pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 8.3K

chapter summary: Marathel has a lovely day, until she doesn't.

warnings: fluff, angst, mention of stomach illness, mention of blood and injury, allusion to sexual/physical abuse and rape of adults and children, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Marathel was not quite fully asleep when the bedside lamp was turned on. She could see the glow behind her eyelids, and someone was gently shaking her shoulder. "Marathel?" asked a sleepy and disgruntled voice. "Marathel, wake up. Din wants to talk to you."

The words Din wants to talk to you somehow made it through her dozing, and she opened her eyes to see Fennec leaning up a holopad against the bed's other pillow. "Fennec? What's going on?" Marathel asked with a yawn. "Is Din back already?"

Fennec turned on the display on the holopad, and tapped the screen while the display changed to different sets of squiggles. "No, he's still on Nevarro, but he messaged in the middle of the night, so I guess it's important. Or he thinks it is. Or he's an ass who forgot the time difference," muttered Fennec.

"I don't know how to use those things, remember? I can't read."

Fennec yawned and scrubbed her eyes with her fist. "You don't have to. I'm setting up a projection," she said, and pressed a final button, and there on the screen before Marathel's eyes, was Din's helmet, looking back at her, apparently just as surprised to see her.

The sight of the Bounty Hunter, seemingly so close, took her breath away. He had been gone for one day — and he had left in the middle of the night, stealing away while she was sleeping — and Marathel hadn't quite realized how much she would miss him. She knew now that if he had simply left her living on her planet, she would have been bereft beyond belief. And yet, somehow, seeing him this way and knowing that he was not here before her was almost too much for her to conceive. "Well, would you look at that. It's … like I'm looking through a window!" She tentatively reached out with a finger towards the screen — knowing he wasn't there to touch, but desperately needing to make sure in her confused mind — and then Din disappeared as her fingertip touched the screen. Marathel gasped, tears in her eyes, as she was certain that she had somehow broken something.

Fennec grunted in irritation. "Don't fret, Marathel, we'll get him back." She took the holopad back and reset the connection. "You don't have to do anything, just look into the screen." The image reappeared, but this time Din seemed almost posed: he was leaning back in his chair, holding Grogu … as if he were pretending to be Cobb Vanth or someone.

Marathel looked over the top of the pad at Fennec, grumpy from having her sleep interrupted for something so frivolous. "So don't touch until …"

"… Until you're done talking. If you drop the connection again, Din should have captured your signal by then so he can contact you. I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, Din, this better be good."

"Thank you, Fennec," said Marathel with a smile while Fennec grumbled and left the room. Marathel looked back at Din, resplendent in his armor, holding her little Grogu, who appeared to be wearing nothing but a towel around his bottom. "This is … I am …" The tears threatened again, and she had to take a moment before she could continue. Oh, my Bounty Hunter, how did I think I could live without you and your little boy? "You're right there. Both of you. As close as if you're here in my room."

"You look wonderful," said Din. Marathel felt her cheeks flush, and her stomach fluttered. He misses me as well? "I mean, you look better. So much better. The treatment is working?" he asked, Marathel hearing strain in his voice.

"It seems to be." Marathel was suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she probably looked rumpled and disheveled and tried to tuck some hair behind her ear. "You needed to speak to me?"

There was a pause as Din continued to look at her, and then he looked down at Grogu, who looked incredibly irritable. "Grogu, it's Grogu. He still has … stomach trouble after eating all those berries."

"Oh, my little Godynferth! How many did he eat?" Why did you let him eat so many, you great numpty?

"I'm not sure. He was outside my care while my helmet was being repaired."

He's trying, Marathel, you know well how hard it is to raise a child; you should be more kind. "It is now repaired?" Din nodded. "Your voice sounds … usual again. Does Grogu have a fever?"

"I don't think so. He doesn't feel warm, but then he might show fever differently than we do."

Grogu yawned hugely and grumbled against Din's chest armor. "Just then, when he yawned, did he shiver or tremble?" asked Marathel.

"No."

"Show me his gums and tongue." Din complied as best as possible, and Grogu gnawed a good hole in the thumb of his glove in protest, which Marathel found quite amusing. "Well, I'm not sure what good I thought that would do, considering his tongue and gums are usually grey. Please, take off your gloves, and hold one of his ears against your inner wrist." Din did so, and Marathel felt her stomach flutter again at the sight of his bare hands and wrists. What in Frith is wrong with me? "Do his ears feel hot?"

"Not any hotter than usual, but then I don't normally touch his ears like this."

Marathel smiled. "I suggest you remember how his ear feels now for the future."

"Or I could just tell you that my visor does not show an elevated temperature on Grogu's heat signature."

"I don't understand," said Marathel.

"My helmet also lets me see temperatures of things around me. If it's warmer, it glows brighter."

Why, you… Marathel rolled her eyes; Din was making fun of her again. "You knew Grogu wasn't feverish? You great twmffod! Is he even feeling poorly?"

