pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C

word count: 8.1K

chapter summary: Din and Marathel reminisce, Grogu tries to play matchmaker again, Din removes his helmet several times, and the Crest gets back to Unmanarall.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, mention of mental breakdowns, mental illness, and vomit, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Marathel opened her eyes and briefly panicked; she could see nothing at all. There was also what felt like a knee pressed against her backside and a hand draped over her waist. Then she remembered that Din had turned off all the lights on the ship, and he was asleep beside her. Marathel sighed. It seemed sucking him off put him into a deep enough sleep that she should be able to get up without disturbing him. She carefully scooted away and then stood up. She did not hear any movement from Din. I hope he stays asleep; I desperately need the vac tube.

Marathel gathered her blanket and slid her feet along the floor, reaching out in the darkness. Her fingertips touched the wall where she believed the door for his quarters was. She went down that wall and discovered the cockpit ladder and the alcove with the vac tube. Marathel tucked the blanket under her armpits, letting it drape down her front to the floor as she pulled down her pants and backed up into the vac tube. The lack of a seat made sitting uncomfortable, so she tried to be as quick as possible. As she searched in the darkness for the cleaning paper storage, she heard a door slide open and she held her breath.

The next thing she knew, she could see Grogu standing in front of her, and hovering above his little hand was a small glowing ball of light, dim as one of her glow-worm lanterns but enough to see by. "Grogu," she whispered. "Thank you for the light, but … I need privacy right now. Please turn around." Grogu nodded and turned around, but still held up the light ball for her. She quickly finished but decided against toggling the vac tube —she didn't want to wake Din with its loud whooshing noise.

Marathel stepped out from the little alcove and realized that with Grogu's little light, she could now see Din, lying on his side, facing away from her. She could see the back of his head, his wavy hair, a large half-healed wound, and one ear. Gasping, she turned away and closed her eyes. As much as she wanted to see his face, peeking at him while he slept was not how she wanted that to happen. Marathel stole a look at Grogu, who was looking back at her again. He pointed at Din. "No, love, I won't look," she whispered. Grogu grunted and looked downcast. Marathel turned her back to Din and she moved down the opposite wall to the basin so she could quickly wash her hands. She carefully moved back to her blankets and lay down as she had before, facing the swinging empty boxes. Grogu stood in front of her, pouted and pointed at Din again. "No, Grogu, I won't look at Patu. That would be … cheating." Grogu looked so crestfallen that Marathel relented. "But … if you can put his helmet back on without waking Patu, then you can snuggle between us and we can … cwtch, like I promised before, when you had an upset tummy, remember?" Cooingwith delight, Grogu lifted his little hands and concentrated; Marathel heard a shuffling noise behind her. Grogu clambered over her, and she carefully turned over to see Din as she knew him best. Why can't the sight of his helmet, the sound of his voice be ENOUGH for me, she cried in her mind.

But then, Marathel had to look down and away from Din; even with the helmet on, it was suddenly all too much for her. I want to see him, yet I can barely look at him, I can't stand his touch anymore. Even so, I crave his arms around me, but if he does that, I think I may scream! Oh, she was so mixed up, and her mind hurt her so much! She cautiously laid her hand against his chest, still without his cuirass, his pauldrons and cuisses off as well.

Din sniffed sharply and grunted. "Mesh'la?"

"I'm here. So is Grogu." My family.

Still half-asleep, Din asked, "Why is my helmet back on?"

"Grogu did that, so we can … cwtch without breaking your Creed."

Din looked up at the pale ball of light hovering over them. "Grogu is doing that, too, right? I'm not dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming."

"Good." Din stroked Grogu's ear. "Glad you could join us, kid." Looking up at Marathel's face, he said, "Cyar'e … you didn't sneak away for once. You usually escape from me when we're sleeping together."

Marathel swallowed. "I … I promised Grogu that we could cwtch, all of us. When he had the upset tummy, remember?" She looked away. "I promised him."

Din frowned, wondering why she seemed so … well, extra nervous. Pensive. "Cwtch. Does that mean … cuddle?"

Marathel was surprised to hear such a childlike and soft word coming from this man of metal and weapons. Searching for the words, she said, "It's more … how you feel when you cuddle. Safe, warm …"

"Loved?"

"If you like … yes." She sighed. "It's like rwy'n di'rugar. Meant for only Diwhyns and children."

"I don't mind. I would love to be cwtched by you … If that's how to say it in your Oldtalk."

Marathel half-shrugged. "Close enough."

Din caressed Marathel's cheek, and he noticed her flinching slightly from his touch. "Close enough is only good for running beast shoes and hand grenades. What's the proper way to say it?"

"To say, 'I want to be … cwtched by you' … um … Ga'yl fi cwmigduhwrtch gen'nyd chi. We cwtch, we have cwmigduhwrtch before, we will be cwmeilgilwrtchydd later."

