, turned to the others, and said, "Who else wants to get drunk and eat a shit-ton of bread?"

Boba said, "I'm for it." Fennec and Silnima nodded in agreement. So, they did.

Din walked straight down the main section and up the ladder to the cockpit. Marathel tarried behind, taking another look at the ship's interior, which she had only seen briefly however many days ago. She had no memory of the days she'd spent onboard coming to Tatooine. In the cockpit, Din flipped the power switches, and all the lights and machinery came to life, startling Marathel briefly, but nowhere near as badly as she'd been frightened the first time Din brought her in here … the day after we met. How long ago was that? There were green lights, and blue lights, and red ones too, and these felt familiar now to her. Even the vac tube before her had a familiarity … although she was concerned about it being right out in the open. And it didn't have a seat, unlike the one she had access to at the palace. She briefly mused on how the two — well, three, actually — were going to maneuver bodily functions on this journey.

"Marathel, we need to take off, so come up here," Din called from above her. First things first, I suppose, thought Marathel, and she climbed the ladder, carefully stepping off into the cockpit as Din continued with his switches and buttons. He quickly looked at her over his shoulder. "Sit there," he said, nodding his head at the aft chair. "Strap in, so we can go."

Marathel quickly sat — Din was sounding quite snappish, and she didn't want to anger him — but looked around her, trying to figure out what a strap was. Din took another look at her, impatient now. He set Grogu on the console, unclipped his straps with a huff, and stood, grabbing the strap ends above her shoulders, pulling them brusquely over her head and snapping them closed into the buckles by her hips, grazing her hips with his thumbs. "Thank you," said Marathel in a small voice. With a grunt, Din sat again, and put Grogu back in his lap. Marathel noticed that Din didn't strap himself backin, which she thought was odd, but what did she know? "I could hold Grogu for you."

"He's fine where he is." Din fired up the engines, and the Crest rocked for a few moments, but then slowly lifted off, and left the landing tunnel.

Marathel clutched the armrests of her seat for a moment. She suddenly realized that she had left the palace behind, left the people inside behind, would never see them again, and she was wracked by guilt for hurting them so. Oh, I'm so sorry, she told them one more time. For all her talk of going back to Unmanarall, now that the time had come to leave, it was so much harder to do than she anticipated. Marathel bit her lip, trying to not cry. She waited for Din to take the ship up and into the darkness, but he kept flying relatively low to the ground. After some time, Din brought the Crest into a large yard that was littered with metal hulks and small droids scuttling back and forth. Din lowered the ship back to the ground. "What's … what's happening?" asked Marathel.

"Need to refuel."

Oh, thought Marathel, as Grogu shouted, "Peh-EE!"

Din chuckled as he stood, saying, "Yeah, kid, we're going to see Peli. Good job with the name!" Looking at Marathel, his tone changed to annoyance as he said, "Refueling will take a little while, so you might as well get up." Din reached by her hips, pressing the buttons that released the straps holding her to the chair. He immediately went down the ladder with Grogu, leaving Marathel to struggle with the safety straps, and then the ladder down out of the cockpit.

Din had just pressed the button to lower the ramp when Grogu frowned and asked, "Mama?"

"You want to wait for Mar … Mama?" asked Din, sighing. "Okay." Din put the boy down, looking over to see Marathel coming down the ladder, so he headed down the ramp by himself.

Peli had come out when she noticed it was the Crest landing. "Now, where are you headed?" she asked when Din reached her.

Din snorted. "Taxi service, again."

"Whaddya mean by that? And where's Little Bug?"

"With her. Are you gonna fuel up the Crest or not?"

"'With her', who? Kriff, Mando, who pissed in your caf this morning?"

"Haar'chak. Never mind, I'll do it my damn self." Din stalked off, sweeping a droid away with his boot like Marathel sweeping away a chook, irritated, mostly with himself, because he was being a boor and he knew it.

Peli looked up at the open rear door to see a tall woman, a bit heavyset, wearing what looked like Imp uniform cast-offs, holding Grogu. Well, I'll be. That must be her. The not-my-lady-friend.

As Marathel came down the ramp, Peli's first impression of her was that fear and misery rolled off the woman in waves. Her second impression was that Marathel rather looked like a proper mother to that little green boy. Her third impression was that she was so glad that Mando did not prefer far-too-skinny women of the standard pneumatic variety, in either hairstyle or body implants … it made her think that even her fat ass and smart mouth had a chance at some decent person. Peli smiled and mused on how exquisite this Marathel must look, standing next to Din, with her statuesque figure, fair skin, and long silver hair. Oh, she's lovely!

"You're Mahr? Mando's … oh, what was it … Marathel? Well, look at you, up and walking around! Poor thing, coming in here all banged up like a stormtrooper's speeder like you did, Maker, did you ever make a mess! Well, c'mon, get closer so I can get a good look at you and get at my little green niblet!" happily cried Peli, reaching for Grogu. "I don't bite! Well, sometimes I might, but you're not a nerf herder, so you're safe. C'mon, now!"