She heard Din scoff quietly before he said, "I'm sorry." No, you're not, you mean thing! "No, Grogu is still not feeling well. I thought if he could see you, he might feel better."

"What is happening, baby? Does it hurt?" she crooned to Grogu, who reached out as if to touch her. Marathel wished she could reach through the screen to hold Grogu's little hand.

"His, ah … bowels are still quite loose."

Well, that explains the towel around his little bottom, poor little thing. "Without a fever, or vomiting, I'd say it's your usual too-much-fruit. Also, he may not be able to eat those berries, much like you cannot eat clams."

"So, what should I do?"

"Do you know where the berries came from?" Din nodded. "You know the leaves of the berry plant?"

"I do."

"Try making a weak tea from the leaves. It may stop the rhyddolur. Often, the leaves fix what the berries have done. Otherwise, it'll stop when it stops." Marathel yawned, and she felt sleep sneaking up on her, but she wanted to talk to Din and Grogu as long as possible. "And keep both him and your hands as clean as possible, so you don't catch it too, if it is a catching sickness. I suspect rhyddolur and armor do not go well together."

"They do not."

She could almost hear Din's smile behind his helmet, which thrilled her. "If he feels hungry, feed him bone broth, toast, bland white grains. No peppers. No frogs."

"Eggs?"

"Cooked eggs, yes," said Marathel, rolling her eyes again.

"What happens if the tea doesn't work?"

"Brace yourself for immediate vomit."

Din sighed dramatically. "Fantastic," he said in the grimmest tone Marathel had ever heard, which made her laugh. Vomit was difficult for Din, she knew. Oh, bless your heart! Little ones are fun, aren't they?

"Don't worry, it's usually just one bout, to get rid of the tea. The problem is, ah … little ones push in all ways?" To emphasize her point, Marathel pointed in two directions, crossing her eyes with a smile. Din groaned in mock disgruntlement, forehead in hand, looking for all of Frith like the epitome of misery. My cwriad, it's like talking to you back in my hut, Bounty Hunter, our days when life was simple, just the three of us. "I'm sorry you don't feel well, my little Godynferth. I wish I were there to help. I would sing and rub your tummy."

"We're heading back tonight; only a couple errands left here," said Din, shifting in his chair. Marathel heard that odd strain in his voice again that she had heard earlier.

Oh, I'm so sleepy; stay with me until I fall asleep, Bounty Hunter. "Then you'll be back very soon. This will be my last sleep before I see you." Marathel felt herself losing her fight against drowsiness. "Feel better, my sweet, my love, we will cwtch when you get back." The three of us together, we will cwtch against everything that is bad — we will find strength in our scars and create our own home and family. With these thoughts, Marathel fell asleep, forgetting to turn off the holopad, unaware that Din watched her sleep for quite a long time.

Several hours later, Marathel woke up; someone had opened her shutters, and the bright light of both suns filled her room. Her eyes opened to the holopad propped up against the other pillow. It had turned itself off and the screen was dark. She reached out and touched the screen, thinking that perhaps she'd see Din again if she did. The screen lit up with the incomprehensible shapes she now knew as letters and words, but not the image of the Bounty Hunter.

Disappointed, Marathel rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Someone tapped on her door, and she heard Cobb calling, "Knock knock?"

Was he just waiting out there for me to wake up? "Come in, Cobb."

Cobb entered with a steaming mug, and oddly, a pair of boots. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit achy, but mostly all right."

Cobb held out the steaming mug. "Well, good. Here, this is for you."

Marathel carefully took the mug, expecting tea, but the cup was filled with a dark brown liquid that smelled burnt. "What is this?"

"That, honey, is the glue that keeps the galaxy together. Caf."

"It smells dreadful."

"It tastes worse. Go on, drink up."

Marathel took a tentative sip, and it took all her self-control to not spit it back into the cup. "That is horrible. And people drink this willingly?"

Cobb shrugged. "Eh, there are ways to doctor it. Trade you," he said, holding out the boots.

"Why are you trying to give me boots?" asked Marathel, handing back the cup.

"I was hoping you might feel well enough to visit the market in Mos Espa today, but you need proper shoes to do that." Cobb took a large swallow of the bitter caf.

He must be used to that awful stuff, thought Marathel, as she took the boots uncertainly. "What makes you think these boots will fit me?"

Cobb grimaced, and said, "Well, at the risk of making you think I'm an utter creep, I came in and measured your foot while you were sleeping. Then I searched out someone who wore the same size."

"You're right, that was a creepy thing to do," Marathel said with mock disgust.

"But necessary! You need shoes. Now get dressed so we can head out," commanded Cobb as he left her room.

Marathel didn't know what a market or a Mos Espa was, nor did she know what was appropriate to wear to either. Fortunately, she didn't have much choice. She put on the dark pants and burgundy tunic, brushed her hair, and wrapped a veil over her forehead, tying it around her hair into a secure tail. The boots were a little more troublesome. Cobb had also provided thick socks, but Marathel had a terrible time tying the laces on the boots. She'd tied more laces on little boys' shoes than she could ever count in her lifetime but tying them from the angle of wearing the boots was more difficult than she could have realized. No wonder it always took those boys so long to learn how to tie their shoes!