Din raised an eyebrow under his helmet. Dank ferrik, that Oldtalk is one fucked-up language. "Is koo-mee-ihl … forget it, I can't possibly pronounce that …" Marathel smiled a little. "… is it all right if we cwtch?"

"I promised Grogu."

"That's not what I asked you, Marathel." She continued to look away from Din. "Mesh'la … you don't want me to touch you, do you?" Her eyes filled with tears. "I can understand why you wouldn't want me to, truly, I do. You're forcing yourself to be near me, aren't you? You forced yourself to … put your mouth on me earlier. Why did you do that, Marathel?"

Her tears spilled over, and Grogu crawled over to snuggle under her chin, trying to soothe her. "It's what you wanted." She dropped her chin to kiss Grogu's head. "It's all I know how to do. It's all I'm good for."

"No, cyar'e, you're so much …"

"I only gave you what you wanted. Were you not pleased?"

"Ner kar'ta … you please the living shab out of me. You are magnificent in your ability to please me. But I didn't want you to … I did, yes, but not just …" Din wanted so much to hold her hand, but he was afraid to upset her more, so he held Grogu's hand instead. "This, right here, right now, is what I want. With you and Grogu, the three of us, together. Cyar'e, you said the days we spent together in your little hut were the happiest in your life. They were the happiest days in my life too, and right now, I will say anything, try anything, to make you change your mind. We have so little time left."

Marathel's face fell. "How long?"

He looked at the tiny monitor on his vambrace, then she heard him swallow. "Two, three hours."

Marathel closed her eyes in despair. She hadn't realized how much time had passed in the artificial environment of the ship. She looked up at the little ball of light that Grogu had conjured; it was growing smaller and dimmer as the little boy grew drowsy, curled up between them. Marathel looked back down at Grogu, and she moved her hand on him slightly, just enough that her index finger lay over Din's. Even though he was wearing gloves, the pressure of her finger on his nearly made his heart explode, the simple touch giving him almost more pleasure than her mouth did on him a couple hours earlier. Marathel asked, "How many days …?"

"Twenty-six."

Marathel blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"I met you twenty-six days ago."

"Twenty-six? Is that all? But it seems …"

"… Like much longer, doesn't it?" Like forever, but in a good way that it makes me wonder what in blue fuck I was doing with my life before you threw a rock at my head, he thought. She said nothing. Din continued, "You lost a few days in the middle, my wounded acorn. But I can tell you what day any event happened since I met you." Marathel looked at him dubiously. "Go ahead, ask me."

"What day did I throw eggs at you?"

"Day four."

"What day did you puke up my clam stew?"

"Day six."

Marathel smiled. "Hmmm. What day did I puke up the Mist?"

"Day two." She laughed. "I remember things. My father was an engineer; I think I inherited his brain."

"I'll have to take your word for it; I don't know what an engineer is." After taking a breath, she asked, "What day did you kiss me?"

"I kissed the top of your head very early in the morning on day seven."

"That doesn't count," said Marathel, rolling her eyes.

"Good to know," said Din with a small chuckle. "I kissed you the first time on day ten, I think. Possibly eleven. I had a concussion at the time."

"… the first time?"

Din sighed. "Your lungs were filling with fluid, and I was sure I was losing you. You were unconscious, and I'm sorry. You were dying right in front of me. But Grogu made you breathe again. I think he kept you alive, moved air in and out of your lungs, kept your heart beating, until we got you to Tatooine."

Marathel looked down to Grogu, who was nearly in a deep sleep, his ears twitching. She ran her fingertip along the edge of his ear and the little boy sighed. The little light ball was almost completely extinguished by now. She looked back up into Din's visor. "Din, I wasn't asking you how many days we'd known each other."

"No?"

"No."

Din tilted his helmet. "What were you going to ask?"

Marathel bit her lip nervously, her face flushing pink. "Before I ask that … once this light goes out … would you … kiss me again?"

"Are you sure? You want me to …?"

"We have so little time, as you say. And ... and your kiss was one of the sweetest things I'd ever felt. I think I deserve that memory, at least." Din carefully reached up and touched her cheek; Marathel's eyes fell closed with a sigh that was part whimper. Din watched the tiny light bubble wink away, leaving them in darkness. He quickly removed his helmet and touched his lips to hers; they couldn't get too close with Grogu between them. Din kept his lips closed, his teeth apart, his touch soft and unmoving, wanting to try to kiss her the way Cobb tried to teach him, but he was too nervous, afraid of scaring her.

