pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 8K

chapter summary: Marathel awakes from surgery, struggles with her feelings for Din, and tastes her first ice cream.

warnings: angst, mention of female bodily functions and medical issues, past abuse, mention of murder and infanticide, mental illness, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Marathel, wake up.

Marathel was dreaming, and she knew it. She'd been dreaming this same dream for quite some time. And now, a new dream section had been added. Knowing that it was a dream, however, did not assuage her fear or her misery.

In the new part of the dream, which now served as a new beginning to her original dream, she was staggering through the Hold grounds, surrounded by a sea of Dahls, all growling and chattering, saying horrible things to her — saying that she was a whore, that she was a murderer, that it was all her fault that all the boy children were dying, and that she deserved all the anguish she was suffering.

In her dream, Marathel could only speak the Oldtalk, which the girls all learned in the kitchen as the women spoke to each other, an almost secret language to separate themselves from the men, who only used the Oldtalk for pejoratives and cruelty.

As Marathel stumbled, tripping over the blood-hungry Dahls and the corpses of boy babies, she began the apology verse of the only song, brokenly wailing, "Rwy'n wethi tir'ch … Rwy'n … daererth …{I broke your heart … trust … broken …}". She ran forward to pick up a boy-child before a Dahl could get to it, but it was ripped from her hands, and she cried out, "Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal'wch… {Stop! Stop! No, DON'T! Stop, please …}" and began to cry. She then whimpered,"Th'ych'lyth, Din Djarin … gaal'wch, gaal'wch th'ych'lyth … {Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}"

But Din Djarin would not come back to her and he never would. The Dahls continued to tell her that while filling her head with other horrible things: that it was her fault, that this was all she deserved, that they, the Dahls, were the only ones who ever loved her, Din Djarin did not love her, he'd never loved her, that she was theirs and theirs only.

"Dwy'ti'n ryl'uff wrtha ei. Dwy'tu'ar! Na, nid. Th'ych'lyth, Din … gaal'wch. {You are lying to me. Liar! No, don't. Come back to me, Din … please.}"

But Din Djarin did not come back to her, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words. She was now in a pit of despair so deep that not even the Mandalorian would be able to pull her out. Finally, she dropped to her knees and allowed herself to be swallowed up and drowned by the Dahls.

Marathel, you need to wake up now.

Then, Marathel knew she was back in her original dream. The dream she'd been having since she and Din began the journey back to Unmanarall.

She was standing in a small, dark place, whispering, pleading for forgiveness, "Rwy'n wethi tir'ch … Rwy'n … daererth …{I broke your heart … trust … broken …}". There was an open doorway before her, leading to somewhere outside where the sun was bright, but she was in deep darkness, far from the door.

We must leave, she heard Din say, before hearing his heavy boots walking on a metal floor. His silhouette filled the open doorway, and she could see Grogu just over his shoulder, looking away from her.

From her place in the darkness, she cried out, "Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal'wch… {Stop! Stop! No, DON'T! Stop, please …}" and began to cry. She then whimpered,"Th'ych'lyth, Din Djarin … gaal'wch, gaal'wch th'ych'lyth …{Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}"

But Din kept walking, through the doorway, into the sunlight, away from her, taking Grogu with him, leaving her in darkness. You will see us again, she heard him say placatingly, as if she were only a child who dropped her honey stick in the sand. Then, they disappeared into the bright sunlight.

"Dwy'ti'n ryl'uff wrtha ei! Dwy'tu'ar! Na, nid. Th'ych'lyth, Din … gaal'wch! {You are lying to me! Liar! No, don't. Come back to me, Din … please!}"

But Din and Grogu were gone, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words.

Marathel, wake up. Mando is worried about you.

"Dwy'tu'ar!" screamed Marathel.

"Whoa, okay, crankybritches, calm down. Take a deep breath through your nose … in … and out. Again, in … and out."

Marathel began to understand that she was waking up, and she could see sunlight filtered through her eyelids. She obediently breathed in and out through her nose as she had been directed. She cracked her eyes open, squinting against the brightness. She was lying partially upright on a pillowy surface in a white place, which confused her, as her last memories had her lying twisted on the hard, rocky ground. Marathel turned her head, and could just see a person-shape through her blurry vision.

"That's good, Marathel, keep breathing through your nose, in and out, deep breaths."

Marathel blinked several times and rubbed her eyes until she was able to focus on the person, a woman, sitting next to her. Marathel opened her mouth and said, "You are very pink."

The woman laughed. "Yes, yes, I am. Quite pink. Anything else?"

Marathel frowned. "Your hair is very blue."

"Very good. I'm a Zeltron; have you ever heard of Zeltrons?" Marathel shook her head no. "Good. That way, I don't have to tell you that everything you've heard about my people is exaggerated. My name is Siewan. Do you have any idea where you are?"

"No."

"You're on Canto Bight."

Marathel took another deep breath and looked around the room. "This is not … a wedding chapel, I don't think."

