pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 4.4K

chapter summary: Marathel receives treatment for her hemophilia.

warnings: angst, suicide ideation, medical procedures, English cursing

Marathel was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, because she was back on Unmanarall, walking in the overgrown field over the foothills from the low tide beach. It was the middle of the night, but there was a light glow from the thousands of fairylight insects swirling all around her (catch one and make a wish), pulsing waves of yellow, pink, and blue; but fairylights never flew low enough to be caught by the hands of children or the occasional miserable woman wishing so much for an end to her miserable existence. She was pushing though the tall leafgrass towards a figure standing in the distance. She knew who it was, and as she approached, the fairylights began swirling around the Bounty Hunter (Din Djarin, his name is Din Djarin), sparkling off his armor and weapons as he stood with his back to her. She was reasonably sure it was actually him in her dreams, but her dreams had betrayed her before, and he answered her in her dream, as soft as a whisper in her ear, he replied, It's me, mesh'la, and he removed the helmet so that she could see his brown hair, short, unruly, not the stringy, long, grey hair of the Bishop, and her heart skipped a beat, and she stopped just feet behind him, and she could feel in her dream, feel the folds of her yellow gown swirl around her legs, and she saw him beginning to turn to her, and then everything suddenly went dark, and it felt as if she had fallen off a cliff (but not jumped this time), and she was in incredible pain.

Marathel began shrieking, and she could not begin to work out where she was, or even what was up and what was down. The almost-closed door opened, and she was temporarily blinded by the sudden light in the pre-dawn darkness. She felt hands on her, and she knew they belonged to a man, and she heard a man's voice, which sent her into a terror, screaming as loud as she could. It was only after Fennec turned on the lights that Marathel realized where she was. She was on the floor, half-sitting, half-reclining, as Cobb Vanth had a tight hold on her wrists. Fennec stood near the door, and both looked startled and concerned.

"Marathel? Can you hear me? Wake up," said Cobb. "Are you in there?" Marathel stared at his hazel eyes, a quiet whine escaping from her throat. "Honey? Are you okay?"

Marathel fell silent and blinked a few times, tears running down her cheeks. "I think … I think I fell off the bed?"

"Right on your face, it looks like. You're already getting a shiner and your forehead is bleeding again." Cobb released his grip on her wrists, one hand going up to her elbow, the other going around her shoulders as he held her in a sitting position. Marathel's eyes went wide as she realized she was on the floor before Cobb, a man, while she was wearing only the tightest of compression clothing, in a bright room, and his arm was around her, touching her, holding her. Her cheeks burned with fear and embarrassment.

Fennec dropped to a knee beside Marathel, looking at her wounded face. "Yes, Marathel, it looks like you fell off the bed. You never had one that wasn't on the floor, have you?" Fennec winked. "I've fallen off a few myself. Never quite as dramatically as you, though. Cobb, pull that blanket around her, she looks cold."

Cobb complied, draping the light blanket over her shoulders. Marathel shot a grateful look to Fennec. He lifted Marathel off the floor, setting her on the bed. He bent down to look Marathel in the eye… which she could not do. "Are you hurtin' anywhere?"

"Everywhere, I think," muttered Marathel. "I can't believe I fell like that. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"I should check you over," said Fennec, glancing at the absorbent pad on Marathel's bed, which was blood-soaked again. The Modifier's buddy better deliver soon, thought Fennec. Marathel can't keep on like this, and we're running out of synth-blood now, too.

Cobb knew better than to try to hang about when Fennec had that tone. "No worries, Mar'. Just shout if you need help." He tucked Marathel's hair behind her ear, smiled, and headed out of the room. Marathel noticed for the first time that Cobb was shirtless, wearing light-colored thermal pants that hugged his muscular backside and rippled as he walked out of the room, which made her catch her breath. Marathel blinked again after he left, her breath hitching, and she wondered what that was about.

"Were you dreaming, Marathel?"

Marathel had to pull her attention away from the door Cobb had just walked through. "I dreamed I had j- … fallen … off a cliff again," whispered Marathel.

"Do you make a habit of falling off cliffs?" asked Fennec quietly. Marathel's eyes locked with Fennec's, and Fennec knew instantly that while this was obviously a fall, at least one rapid descent from a cliff for Marathel was in no way accidental. "How many times have you … fallen from a cliff?"