Marathel, meanwhile, didn't know how to kiss a man, so she mimicked Din's kiss and wondered if this method was what Cobb had taught him. Marathel dared to touch his cheek again, as she had when he'd kissed her the first (second) time, and she felt him jump just a little at her touch. She then ran her hand into his hair, soft, wavy, a bit sweaty (it must be so warm in that helmet), and she felt his quiet moan against her lips as much as she heard it emanate from his throat, just as Cobb had when she did a similar thing. Is it about me — or about the touch? Could it be anyone touching him?

Din's lips left hers, and he leaned forward to touch her forehead with his. "I don't kiss very well," he admitted.

"I don't know how to kiss at all."

"You did just fine, mesh'la," he said, smiling. I only wish we could learn how together. After a moment, Din said, "If I were wearing my helmet, this right here, our foreheads touching, this would be considered a kiss."

"Really?" Marathel felt his slight nod against her forehead. "You've been kissing me in the Mandalorian way this whole time, and you didn't tell me?"

"It's called a keldabe kiss."

"You Mandalorians don't let people get close to you at all, do you?" Her hand remained in his hair, and her thumb stroked the upper edge of his ear.

"No," he said with a shudder, her gentle touch making all of his hair stand on end.

"How lonely you must have …" Before Marathel could finish her sentence, Din kissed her again, harder this time, more like the time he'd kissed her before she went away to the Reconstructionists, and this time, it was Marathel who softly moaned, the tiny vibration making Din nearly lose control altogether. Their lips broke apart, and Marathel asked breathlessly, "What day did you kiss me the second time?"

"Day fifteen. The same day you went to the market with Cobb. The same day Grogu called you Mama the first time."

"Busy day," remarked Marathel.

"Very busy. You got to pet a sheep. You got your first pair of shoes."

"I puked blood on Cobb's boots."

"Okay,I don't need a recap of every vomiting incident," grumbled Din as Marathel quietly giggled. "I got good and drunk that day, too."

"Drunk?"

"Like you get if you have too many dreamberries."

"Oh. Deffdonyn."

"If you say so," said Din with a chuckle.

"Why in Frith did you do that?"

"Well, I'd just kissed the most beautiful woman I'd ever met, then told her that I loved her. My boy suddenly started calling her Mama and had a screaming meltdown because she had to leave for who knows how long to try to keep her from dying and I didn't know if we'd ever see her again. Cobb thought I'd had a tough day."

"Oh, you had a tough day. Hmm." Marathel continued to lightly drag her fingernails through the short hairs at Din's temple, giving him goosebumps all over. "So, it was all Cobb's doing? What did you men discuss?"

"Oh, the usual. Women and relative breast sizes and what a chickenshit tymffod I was for telling you I love you and then running away."

"Relative breast sizes?" asked Marathel, her tone slightly snippy.

"Well, yes," said Din with an embarrassed shrug.

She sighed. "You men. Born with your hands on your penis and looking for a tit to suck."

Din laughed. "My buir — my foster father, the Mandalorian who rescued me as a child — oh, he would have liked you so much. He once told me that men spend nine months trying to get out of the womb and the rest of their lives trying to get right back in." Marathel laughed as well, then they both went quiet for a long time. "This is when we're at our best, ma'mwsh ha'laa, just like this. You make me laugh. No one has made me laugh as much as you. Before Grogu, before you, I was so alone … I had no one and nothing to live for. Grogu has given me a purpose in my life that I didn't know I needed. Knowing you has given me a joy that I didn't know I could have."

Din heard Marathel sob before she hissed, "Joy? What joy can I give you? I will bring you nothing but shame and regret!"

"How could you possibly …"

"Who I am! What I've done!" cried Marathel.

"You think you're the only one with a horrible past? What was done to you was not your choice. But I have killed innocent people, not because they did me wrong, but for money. I have murdered …" Din's voice gave out; he still could not admit his worst sins out loud."I have done the most terrible things, all of my own free will."

Marathel was baffled. "But … I thought … Mandalorians were honorable people …"

"Life can't always be honorable, my ma'mwsh ha'laa, not if you're trying to survive in this galaxy." Din swallowed. "Believe me, I'm not trying to excuse my past. It's a dark, dark time I'm trying to deal with. What I do know is that since I've met you, I've finally been able to sleep at night …" Marathel scoffed. "… not just because of that, my mesh'la … but I think some of my best days in my adult life were spent sitting on your steps drinking tea and watching you and Grogu play that running game of yours.

"You made us a family, ner kar'ta, you welcomed us into your home and gave us your love and became a mother to Grogu."

"There are others better suited to do that for you …" She began to push him away.

"No, Marathel, you're the one I want!" Beginning to panic, he gripped her face in both hands. "Don't fight me on this, not now, not when we have so little time. Please. If you're going to leave me, let me have these last few hours with you close to me."