Marathel finally got the boots tied. She stood up, took two steps, and, unaccustomed as she was to having heavy footwear with a thick sole, nearly fell on her face. She'd spent her entire life barefoot, only wearing socks or knitted slippers occasionally. The one pair of "shoes" she'd ever worn were little more than canvas wrapped around her feet, and even those had only been worn for a few minutes. Marathel took another step forward, and the chunky heel dragged on the stone floor throwing her off-balance. To exit her room, Marathel had to purposely lift each foot much higher than normal, and then place each foot flat in a most abnormal gait, so that she would not twist her ankles.

Cobb was just coming back from the kitchen to see if Marathel was ready, and he was treated to a most hilarious sight: Marathel, her arms out for balance, her head down, plodding along with each step as if she were some ungainly water bird searching for fish in a pond. How he managed to keep from laughing out loud he didn't know, but he surreptitiously caught a quick holo of her clumsy walking, and then stumbling as the soles dragged and tripped her up. He did laugh at that, and Marathel lifted her head to glare at him.

"Very funny," snapped Marathel.

"Yes, it is," said Cobb, chuckling as he put his small holopad in his breast pocket. "You are such a delightful creature, Marathel. Watching you maneuver all these things that are completely unknown to you is more entertaining than you can imagine."

Marathel looked down at her feet, her face red. "You don't have to make fun of me."

"Aw, honey," said Cobb, coming over to her and gently placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not poking fun. It's just … it's like you're a full-grown child that dropped out of the sky. Seeing you learn things that are so commonplace to me … it just warms my cold curmudgeon heart." He kissed her on the cheek, unnerving her even more. "Now, if you're finally ready, we'll be on our way." Cobb placed her hand back in the crook of his metal arm, just like the day before, and then pointed down the corridor. "Now eyes up, back straight, and don't think about it so much … just walk, woman!"

After a few missteps, Marathel got used to the extra weight and height on her feet and got all the way down the corridor without falling. She stumbled a couple of times, but Cobb always caught her before she went down completely. They came out into a large tunnel, open to the outside at one end. "Where are we?" asked Marathel.

"Landing tunnel. This is where Din brought you in. He flew in here like a maniac, nearly crashed in the process. I wasn't here, but Boba told me that when Din carried you out, he thought there was no way you had survived the trip. But Din insisted, begged them to help you, raving like a lunatic, covered in blood, helmet off …"

"His helmet was off?" Marathel couldn't believe it.

Cobb shrugged. "He had a terrible concussion and was not in his right mind. He also felt incredibly guilty — still does — that he did not do more to save you from your ordeal." Cobb saw Marathel wipe away some tears. "I didn't tell you that to upset you, honey." Cobb stepped down into the sand, using both hands to assist Marathel down off the step, and then held one of her hands as they walked carefully towards the line of speeder bikes. "I told you that to point out that you both are very alike … strangers in a strange land. You both have lived in isolation for a long time, you alone on that planet of yours, him in a religious cult that trains faceless warriors."

"… Cult?" Another new word I don't understand.

Cobb sighed. "Enough of that for now. Time to ride." He put his hand on the back of a speeder. At least she knew about these, now, having seen them from her window. She had been looking out her window more ever since meeting the droids and the excessively large green guards in the palace — she didn't throw a mug at the Gamorrean guards, instead she stood stock still and staring, completely speechless — trying to make sense of everything that was so new and strange. The speederbikes reminded her of Grogu's pram, but for larger people — that is, until she saw creatures smaller than Grogu operating one of the machines. She had seen passersby of all different colors, shapes, numbers of heads and arms and feet by now, and she hoped that during their outing she would neither embarrass herself nor anyone else.

Marathel was glad that Cobb was taking her, instead of venturing out on her own. But she wished it were Din with her, not Cobb. It only seemed right that he get to see her experience things like markets and Mos Espa — whatever they were — for the first time. The thought of Din made her heart skip a beat. With an inward smile, she vowed to not enjoy herself too much today.

Cobb explained he was getting on the speeder first, then she was to get on behind him. "Please at least try to trust me, honey, I will not go fast."

"I trust you, Cobb, but I've only been observing these contraptions a couple of days, and even I wonder if that thing … works."

"Then it will go even slower. Hop on." Marathel climbed carefully behind Cobb, put her feet up on the pegs Cobb pointed out, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Nope, Mar', around my waist, I gotta drive this thing." For her to do that, she had to scoot up so that their thighs were touching, her pelvis against his backside. She put her arms around Cobb's middle and clasped her hands over his flat belly. Just as she became comfortable with this concept of being so close to him, Cobb fired up the engine, and Marathel yelped and clutched his middle tightly, burying her face in his back as the speeder belched out smoke and shook wildly. He set the machine in a forward motion out of tunnel and said, "Relax honey, don't break me in half," keeping the bike at a just-faster-than-walking speed as they exited the tunnel.