Marathel's eyes dropped to the floor. "Just once."

Fennec stroked Marathel's brow, which was beginning to swell. "Can you walk, Marathel?" Marathel nodded and began to stand, but her left knee buckled under her. She cried out and immediately sat back down. "Cobb!" shouted Fennec. Marathel could hear bare feet slapping on the stone floor, and Cobb reappeared in the doorway, buttoning the pants he had just pulled on. "Can you carry her? Let's get her back to the treatment room."

Cobb nodded and lifted Marathel off the bed in his wiry arms (arm, arm, the other is metal and strange, how is he even able to lift me?), and she leaned against his bare chest, and of course the best thing for her to do was place her arm around his bare shoulders, and she was so discomfited by all his bare skin. She knew her face was as red as a dreamberry as she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Cobb smiled his usual lazy half-smile. "No bother. Once I'm awake I'm up for the day."

"I'm getting blood on you."

"Blood washes off."

Marathel could think of nothing to say to that, certainly not in the pain she was in — and certainly not while being carried by a half-naked man, she thought. Cobb carried her into the room with the bacta tank and he carefully placed her down on the floating gurney. Fennec sliced the compression pants leg up to Marathel's hip, laying it open. Cobb whistled as he looked at Marathel's swelling knee, already turning purple, making her blush again. "Damn, woman, you know how to do things right."

Fennec sighed and said, "You must have landed directly on your knee. Can you lift your leg straight up?" Marathel lifted her leg with a whimper. "Well, you didn't break your kneecap, at least." Fennec carefully slid a soft fabric sleeve up Marathel's leg and wrapped it in cold packs to stave off the swelling.

Cobb gently placed a smaller cold pack on Marathel's eye, which was swelling uncomfortably. Smiling and joking for her benefit, Cobb said, "Now, Mar', Din told me to keep an eye on you, and he just left, for crying out loud. He's gonna wallop the tar out of me when he gets back."

Fennec snorted and gave Marathel a bacta injection along with a painkiller and a mild tranquilizer — not that the bacta seemed to do much for her, but it was better than nothing. "Seems Din should wallop you one just on general principle," Fennec muttered.

Cobb threw up his hands in mock defeat. "I give up. I'm outta here." He smiled at Marathel, lightly stroking her upper arm. "Now shout if you need anything, okay? I'll be close by, wherever you need me." Marathel nodded, her eyes cast downward, her blush putting a pretty color on her pale face. Damn, she is lovely, thought Cobb, before he turned and left the room, thinking, Din better keep a tight hold on this one … especially around someone like me.

Fennec busied herself with retaping Marathel's face wound first, then she got Marathel to turn over so that she could cut away the compression garments again. The deeper wounds on Marathel's back simply would not close, and it seemed all they were doing was delaying the inevitable. It didn't help that Marathel didn't care. Marathel seemed to Fennec to be in some kind of existential limbo. She was given to staring off into space, only speaking when spoken to, and silently following directions. Silnima had told her that Marathel was actually animated in the kitchen, even cracking jokes and smiling at Din, but that was the only time Marathel didn't seem to be in a pit of despair. "Are you doing okay, Marathel?"

"No." Marathel sighed. "And what you're doing isn't helping, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Has the … Modifier heard anything?"

"No. Hopefully today." Fennec cleaned another wound and glued it shut again. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know … but I think I'm scared."

"What scares you?"

"Besides everything?" Marathel chuckled, surprising Fennec. "I'm scared I'm going to wake up with metal hands. I'm scared that this is all real. I'm scared that … that what the Modifier finds out might work … what am I supposed to do if I live?"

Fennec hadn't thought about it that way. For someone who had believed she would follow a strict and excessively narrow path that was now derailed, it could be a terrifying prospect. "Well … I think … you have some people now who are willing to help you figure it out."

"As a burden, then."

"You're only a burden if you make yourself one, Marathel," Fennec said in a tone that made Marathel regret her statement. In a kinder tone, Fennec said, "And this is all real, by the way. But even I wonder what the living kriff is going on sometimes."

Marathel smiled. After a few minutes of silence, she reached out blindly with her splinted hand. "Fennec, I …" Fennec gently took Marathel's hand. "Thank you, Fennec," whispered Marathel.