Siewan laughed again. "Another good observation. Canto has more to offer besides casinos and wedding chapels. You're in a medical center. You were in very bad shape when you came in. Do you remember anything about that?"

Marathel shook her head again. "No. I was … elsewhere. But who brought me …?"

"Does a Mandalorian sound familiar? With a little boy?"

Tears filled Marathel's eyes. "He came back? He came back, he came back …" She began to weep.

Siewan gently took Marathel's hand. "Yes, he came back. But what I need to know, honey … did he do anything to hurt you? Is he the reason why you're hurt?"

"NO. Never! He saved me, he rescued me, he took me away from that horrible place; is he here? Is he still here? Is he all right? Where is he? Where's Grogu?"

"Okay, honey, you need to breathe now, breathe. In and out. Breathe in … breathe out. He's still here, so is his boy. Desperately worried about you."

Marathel continued crying. "I need to see him, please, can I see him? Please?"

"You'll see them both, but right now you need to breathe. You just had a procedure done, and you were under anesthesia for quite a long time. Since you don't respond to bacta, they had a hard time keeping you properly sedated, so they gassed you up good and proper. You need to clear that stuff out of your lungs. Once you've settled a bit, we'll take you to a room where you can see both of your fellas. Now, keep breathing, and eat some toast."

Marathel dutifully took the proffered toast, and took a bite. It tasted like nothing — certainly not like bread — but she ate it anyway, and sipped on the sweet juice Siewan gave her. In between sips, Marathel would take another deep breath. "What … procedure? What did they do to me?"

"You had a D . Do you know what that is?" Marathel shook her head. "Well, I'm going to let the surgeon explain all the technical details, but among other things, a D removes all the horrible bleeding and clots of a really bad menstrual period. Your condition was quite severe. Has your cycle always been like that?"

"Yes, it's always been …" It suddenly occurred to her that Din had to care for her while in that state. That he had to … never, never … a man? Helping a woman with her cycle? Ashamed, she began to cry again, and she could not seem to stop.

Siewan clicked her tongue, and said, pityingly, "Oh honey, they gassed you up bad, didn't they?" She pulled up Marathel's surgery notes on her tracker. "That gas, it will mess up your emotions right into hyperspace. Oh, and then they gave you a double dose of hormones to hopefully chill out your endometriosis, so you are just one hot mess."

"My — my endo-what?"

"Your endometriosis." Siewan looked back up at Marathel, who looked lost and confused. A torture cult, thought Siewan. Abused since childhood. She looked at the half-healed wound down Marathel's forehead, considered the whip marks on Marathel's back and Din's horrific description of her brutal rape, and put some more pieces together. "We're all here to help you, Marathel. You're not alone, and you are safe here. I know you're scared and confused, and that's okay. But my job and the job of everyone here is you make you feel better and keep you safe. Pinky swear," said Siewan, holding up her little finger. Marathel, confused, just looked at the nurse, who laughed. "Don't leave me hanging, Marathel, pinky swear!" Marathel tentatively reached out with her own little finger, which Siewan grabbed with her finger tightly as she whispered, "Pinky swears are the strongest promises in the galaxy. So I promise to do my best job by you, and you promise to do your best to get better. Okay?"

Marathel tearfully nodded. "Okay. But … can you tell me why I have a horrible-smelling cold wet towels on my feet and face?"

Siewan laughed again. "Sweetie, on top of everything else, you got the worst sunburn I've ever seen. And since you don't respond to bacta, we had to improvise. Those towels are soaked in an acidic fruit tea to help the heat and swelling. Some old-fashioned Moorjahone remedy. Apparently , sunburn's a real issue there — but then they have three suns, so there you go. If we were on my home planet, we could have used hyigin plant leaves on you. Finish your toast and juice, and we'll get you moved to your room, okay?"

Marathel nodded and ate the second piece of toast. It didn't taste any better than the first piece, but it felt good to have something in her stomach. The juice was very sweet and reminded her of the sweet melon Cobb had bought her at the market. The memory sparked a tiny bit of joy within her heart, making her wonder if Din would be taking her back to Tatooine. She must have smiled, for Siewan said, "Well, it looks like you're feeling a bit better. And I just got a page that you have your room assignment, so, we're gonna motor." The nurse laid Marathel flat on her gurney and deftly straightened out the tangle of IV and oxygen and blood transfusion tubes along with the sheet and blanket covering her.

"But what about Di-… I mean, the Bounty Hunter … will I get to see him?"

"We'll grab him on the way. Oh, and … by the way, the little boy … he's not exactly supposed to be on the ward, so I've asked your … Bounty Hunter to keep him concealed in that bag he carries out in the hallways. But he can be out in your room so long as the kid goes undercover when my boss shows up, cool?" Marathel nodded, face full of nerves and hope. Okay, there is a lot more going on between these two than I first thought. I don't think it's anywhere near as complicated as Mando says it is — certainly not from Marathel's side of things.