Marathel loosened her grip, and she sat up straighter. Looking around her, she said, "It could … go faster, yes?" Cobb laughed and accelerated up to a reasonable speed. Marathel watched all the scenery flying by, thinking that this was much preferable to walking. "When are you going to tell me what a market and a Mos Espa are?"she shouted over the engine noise.

"Well, a Mos Espa is that bunch of buildings in front of us. The market is inside there," Cobb shouted back to Marathel.

"And the honey?"

"With luck, inside the market!" Marathel watched as more speedbikes joined them heading into the tiny city, with more varieties of people walking the streets. She did her best to not stare, which was easier than she anticipated as there were a myriad of things to grab her attention. Cobb pulled the bike to a stop and patted Marathel's knee. "We're here, hop off. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Marathel managed to get off the speeder bike without falling and looked around her. "So, this is a Mos Espa?"

Cobb dismounted, clapping his hands on his thighs and sending dust flying. "Just Mos Espa, it's the name of the town."

"Town?"

Cobb furrowed his brow. "Town. Uh … big Hold with all sorts of people. Like my Freetown."

"Oh," said Marathel with a nod, and then her eyes went wide as she looked past Cobb. She stepped quickly towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling herself against him tightly. Terrified, she whispered, "There is a giant walking lizard coming towards me!"

Cobb looked back over his shoulder; a bit startled at Marathel's quick movement but pleased at her sudden proximity. "Just a Trandoshan." He turned back to her and whispered in her ear, "They're not dangerous. Just assholes." He stepped back but kept holding her hand. "C'mon, market's this way," he said, nodding his head towards the coming lizard-man. Marathel remained tightly against Cobb's side until the Trandoshan passed by. "Folks look different here, don't they?" They set to walking towards the market at a slow pace for Marathel to maneuver the soft sand.

"So many kinds of people. We only had the four houses."

"Houses?"

"Families. Ap Bishop, ap Captain, ap Duke, ap Hunter," said Marathel with a shrug.

"So, each family is all related to each other? Siblings? Cousins?" asked Cobb.

"Oh yes, brothers, sisters, mothers, yes."

Cobb blinked off into the middle distance, frowning, wondering if he understood Marathel's words. "Are the families related to each other, too?"

"Oh, Frith, no. That's not acceptable. Only Bishops are Bishops, Captains are Captains." Cobb remained silent, digesting her answer. Marathel then asked, "Does the town have Elders?"

"Not Elders as I understand yours to be, Mar'. Boba Fett is the daimyo here, so I suppose he is in charge, in the absence of a mayor or a marshal."

"So, Boba is in charge of law and order?"

Cobb laughed with a snort. "Yeah, law and order from a different point of view. A bit more crime and order, really. Boba runs a tight ship, though. Makes my job easier."

Marathel looked at Cobb. "I thought Boba was a good man."

"He is a good man. He keeps the town safe. He recently had a war with a drug-running syndicate, and Din fought right alongside him. That was when I lost my arm; part of the fight was going on right through my town." Cobb gently squeezed Marathel's hand, held in his left hand, still flesh and bone. "That was the oddest thing … when Din came to Freetown, Grogu was not with him. Din had left him with the Jedi. But somehow, he returned during the skirmish. I never asked about that. I suppose I had something else holding my attention at the time," mused Cobb, holding up his cybernetic hand before his face.

"Din … gave up Grogu? Willingly?"

"Din thought it be best, the safest, if the kid went to his people. He knows nothing about the Jedi, being a Mandalorian."

"How that must have hurt Din. When I said goodbye to Grogu, I told him that Din needs him more than Grogu needs Din."

"I think you're right. Din was … bereft without that boy. But the boy made the choice to come back to Din. Made the choice to be a Mandalorian himself, possibly."

"Oh, that's another thing … Boba is a Mandalorian, yes? But he does not wear the helmet."

"No, Boba just wears the armor. Says it was his father's. I had a set myself until Din took it back." Marathel looked at him in surprise. "Something I got in trade, and it was very useful. I was not happy to give it up. Now that is a much longer story for another day. But Din was … quite convincing that he had to take it back."

"Yes, he must take back the beskar. That's part of his Creed. You said … cult."

Cobb grimaced and said, "So here's the market!" He waved his hand toward a long line of tables and booths, with people of all types mingling about.

Too many, thought Marathel. There are more people in front of me than there are at the Hold, and I haven't lived in the Hold since I was young. She clutched at Cobb's hand and stopped walking.

Cobb looked back at her. "You're okay, honey. I've got you." He slowly put his left arm around her waist. "They're just people. Besides, I'm hungry as a Hutt, and something smells good in there".

Marathel swallowed and forced her feet in a forward direction. To cover her discomfort, she asked, "How does a market work?"

"We see stuff we want; we trade it for money."

"Oh, money. I have none," she said with downcast eyes.