"Din, I …"

"Please, ner kar'ta …" He kissed her brow. "I know it's hard for you, having my hands on you like this … How could it not, my ma'mwsh ha'laa, with what was done to you? And you think you must do this, that you must obey." He kissed her lips again. "And I'm sorry I keep touching you, keep holding you so close, but I … don't know what else to do! If only you'd tell me that I'm not leaving you behind on that planet you came from!"

"But, Din, I …"

"Please, cyar'e …"

"No, Din, just … hush, please, just for a moment! In the name of Frith!" Din went quiet and pulled his face back, letting go of her cheeks, anxious, dreading her continued rejection. "Din, what I originally wanted to ask was, how many days has it been since I left the Reconstructionists and returned to Tatooine?"

"How many … five, six days. Why?"

"I need to repeat the treatment, to make me not bleed? I have a set of injections. But … I need help."

"Of course, mesh'la. I'll … please, though …"

"What?" Din didn't answer; Marathel only felt his warm breath on her face. "Frith save us," she muttered as she leaned forward and kissed him, and Din felt her full lips suck briefly on his lower lip, a motion that both thrilled Din and scared the shab out of him, for he was uncertain if he should do it back. "Din, please. Put your helmet on, turn on a light." Din muttered apologies as he replaced his helmet and turned the overhead lights on low. So easily distracted … that can't be good for a Mandalorian, she thought wearily as she pulled out her bag from under the hanging carbonite shells. She found one set of the injections and lay back down on her side, facing Din. She held up the syringes. "Red cap first, then we wait a little while, then the purple cap, then the black cap."

"Where am I injecting these?"

Marathel patted the side of her neck, saying, "Here."

Din carefully cleaned the side of Marathel's neck with the swab she gave him and uncapped the first hypo. He placed it on her skin, asking, "Will it hurt?"

"Not so much … it's just strange."

Din triggered the hypo, which gave the injection with a small pft of air. "All right?"

Marathel felt the instant cold and grimaced. "Hold my hand. Please." He did, giving her hand a squeeze. Marathel closed her eyes and said, "Oh, it's starting already."

"What is?"

"It's like spiky pebbles are rolling about inside my arms."

"That sounds horrible."

Marathel smiled. "Cobb said the exact same thing."

"Did he, now?"

"Yes." Marathel opened her eyes. "He also said that you were thinking of me."

"I was. Every moment, practically, ner kart'a." The spiky-pebble feeling grew worse, and she began breathing fast. "What is it?"

"It's like spines now, long spines, trying to spear through my flesh," whimpered Marathel.

Din held her hands and stroked her knuckles with his thumbs. "I have you, mesh'la. You're safe."

"Oh, it feels awful, so much worse than the other times … it feels horrible …" Weeping now, Marathel pulled her hands away from Din and covered her face. "Why did I ever tell you what was done to me? Why did I ever ask you to stay with me? Why didn't you just leave? Why did I have to find out what I am?!" She sobbed for a while into her hands, then sniffled, and said, "Can you … do the second injection now?" Wishing he could comfort her more, Din applied the purple-capped hypo, then found a cloth in his pocket and dried the tears from her face.

"Oh, I forgot how this one burns," muttered Marathel, gritting her teeth, doing her best to ride out the burning sensation as it coursed through her. After some time, her breathing slowed, and her eyelids lifted to gaze into Din's visor as she searched for his brown eyes in the dark expanse. Marathel lifted one of her hands and placed it on Din's helmet where his cheek would be. "Din? Cwryiad? I'm already getting so sleepy."

"You're going to sleep?" No, please, we have so little time.

"I'm sorry … the treatment … makes me sleep … Din, I'm so scared, scared about going back."

"Then why go back, mesh'la?"

Marathel's eyelids were heavy, and she fought to keep talking. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I lied to you about … what would happen to me in the Hold. I'm sorry for not telling you about the Dahls, and my connection with them. I always felt so safe with you those nights you were there with me. Even after …" Marathel's hand slid from Din's helmet to his neck, close to his jaw. Her thumb reached under the edge of his helmet, brushing against his sparse whiskers there. I deserve to have that much of him. A few kisses and a couple of touches. "Oh, it's becoming so hard to talk. I'm sure I'm no longer making any sense," she mumbled. "You think I'm going back to Unmanarall to punish myself … ease my guilt over who I am. But I don't know why anymore … I only know that I must go and there is no point in objecting … it doesn't matter, because I must go back. And you must let me go."

"No …" Din moaned.

Their words tumbled over each other's, Marathel's in her exhaustion, Din's in his despair.

"You must …"

"I'll stay there with you, Marathel …"

"No, Din, you must redeem yourself … Living Waters …"

"Then I'll come back …"

"No, cwryiad, go live your life with Grogu …"

"Not without you!"

"This is the way," mumbled Marathel.

"This is the way," Din responded automatically. "Marathel, I love you."