Marathel's head tilted slightly at the sight of this woman beckoning to her, wearing a suit like Din, hair bushier than an ap Captain, and missing teeth … just like her. And Mando? Another person that calls him Mando. He has many names, this one man. Marathel came to where Peli stood under an awning. "Hello …?"

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, I'm Peli," she said, patting her hand. "I keep that boat of Mando's flying for very affordable prices…" — Peli shouted this last bit — "… but I also am the official auntie of this little guy!" Peli took Grogu from Marathel. "Dank ferrik, what is Mando so worked up about? He's grumpier than a nerf herder who's been bit!"

Grogu pointed to Marathel, and told Peli, "Mama."

"'Mama'? He's irate about 'Mama'?" Peli's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "It's 'Mama' now? Well, congratulations! I never would have thought Mando would take that plunge …"

"He just started calling her that a few days ago," said Din flatly, dragging a heavy hose around the back of the Crest.

Peli's face went slightly pink. "Hmm. Just landed myself right in the Bantha flop with that one, didn't I? Sorry about that. So where are you all heading, missy? Nevarro? Naboo? Canto? Lots of wedding chapels there," said Peli, the last bit in a whispered undertone.

"Back to my planet," said Marathel.

"Back to your … now why in a siluran's spleen would you go back there? They didn't exactly let you leave there in one piece, you know! No no no, no, you know better than that! You're pretty, you're obviously smart, the teeth you still got look really good, and this little guy likes you and so does Mando, I can tell. Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Because … because …" Marathel lost her ability to speak.

Peli frowned and gently stroked Marathel's upper back. Her friend's kid was a kitchen worker at the daimyo's palace, and had told her many things about Marathel, some of which were very hard to hear. Now, having a face to put to the name, especially this poor soul with the horrible gash on her face, unfortunately made the horrors more real. "Oh, sweetheart, you don't …"

"Because I'm an inbred incestuous whore c-c-c …" Marathel did not know why she stammered cunt to this woman, when she had said it so blithely to both Din and Cobb, almost taunting them.

"Now you stop right there. I don't want you calling yourself that! No one should have that as a name," said Peli, giving Marathel a little shake. "And the rest of that … is just a lot to unpack, sweetie, so give me a moment." Peli paused, allowing Marathel to wonder why Tatooine residents liked to give silly names to people. "As far as the first word is concerned, you had no choice on who brought you into this galaxy … so that's not your fault, you can't help that. The second word … I know there's species out there that prefer it, but for us humans, that's just a no-go, and for you, still not your fault.

"The third word … look, there are those who say that's not a dirty word, so long as you made it your choice to earn that distinction, then take pride in it and make it fun and profitable for you! And if that had been your choice then I would have supported you 100%! I would have been your kriffing cheerleader!" This made Marathel smile, which made Peli smile. You picked a nice one, Mando, and you were right, I do like her. "But you didn't choose that, did you? So that's another name no one should have, unless they earned it on their own terms. And you didn't, so that's not your fault, again!

"And as a reason to go back to a place they tried awful hard to make you lose all your blood … that's just a piss-poor reason, Marathel. I don't even know you and I know that's womp-whacky. And do you think Mando would let you hold little squishy here if he thought you were a bad person? Would he be bothered that your family tree is ... well, more like a stick? No, I don't think so. Worried, more likely. Hey, I just met you and I already like you too much, to let you do something ridiculous like that. I don't know what you told those numb-nuts at the palace, but I don't think you can convince me." Peli spit into the sand.

Marathel stood astounded at this woman, who apparently could breathe and speak at the same time. "I … it's because of rwy'n di'rugar."

"What the Trandoshan tushy is roo-een die-ruh-gahr?"

"'My heart breaks to keep them safe.'"

Peli looked at Marathel, frowning. "Huh. I suddenly have more respect for you. Look, missy …" Peli came up close to Marathel, looking at the horrible wound on Marathel's face. "I can see it in your face. I can see it in both of you. You two are pinging off each other like hyperspace atoms. I can hear it from across the room, for kriffing out loud. Whoever you are, whatever you got, it seems like Mando accepts it."

"He shouldn't have to just … accept it. He should have better than that," said Marathel quietly, her eyes downcast.

Peli pursed her mouth, and patted Marathel's arm. "Hey. It's like my old man used to say, 'you usually get what you want, and what you need … so long as you don't get what you deserve." Peli clicked her tongue, and said, "You know, you two have almost five days alone together on this trip. Maybe you can work it out."

"Five … five days?"

"Yeah, five days, that's what I saw on the flight recorder after he brought you in. Ship was a wreck. He was a wreck. Mando slept for fourteen hours after Boba got the Crest here, and he still couldn't walk straight, what with the knock he got on his head and trying to keep you alive."

"He flies, out there, just him and Grogu … for days at a time?"

"Kriff, sweetie, for months; they live in this thing."

Marathel hadn't considered either the length of time she and Din would be alone together, or how long Din flew alone, with only the child for company. How long was he alone before then? How many of those 'years' were without the benefit of Grogu? "Peli … you help keep his ship flying?"

"You bet I do."