"Not to worry, it's on me today." Marathel opened her mouth to protest but Cobb put his finger on her lips. "Nope, not taking no for an answer."

They got caught up in the general throng going through the market. Marathel thought she must sound like a toddler who had just found her voice; she said, "What is that?" so many times. Cobb patiently answered her every time, from the produce bins to the jewelry tables. He bought one of each candy at the sweets stall so she could sample everything, to find out what she liked. People kept trying to give her things: flowers, samples of meat, a ribbon for her hair. Cobb found a food vendor and purchased skewers of roasted meat and vegetables, and they sat on a bench to eat.

Watching Marathel carefully take a bite, avoiding her broken and missing teeth, Cobb remarked, "You can get those fixed, you know. Your teeth."

"I can? But I don't want teeth of metal."

Cobb chuckled. "They have regular-looking teeth, too. You should consider it, with your beautiful face." Marathel went pink. "What? I'm only repeating what Din calls you. He calls you mesh'la. As well as ner kar'ta and cyar'e. And something like ma-moosh hah-lah?"

"Ma'mwsh ha'laa. But what does ner kar'ta mean?"

Cobb chewed a piece of meat. "I'll tell you if you tell me what ma'mwsh ha'laa means."

Marathel picked a piece of gristle out of her mouth and flicked it into the street. "It means wounded acorn. I thought that was what Din said when he was saying my mesh'la. Now he calls me that all the time."

"That's so endearing," said Cobb with a grin. He took Marathel's empty skewer and put it and his own skewer in his breast pocket. "I think I like that better than ner kar'ta. I think I won't tell you what that means."

Marathel's mouth fell open. "Why, you … tymffod!"

Cobb laughed and threw his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "What did you just call me?" Marathel immediately stiffened and put her hands up to protect her face. Cobb jumped back, releasing her. "I'm so sorry, Mar', I wasn't thinking." After a moment, he said, "I suppose I really am … whatever you said."

Marathel calmed herself and scooted a few inches away from Cobb. "I called you a funnel," — Cobb laughed — "but what it really means is … what you said about the Trandoshan lizard."

"An asshole? Wait, then what's a pudyn? You told the kitchen worker not to try to resurrect a dead man's pudyn."

Marathel went pink yet again. "Ah … male part."

"Well, aren't you just the lady?" said Cobb, giving her his hand to help her stand.

"What about ner kar'ta?"

Cobb looked her in the eye and said, "It means 'my heart.' He's telling you he loves you." Marathel put a hand to her mouth and looked away, trembling. If only I'd known, thought Marathel, I might have left with him when he asked me to. Cobb gently took her hand and pulled it away from her mouth. "Again, I didn't tell you that to upset you. Now we should find you a pair of shoes. The boots aren't yours to keep."

They found the cobbler, who had a more lightweight pair of shoes that suited Marathel better. The next stall had cut cold sweet melon, and Cobb bought them each a slice. Marathel liked it, but thought it was messy to eat. "So, is this all you do in a market?" asked Marathel as she licked an errant drop of melon juice that had run up her arm, Cobb thinking he might damn well drop his rocks if she did that again. "Buy shoes and eat?"

"And listen to music and drink and sometimes fight."

Marathel wiped her hands on a wet towel the vendor gave her. "I wouldn't like to do that. Fight, that is."

Cobb took the towel from her hand and wiped off a bit of juice from her chin. "What about music and drinking?"

"I seem to recall I drank a bit last night." Marathel snatched the towel back from Cobb and gave it back to the vendor. "It's music I don't know."

"Well, honey, I think I hate damn well everything about that planet you came from if you don't have music." He was leading her again, holding her hand, certain that she was feeling much more confident about being among so many people.

"We had the only song. It was very long. We sang parts for the birth of children, other parts when we'd garden."

"Din told me about your lullaby. It sounded … quite grim."

Marathel looked at Cobb, startled. "He … told you? Did he … tell you other things? About me?"

Cobb stopped walking. He turned to Marathel, and took her other hand. "He, uh … he told me everything." Marathel turned as red as the Dune Sea at sunset. "He needed to tell someone, Mar'. He only has Grogu, and he wasn't going to tell the kid all that … went on between you two." Marathel kept her face down, refusing to look at Cobb, embarrassed that the Bounty Hunter could speak so blithely of what she considered quite intimate moments. But on the other hand, she'd confided in Fennec; why shouldn't Din be allowed to speak of what they'd experienced together, if he considered Cobb a friend? She'd never had a friend. Not until Din came along. Cobb continued, "This is what I mean by the two of you being alike. Both of you have lived alone for so long. You probably felt alone your whole life, haven't you, Marathel?"

"Except for Olba, yes," said Marathel in a low voice. "But he has his people. His covert, he called it. His family. The people that raised him when his parents died."

"The Mandalorians did take him in when his parents were killed by battle droids, but as a foundling. Din is not a Mandalorian by birth, which sets him apart from the rest of his covert. Like he's … less than, somehow." Less than? Din Djarin, Bounty Hunter, less than? Marathel wondered how anyone would find Din to be lacking when Cobb continued, "Some there don't consider him a true Mandalorian, which is why he sticks so diligently to his Creed. His covert is very … well, strict, I guess is a good word as any. They follow the hard-line tradition, what they consider the true Mandalorian way."