Din, meanwhile, had been nervously waiting close to five hours for what he'd believed would be a two-hour procedure. He understood bacta tanks, not surgery. Grogu had been so fractious it was a struggle to get him to eat something that wasn't the childcare's pet lizard. Both their nerves just seemed to be completely frayed.

Din did take an opportunity to send Captain Teva some of the holos he took, slingshotting the message around a false sub-ether address some four systems over. An old trick, but still useful. He also spent some time reading over some forms that Karga had sent regarding the idea that Din had set into motion a couple weeks ago, just before Marathel dropped her bombshell that she wanted to return to Unmanarall.

Din sighed, his mind relentlessly mocking him with the memory of his original intentions. The plans he had made had been wishful thinking anyway — but to have them completely dashed as they had been was still painful. And now Karga was getting pushy, wanting answers that Din didn't want to consider quite yet.

Then he finally heard the heavy doors that led to the surgical ward open, and his heart and stomach switched places as he wavered between anticipation and dread.

As Siewan pushed the gurney through the door from recovery to Marathel's room, she spied Mando standing next to a wall, silently watching them approach. He gave some pats to the side of the bag he carried, and then appeared to hook his thumb on the strap; as they got closer, Siewan could just see Grogu's tiny green hand clutching the large gloved thumb through an opening at the top of the bag. That is the most darling thing I've ever seen. And I can just tell by the way Mando's standing there that he loves this woman. I wonder why he can't see that?

Before they even reached him, Marathel was already extending her hand out towards him, quietly crying again. Din fell into step beside the gurney, allowing Marathel to clutch his hand tightly. By the time they got to her room, she was openly sobbing, holding his hand in both of hers against her cheek — unfortunately , the one covered by the fruit tea towel — as she cried. Siewan said, "Marathel, honey, you need to take a breath. And I need to borrow Mando for a moment. Mando, we need to shift her to the bed. You get her head, I'll get her feet." Din disengaged his hand from Marathel's and helped Siewan move her into the bed, stepping back so that the nurse could get her tubes and bags and blankets arranged. Once Marathel was comfortable, she said, "Okay, I'm going to let you rest, Marathel. Lunch will be coming around in a little while. This is the secure ward, so your door will automatically lock. Each person who needs to come in here will announce themselves on the intercom before they can enter, and only those of us with the proper fob…" —Siewan held up her wristband— "… can open the door. Okay?" Marathel nodded, sniffling. Siewan patted Din's bag, saying, "Okay, take care of her, big guy." On a whim she patted the top of Mando's helmet. "You too, Mando." Siewan grabbed her chart tracker and left the room, closing the heavy door. There was a definitive click as the lock engaged.

Din turned back to Marathel. She sobbed once more, swiping the towel from her sunburned face. She then sat up and grabbed at him, pulling him down so he was half-sitting on the bed, hugging him hard and whimpering I'm so sorry over and over.

He let her clutch at him, swallowing a few tears himself. Grogu crawled out of the bag, now wailing as well, crying Mama until she scooped him up against her with her injured arm, ignoring the pain it caused her, peppering her boy with kisses.

Din, for his part, allowed one of his arms around her shoulders to help her stay upright … but that was all … and Marathel noticed. Forcing herself to calm down, she let go of Din and wiped her eyes. She felt a cloth being pressed into her hand, and she made herself chuckle. "How many of these have you given me?"

"Quite a few."

"I really should start giving them back." Marathel blew her nose, trying to smile.

"Yeah, no thanks, you can keep it now," said Din, trying to be lighthearted. Marathel smiled wanly and leaned back in the bed, partially on her side, gazing at Grogu, who was now saying bad daws, bad daws repeatedly. "He's saying …" began Din.

"… Bad Dahls, yes, Grogu, the Dahls were very bad."

Din tilted his helmet. "How is it you always know what he's saying so easily?"

Marathel shrugged, and said, "I've had a lot more practice with toddler talk than you, I think." Marathel watched Din slide off the bed and pull up a chair alongside. "The Dahls … I didn't know it was them, Din; truly, I didn't. I didn't realize they had such a power over me. And you … I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you were dragged into this. And Grogu, too. They've had a hold on me for such a long time … I guess I could no longer tell. It's all my fault, and I've hurt you …"

"It's all right, it's not your fault …"

"But it is, it is. Even Rodanthe had a hold of you, and I didn't know. She …" Tears spilled over again, and she turned her face into her pillow. Grogu patted her cheek, quietly saying sad Mama.

Din put his hand on the bed, saying, "Don't … don't talk about it right now, Marathel. Not until you're stronger. You've had a rough time. You had surgery …"

"I know. Siewan told me."

"… and you should rest for now. And breathe. The surgery nurse told me they had to use a lot of anesthesia on you, and it's affecting your lungs."

"Siewan told me that, too."