Marathel hugged Peli, squeezing her hard, and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you for keeping him safe. Please keep him safe. Please keep that thing working. Please keep looking after him, and Grogu."

"Aw, sweetie, you could do a much better job of that than me." Peli pulled back, noticing that Din was dragging the fuel hose back. "I wasn't kidding, your trip back 'home' is almost five days. You'll have time to think. A lot. And you get a lot of one-on-one time with my pudge-pot here! I'm jealous. Not really. Long hyperspace trips make me itch more than my Jawa ex-boyfriend. So furry. Soooooooo furry."

Marathel, confused by the lack of dissent on Peli's part, asked, "Do you like bread?"

"Do I like bread? You mean real bread? Not the flat crap I bake on an engine block? Hell, yeah, I like bread."

"Then let me give you some bread I baked last night." Marathel went back up into the Crest as Din came over to Peli to settle up for the cost of the fuel.

"Nice lady, Mando. You were right, I do like her. Now you tell me why you're taking her back," said Peli in a low tone.

Din shrugged as he parceled out credits. "She asked me to." Just like she told me to leave my weapons behind. Like she told me to be still.

Peli frowned. "Yeah, I don't buy that. And you don't buy that either. At least not deep down." Peli turned to see Marathel returning with two loaves of bread. "But like I told your lovely lady friend, you have a few days alone together to figure it out and come up with a new answer."

Din looked at Peli for a few moments, thinking about the stretch of time before the two of them. "We should go," he said, taking Grogu from Peli. "Thank you, Peli."

Marathel arrived just then, holding out two large round loaves to Peli. "I thank you too, Peli."

"You're welcome, Marathel. Come by for a visit next time you're in town." Peli ripped off a piece of bread and shoved it into her mouth. "Oh, that bread is better than sex in the back of a pod racer with no shock cushions."

Marathel chuckled, but Din shook his head and started back to the ship. Peli took Marathel's hand. "You're a smart cookie, Marathel. You'll figure it out. Thanks for the bread. I'll be expecting more when you come back."

Marathel frowned, saying, "But… I'm not coming back, Peli."

"Eh, I like playing on long odds. Now go; Mister Mando Grumpypants is waiting for you."

Marathel, confused, went back to the ship. Din was checking a couple of lighted panels on the wall. "I like Peli," said Marathel, and Din grunted in response. The early rising suns were coming into the yard at an oblique angle, reflecting in tiny prisms off the metal floor of the Crest. Marathel squatted down and ran her finger along the floor. "What is all this stuff?"

Din closed the panel and turned to her. "What are you talking about?"

Marathel stood, pieces of glitter on her palm. "These … little flakes of shiny something. So tiny and thin, but they sparkle! And they seem to be everywhere!"

Din grimaced under his helmet. Despite him cleaning the ship twice since he and Grogu were utterly polluted with glitter while on Coruscant, both by broken bottles of glittered sex lube and the naked bosoms of casino showgirls, the kriffing stuff was still sticking to every horizontal surface. "That is … metal dust from the ship."

"Dust? Metal dust? I've never heard of such a thing. Oh, this one is pink."

"I … can't see colors in the helmet." This was the most ridiculous thing Din could have ever lied to her about, and why he did, he had no idea. He groaned inwardly. "We should go," he said, passing by Marathel to shut the ramp. Marathel climbed up the ladder to the cockpit, but she misplaced her foot on a top rung and slipped. In a flash, Din was under her, his hands on her thighs, ready to catch her, and right above his head was Marathel's … magnificent ass. Oh, haar'chak, what a view. One hand began sliding up her leg before he asked, "Are you all right?"

Marathel froze in place, saying, "I'm not hurt. I just … slipped." She climbed back up, away from his hands, and stepped off into the cockpit. Grogu hopped up without using the ladder, and Din finally climbed up himself.

By the time he got up there, Marathel was already seated, pulling the safety straps over her head. Din sat, clicked his safety belts in place, and started the pre-flight check. "Hop up here, Grogu," he said, but Grogu did not comply, preferring to snuggle on Marathel's lap. Din looked back at her and sighed. "Hold on to him tight; we might bounce a bit leaving the atmosphere. Ready to go?"

"Yes," replied Marathel, not sounding sure of herself at all. She held tightly to Grogu as Din did whatever he did to fly this metal box, this tiny metal box that kept all of them from flying into space and dying. The Crest lifted, leaving Peli's yard, and began its upward trajectory through the sky, which got darker the further they went up. The ship did bounce slightly, but Din controlled the ship so well, Marathel scarcely felt it. Din banked the Crest so they could easily leave the atmosphere, and Marathel briefly saw the curvature of Tatooine as they pulled away. I've left, I've left, I've left them behind, thought Marathel, her throat thick with tears and regret. She swallowed the apparent hairball she had in her craw, thinking, five days. Five days alone with him in a tiny metal box where I can't escape him.

Din began the calculations for hyperspace, entering the coordinates of Unmanarall. Five days, he thought. I have five days to make her change her mind. Din pulled the throttle, and the Razor Crest shot into hyperspace.