"You're welcome, Marathel," Fennec whispered back. "Just keep that bread coming," she said with a wink.

Marathel groaned. "You people and your bread. I can do more than just make bread, you know."

"I do. And I believe a certain Mandalorian knows that as well." Fennec smiled as she saw the flush creeping up Marathel's neck. This woman better not play Sabacc, ever.

A voice came from the corridor. "May I come in?"

"Is it okay if Boba comes in? I'll cover you up," said Fennec to Marathel. Marathel nodded, and Fennec draped her with the blanket up to the nape of her neck. "Come in."

Boba came forward. "Are you all right, Marathel? I heard you fell."

"Out of bed. On my face. And my knee," muttered Marathel.

"Beds not on the ground take getting used to." He bent down to her eye level. "The Modifer had word from his contact. He's putting injections together now."

"Marathel?" asked Fennec. "Are you … are you ready to try this?"

Marathel lay quietly for a long time. If she refused, she would upset so many people who had been nothing but kind to her when they had no reason to be, and it seemed she was expected to agree to this treatment. But if she took the injection, and it worked, then … a future lay in front of her, unknown, blank, intimidating … but open.

How could I not?

Marathel took a deep breath. "I'll do it. I'll… I'll take the treatment." She felt Fennec squeeze her upper arm. Boba left to inform the Modifier. Fennec went back to Marathel's wounds. But it took some time before the Modifier had the injections ready, and as time passed, Marathel became more and more nervous, doubting her choice, and her thoughts began to race. What if it doesn't work? Will it hurt? What about my … other injuries? Will I ever be … functional again? Will I ever be able to cope?

It was the last thoughts that crept unbidden into her mind more and more often. Her bodily needs were currently very difficult and painful, and it wasn't until Silnima and a midwife came to help her that Marathel felt less terrified every time she needed to use the necessary. She was certain that both women were very aware of the damage the Dilimgau had caused. Neither one spoke about it, but only tended to Marathel's private needs the best they could, providing her as much dignity as they could muster.

And that was another thing, it wasn't a necessary, but a contraption called a vac tube. Even the vac tube itself scared the Frith out of Marathel in the beginning; she was already confused by the very idea of a necessary in the middle of a dwelling instead of out somewhere away from a living space. It seemed both exposed and, well, dirty to her. She had to press a button on the thing before it made the loudest whooshing noise and sent whatever was left in there off to wherever-it-went, but it certainly did send a gust of air through the room, and who knew what that air contained? She made sure she kept that door closed. There was some other thing in that room, called a fresher (or sometimes a refresher, depending to whom she was speaking) that contained a small walled cubicle with a door, and a water spigot inside. This thing baffled Marathel but she hadn't yet asked about its purpose.

Then there was the running water, water that came magically out of a spigot and drained away like magic as well. Being on a desert planet, of course, water was strictly monitored, and Marathel made sure she only used the barest minimum. In fact, she did her best to be as small and unobtrusive as possible, but it seemed everyone in the palace was well aware of her and her … situation. One of the palace guards referred to Marathel as a refugee, a title Marathel approved of … once she learned what it meant.

She felt utterly lost and completely ignorant in this strange world of instant lights and water, screens that glowed like fairylights, and the constant metal hulks flying through the air, not to mention all the metal people-things called droids. They were everywhere, carrying things, talking, doing chores, making Marathel generally nervous. She had been hobbling to the kitchen for some tea late yesterday when she first encountered the tall talking droid that did something called protocol for Boba Fett. The thing had greeted her kindly, and she had screamed and threw her mug at it before turning tail and locking herself in her room. She had heard peals of laughter from several people from the other side of the door and was so mortified she refused to come out until an hour later. Fennec and Boba had then introduced her to a few droids within the palace, after which Din, who happened to be nearby, had leaned close to her ear and whispered, "You had the right idea. Keep up the good work," which also confused her tired mind.

But things like vac tubes and freshers and droids were something she could possibly learn to contend with.

People … men … outside her limited and narrow scope, that was a different matter altogether.