"This is the way," Marathel said, almost automatically.

"You got that right." Cobb had gotten them walking again, and they came up to a little stall with many jars on the shelf. "And now my dear, I can finally tell you what I mean by honey." He dipped a bit of bread in an open jar and put it in Marathel's mouth.

She chewed expectantly, and then recognition came across her face. "My'el!" she cried. "Oh, but it tastes so different. My'el is very dark and almost has a bitter-sweet flavor. Your my'el is pale, and so sweet, like the syrup I pour over cake. Too sweet, almost."

Cobb ate a piece of honeyed bread himself. "And that's why I call you honey. Pale and sweet."

Marathel blushed yet again and tucked some hair behind her ear. "You need to stop making up silly things about me."

"Wasn't making them up."

"Hmm. Din said the exact same thing to me once," said Marathel with a scowl.

"Well, my'el, seems to me if two men tell you the exact same thing, you oughta consider believing them." The stall had several different varieties of honey, and Cobb found the jar with the darkest colored honey. "Does your my'el look more like this?" Marathel nodded, and Cobb gave them each a sample of it. The honey was dark, thick, almost half-crystallized, and tasted more like smoky wood than sweet sugar.

Marathel hummed with delight. "This is almost right! Oh, it was good to eat, but the Diwhyns used it more for medicine. It helped keep infection away from wounds, and we used it in tea for bad coughs." The vendor backed up Marathel's statement espousing the health benefits of her products, and Cobb bought two jars.

"Well, with that kind of review, who could resist?" Cobb said, accepting the gift of two hard honey sticks from the vendor, giving one to Marathel. They sucked on their candy sticks as they continued to meander through the market. "See? You know more than you think you do. So, I don't want to hear you saying you're not smart enough. I might know how to read, but I can't bake bread, that's for damn sure."

Marathel bit off the end of her honey stick and crunched it in her teeth. "Anyone can learn to make bread."

Not the way you do, sweetheart. "Anyone can learn to read," countered Cobb, holding his honey stick in his mouth like a deathstick. "Not anyone can make a Mandalorian put down his weapons, though. Now how in the name of that Frith of yours did you make him do that?"

Marathel chewed her honey candy for a while before she answered. "I told him that if he cared for me at all, he would do as I say. Then, I told him to be still."

"I don't buy that, Marathel … weapons are his religion. And Din is not one for standing still; he's a man of action, especially in a dangerous situation like both you were in in that Hold."

"No, it's … I know it's hard to understand." Marathel stopped walking, and turned her head away, staring off and looking at nothing. "The girls all learn be still. It isn't just sitting there; you stop moving altogether. You won't fight, you won't struggle, your breathing slows, and your thoughts slow too. It's like being in a waking dream, where what they do won't hurt you as much, and the time passes faster so it's all over quicker." So what is over quicker, thought Cobb, wanting to ask so much, but then Marathel continued, "The Dahls know be still too; I can shout it in my head at the young kits so they leave a rabid gochgoch alone, or it they are about to step into a snake's den, keeping them safe until their dam can come for them." Marathel started trembling and she dropped her honey stick in the sand. "As I stood in that Hold, before the Bishop, half-naked and bleeding, I kept screaming BE STILL! in my head, over and over. I meant it mostly for me, but I meant it for the Bounty Hunter too, even though he couldn't hear me: don't start a fight, don't start a struggle, it will be over quicker for me if you do what I say. And it … worked. As if he could hear me." Marathel stayed lost in her thoughts while Cobb tried to work out quite what she meant, and then she looked down at her feet. "Oh, I dropped my honey stick!" She bent down to pick it up, trying to brush the sand off it.

Cobb held out his stick to her. "Here, you can have the rest of mine."

"No, I won't, that one's yours." She stuck it in her pocket, and then she tilted her head at something ahead of them. "Is that …?" Her voice trailed off, and she nearly trotted ahead of Cobb to another booth, filled with … "Yarn," she breathed, with near reverence. Yarn, yarn! She had never seen so much in one place. Thin yarn, like the kind she was used to, the kind she would spin from her plant fibers, but also hanks and hanks of yarn thick as her little finger, squishy and colorful. She squeezed the hanks within her hands. "Gwalffwr? From Gwalffaids?" she asked of the vendor, who was looking at her with an amused look on his face.

Cobb came up beside Marathel, saying to the vendor, "She's not from around here," as he gently placed his hand on her lower back.

The vendor smiled at Marathel. "If you mean wool from sheep, then yes, miss. This wool is from my own herd of chiyou sheep. They're small and do well here on Tatooine. Would you like to pet one?"