Marathel's eyes closed, her brow furrowed with despair. "I know." She took a deep breath, opened her eyes again. "Promise me …" Marathel groaned , forcing herself to remain awake with all the energy she could muster. She pulled his face close to hers, her hands up under the edge of his helmet, holding his jaw firmly and staring into the darkness of his visor. "Promise me. Do not take vengeance on the Bishop, or anyone in the Hold. They are not worth your anger. And I'm not worth your pity. Promise me this… and I promise you… I won't kill myself. I will live out the rest of my days alone with you and Grogu in my heart." Marathel wished she could see his eyes. She gave Din a little shake. "Promise me!"

"I promise you, ner kart'a. This I vow." He turned his head to kiss the heel of her thumb.

Apparently satisfied, Marathel said, "Last injection … then you can hold me while I sleep … and I won't fight you. I won't escape. Maybe I'll dream of how happy you made me. Keep me safe … while you can …" Her words drifted off, and Marathel's eyes closed as she went limp, already sleeping deeply.

"Mesh'la? Ma'mwsh ha'laa?" Marathel did not respond. He applied the last hypo, the black-capped one. Damn it, Marathel, our last hours together, and you're gonna be sleeping?

Grogu began to stir; there was too much noise and angst going on for him to fully fall asleep, so he woke up and leaned against Din's chest.

Patu was very sad. Mama was sad too, but now at least the dark inside of Mama's head was quiet. The dark inside Mama's head kept trying to say bad things to Mama all the time. Bad things that made Mama hurt inside. Grogu was glad that the dark inside Mama's head was letting Mama sleep. Grogu knew Patu was sad about Mama sleeping. But Grogu also knew that Mama was still so hurt, and Mama needed to sleep. Grogu was sad, too.

Grogu sighed. Din patted Grogu's belly, swallowing, trying to keep his tears in check. "Hey, little bub, us grown-ups are keeping you awake, huh? I tried to keep Mama awake too, but it didn't work. Mama is too tired. Is that something you can fix?" Grogu whined softly. "I guess not. It wasn't fair to ask you anyway; sorry, kid." Din sighed. "I think, though, that if I'm going to spend the next couple hours holding on to both of you, I need to get comfortable."

Din pulled Marathel close to his side, dragging her by her blanket pallet. He carefully maneuvered her so her head was on his shoulder, and she was curled against his side with his arm wrapped around her. Din patted his chest, inviting Grogu to lay on top of him, which Grogu did with a happy squeak. There we go, he thought. Got my woman, got my boy.

Then Marathel did something he didn't expect: she sighed in her sleep and snuggled tighter against him, throwing her arm across his waist, and sliding her leg over one of his. Din held his breath for a moment, and then he reached to hold her hand that lay on top of him. So wonderful, thought Din. Only one thing would make this perfect.

As if Grogu had heard his thoughts, Din watched as Marathel's hair lifted into the air like a veil caught in a gentle wind, fanning out over Din and Grogu in a blanket. Din lifted his head to look at Grogu; the child's large eyes gazed back up at him. "You too, huh?" Din chuckled. "I like how you think, kid; I think I'll keep you." Grogu burbled as he wrapped a lock of Marathel's hair around his hand.

Din basked in the perfection of this moment. So this is what it means to cwtch. A soft, beautiful woman curled up beside him. His child on his chest. So little time. So little time. Din swallowed the tears in his throat and began talking out loud, the way he'd taken to when Grogu had appeared on the scene. "Kid, I've been thinking … Maybe the only way for Mama to get better is for Mama to let herself get better. And she can't ... do that right now. Maybe Mama can get better on the planet she came from. I guess I have to let her try.

"You know, you're doing a much better job of dealing with this than I am. Maybe you can see how this might help her. Maybe ... you understand, better than I can, that she needs to do this. I just haven't figured out yet ... how I'm going to handle her being gone. What I'm going to do without her. Will you be able to help me with that?" Grogu reached up under Din's helmet, pressing his tiny hand against Din's chin. Instantly, Din felt his anxiety go down by about a hundred points. "Thanks, buddy. You're really good at that.

"Kid, have I ever told you about how Mandalorian people get married? Married is when two people who really love each other decide that they're going to live together all the time … just like we did with Marathel on her planet. When a Mandalorian wants to marry another, they say together, 'We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.' Of course, they wouldn't say it in Basic, they'd say it in Mando'a, which ... goes like this ..." Din lifted his helmet, and looked down at the top of Marathel's head. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde," he recited against her hair, and then he kissed her softly. "Mama would have to say it back for it to really count, though. But for now, kid ... this counts to me."

Din lifted his head to speak to Grogu directly. "Oh, um … Don't tell Mama I did that. I'll let Mama know when she wakes up." Maybe. Maybe not. Din replaced his helmet and lay back, waiting for the alarm that would come far too soon, the alarm that would tell him the Crest had arrived at Unmanarall.