Despite her fury at the Bounty Hunter (Din, you ridiculous woman!) for removing her from the Hold,she could not hold on to her anger, for she couldn't have known what Din would do. She had lied to him and refused to reveal her fate. She knew vaguely about what being a bounty hunter entailed, but the fact that Din had arrived on her steps covered in well-used-appearing weapons should have alerted her that he was capable in dangerous situations. But in her ignorance, Marathel had thought that her demanding he leave his weapons behind would keep something from happening when she turned herself over. If he didn't have his weapons, it should have made it easier for the men to overpower him if he decided to create a fuss, she had thought. All to make sure Din Djarin got the Aurodium.

What she hadn't expected was that Din would do nothing at all.

Marathel had told him to do nothing, say nothing, be still. As a young girl, she was taught be still; all she had to do was hear the words and she would be frozen, mind almost turned off, for who needed to think when you were still? Better to not think when someone was doing something to you in some way. All girls learned be still, and she taught the younger girls be still when she began to change for her destiny of being made a Whyn.

She thought about the Whyn she didn't become, the children she didn't bear. What she had done instead was still bewildering to her beleaguered mind. Instead, she became possessed by mating Dahls and took down a man, making him pleasure her just like a Dahl demanded satisfaction from her mate. She then took her life in her own hands, intending to make it end. All to make sure Din Djarin got the Aurodium.

Marathel told Din to leave his weapons behind, and to be still. He followed her command, simply because … she told him to? She had no power over him … did she? A woman, with power over a man? What a pathetic notion! The idea of it made her anxious, that Din would have enough affection for her that he'd try to rescue her — and if that were true, then what misery had she caused him? The guilt she heard in his voice when she first woke up, him making sure she knew he had the coins, that she had succeeded … mostly. The tremor she detected when he called her mesh'la, the slightest of stutters on the first syllable, him wanting to bear the responsibility for her pain, her disfigurement, when all he did was follow directions.

She needed to release him from that responsibility and guilt. He deserved absolution from her. She should bear the guilt of making him break his Creed by abandoning his weapons. Oh, she needed to beg his forgiveness for resenting him when he saved her life. He had held her in higher esteem than she held herself.

Th'ych'lyth, Din Djarin, rhyd'imi erfymaddant.

Come back to me, Din Djarin, I must beg your forgiveness.

Th'ych'lyth, Din Djarin.

Marathel felt a squeeze on her upper arm. "Marathel? The first injection is ready. Are you?" asked Fennec.

Marathel, who wasn't at all ready, who didn't want to do this anymore, took a breath, and said, "Yes."

The first injection had the initial shock of a thousand little pinpricks, all freezing cold. Marathel could feel the treatment flowing under her skin, tiny little spiky pebbles rolling about, catching on everything under her skin, tumbling through her limbs, not hurting so much, but a terribly unpleasant sensation, nonetheless. Marathel closed her eyes tight, whimpering, trembling, gritting her teeth. She felt a buzzing up and down her arms, as if they were filled with tiny insects, and then her legs started feeling the same way, her muscles flexing uncontrollably, trying to interrupt the irritating sensation. She felt a hand on her arm. Panicking, she shrieked, "Who is touching me?"

"It's me, just me, honey," Marathel opened her eyes to see Cobb's face close to hers. When did he come back? Frowning at her, Cobb said, "You're shaking all over. What's happening?" Marathel couldn't seem to form words. Her brow furrowed as she moaned. "Keep looking at me, honey. Just concentrate on me. Look at my eyebrow if looking at my eyes bothers you," Cobb said, pointing at his arched brow above his hazel eyes. How did he know I can't look at his eyes? His voice was soothing, even in tone, helping Marathel regain calm. "Does it hurt? What are you feeling?"

"It feels … feels like very small spiky pebbles rolling everywhere under my skin," she whispered. Cobb's eyebrows knitted together. "It's like there are tiny bugs marching back and forth inside my arms."

"Well, both of those sound … horrible." Marathel snickered even as she continued to panic. "You're doing great. Just stay with me; we're all here, you're safe."

"Not all here," said Marathel. She gritted her teeth again against the terrible buzzing sensation, and whimpered.

Cobb's hand left her arm and rested on her head as his thumb gently stroked her brow. "No, you're right. But I can tell you you're on his mind right now, honey," he whispered, so emphatically she stole a look at his eyes. Smiling, Cobb continued, "And you can put up with me, right, Mar'?"