Marathel's face lit up like the Razor Crest's console. "Could I?" The vendor motioned her back behind his booth; he had a pen containing two small fluffy creatures with six horns, smaller than half-grown Dahls. Their fleeces were mottled black, white, and tan, bleating contentedly while chewing on hay. The vendor gave her some feed pellets, and she laughed as the creatures ate greedily from her hands. One chiyou backed away from her once the feed was gone, but the other allowed her to scratch the knob on its fuzzy head. Cobb watched her with a smile, thinking that she was about to wipe him out of his spare cash right here in this booth, as well as wondering how the hell he was going to strap a small sheep to the back of the speeder.

Marathel asked if the chiyou would mind a slightly sandy honey stick, and the vendor allowed her to give it to the animal. The sheep bleated, and then let go with some droppings. "Well, you're welcome, I suppose," Marathel said, laughing. Cobb watched with amusement as she went over and over all the yarn, touching, squeezing, plying it over her fingers, even smelling the hanks before finally choosing two hanks of a mottled grey-brown yarn, not the thickest, but certainly thicker than what she was accustomed to. Cobb and the vendor briefly dickered over the price, but Cobb felt the vendor was giving her a screaming deal — because who wouldn't give such a delightful woman a good price — so Cobb added a third hank and asked her what else she wanted. Marathel shyly asked for an appropriately sized set of knitting needles, as well as some clean but unspun fleece to felt into cloths. The vendor found her needles, talking her into both straight and double-pointed needles, and sold her a ball of near-white fleece roving the size of her head. Cobb handed over the credits, less than he expected, but he would have paid triple to see the pure joy on Marathel's face.

Leading Marathel away, Cobb asked, "Well, what do you think of your first market?"

"Oh, it's wonderful! Thank you so much!" Marathel clutched the bag holding all their purchases, and squeezed Cobb's hand, smiling wide, forgetting she was missing teeth, had a terrible gash down the center of her face, and had not meant to enjoy herself so much.

If Cobb had been mildly jealous of Din before, he was wildly jealous now. Those men on her planet treating her so deplorably, when she could be someone's greatest asset. If Din ever decides to go back there to issue a serious beat-down, he can count me the fuck in. Happy himself, they continued through the market. After passing a couple of stalls, he turned to Marathel, intending to ask her if she'd like to look at some new clothes, when he noticed blood dripping from her nose. "Dank ferrik, Marathel, your nose…" He found his handkerchief and pressed it under her nose, gently pushing her head back.

"What? My nose?" asked Marathel, confused. She looked at the handkerchief, already half-soaked with blood. "Oh, Frith," she said, starting to panic.

Cobb quickly led her to a bench, helping her sit, leaning her head back over his arm around her shoulders. "This is bad, honey, it's practically gushing." Two vendors brought over small clean towels, which Cobb gratefully accepted, carefully sliding his arm from behind Marathel. He looked at his arm, and gasped: his shirtsleeve was now also soaked in blood, and poppies of blood were blooming on her veil over her forehead. "Kriffing hell, honey, it's like your wounds all opened up again." He jumped to his feet. "Can you stand? We need to get you back to the palace now."

Marathel stood and wobbled. "Oh, I'm so … I feel sick," she cried, clutching at Cobb's arm. She bent at the waist and then vomited a frightening amount of blood on the sand.

Cobb immediately lifted her in his arms and took off at a run, heading back to the speederbike, a couple of townsfolk at his side, wanting to assist. Two of the cybermod kids pulled alongside on their shiny speeders, asking how they could help, and Cobb yelled at one, "You're faster! Go to the palace now, and tell the daimyo, Marathel's treatment failed! He'll understand the message! Now go!" The two young people took off at top speed. Cobb climbed on the bike, still holding Marathel in his arms, refusing to let her go. The townsfolk understood and tore a towel into strips, tying Marathel's arms together so that she was strapped against Cobb's front, leaving his arms free to drive the speeder, and not able to fall off. Shouting his thanks to the two helpful folks, Cobb took off, speeding as fast as he could back to the palace. Marathel whimpered against his chest. "We're gonna get you help, darlin', don't fade out on me now, or Din will have my guts for garters," he shouted down at her.

Even though it was only minutes, the trip back seemed to Cobb to take forever, and Marathel's hold on him seemed to get weaker as he went. As he sped into the landing tunnel, he could see the two kids standing alongside Boba and Fennec and the floating gurney. Coming to a stop, the kids and Boba came forward and cut the fabric strapping Marathel to Cobb's front, lifting her off him and on to the gurney. "My thanks," said Cobb to the two young people.

"I hope she gets better," said the young girl, as the two remounted their cycles and sped out of the tunnel and away from the daimyo, who had exploded in a fearsome manner when they had delivered the message.

"What happened?" cried Fennec, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from Marathel's nose.

"I don't know!" shouted Cobb as he shoved the speeder towards the row of other parked vehicles. "We were enjoying the market, had something to eat, and then the next thing I know …" Marathel rolled herself to the edge of the gurney, vomiting blood again. "She's doing that!"