"Well then, what do you need me around for?" teased Din, shrugging.

Unsure if he was joking, Marathel looked into his visor, tears threatening again. "Please don't make fun like that, please, please."

Din immediately leaned forward and gently patted her leg. "I'm sorry, Marathel. Of course, I'm not going anywhere. Besides, Grogu doesn't show any signs of wanting to leave."

Marathel looked down into the crook of her arm, where Grogu continued to stroke her face with loving touches, healing her sunburn and her cheekbone. Marathel leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes, thinking, Din's only calling me Marathel. Not mesh'la, not ner kart'a, not even ma'mwsh ha'laa. Just Marathel. Rodanthe untied us … and it seems that was the only thing holding us together, besides Grogu.

How long will I get to hold on to this little boy before I lose him, too?

The whispers of the Dahls came back into her head, and she clenched her hands into fists, willing them away. Once the whispers went silent, Marathel sighed and stared off into space. Din sat quietly, wondering if she was deep in thought, in pain, or simply being still. Her hands were still curled into fists, so he reached over and gently took one of her hands in his, straightening out her fingers and examining the spirals of metal encircling her fingers. He could see that several were crimped and bent out of shape, pinching her skin. As he carefully removed one and began reshaping the metal back into place, Marathel said, "Din?"

"Yes, Marathel?"

Her eyes closed and another tear spilled over. "How do you do it?"

Din tilted his helmet. "Do what?"

"How do you kill people and not have it destroy your soul?"

Oh, ma'mwsh ha'laa. Din sighed, and said, "You did what you had to do, and it was no less than any of those men deserved."

"But the children ..."

"That was not your fault."

"But ..."

"It was not your fault," said Din firmly. "What you need to remember is that some people ... don't deserve to breathe your air. They don't deserve to be walking on the same ground as you."

Marathel frowned and asked, "Does that work?"

Din shrugged. "Usually." He knew, though, that murder — even for revenge — would be hard for Marathel to cope with, but he was unsure what would help her.

They stayed quiet for some time. Din carefully replaced the reshaped splint on her trembling finger, and removed another. Marathel cradled Grogu, and she indulged her family fantasy briefly before remembering that Din had had to care for her in the most intimate way. Yes, he'd rendered aid for her wounds the first time they'd left Unmanarall, but — Marathel wondered how a man existed like this one, so far outside her scope of what men were like that she could barely comprehend it. "Din, I …"

Din looked back up at her and waited. But she wouldn't finish her sentence, and instead closed her eyes again. "What is it, Marathel?"

He watched her brow twitch before she answered, "You had to … tend to me again. And this time, you had to … but men don't …" Her face flushed almost as red as her sunburn had been. "I'm so sorry …" she whispered before turning her face to the pillow.

Din leaned closer to her. "You needed help."

"It's so shameful …" She began curling up tighter on herself.

"It's all right," he said emphatically, gently squeezing her arm.

Marathel turned back to Din with dismay. "Oh, no, did Grogu ...?"

"Grogu was concerned, yes, but he seemed to accept my explanation…"

"Your explanation?"

"Of what was happening to you. He took it quite well, all things considered. I thought I would bungle the whole thing."

Perplexed, Marathel asked, "What did you tell him?"

"That women, uh … have to prepare a place inside them, for a baby to implant and grow …"

"No ba," sadly said Grogu, patting Marathel's belly.

" … but if the woman has no ba — as the kid says — then she … sheds the blood and tissue from her body. Now, you …"

"Hurt Mama."

"That's right, Grogu, I told you that hurt Mama has a hard time, and she needed a doctor to make it better. So … that's what we did," said Din with a chuckle, hoping that his misadventure would lighten her spirits.

"Men learn of such things on other planets?"

Din petted Grogu, who purred sleepily. "Some men do. I think they should."

Marathel's face was less red by now, but she still had an attractive blush in the fullness of her cheeks. She looked down at Grogu, snuggled up tight against her, with Din's large hand on his little head, mere inches away from touching her. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Grogu sadly muttered, "No Patu Mama ba …" before drifting off to sleep.

Marathel looked up at Din, who grunted and said, "He asked me if you and I could have a baby. I told him no of course, since you can't …"

"… and you're shooting blanks."

"Not … quite in those words, but yes." He sighed. "I think that's what he found most upsetting, besides not being able to help your pain."

No babies for us, ever, Grogu, I'm sorry … thought Marathel, before amending her thoughts: But Din could possibly be fixed. He could possibly have children of his own. Not that any child would replace Grogu, but … his life will now continue beyond you, Marathel, you stupid useless cunt. You will remain nothing, not a mother, barely a woman, barely a person, barely even fit to breathe air on any planet, just like the men you killed and the babies that died and the women that will die because of you …

Somehow, it got through to her that Din was calling her name. "… what?"