Marathel's arms and legs continued to vibrate with tension, and she was now feeling a burning sensation trickling through her starting from the injection site. "Why are you calling me that?"

"You mean 'Mar'? Just a nickname, honey, nothing more."

"No, the other thing … 'honey'. What does that mean?"

He smiled at her indulgently. "I'll tell you when this is over. Still got bugs in your arms?"

"It's burning now." Marathel began breathing faster. "It burns, it burns …"

Cobb looked over her head; the Modifier was preparing something else that he couldn't see. Returning his eyes to Marathel's, he said, "Just stay with me. We got you." Fennec tossed an oxygen cannula over Marathel's shoulder; Cobb snagged it and gently pulled the loops over her ears. "Just breathe, honey. Just keep breathing." The Modifier injected Marathel again, and it felt like she was briefly on fire, but then freezing cold, and she made a mewling noise deep in her throat, tears leaking from her eyes. "I got you, no worries." Cobb gently wiped her tears away with a soft handkerchief. "Does it still burn?"

Marathel swallowed and said, "No … but now I feel so … so … heavy." Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed. Cobb kept up his gentle rhythmic stroking of her brow. "I'm so sorry …" she murmured.

"What're you sorry for?"

Marathel breathed deeply. "For lying to you … Bounty Hunter … because I …"

Cobb's eyes flicked up. Fennec was rapt, looking at Cobb, and she waved her arm at him to continue this conversation with the half-conscious Marathel. The other two men, at least, pretended to not be paying attention. Cobb rolled his eyes at Fennec. "Because you what, honey?"

But Marathel did not answer. She lay still, breathing deeply.

"She's asleep, Fennec."

Fennec sighed. "Damn. Just when it was getting good." Cobb tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Hey, I have to get excitement from somewhere these days. Being the daimyo's second can be … lackluster."

"I'm right here," muttered Boba.

The Modifier applied the third injection. Marathel did not move. "Does she still sleep?"

Cobb took a closer look. "I think so." The Modifier wanted Marathel rolled over to her back, so Cobb carefully shifted her, letting his hand linger on her cheek before he gently gathered her hair away from her face. The Modifier took her left hand and removed the tape holding it in the wooden block. "What are you doing to her hand?"

"I've been working on a different type of splint for her hands. Strictly structural, not cybermod, not even mechanical, really, just analog." The Modifier placed her hand on a spindly apparatus of fine metal straps that resembled a dune spider. He then wrapped each finger in a flexible spring that connected to each strap that ran under each finger. When he was done with her hands, they looked like she was wearing complicated and exotic full-finger rings that connected under her palm and ran down to her wrist. "It was an interesting engineering puzzle, forcing me to not go completely cybernetic. I'm pleased with the results. I was wearing one yesterday and I found it quite comfortable."

"I think you've created quite an elegant solution," said Fennec, impressed. "The fact that you've left her fingertips free will please her, I think. Her skills require her to remain tactile."

The Modifier nodded. "Hopefully, she will continue to gain strength in her fingers, and she may be able to remove the spirals in time."

"You hear that, Mar'? You're getting your hands back," Cobb whispered in her ear. Straightening up, Cobb asked, "So what happens now?"

"For now, she just rests. She has an incredible amount of metabolic activity going on right now, and it's better that she is asleep. Sleeping is a good sign that she is accepting the genome change. After a few hours, I'll repeat the same injections."

Fennec asked quietly, "And what happens if she rejects the treatment?"

"Then it's best that she goes to my source. They have more equipment and resources that will allow them to refine the treatment." The Modifier adjusted one of the spirals on Marathel's thumb. "She would also have access to Reconstructionists who could attend to many of her injuries. It would be expensive, but she could then live a normal life."

"How expensive?" asked Boba.

The Modifier shrugged. "Cheap, fast, good. Pick two."

Boba and Fennec looked at each other. Providing sanctuary and first aid to a woman from nowhere was one thing; bankrolling her recovery was quite another. Fennec arched her eyebrow that told Boba: discussion for later.

Cobb looked at the sleeping woman. Not knowing what precisely what the Modifier meant by normal life, he wondered to what extent Din was willing to help her.