Fennec carefully wiped Marathel's mouth. "Cobb, message Din, make sure he's on his way back. Boba, the Modifier's on his way with the ship, right?" Cobb sent a message to Din:

CV: Are you on your way back

"Why is the Modifier bringing a ship?" asked Cobb. "Can't you just take her on Boba's ship?"

"We don't know where the Modifier's planning to take her," said Fennec.

"We have our suspicions, though," muttered Boba, as he gave Marathel another bacta injection, not that he thought it would do any good.

"What the hell does that mean?" Cobb shot out another message to Din, not waiting for a reply.

CV: You need to get back here as quickly as possible

Fennec held Marathel on her side as she cut away the back of Marathel's tunic. Boba spread a thick absorbent pad on the gurney under Marathel as Fennec rolled her to her back. "We think the Modifier's contacts are either Imps or associated with them … considering genetic modification is the basis of Marathel's treatment."

Cobb shook his head. "No way. No way is Din going to allow Imps to touch her. You know that. After what they did to Grogu?" Grunting with disgust, Cobb sent another message.

CV: GET BACK NOW

"I don't think he has much of a choice, if he wants her to live," hissed Fennec.

"Stop it!" shrieked Marathel. "Just stop! Please." She put her shaking hands over her eyes as everyone went quiet around her. After taking a shaky breath, she announced, "I'm not going anywhere until Din and Grogu get back and I can speak with them. Then I will go off to whatever or wherever these Imps may be."

Cobb, Fennec, and Boba exchanged glances. Cobb punched out yet another message, silently willing Din to message back.

CV: I will be sending a message every ten minutes until you respond

"I'm sorry, Mar', I'm sorry," crooned Cobb, taking Marathel's hands away from her face. She hissed in pain, then squinted up at Cobb. "We'll wait as long as we can. I've messaged Din. He hasn't responded yet, but I'm sure he's on his way. Just rest. Try not to be upset." Cobb smiled at her for her benefit, and Marathel closed her eyes.

Cobb stepped away, returning his attention to his holopad. A message pinged back:

DD: What has happened?

Finally, thought Cobb. As much as he hated to tell Din, he had to.

CV: Her treatment has failed

Cobb felt terrible. Din didn't even get an opportunity to witness how well Marathel was doing, and then it occurred to Cobb that he had usurped the opportunity to show Marathel the market, buying her things, enjoying her first experiences of food and people and yarn. Well, aren't I a shitty friend, Cobb thought. Almost immediately, Din messaged back:

DD: What happens now?

Just like him, thought Cobb. He's working on plans A through X.

CV: She needs to go to the Modifier's contact, but she won't leave until she sees you and Grogu in person. How far out are you?

DD: About four hours, how bad is she?

Cobb looked back over to Marathel. She looked paler than white, her only color the tracks of blood that coursed down her cheek as she lay on her side. Fennec had put an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose but Boba had to keep removing it to drain the blood that continued to trickle from her nose. Fennec was behind her, trying to adhere bacta patches to her back to staunch the blood. They hadn't worked before, there was no reason to think they would work now, but better to do something than nothing, thought Cobb. Fennec caught Cobb's eye; she looked about to give up.

CV: She might have about three hours

If we're lucky, thought Cobb.

DD: Just go now. Shoot me the coordinates of where you're taking her, I'll catch up

CV: Can't do that, just get back here

Where is the Modifier with that damn ship? wondered Cobb.

DD: Why the fuck not?

Fair enough question, thought Cobb. The last thing he wanted to do was lie. Subterfuge, that was acceptable.

CV: Not on holo

Cobb hoped Din would accept that answer for now.

DD: Tell her we're flying as fast as we can

CV: Will do

Cobb stared at the little screen for a long time, waiting for what he thought would be the inevitable tell her I love her. But Cobb knew better; Din would not say such a thing over a holopad. Din would warp time and space first … and Cobb was wishing such a thing were possible.

A ship entered the tunnel, a small private cargo craft that looked incredibly nondescript, a mongrel of a ship that would disappear in a landing yard or in any number of caravans traveling across the galaxy. Boba and Fennec went to meet the Modifier as he came down the loading ramp. They began an argument about how Marathel refused to leave until Din returned.

Marathel opened her eyes and looked at Cobb. She tried to pull off the oxygen mask, but she couldn't quite manage it. Cobb reached over and did it for her. "You probably think I'm stupid, for wanting to wait for Din, don't you, Cobb?" she said, her voice already weak.

"Never, honey. If you want to wait for Din, we'll wait for him," he said with his lazy grin, and Marathel closed her eyes again. Cobb dropped his smile. He moved behind her, pulled out his knife, and carefully cut off a long lock of her hair.

"What are you doing?" asked Marathel.

"Just checking your bacta patches," said Cobb. He wrapped her hair around his hand and carefully tucked it into his pocket. Cobb came back around the gurney, placing his hand on Marathel's cheek. She looked up at him with a small smile, and he looked down at her with a similar smile, cupping her cheek with his hand … while keeping his thumb on her weak pulse under her jaw.

They waited.