"You keep … going still, checking out, clenching your hands into fists. Do I need to find the nurse? Are you dizzy? Nauseated? You had a concussion …" Marathel shook her head but stayed silent. "Marathel, I understand that it's hard for you to comprehend your actions in the Hold. No one is ever going to blame you for what happened there."

"They already do. I killed them all. I'm the one responsible …"

Din lifted his hand from Grogu's head, and cupped her cheek, and his touch nearly made her faint, her heart hurt her so much. He said, "The Dahls killed the children. Not you." He felt her trembling beneath his hand. "Marathel … are the Dahls still in your head?"

She nervously nodded. "Yes. I can hear them, even this far away. Louder than ever before. Can't you hear them?"

"No. Not since I had the … not since Rodanthe died. Marathel, you need help. You need…"

"All I need is …"

Before Marathel could finish, there was a click and a tinny voice coming through the intercom. "Siewan here. I have a couple of people and your lunch with me, Marathel. May we come in?"

"Just a moment," called Din as he picked up the dozing Grogu and put him in his bag. "Yes, please, come in."

There was a long pause. "I need Marathel to answer, please, Mando."

"Please come in, Siewan."

Siewan and company entered, and Siewan looked vexed. She raised her perfect blue eyebrow and said firmly, "Marathel is my patient and I communicate with her. She will speak for herself. Do you understand?"

Din stared at Siewan, completely abashed. Then he understood that Marathel needed to be in control of her care, so he nodded with deference and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

Siewan turned to Marathel with a smile, then puzzlement. "What the … no more sunburn? How'd you manage that?" She noticed Marathel glance at the bag on Mando's lap. "Marathel, this is nurse Ya-Bito," she said, and a lovely woman with green skin smiled. Her teeth were not so lovely, and reminded Marathel of the large fish that would take enormous bites out of other fish and swimming children. "She's going to take over for the next shift. Anything you need, you ask her. We have your lunch here – it's a bland diet, sorry. And this is Doctor Dine'; she's the one who did your procedure, and she'd like to talk to you for a little bit. Mando, this is girl stuff. Scat." Din immediately stood and stepped out, still holding Marathel's finger splint in his hand. After the door closed behind him, Siewan grinned and said, "Damn, he just does what you say, huh?"

Ya-Bito nodded and said, "Wouldn't mind one like him, no." The doctor coughed, reminding the nurses to have a bit of decorum. She invited Marathel to go ahead and eat while they spoke to her. Marathel lifted off the cover of what Siewan told her was pureed chicken stew. Marathel thought it was an odd color — quite more yellow than she made stew — but she obediently sipped from the bowl while the doctor talked to her about her condition and asked questions. Marathel was not exactly vague with her answers but she didn't exactly offer a lot of information, either.

The doctor did her best to communicate to Marathel the nature of her reproductive and menstrual troubles, but Marathel wasn't interested in hearing about that. All she really wanted to know was when she could leave. The doctor informed her that she needed to stay at least one more night; they were concerned about potential infection, since Marathel didn't respond to bacta and they had rely on old-school antibiotics.

"Mando — and company — will be allowed to stay with you, if you're worried about being alone here," said Siewan.

But that wasn't Marathel's worry, because this wasn't the place that Din was going to leave her behind. That place was elsewhere, according to her dreams and the chattering of the Dahls. She knew, she knew, that he needed to keep moving for Grogu's safety as well as his own, that Din had his own agenda to complete that had nothing to do with her, an agenda that she kept upsetting because of her very presence … so the voices in her head kept telling her.

Someone was patting her arm. "…what?!"

The other three women glanced at each other. The doctor said, "I was saying, Marathel, that I believe you should speak to a couple of our therapists. You have experienced much trauma, and I believe you need help to process that trauma."

"I don't understand the point of that," said Marathel.

"The point is to help you heal, Marathel."

"I will heal, but it will take only time. No words can fix what's been done to me."

"Talking about trauma can help …"

"Talking does nothing. Talking is just … words. And words always lead to lies," firmly said Marathel, hoping that she had ended the conversation. She may be as dumb as anything, but these women before her were no Eliadu and Cieroprac. She doubted they had serums or potions to make her speak her mind, and there was no way she would willingly speak of her past life again. She had to tell the Reconstructionists, she'd had to tell Din, she'd had to revisit her shameful existence far too often and it did no good whatsoever! She simply wanted to forget and go far away from the Dahls and not have to hear them anymore. They couldn't talk to me on Tatooine. I won't have to hear them there. I will make my days busy so I won't have to think. I will be still and not think.

"We'll try again in a little while, Marathel. Eat your lunch, and if you're still hungry, we can get you something else. I want you to take a walk this afternoon, as often as possible, actually. But eat first," said the doctor. She and Siewan left the room, leaving only Ya-Bito, who was looking at Marathel impassively, her startling teeth bared.

"Yes?"

"Where is the fork, Marathel?"

Marathel looked up at the nurse, but was unable to hold her gaze. "There was no fork."