Din was unsure whether he slept or not as he counted down the remaining minutes in hyperspace. Perhaps he did sleep. He'd slept a lot on this trip, which was unusual for him. He hadn't been blowing smoke earlier: since meeting Marathel, he'd been able to sleep. He knew he was awake right now, though.

Marathel hadn't left his side. She'd jerked a couple times, causing her knee to knock him in the crotch, but not hard enough to matter. She must have dreaming at some point; she muttered something in her language, then squeezed him tight. Her hand laying on his ribs had twitched often, and several of her fingers seemed to have a permanent tremor. She'd also passed gas once, a little bubble of a fart that made Din chuckle. The intimacies of a relationship, he thought, then wondered if relationship was the right word. He then decided that considering the sparring, vomiting, injuries, laughter, tears, and the … sexual activity that went between the two of them, relationship was the correct word indeed. Dank ferrik, I even made her breakfast once. He hadn't ever made breakfast for X'ian, but then she preferred a good old-fashioned breakfast of caf and half a pack of smokes. Thank Frith I never kissed her, it would have been like licking a fire pit.

He thought back to the promise he'd made to Marathel. He had put all his thoughts of revenge against the Hold on the back burner when he'd taken her broken body away from Unmanarall. The idea had never fully left, especially with the information that the New Republic didn't give a biased piss about the place. He relished the idea of obliterating the Round Building and every male that drew breath on that planet, but he was only a two-credit mercenary, not a savior for a society of downtrodden women, and he couldn't come up with a plan to help them beyond simply blowing away the Hold, the source of their pain, in a barrage of laser blasts.

I can't even rescue one woman from that place, how could I possibly help an entire Hold of them?

He continued to stroke the back of her trembling hand with his gloved thumb. He wondered how many times he'd begged her to not leave him, only to be rejected each time. Then she would draw herself close to him, and in the next moment, pull herself away. He supposed that a reasonable person would have given up by now. Not that I'm a reasonable man. But then, what reasonable man falls in love with a woman who has suffered this much damage?

He had no answer for that one, just like he had no idea why he continued to follow her command to return her to her home planet, a command that she herself admitted had no reason. A command about to come to fruition.

Din gently shook her arm. "Marathel? You have to wake up now." Marathel groaned quietly and turned her face into his shoulder. "Mesh'la. It's time."

Marathel raised her head, squinting, sand in the corners of her eyes. "Din? Are we there?"

"Almost."

Marathel, still very groggy, dragged herself up to her elbow, rubbing her eyes with the side of her hand. "I was dreaming," she mumbled.

"What about, mesh'la?"

Before Marathel could answer, a loud alarm began blaring, which startled her fully awake, and she curled tighter against Din in fear. "What is that?"

Din sighed and sat up, holding a yawning Grogu against his chest, his other arm still around Marathel. "We're here." Marathel looked at him, dismayed by the quick passage of time, but she nodded, and rolled up to her knees, and then her feet. She held out her hands for Grogu, and Din handed him to her. She gave Grogu a squeeze, and then offered her shaking hand to Din. He put his gloved hand in her splinted hand, and she gave a pull to help him up. Once standing, Din immediately pulled them both into his arms, holding them tight enough to squeeze a sob out of Marathel. "Cyar'e ... I can't do it. I can't let you go."

"You have to, Din."

"We had five days, five days, to figure it out between us, and we squandered the whole trip with petty fights ..."

"There was no point, Din."

"You don't even know why you're making me take you back!"

Marathel pushed back from Din, looking into his visor. "You're taking me back because you love me, and you will honor my request."

"I won't do it. I'm turning this ship around, and I'm taking you ..."

"Din," Marathel said firmly, sliding her hand up his throat and under the edge of his helmet – something he'd never allowed anyone to do before meeting her – and her thumb pressed against his lips, stilling him into silence. "It's time to go back into the cockpit and drop out of hyperspace." She felt his lips tremble with sorrow. "Let's go," she said quietly, dropping her hand. She heard Din's quiet sob before he turned away from her. With a sigh, Din shoved his bedroll back into the tiny room he used as his sleeping quarters, then ascended the damned ladder they'd had to climb over and over the past few days. Marathel lifted Grogu up and into the cockpit before following Din. They sat in their respective charis, silently strapping themselves in before Din shut off the alarm and set the controls to drop out of hyperspace. Once again, Marathel felt her insides rearrange themselves and the old ship lurched into orbit above her home planet. Marathel gasped at the sight of the lovely blue-green planet before her. "Is that ..."

Din swallowed. "That's Unmanarall."

"Why ... it's pretty. I never knew ... there's so much water. Such big oceans." Marathel undid her safety straps and stood to lean against the console. "Can they see us?"

Din cleared his throat. "No. We're too small and too far away."

"I don't even know where the Hold is."