"There's always a fork, Marathel. I used to work dietary when I was in nursing school, and I wrapped possibly a million of those cutlery sets before I graduated." Marathel stared at the empty bowl on her tray, her left hand under the sheet, next to her leg … clutching the fork, pressing the points of the tines deeply into her thigh. Ya-Bito sighed and sat down. "If we believe that a patient is hurting herself, we have to, we must, pull her off the floor and into a three-day hold in the psychiatric ward. That's not a good place for someone as fragile as you obviously are… we do our best, but psych's not always so great. I can hear you cracking up like an ice floe in spring.

"I know that fork is keeping you together right now. So let me make a deal with you. You can keep the fork until you're done with your lunch. After that, I'm coming back in, I'm going to remove those IVs and the catheter and I'm going to send you and Mando on a little walk — you need to walk; you're on a lot of opioid painkillers and that's going to stove you right up — but when I do that, I want the fork back. And if you can do that, I won't report this. Can you do that, dear?

"Believe me, I know, I know, the fork is helping right now. But you can't keep doing that. This is one of the reasons why we all think therapy is a good idea for you. I promise, it's better than a fork in the thigh in the long run. I swear."

Marathel's throat swelled with tears again, and she croaked, "Pinky swear?"

"Absolutely," said Ya-Bito, holding out her pinky for Marathel to link with her own. "Do we have a deal?" Marathel nodded. "Good. Finish up your lunch. Buzz when you're done. Did you want to be alone, or did you want Mando back in here?"

Marathel blurted, "I'd like him back …" before falling silent with a blush.

Ya-Bito chuckled and patted Marathel's leg. "Press your call button when you're done," she said as she opened the door and saw Mando just on the other side. "Where the hell have you been? Get back in there," said Ya-Bito, teasingly. He stepped aside to let her through, and she left.

Din sat down and pulled out an awake Grogu. Din noticed that Marathel still had part of her lunch, so he held Grogu on his lap. "You still have food to eat. No, Grogu. Not yours. Try the ice cream, Marathel."

"Ice cream?"

"Ice cream." Din picked up the container and peeled off the lid. "Here."

Wondering what in Frith Din was talking about, she took the container from Din and almost instantly dropped it back into his gloved hands. "Frith! It's cold!"

"I said it was ice cream."

"I don't know what ice cream is!"

"It's … it's … ice cream. Frozen sweet cream with salt and … whatever else is in ice cream. Just eat it, I think you'll enjoy it." He handed her the container and the spoon.

Marathel put a cautious spoonful in her mouth and was at a loss of what to do with whatever this foodstuff was, but it hurt her teeth. "Ai! So cold!" She dropped the container and spoon on her tray. "It's soft, but now it changed … it's like … laegg … maybe. Oh, I don't understand what this is!"

Din sat there, silent, wanting so much to burst out laughing, remembering her limited scope of the galaxy. He had to bite his lip and bounce Grogu on his knee just to keep his mouth shut. "Did you not have ice or cream on your planet? You must have had milk of some kind; you had cheese."

"Well, yes, milk. That's what laegg means. But ice or cream, no."

"What animals did you have that produced milk? Cream comes from milk."

"We had cwagylans. They are … smallish animals, smaller than Dahls, but a similar-shaped head, and horns."

Din pondered for a moment, and pulled out his holopad and did a search. "Goats? Did they look like this?" He held up the screen to her and she nodded. "Okay … it says here that goat milk doesn't separate easily, so … well, that explains that. But ice … you never saw frozen water on Unmanarall? It never got that cold?"

"Sometimes, a few times, it became terribly cold. Once, my little stream stopped flowing and it became hard to the touch. It burned my fingers to touch it, but it turned back into water when the sun came out."

"That's ice, Marathel." He finally let himself chuckle. "You have a lot to learn about ... food and ... well, everything, I suppose. Did you not like the taste of the ice cream?"

"I didn't notice the taste. I think I was too surprised by what it was," said Marathel, embarrassed.

"Well, give it another try."

Marathel picked up the container again, and ate another spoonful, rolling it around on her tongue to avoid her teeth, pondering the flavor. "It's sweet, but that's about it, really."

"That looks like plain ice cream. It comes in many flavors."

"It does?" Din nodded. Marathel ate another spoonful. "Do you like ice cream?"

"I do."

"Then you should have some," said Marathel, holding out the container to Din.

He gently pushed it back towards her, saying, "That's yours; you enjoy it. What else you got up there?" Marathel held up a piece of fruit. "That is a yellowfruit. Make sure you eat that; they were a treat where I came from."

Marathel sniffed the thick-skinned yellowfruit, then went back to the ice cream. "You mean on Nevarro?"

"No … Aq Vetina."

"Aq Vetina. It's a pretty name. Is it a pretty planet?"

"I don't remember. I was only a child when … I left."

Marathel tilted her head. "And you've not gone back since?" Din shook his head. "You should take Grogu there. Show him where you came from."

Din shrugged and replied, "Hand me the yellowfruit, I'll peel it for you."

She did, and watched as he split the skin and peeled the outside of the yellowfruit back, revealing a whitish-looking fleshy inside. Din broke off a small piece and gave it to Grogu, who happily mashed it into his mouth. Marathel smiled, and took the fruit back, taking a bite. She nodded, saying, "Hmm. I like it. It's soft, like the ice cream. It's … I can't think of a word?"

"Creamy?"

"That's a word? I suppose it works," she said before eating the rest of the ice cream, and then the yellowfruit.

Yes, creamy, suddenly thought Din, like how your skin felt when I first touched it, that's how I remember it, at least. He watched her carefully wipe her lips with a napkin. She sat quietly for a few moments, gazing off into the distance, and then she placed a fork back on the tray. When did she have a fork?

"I'm supposed to call nurse Ya-Bito when I'm done," said Marathel sheepishly, leaning back on her pillow, her hands folded primly in her lap. "They want me to walk." Din nodded, still wondering what the deal was with the fork. He reached over and found the call button for the nurse, pressed it, and then put a protesting Grogu back in the bag.

"I should get him something to eat …" began Din as the door opened and Ya-Bito stuck her head in.

"I'm done with lunch," said Marathel, holding up the fork and placing it back on the tray.

"Excellent. Would you give us a few minutes, Mando?" He nodded and left. "So …did the fork help?"

Marathel shrugged. "A little."

"Talking is better." Marathel didn't respond, so the nurse went around to the other side of the bed to check the hanging bags for Marathel's IVs. "The doctors want you to drink as much water as possible, but we're also going to keep you on fluids because you got so dehydrated. We think you're good on blood now, though."

"I didn't use to be."

"What was that?"

"I used to have a terrible bleeding condition. I've lost all my blood before."

Ya-Bito looked at Marathel's face. "You've suffered greatly." Marathel didn't respond. "Siewan believes that you're heartbroken as well. I agree with her. Does it have something to do with that Mandalorian and his little boy?" Marathel nodded and sniffled. "He cares for you greatly."

"No. He feels responsible for me."

Ya-Bito shrugged. "That's part of caring for another, especially someone as fragile as you at the moment. Let him carry you for a while until you can walk on your own."

Marathel, puzzled, said, "I thought you wanted me to walk."

"I do. What I meant, though, is allow him to help carry your sadness, your hurt, until you have the strength to do so yourself."

Marathel drew a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. "My hurts should not be his burden."

"He seems more than strong enough, and — dare I say — willing to take those burdens for you."

Strong, yes, willing, no. He will leave me behind as soon as he is able. As he should. He was untethered, and he is now free of me. "I'd like to walk now … can I do that?" Ya-Bito nodded, and removed the synth-blood line, then asked Marathel to lay back so she could remove the catheter. This startled Marathel greatly; she had no idea such a thing existed, much less was inserted inside her. Ya-Bito patiently explained its purpose and exactly how it worked, which eased Marathel's mind. Ya-Bito then helped her sit up on the edge of the bed to put on another gown to wear as a robe, and a pair of soft socks that had anti-slip treads. "Oh, I like these," said Marathel, testing them on the floor. "I like these socks very much."

Ya-Bito laughed and said, "I'll make sure you get a few pairs before you leave. Now, can you stand?"

Marathel carefully stood, only a bit wobbly, and took a couple cautious steps. "I feel pretty good. May I use the necessary?"

"Vac-tube's right in there," said the nurse, pointing to a closed door. "You probably won't tinkle anything; it's the removing of the catheter that makes you feel that way. And here …" She handed Marathel a pair of absorbent, stretchy, disposable underwear. "You are spotting a bit, which is completely normal, so you might want to wear these."

Marathel looked back at the bed; there was a pad there with some blood on it, but not much at all. She went into the little room and saw not only a vac-tube but also a fresher. She hoped she could use it later. She tried to use the vac-tube, but Ya-Bito had been correct; she hardly had any piddle at all, just more an urge than anything else. Marathel pulled on the absorbent underwear and instantly hated them, but decided they would do for now, until she could wear her regular clothes again … She then remembered that she left her bag behind on Unmanarall. Oh … dank ferrik, as Din and others would say! I have no clothes, nothing! What am I going to do?

Marathel stepped out, worried, and as she was washing her hands, she looked at the mirror and remembered her clam shell pendant … which was now missing from around her neck. "Oh, no," she cried.

"What is it?" asked Ya-Bito, who was replacing the large absorbent pad on the bed.

"I had a clam shell … a pendant … around my neck, and it's gone …"

The nurse came over to her, patting her shoulder. "I don't know, but I will find out for you. Okay? What is lost will be found. Now, let's go walk."

Marathel nodded tearfully, and wiped her eyes. As she walked to the door, pulling her IV stand, there was a knock on the door. She cautiously opened it slightly, and Din was on the other side. "Oh …"

"You're standing; good." He came in, noticing the distress on her face. "What is it?"