"The Hold is just on the other side of the planet."

"Is Unmanarall a large planet? As planets go? Have you been other places that look like this?"

Despite his deep sorrow, Din was amused by her childlike curiosity. "It's not very large, but yes, there are other planets similar to this one. But the strange thing is ... your Hold is the only location on your entire planet that is inhabited by people."

Marathel turned to look at Din. "I don't understand."

"What that means, Marathel, is that your people had to come from somewhere, and ended up on Unmanarall. There is no other logical explanation for your people being there. People just don't ... naturally occur with a small population like yours, and in only one location."

"But ... what does that matter?"

"If you could find out ... If I could find out where your people originated from, maybe I could get help for the women there." Marathel frowned and began shaking her head. "Marathel, even if you don't go back to the Hold, you can't let those women continue to suffer ..."

"It doesn't matter, Din. The Hold will die out eventually."

Din pulled off his safety straps and stood, trying to grab at Marathel's hands. "You can't mean that."

"Yes, I do. Even if, for some reason, the Hold could be emptied and everyone taken back to ... wherever ... what would be the point? We're all too ..." She searched for the words in Newtalk and couldn't find them. "Nydwes Unmanarall, Wmodhmabarall maelowyth. That means, 'there is nowhere else, everywhere else is death.' We can't leave. I can't manage anywhere else, none of us would be able to. It's just best ... to leave us to our own destruction. I'm sure it will come soon."

Din tilted his helmet. "What are you saying, Marathel?" he asked, wary.

"I'm saying it's time for me to go." She gently removed her hands from Din's and went back to sit in the aft chair. "Is there a way to fly in where they won't see the ship? I would rather they not know, so that I may quietly disappear to someplace else."

"It's ... night there now. I don't want to leave you there in the dark," Din said, grasping for any possible reason he could to keep her on the ship.

"It won't matter. I will know where I am. And the Eyes of the Mothers ... the stars, I mean ... they will give me enough light to see by."

Din stared at her for a few moments, and then sat in his chair and began moving the controls to carefully fly the ship into the atmosphere, following her direction to avoid being observed by the Hold. Why am I doing this? He cried out in his mind. He came in low, just over the tops of the grove of gorugelly trees, and touched down in a flat rocky area surrounded by thick tall underbrush.

Once the Crest had settled, Marathel got up and went down the ladder to gather her belongings while Din flipped switches and adjusted controls. She quickly placed the knitted jacket and slippers for Grogu, as well as the cowl and the felted wool cloths for Din, on the end of Din's bedroll. She located her bag, folded her blanket, and shoved it inside. By the time Din came down the ladder with Grogu, she was refolding the blankets she had slept on. Din waved his hand dismissively. "You don't have to bother with those."

Marathel shrugged, saying, "It's as good as done." She approached him, holding out the blankets. "Trade you? Just for a moment?"

Grogu was reaching out for her, so Din handed him to Marathel, taking the blankets from her. While she cuddled with Grogu, Din turned away to place the blankets on his bedroll, and he noticed the items she had left there. He felt a hitch in his heart, knowing that she had made those things with her own hands, her hands that were broken directly because of what they had done together, and he thought he might melt down completely. Instead, he turned to see the woman he loved holding his boy, smiling beatifically at him as he gazed at her with his large, beautiful eyes. "My love," said Marathel. "Thank you for being my little boy for a while." She kissed Grogu on his little fuzzy head and gently placed him on the floor, and he escorted her to the ramp door.

Din came to stand next to Marathel, and she turned to him, saying, "Thank you, Din." She leaned over and kissed the side of his helmet. "Open the door, now. It's time." Din swallowed and dumbly reached for the controls, opening the iris-style ship door. As the ramp lowered, a breeze came in, and Marathel inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, taking in the scent of the leaves and grasses and the clean air, so different from the heat and the dust and the fumes of ship fuel on Tatooine. I'm back ... here, she thought, as she realized that Unmanarall was no longer home. She opened her eyes, shifted her weight to take a step down the ramp, and then ... paused. Marathel looked down to her feet, still in the shoes that Cobb had bought her. Din watched as she contemplated her feet for a few moments, and then she used her toe to remove one shoe, then the other, and then she used her foot to gently slide the shoes sideways and away from her.

She did not bend to pick them up.

She no longer needed shoes.

Not on Unmanarall.

Not ever again.

It was at that moment, as he saw Marathel, once again barefoot, about to step back onto the planet that had done its best to kill her on multiple occasions, that Din knew he could not let that happen.

Din ripped off his helmet and flung it far from him, crying, "No, Marathel! I won't you let do this!"

The instant she heard Din's voice change from the modulated sound of the helmet to the low cadence of coming directly from his lips, Marathel shut her eyes tight. She did not wish to see his face, because in her soul she knew that she didn't deserve such a privilege. She knew if she saw his face, she'd change her mind on leaving him. And, in the deepest darkest part of her soul, she wanted to reject his last-ditch declaration of love and cause him pain. Make him reject her, to salve her soul for existing in corporeal form. Her remaining life would be easier when she had nothing left to lose.

Din grabbed her hand, shouting, "Look at me, mesh'la! Please, look at me!"

Marathel slapped his hands away. "No, Din, there's no point!" Din got hold of one hand and one shoulder, pulling her towards him as Marathel ducked her head, keeping her eyes closed. "Let me GO, Din, LET ME GO!" Marathel twisted her hand loose and thrust it between Din's flight suit and his armor. Flexing her hand into a claw, she dug her fingertips into the flesh and muscles underneath the bite mark she'd left on him. Where she had marked him as hers. Where he believed she could control his movements and his feelings. Din growled in pain, and Marathel pulled her hand away as she whispered, "Be still, my love." Din froze in place, allowing her the moments she needed to escape him and the ship.

Marathel's bare feet hit the ramp, and she ran as fast as she could, running straight into the tall brush to hide herself from the Bounty Hunter, for if he did not wear his helmet, it would be harder to find her. No seeing in the dark, no seeing how hot or cold someone was, just his own eyes. He had seen her with his own eyes, but she had not been allowed to see him with hers, not the way she wanted!

He never saw me as his equal, I never deserved it, no matter what he said, I was never enough for the Mandalorian, she cried in her mind, ignoring the pain in her bare feet as she ran over some brambles. She dropped down a small ridge and dashed across a grassy field, heading for the gorugelly trees. She went deeply into a dark thicket, looking up at the sky, waiting for the Bounty Hunter's flying ship to soar over her head, and wink away into the stars.

Din, with the bite mark burning and painful, heard her whispered words be still, as Marathel broke away from him and ran down the ramp. "No!" shouted Din, running after her. "No! Don't make me!" He got to the bottom of the ramp, but she'd gotten a head start on him, and he hadn't seen which way she had gone. "DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted into the brush surrounding the ship. "DON'T MAKE ME LET YOU GO!"

Without his helmet, Din heard nothing but the muffled echo of his own shout into the brisk wind. His hearing was damaged from a lifetime of explosions, and a barefoot woman running in the woods was difficult for him to hear without the benefit of his helmet. "MARATHEL!" he screamed into the trees that surrounded the ship. He screamed again, "MARATHEL!" He heard nothing but the rustle of the leaves of the trees blowing in the wind that was whipping around the ship. Din's knees buckled and he fell hard to the ground. Don't make me let you go, Marathel! Damn you, Marathel, don't do this! If you love me as you just said you do, then DON'T LEAVE ME! He wanted to scream his pain from the depths of his soul, but he could not utter a sound.

She was gone.

Din dropped his head to his chest, his rasping breath going in and out. He felt a tiny hand in his. He looked down to see Grogu, his eyes sad. Grogu pulled on his hand, pointing to the ship. "Patu?" he asked.

"I can't, buddy. I can't. I can't leave here without her." Din fell to his hip and wept.

Grogu looked down to his feet and sighed deeper than a little child like him should have been capable of. Squeezing Din's thumb, Grogu raised his eyes and pointed at the ship again, saying firmly, "Patu." Grogu let go of Din's thumb and began toddling back up the ramp. Halfway up, Grogu turned and called to Din, "Patu!"

When the ground beneath him refused to open up and swallow him whole, Din got to his feet, and then turned in a full circle, quietly calling for Marathel. "Marathel ... please, don't leave me," he whispered. Nothing. No response, no reappearance of the beautiful, sad, pale woman with the long silver hair. Din's shoulders slumped, his head fell back to his chest. With a sigh, he went up the ramp, the heels of his boots dragging as if they were too heavy for him to lift. At the top, he turned to look out over the planet's landscape once more, smelling the salt air and flowers, trying to breathe in the last of her scent from the air. But her scent was gone.

She's gone.

Din slowly stepped into the ship, closing the ramp behind him.

Marathel remained behind a tree, waiting. Go now, Bounty Hunter, go now, go back to your life as Grogu's father first and foremost. Then be the Mandalorian you are meant to be. Find your happiness, and if you can spare a moment — only a moment, no more than that, I deserve no more than that — for a thought of me, then I will be happy as well. I promise that when I join the Mothers that Went Before in the night sky, I will watch and protect Grogu.

Go now, Bounty Hunter. Leave me behind.

Marathel heard the far-off sound of the Razor Crest starting up, and she waited, watching the sky. Shortly, Marathel watched the ship, carrying the only man she knew she would ever love, and the only child she could ever call hers, as it lifted over the treetops and disappeared out of sight.

I love you.

My heart breaks to keep you safe.