"My clam shell … the one Grogu gave me …" Marathel began to cry again.

"Oh, I have that …" Din dug it out of his pocket and placed it over her head.

Ya-Bito smiled and said, "Lost is already found."

"They made sure to give it to me before you went into surgery; I'm sorry it slipped my mind." Marathel dropped her head and clutched the clam shell, sniffling. Din kept his hands on her shoulders. He clicked his tongue and said, "Ma'mwsh ha'laa …"

Marathel gasped, her tears forgotten, and she looked into Din's visor. "Did you say ma'mwsh ha'laa?" Or could it have been my mesh'la?

"Of course I said ma'mwsh ha'laa; you're always going to be ma'mwsh ha'laa to me." After handing her yet another cloth to dry her tears, he said, "Now, do you feel up to walking?" Marathel nodded and smiled — an actual smile, Din noticed — so he held the door open for Marathel, and she stepped out into the corridor. "Which way should we …?"

"First of all, please …" Marathel guided his arm so that she could hold his forearm, just like Cobb had when he'd led her to the courtyard.

"Well, when did you learn about that?" asked Din.

"Cobb taught me." Din made a hmm noise and they started slowly walking, Marathel guiding the rolling IV stand alongside her.

After a few meters, Din felt the need to place his hand over hers on his arm, which cheered him as well as her. "Am I walking too fast?"

"No, this is just fine. Where's Grogu?"

"Back in the childcare center. He kicked up a fuss but was distracted by a cup of ice cream. Food seems to be a good currency for him."

Marathel frowned. "I don't understand what you mean."

"I can use food to make him do what I want."

She smirked. "Boys are the same all over. Promises of sweets always worked in the Hold. Girls only wanted a hug, or praise. Or safety. Which was impossible to give," she said sadly. Din patted her hand, and they walked in silence for a while. "I'm glad to have my clam shell back, but I'm also upset because I left my bag behind."

"I picked it up. It's on the Razor Crest. Your blanket is being laundered courtesy of Grogu's childcare assistant. They've been very kind."

Marathel had to take an extra breath to control her emotions. "... Thank you, Din." She let out a long wobbly exhale. "So, you went to the hut?"

"I did." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm so sorry about your kinswomen. Ni ceta. Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, and Hylma – I recited the Manda'lor death chant in their honor. They were good women."

"They were all good to me in their own way. Hylma was the only one I didn't truly know. I helped at her birth, but why she would be willing to help me at all; I have no idea. And I'll never know." A thought occurred to her. "How did you learn their names? I thought you didn't know them."

"When Grogu and I arrived back at Unmanarall, we went to to Hold first. Well, what was left of the Hold. I seem to recall thinking that Marathel doesn't mess around when I saw that building blown to bits. I was impressed. You're dangerous, woman."

Of all the things Din might have expected Marathel to do at that moment, it sure wasn't laughing. "Cobb said the same thing," Marathel said as she chuckled.

Unsure of how he felt about that, Din asked, "Why did he say that?"

"I threw a mug at his head. He deserved it. He was being a … what did you call him? Oh yes, a menace." Marathel chuckled some more. "Oh, that's not quite true. I was asleep, and I was very groggy when I awoke, but he was there in my room and he startled me. So, mug to the head. He managed to duck, though! Oh, goodness…" Marathel continued to laugh. "Then, another time, he came into my room while I was sleeping to measure my foot so he could find some shoes to borrow …"

Well, now I'm peeved, thought Din. Cobb was just hanging out in her room? Touching her bare feet while she was sleeping? What else did that handsy son of a bitch touch?

Marathel turned her head to look at Din, who was not looking at her. Her brow furrowed. "Are you … angry at me for speaking about Cobb?"

"… No."

"I think you are." Din didn't reply, so she decided to change the subject. "There's another thing I must apologize for. I'm so sorry, Din."

"Why?"

"Some time ago, I thought to myself, that Din Djarin never does anything I say." Marathel chuckled. "But the truth is … you did everything I ever asked of you. Except leave me behind. Twice, now, you've come back."

"The third time's the charm," said Din, who regretted it instantly.

"I don't think I quite understand what you mean. Perhaps … it's for the best?"

Before Din could answer, a man and two women rounded the corner right in front of them. Marathel had no idea who they were. The man wore an odd uniform; it was orange with white straps and a white woven thing on his chest. The two women wore nearly identical pants and jackets of a brownish green. All three looked quite stern. The man nodded at Din, saying, "Mando."

Din sighed deeply, muttering, "Captain Teva." Hearing the name Captain Teva instantly filled Marathel with terror, and she thought, there are Captains elsewhere? Are there Bishops and Dukes too? How does Din know another Captain?

This new Captain, of whom she was already afraid, turned to her and said, "Marathel ap Bishop, we need to have a chat."